The light inside the Forbidden Forest was much dimmer than outside. The ancient oak branches, some hundreds of years old, intertwined overhead, filtered the moonlight into fragments.
The fragments of moonlight fell onto the ground covered with fallen leaves, touching the layer of silvery-white light that had not yet completely dissipated.
The two lights blended together, making the entire forest path look as if it were covered with a thin layer of frost.
The further you go in, the stronger the chilling feeling in the air, illuminated by the silver light, becomes.
It smells cleaner and has a subtle, inexplicable warmth.
A few thin branches, broken by the storm, lay across the road. As Dumbledore stepped over them, the hem of his robe swayed slightly, without even glancing down at them.
Fudge followed half a step behind him, but his gait still carried a hint of stiffness. Every time he passed a broken branch, he would glance at it out of the corner of his eye, as if afraid that the dead tree would suddenly stand up and bite him.
The beetle on the outside of his collar remained firmly in place, its wings folded neatly, showing no signs of anything amiss.
Scrimgeour walked on the left-hand side of the group, his Dragon Hide coat buttoned up tightly, his right hand hanging at his side, gripping the handle of his wand.
The Auror behind him spread out in a semi-circle, their footsteps on the fallen leaves deliberately softened, but the forest was so quiet that the rustling sounds still blended together.
Professor McGonagall walked on the other side of Dumbledore, occasionally glancing at the increasingly dim light source ahead.
Professor Sprout walked beside her, carrying her half-wilted plant, while Professor Flitwick, with his short legs, walked a little ahead of them.
Snape lagged behind, his black robes rustling on the fallen leaves. His dark eyes, which hadn't looked anywhere else since entering the woods, were fixed on the patch of white light that hadn't yet dissipated.
After walking for a while, the view ahead suddenly opened up.
It was as if someone had lifted the entire canopy upwards from the middle, and the branches of the last row of old oak trees parted to both sides, revealing the storm-ravaged forest clearing in front of everyone.
The open space was much wider than the path outside. The layer of fallen leaves that had covered the ground for who knows how many years had been swept clean, revealing the damp, dark-colored soil underneath.
The uprooted bushes lay crookedly at the edge of the clearing, their roots still covered in clumps of mud. Several broken branches lay across the middle of the clearing, their white stubble gleaming brightly in the moonlight.
The moonlight poured down without any obstruction.
The storm just now swept away a large portion of the clouds overhead, tearing a large hole in the previously dense gray clouds above the Forbidden Forest.
The silvery moonlight streamed straight down from the opening, illuminating the entire open space clearly.
Five people were standing in the open space.
The three children stood on the left, with Harry at the front, his glasses askew on his nose and a few leaves still stuck in his hair.
Ron stood half a step away from him, his mouth slightly open, as if he hadn't had time to swallow half a sentence.
Hermione stood to their side and slightly behind, wand still clutched in her hand, her expression a mixture of shock and contemplation.
The three of them stared blankly at the figure in the center of the open space, none of them turning their heads to look at the group of people who had just entered.
On the other side of the open space, a man who was filthy was slumped on a piece of broken wood.
His tattered robe was torn at the collar, and a few strands of gray hair clung to his forehead, matted with sweat.
It was Sirius Black.
The black figure standing in the very center of the open space was the first person everyone noticed.
Allen's trench coat hem was still slightly fluttering, supported by the lingering air currents around him, turning slowly and steadily.
The silvery-white streaks of light still darted about in the air around him, like a swarm of fireflies that had lost their way, swirling and rising around him.
A few strands of silver light clung to the cuffs and shoulder lines of his trench coat, like frost flowers pasted on black cloth, shining exceptionally brightly.
His wand was already tucked into his inner pocket, his hands hanging at his sides, and his purple-striped fox mask gleamed with a cold, eerie luster under the silvery moonlight.
The fine lines meandered along the contours of the mask, and the boundary between light and shadow fell precisely on the edge of the mask, shrouding half of the face in darkness while the other half shone brightly, making it look incredibly mysterious.
The entire open space was filled with a clean scent, as if it had just been washed by a storm.
The dampness of the turned soil mingled with the raw scent of crushed grass blades, along with the unique, warm, and crisp quality of the silvery-white shavings.
The air currents hadn't completely subsided yet; occasionally, a small whirlwind would sweep across the ground, swirling up a few broken leaves and shards of light, which would tumble a couple of times in the moonlight before scattering away.
The group of people who had just entered all stopped in the shadows of the trees at the edge of the open space.
Professor McGonagall was the first to stop. She slowly lowered her hand, which had been resting on the side of her robe, and for the first time, a brief blankness appeared in her eyes, which were usually so stern that people dared not look directly at her.
Professor Sprout hugged the plant in her arms even tighter, the leaves rustling softly under her weight, but she didn't even bother to look down at it.
Professor Flitwick tilted his head back, his pointed hat slipping completely off his ears. He even forgot to reach out to steady it, and opened his mouth twice, but couldn't utter a single syllable.
Snape stood at the back of the line, his black eyes slowly moving from the figure in the center of the clearing to the lingering silvery-white shards of light at his feet.
Two of the Auror behind Scrimgeour instinctively raised their wands, but Scrimgeour, without turning his head, raised his hand and pressed them down, stopping them from moving.
He was also staring at the middle of the open space, his thick, brown eyebrows furrowed tightly, and his shoulders beneath his Dragon Hide coat tensed almost imperceptibly.
Fudge stood beside Dumbledore, unconsciously clutching the brim of his top hat and pulling it down. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
His gaze shifted from Allen to the still-shimmering silver ground, then to Harry and his two companions, his brow furrowing into a knot.
Dumbledore stood at the very front.
His gaze slowly swept over the figure in the black trench coat, paused on the silvery-white streaks in mid-air that had not yet settled, and then moved to the bushes and branches crushed by the storm at Allen's feet.
The expression in his blue eyes shifted several times. His face didn't show much surprise, but it also lacked the composure of someone who thought "everything is under control."
It's more like seeing something you vaguely guessed, but the other half was completely unexpected.
The figure in the center of the open space turned around at that moment.
As Allen turned around, the hem of his trench coat drew an arc in the air with his movement, the silvery-white light swaying outwards by the arc before slowly returning.
He nodded slightly to the group of people standing in the shadows of the trees, and the two eyes on his purple-striped fox face paused for a moment in Dumbledore's direction.
Harry was jolted awake as if pulled from a dream, and he turned around abruptly to see Dumbledore and the row of people standing behind him.
His mouth opened, but before he could say anything, a pale blue light shone from beneath the feet of the figure in the black trench coat.
Blue light rose from the ground, enveloping the outline of the trench coat. The silvery moonlight and blue light mixed together, illuminating the middle of the open space for a moment.
Then the light instantly converged, the figure vanished, and only the silvery-white light fragments that were still slowly scattering in the air remained on the open ground.