Chapter - 17 : Strategy Part - 5
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An hour and a quarter later, it was just beyond half past three in the morning when he rose and staggered home.
It had taken him five more tries that night before he'd been able to separate himself from the tempest of his emotions enough to find the comparative whisper of his magic being released. Three more tries after that, closely paying attention to the sensation, before he thought he understood fully what was happening.
And what was happening seemed somewhat paradoxical.
When he unleashed uncontrolled magic it was an act of both pushing and letting go at the same time, much like trying to move an object by hand without touching it.
The difficulty, therefore, was rather obvious.
Part of uncontrolled magic was instinctive – wizards and witches apparently grabbed for their magic when distressed. That's why Neville had bounced instead of getting seriously injured when he was tossed out a window, and was one of the reasons why magical people were far less likely to die in an accident than muggles. Quidditch played by wizards and witches was dangerous, if fun.
Quidditch played by muggles, if they could figure out how, would be fatal.
He remembered reading about it last year, in one of the earlier chapters of Introduction to Magical Theory, but until now he hadn't really understood what the textbook meant. And strong emotion – as a fairly good indication of significant distress – roused the magic normally held in quiescent discipline by the wizard or witch.
That was the first part of it.
The second part followed naturally. Normally, the wizard only calls magic when about to channel it into a spell. So there you have a furious or terrified wizard, pulling his magic up by the bucket loads, and not paying attention to it in the slightest. The magic, meanwhile, is active, and the control that normally moulds it into concentrated energy patterns is gone. So the magic just continued to gather 'til even vague, unspecified desires could give it form. Or more often, a target.
But before that point, that much magic - charged magic, active with anger or fear - concentrated in one place but with only the vaguest direction, usually had effects on the natural world around it.
Having figured out how it felt, however, actually attempting it without the fury was shelved for another night.
Right now his head was pounding, he felt like throwing up, he was completely emotionally exhausted, and at five hours past the time he normally went to sleep, he was physically exhausted too. He nearly tripped over Dudley 's discarded trainers, and a hasty grab at the hall table was all that saved him from a fall. A glass of water from the kitchen tap, and he headed up for bed.
Vaguely, he hoped the Dursleys might be so displeased at having him back that they were simply glad not to be forced to put up with his presence for breakfast.
Right now he felt like he could sleep for a week.
His prayers were not answered.
His aunt 's persistent rapping at the door at last roused him, and if his eventual "I'm up, Aunt Petunia," sounded less than amiable, at least it wasn't the snarl he'd almost greeted her with. And no wonder, he thought, blearily staring at the alarm clock. Three and a half hours of sleep is far too little to expect anyone to be human.
He checked his arms, but while the various pricks still hurt, none of them were obvious to casual scrutiny. The slice on his cheek was more problematic, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He ran his hands through his hair, changed his clothes, and, figuring he'd done all he could without a mirror, headed to the kitchen.
Breakfast was made quickly and without complaint, and his uncle's suspicious "What happened to your face, boy?" was easily satisfied by a fabrication about tripping over his shoes last night. Their obvious amusement over this he bore stoically.
His uncle's gruff orders about what was expected from him this summer – no freakishness, do whatever chores he was assigned, stay out of their way – actually dovetailed rather nicely with his own plans for studying. After six years of experience, washing and drying the dishes was quick work, as was mowing the lawn and weeding. He finished up at ten, took a fifteen minute shower, and headed back to his bed, setting the alarm to wake him in two hours to make lunch. After the lunch dishes were done his aunt didn't have anything for him to do – his uncle was taking Dudley to the movies, so he got out of washing the car – and he returned upstairs to his room, his afternoon his own. Pulling Insurrection: the history and tactics of Dark Lords from under his bed, he propped his chin on his hand and started reading.
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IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE BY 25+ ADVANCED CHAPTERS YOU CAN DO IT BY GOING TO
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