As the static in the air began to thin, Alex focused. The lightning wasn't just electricity, it held traces of magic within it.
That's why it worked. That's why Voltbrand responded to it. It wasn't random weather, it was storm-forged magic, accidentally triggered by the ancient runes etched into his weapon.
And if the lightning wouldn't come to him anymore, then he'd go to it.
Without a second thought, Alex kicked off the ground and launched himself into the sky, rising fast with the long sword held high, racing toward the heart of the swirling storm above.
The moment he pierced the eye of the storm, everything changed.
The thunderclouds churned violently as if they'd been struck by a hammer. The low-hanging clouds began to lift, while the thick ink-like darkness of the storm expanded outward, sweeping across the sky like a tidal wave.
Within moments, it stretched across the entire horizon, consuming the view in every direction.
Down below, the centaurs and Fang, who had been watching from the treeline, stood frozen in place, their eyes locked on the storm above. The image of Alex flying directly into the vortex was burned into their minds like a divine omen.
It was like watching a comet slam into the Earth, overwhelming, majestic, and impossible to look away from.
"Merlin's beard," Fang muttered, voice trembling. "He just... flew into the storm. My Master's actually charging at lightning!"
Then, unable to contain his panic, he shouted, "He's not coming back, is he? Tell me he's coming back! He's not just gonna disappear up there, right?!"
The centaur beside him didn't answer right away. He simply stared at the sky, awe etched into every line of his face.
"To witness this…" he said softly, almost reverently. "To live long enough to see such a thing… it's enough. And look, look there! The halo of the Seventh Star of the Big Dipper... it's piercing through the clouds." His voice lowered into a whisper, filled with wonder.
"Could it be… Alex?"
At that moment, the patch of dark cloud that had been quietly gathering in a corner of the Forbidden Forest suddenly surged outward, as if stirred by Alex's death.
It spread rapidly, covering the sky far beyond the forest's borders, so much so that it even drew the attention of the Muggle world. And right beside the forest, Hogwarts had already been completely blanketed by the looming clouds.
Students who had been wandering the grounds or relaxing after dinner now looked up in surprise. After all, it wasn't common to see such a massive storm cloud form during this season.
Still, to most of the young wizards, it was just bad weather, nothing too strange. A few worried about getting caught in the rain and quickly dashed back into the castle.
But the professors saw it differently. They had sensed something in the air, something unusual.
Inside the Hogwarts staff lounge, a group of teachers stood clustered around the large French windows, their eyes fixed on the darkening sky. The mood was tense, their expressions grim.
"This doesn't feel like an ordinary storm," Professor McGonagall said, adjusting the glasses on her nose as she spoke quietly. "There's magic in the air. Can you feel it, Professor Flitwick?"
Flitwick nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. "It's definitely magical. Not natural at all. And there's something familiar about the magic… though I can't quite place it."
"Familiar?" McGonagall asked, glancing at him. "Do you think it's someone we know? A wizard experimenting with a spell, maybe? I don't sense any hostility from it, it doesn't seem dangerous, at least not yet. If anything, it's like someone is casting something powerful just to see what happens."
"And it's not just the clouds," added Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, her eyes still on the sky. "The stars have changed. There's a shift, especially around Ursa Major."
"What sort of shift?" Flitwick turned to her with interest.
"The final star in Ursa Major, the tip of the tail, often called the Seventh Star, has started to flicker," Professor Sinistra said, adjusting her telescope.
"It's an old sign in magical astronomy. Some of the older texts link it to times of upheaval, conflict, turning points, the rise of those who shape history. It tends to burn brightest when something, or someone, refuses to fall."
"That doesn't sound like a good sign," said Professor Flitwick, his brow furrowed. "Are you suggesting this could be a warning? That war may be on the horizon?"
Sinistra paused before answering. "Not quite. It's not always a herald of disaster. The symbolism is... complicated. It's been said to appear at the birth of heroes, or the forging of powerful magical artifacts. Not destruction, necessarily. Sometimes, it simply marks a beginning."
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a dry smile. "Perhaps we ought to move you to the Divination corridor. At least then the students might walk away with something useful, unlike the usual doom-and-gloom."
Sinistra chuckled softly and shook her head. "That's kind of you, but I'm only repeating some old legends from the world of astronomy. It's not real Divination, just a bit of storytelling to break the tension. None of this has been proven, and it certainly shouldn't be taught as fact."
Still, despite her modest tone, the weight of her words lingered in the room, because every one of the professors, deep down, knew that in the magical world, legends like this often held a grain of truth.
"Are there any more details in the legend about the Seventh Star of the Big Dipper? Like, what kind of person it's said to represent?" Flitwick asked, still focusing on the lingering magic in the air.
It stirred something in him, something familiar he couldn't quite place. Hoping for a spark of insight, he turned to Professor Sinistra for more.
Sinistra tilted her head thoughtfully, then replied, "If we look at the personality traits associated with that star, it's said to symbolize someone who works hard, embraces change, pushes through difficulties, and isn't afraid to take action. Someone bold, quick-thinking, honest, and with a clear sense of right and wrong. But... they also tend to be stubborn, rebellious, and like to do things their own way."
"Hmm." Flitwick's eyes narrowed slightly as a particular student's image began forming in his mind, someone who fit that description more than anyone else he could think of.
Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, the conversation about the strange storm continued in the Headmaster's office on the eighth floor. There, Dumbledore and Snape stood by the tall windows, watching the swirling dark clouds overhead with very different expressions.
"Can you feel that?" Snape muttered, voice low and sharp. "The magic in the air, it's like a blade pressed to your throat. Far too aggressive to be ignored."
Dumbledore's tone was lighter, even amused. "You're always so dramatic, Severus. The sky may be dark, but that doesn't mean doom is upon us. And this intensity of magic... well, it doesn't feel like it's directed at us."