"The 'Horned Basilisk'?" Thunderbird scoffed, venom creeping into his voice. "That spineless coward only cares about himself. He clings to life like a leech, terrified of death. He wouldn't even risk showing his face in public during his molting period, let alone join a fight."
He paused, then continued, quieter but no less intense.
"We weren't as strong as we are now, and Dumbledore wasn't our only enemy. We were fighting the entire world. Back then, we lost three of our original seven. But even so, we weren't afraid of dying, we were willing to give everything for our cause."
His voice trembled with rage.
"But then he, the man we put our faith in, the one who carried our dreams, just gave up. Threw it all away. He betrayed us."
Thunderbird looked away, trying to compose himself, but his eyes still burned red. "The Saints' Association still had power, even after the defeat. But with our leader surrendering, what were we supposed to do?"
He exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging. "After that, Gellert locked in that prison he built for others, Nurmengard. The rest of the saints scattered. A few of us inherited parts of the organization, and we carried on in our own way."
Alex's brow furrowed. "So you're saying the Silver Wand has a lot of Saints in it?"
"Exactly," Thunderbird nodded. "Most of the members in the Silver Wand, Arcane, warding, conservatives whatever you want to call them, are either former Saints or trained by them.
Even the Sphinx, though he was still young back then, was one of us. He looked up to Grindelwald like a father."
Alex tilted his head slightly. "Then what do you mean by 'conservatives'?"
Thunderbird looked at him, and for the first time, there was something hollow in his eyes, as if the fire that once burned in him was fading. "There's division now. Ever since Grindelwald surrendered, the Saints were never the same."
He took a deep breath, then went on.
"The ones who remained split into two factions. One group is us, those who refused to let go of the original dream. We still believe in that future, even if Gellert abandoned it. We've been gathering strength ever since, waiting for the right time to spark the revolution again."
"And the other faction?" Alex asked quietly.
"They're the ones who stayed loyal to Grindelwald himself, not his cause," Thunderbird muttered with barely disguised contempt.
"They're the so-called conservatives. Most of them are younger wizards, people who joined after the fall.
They never fought alongside us in the early days. They didn't sacrifice anything. To them, Grindelwald is a symbol, someone to follow blindly.
They believe his surrender was an act of peace. That it saved lives. So they continue to guard him, even now, camped out near Nurmengard like he's some sacred relic."
Thunderbird shook his head, disgusted. "And the Sphinx… he's one of them. He's a conservative. He's abandoned the dream. And worse, he won't even let us try again.
He says stirring up another revolution would waste the 'peace' Grindelwald earned. But it was never just his peace to give up."
Thunderbird pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression twisted in disdain. The contempt in his eyes made it clear, he had nothing but scorn for those still loyal to the past, clinging to the idea of Grindelwald as if he hadn't abandoned them all.
Alex hadn't expected such division to exist among the old Saints. He realized now that Thunderbird and the others like him had gone from loyal followers to bitter deserters, their admiration turned to hatred.
Meanwhile, the so-called conservatives, the ones still standing guard around Nurmengard, seemed more like blind devotees, worshipping an idol who no longer resembled the man he once was.
"Alex," Thunderbird suddenly said, lifting his head. His eyes locked on the young wizard who had bested him in battle. There was longing in them, and something else too. A burning resentment, but not toward Alex.
"What is it?" Alex asked cautiously. He could sense that the emotion in Thunderbird's voice wasn't directed at him.
"Can I ask you for something?" Thunderbird's voice had softened, his tone almost sincere.
"You can ask," Alex replied, calm and measured. "I'll see if it's something I'm willing to do."
"I want you to kill that bastard, the 'Horned Basilisk.'" The hatred in Thunderbird's voice ran deep, dragging something raw and unhealed to the surface.
Alex raised an eyebrow. "That's a bold request. I mean, isn't he your adoptive father? And what makes you think I can even pull it off? You said yourself, he's powerful."
Thunderbird let out a bitter laugh, hollow and joyless. "Adoptive father? Yes, that's the story people are told. But we've known the truth for a long time. That man is a parasite, an insect feeding off others, sucking them dry."
He shook his head slowly, eyes dark with anger. "We were young and foolish. He tricked us into drinking the Elixir. Promised us strength. Immortality. But all it brought was fear, fear of death, fear of being weak again. And the worst part? The loneliness. It's endless."
He paused for a moment than continue, "We used to be fearless, Even death didn't scare us. We were ready to fight and die for something bigger than ourselves. But the Elixir… the 'Horned Basilisk'… he stole that from us. Took our courage. Left us hiding like rats in the dark."
He clenched his fists, frustration etched into every line of his face.
"I can see it now, those who were once my comrades, the so-called diehards… they've lost their fire. They wave the banner of our ideals, but it's hollow.
All they want now is to stay alive for as long as they can. Enjoy whatever power the Elixir gives them, pretending it's enough.
But it's not, It never was. What's left is madness. Emptiness. Every last one of us who took that cursed Elixir has ended up like me, half-insane, broken inside."
He paused, then looked up at Alex again, his voice firmer this time. "And why do I think you can kill him?"
"Because you're strong. And you're only going to get stronger. I've seen enough in my life to know when someone's different, and you are.
I've failed more times than I can count. I've clung to the past, lied to myself, tried to pretend I still had purpose. But I'm done lying.
I've been a coward from the start, Just a poor soul caught in the trap of immortality, too weak to break free. And maybe, if you do this… maybe I can finally stop running from what I've become."
Looking at Thunderbird's lifeless expression, Alex could tell, this man's spirit had already died. The moment he surrendered himself to the control of that elixir, it was over. Whatever dignity or resistance he had left had long since withered away.
Alex's gaze softened slightly with a touch of pity. "If I get the chance," he said quietly, "I won't let your leader go. Consider that my answer to your request."