Boom—!

A deafening thunderclap suddenly tore through the sky.

Blinding lightning split apart the veil of clouds, unleashing a torrential downpour.

In the dungeon, Snape’s hand trembled as he brewed a potion, and the contents of the cauldron instantly began to boil erratically.

But he remained calm, quickly tossing in a fig, calming the mixture once again.

Stirring the potion with a brooding gaze, Snape drifted into thought.

He was thinking about Quirrell. About Dawn. About the school that was becoming increasingly dangerous.

Should I… find a reason to send Harry a bottle of Felix Felicis?

Snape glanced toward the cabinet where he kept his potions, his eyes hesitant.

Boom—!

A dark figure burst out from the Forbidden Forest.

The thunder had startled many magical creatures. The young ones, experiencing such weather for the first time, were darting about in panic.

Kettleburn, missing one arm and one leg, chased after them with all his might, shouting in an attempt to calm them down.

In the Charms office, Professor Flitwick jumped from shock, nearly toppling off his tall stool.

“Oh—it’s raining now.”

He had been so focused on his work that he hadn’t even noticed the change in weather.

Hopping onto the windowsill for a quick glance, he shook his head, then returned to enchanting keys to make them fly.

Boom—!

The lightning cracked again.

In the library, Hermione’s heart skipped a beat but quickly settled.

She was deeply engrossed in a book titled [The Witch-Hunting Era: Muggles and Wizards], her mind immersed in that bloody, absurd time in history.

After overhearing that conversation in the cupboard the other night, she felt it was important to understand the relationship between Muggles and wizards, not just magic alone.

Boom—!

The rain poured harder.

Madam Pince looked up from her desk, glaring at the rising commotion among the younger students.

“Silence!” she barked sternly.

She stepped down from the front desk, shooing the restless students out one by one.

But as she passed the Restricted Section, she suddenly frowned—catching a whiff of intense garlic from a figure in a purple turban.

Can I evict a professor on the grounds of environmental disturbance?

The thought crossed her mind unbidden.

Boom—!

The giant squid was jolted awake.

Feeling the ripples on the lake’s surface, it eagerly rose from the depths, stretching its tentacles outward.

In the Restricted Section, Quirrell was bowing his head, whispering desperately under his breath.

“Master… Master! Please forgive me! I swear I will find that book for you. I swear it! Please… just give me a little more time!”

“Oh, Quirrell, of course. My faithful servant… I will certainly give you time.”

A slow, deliberate voice echoed from nowhere.

“But look at what you’ve done with that time. You’ve squandered my generosity without restraint.”

“Have you figured out how the Philosopher’s Stone is protected? Have you eliminated the so-called Boy Who Lived? You couldn’t even obtain a drop of unicorn blood!”

Quirrell trembled violently. “But… Master… Dumbledore…”

“Yes, yes, I know Dumbledore is troublesome. That’s precisely why you’re still alive.”

Voldemort’s voice turned icy. “But I believe a bit of punishment may help… improve your performance. Don’t you think so, Quirrell?”

“Yes… yes… You’re right…”

As the shrill voice rang in his mind, Quirrell gritted his teeth through the pain, his pale face drenched in sweat as he desperately increased his pace through the stacks.

Boom—!

Thunder flashed.

A chubby boy stared at the blanched sky, swallowing hard.

“Neville, do you want me to walk you back?” Professor Sprout, her clothes caked with dirt, looked at the boy standing by the greenhouse and cast a waterproofing charm on him.

“N-No need, Professor!”

Neville shook his head immediately.

He never liked troubling others. After a polite bow, he clutched the fertilizer he had come to request for his Silverstar Herb and dashed into the pouring rain.

In his mind, one simple thought kept turning—

If I can make the Silverstar Herb bloom, maybe Dawn will be really happy.

Boom—!

A massive thunderclap made Ron’s hair stand on end.

“Oh, I hate this weather! Almost as much as I hate spiders!”

He crossed his arms and groaned, glancing nervously at the unmoving figure in the darkness.

“Harry… maybe we should head back? We can come again after class tomorrow?”

“No, I’m not leaving! Please, Ron! Just a little longer with Mum and Dad…”

Harry stared into the giant mirror, his hand outstretched, as if holding onto something unseen.

“Alright, I’ll stay with you.” Ron sighed, pulling out his wand to practice the Levitation Charm.

If he still couldn’t master it by tonight, he’d have to borrow someone else’s homework.

Hopefully not everyone had the same idea.

Boom—

The rain grew colder.

Outside Hagrid’s hut, Fang was scratching madly at the door, trying to alert his forgetful master that he was still out in the rain.

Inside the office, Dumbledore chuckled softly at the sight.

But when his gaze drifted beyond the building and landed once more on Harry, standing before the Mirror of Erised, the old headmaster sighed deeply.

“Hey! Albus, are you even listening to me?”

Behind him, a pale, gaunt wizard in ornate robes pounded irritably on the edge of his portrait frame.

“I still say we should bring back corporal punishment! A half-blood wizard from a Muggle family—what havoc could he possibly wreak?”

“Oh, do shut your filthy mouth, Black!”

A refined woman with classical features in the neighboring portrait scolded him. “Prejudice and violence are the last things any school needs.”

“Hmph! That’s because you never saw how obedient the students were in my day!” Black shouted back.

A shriveled old wizard portrait pretended to dig in his ear. “Oh? If Headmaster Black was so beloved, surely he wasn’t voted most-hated headmaster, right?”

“…Fuck! Fuck!!”

Black shrieked in rage.

Suddenly, the headmaster’s office was as lively as a village square on market day.

Dumbledore stood at the window, feeling unexpectedly tired.

Boom—!

A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky, slamming into the lake, making the giant squid spasm and crash back into the water with a loud splash.

Professor McGonagall had been about to continue explaining her theory on ritual magic, but the roar of thunder drowned her out.

The flash of lightning streaked across the Transfiguration Club’s window.

Everyone turned toward the window.

Dawn gazed up at the sky.

In this extreme weather, silver-white natural magic surged like a serpentine dragon twisting through the black sea of clouds, unleashing a rain that seemed capable of drowning the world.

What perfect weather… for an Animagus transformation.

The thought flashed through his mind instinctively.

But then—

Dawn froze.

Transfiguration…

Ritual magic…

Animagus…

It felt as though a corner of the fog in his mind had just been torn away by lightning.

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