There were too many cracks in the story Rowan had almost told.
With his current understanding of this world's magic, inventing a spell that outright destroyed a Dementor was simply too much. Flight magic could be explained away. There were historical precedents, even dark ones. But a spell that annihilated a Dementor had never existed, not in any record, not in any theory. Worse still, Rowan hadn't even encountered a Dementor before that night. There had been no research, no experimentation, no gradual refinement.
Calling it a coincidence would stretch credibility past its limit.
The deeper problem lay elsewhere. The magic Rowan used didn't belong to this world's system at all. Fairy Tail–style magic relied on structured arrays and visible constructs. Wizarding magic did not. At his current level, he couldn't convincingly translate one system into the language of the other, not in a way that would fool Severus Snape or Albus Dumbledore.
A vague claim about "inspiration from the Patronus Charm" would collapse the moment either of them applied real scrutiny.
Once, Rowan would have chosen to lie anyway. He would have denied everything, trusted Snape to shield him, trusted Dumbledore to tolerate ambiguity. Survival first.
But that was no longer necessary.
He was confident in his strength now. Even if Dumbledore turned hostile, Rowan was no longer helpless. More importantly, revealing part of his hand might actually benefit him. If Dumbledore saw him as a future pillar against Voldemort, someone worth cultivating rather than questioning, life would become much simpler.
He didn't intend to reveal everything. He wasn't foolish enough to speak of other worlds or fractured selves.
But some truth could be shown.
Snape frowned. "Not exactly?" he repeated. "Explain."
Rowan took a breath. "The spell that killed the Dementor, and the flight magic before it, weren't created by me in the conventional sense."
Both men watched him intently.
"They were taught to me," Rowan continued evenly. "In dreams. By an old man who called himself a god."
Silence fell like a dropped curtain.
"A… god?" Snape echoed sharply.
Even Dumbledore's expression shifted, surprise flickering across his normally serene features.
Throughout history, gods had been spoken of, theorized, mythologized. The Deathly Hallows. The Veil. The Resurrection Stone. Stories everywhere, proof nowhere. Even Dumbledore, after Ariana's death, had searched desperately for divine answers and found none.
Snape's voice hardened. "Rowan, you don't need to invent stories to justify yourself. You're already exceptional. Most adult wizards never create a single spell in their lives."
The disappointment was unmistakable.
To Snape, this sounded like a clumsy lie. An insultingly bad one. A Slytherin should at least lie well.
Dumbledore said nothing, but disbelief was written plainly across his face.
Rowan didn't argue.
He simply acted.
"Two hundred million volts."
There was no wand. No incantation.
Lightning erupted around his body, sharp and violent, filling the office with a crackling hum. Metal objects tore free from shelves and corners, lifting into the air and orbiting him in a controlled storm.
"This isn't magic," Rowan said calmly. "It's a physical ability I was given. No spellwork. No focus. Just intent."
The room vibrated.
Snape stared, pale. "Headmaster… this isn't wizarding magic."
"I agree," Dumbledore said quietly, eyes bright with intensity. "And that means he may not be lying."
Innate abilities were not unheard of. Some witches were born Legilimens. Some prophets dreamed the future. Some could conjure fire without spells.
Electricity was… unusual. But not impossible.
"We need to test this properly," Dumbledore decided. "The Forbidden Forest. More space. Fewer constraints."
Snape nodded at once.
Black smoke, white light, and radiant wings burst from the tower window as the three departed. Apparition was impossible within Hogwarts' grounds, even for Dumbledore without his phoenix. Flight was the simplest solution.
Rowan noted, not without mild surprise, that Dumbledore could fly unaided as well. Rare, but unsurprising in retrospect.
They landed in a clearing far from the forest's edge.
Rowan straightened his robes and turned to them. "Professor. Headmaster. I'm ready."
Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a glance.
Then both nodded.