It had been six days since he had hidden the phial in a tree. Ever sunrise and sundown since, he'd stolen away to a quiet place, placed his wand over his heart, and spoke, "Amato Animo Animato Animagus." It felt somewhat silly, but the incantation was voiced in earnest.

When would the next electrical storm be?

Thomas had watched the skies and awoken nearly every hour, petrified he would miss it. Surely, it wasn't too late in the season for such a stray storm?

On the evening of the ninth, he felt a change. It almost felt as if he could sense a second heartbeat within his chest, but, as soon as the feeling swelled, it vanished. Had he simply imagined it? Had the sleep deprivation and overload of classwork finally driven him insane?

No, his research had hinted at such a thing.

Now, he just needed the storm.