Chapitre 11: Chapter 11: Like?!
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After some time a faint clanging jerks me out of my daze and I realize I should get going. I sigh, because I'd rather not. "May I know your name?" I ask finally.
"I like you," she says, still not turning away from the window. Any other girl might blush when saying that, but she doesn't. I get the feeling she means it exactly how she says it – no romantic undertones at all. "My name is Luna."
"I like you, too, Luna," I say in a voice that I hope sends the same message. "I'm glad we got to enjoy the view together. Maybe we can do it again some other day?"
"That sounds pleasant. Are you leaving now?"
"Unfortunately."
"Okay."
"See you around, Luna."
"Goodbye, William."
I walk away toward the nearest corner, glancing back to find Luna gone from the window. I didn't hear her go.
Suddenly I feel bad for messing with her on the train. Shaking my head to clear the odd interaction from my mind,
I come to the first corner, which looks quite familiar. I'm fairly sure it's the corner from the fifth movie, so I walk back and forth in front of the wall, keeping an image of a sort of half-library, half training area in my mind. After many circuits I open my eyes...
To a blank wall. Damn.
Crossing the stairwell to the next corner, I come across a moving tapestry depicting a man amidst a bunch of trolls in tutus of all things. Underneath is a plaque that mentions 'Barnabas the Barmy.' I don't remember the trolls, but that name sounds familiar! I fix the image in my mind once again, and after three laps I am rewarded with the groaning of a previously solid stone wall forming a door.
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My face flushes with righteous anger at the thrice-cursed, damnably stubborn entity just beyond the tip of my wand.
"Fuck you, feather! Fuck you and the fucking imaginary bird you came from!" A string of further probably unintelligible grumbles and growls that question the integrity and fidelity of the feather's imaginary family escape me. I sit and stew for a few minutes, occasionally lobbing particularly scathing insults as they come to me.
The fact that I don't come up with them right away further pisses me off. Finally I stand up and glare at the feather again. "Alright you dirty son of bitch, let's do this shit."
Swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa! Fuck!"
I toss my wand – okay, I hurl that piece of shit – at the couch behind me and point my finger menacingly at the feather. "You listen here, you—hwaaa?" A familiar rush emanates from my stomach, up through my shoulder and out my finger, and the feather flies upward off the table but floats back down almost immediately, and I realize it must be because I lost concentration.
I stare in shock for a moment as the feather floats gently to the floor. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands before replacing it and concentrating, trying to take it slow.
Sure enough, a much smaller rush of what I now know to be magic flows out of my finger and lifts the feather off the table, less violently this time, but still too roughly.
I let go, but before the feather reaches the ground I try again, trying to send just enough magic seep out to keep the feather afloat.
Yes!
I dash back and pick up my wand, and return the feather to its place. I point the wand and concentrate, and the feather gently lifts off with barely a trickle of magic! I let it fall and try again.
Swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa." The feather stays still.
Well, I'll be damned.
I concentrate again, aiming for the small trickle. Just when I feel it seeping down my arm, I swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa." Nothing. The motion and incantation are ruining my concentration!
I aim again for the small trickle. This time no swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa," I say absently, instead focusing on my magic. The feather lifts off.
Small trickle. "Leviosa Wingardium." Feather lifts off.
Small trickle. "Yakka foob mog." Feather lifts off.
I laugh in maniacal delight, then an idea strikes me.
Small trickle. "Stupefy." Feather lifts off.
Small trickle. "Avada—" A shiver breaks my concentration.
I decided not to try that one again. Still shaken I stand and approach one of the training dummies hanging from the ceiling, and take aim with my wand. "Stupefy!"
Nothing. I tuck my wand in my pocket and hold my hand directly at the dummy. Aiming for a decent rush of magic and concentrating on what I want it to do, a jet of red light jumps from my hand and strikes the dummy, causing a slight physical movement. Not the physical blast the spell gets in the movies.
Yeah, Stunning an inanimate object isn't going to work. Same for the Impediment Jinx, I imagine. I decided to skip those for now. There's a strange pull in my stomach after that Stunner, so I have the room provide a clock only to find it's nearly lunchtime.
I figure I've got time for one more.
Stepping back, I give a cruel smile at the training dummy, picturing what Ginny does to it here next year. I hold up my hand as a large rush of magic builds in my arm until a large blue ball of energy erupts out of my hand, but I don't get to see the results as the recoil sends me sprawling.
My stomach clenches painfully when I hit the ground, and everything is hazy. I open my eyes – wait, I had them shut? – and I squint at the light which causes my head to pound.
Thankfully the lights dim. Who did that? Where am I again? Oh yeah, the Room of Requirement. I look up on the wall and the clock appears once again. Almost five-thirty.
"Wait, what?" The sudden noise and movement causes me to clutch my head and cry out in pain.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone