Herman pushed open the door and walked out. The light in the corridor was much brighter than in the office. The afternoon sun shone down from above, spreading a warm yellow light on the stone floor.
Herman walked down the corridor, his mind still replaying the words Marlene had just said.
Gifted beyond measure, a born spellcaster, your instincts have already found the path before you even begin.
He pondered those words over and over again, and his pace unconsciously slowed down.
The corridor was empty, and the afternoon sun slanted in through the high window panes, cutting strips of light and shadow across the floor.
Herman glanced around to make sure no one was there, then tried to focus his attention elsewhere.
He began to spread his senses out, just as he had done with the playing cards and the short sword, to touch the stationary objects around him.
First, the candlestick—the brass candlestick on the wall lamp stand—wobbled slightly, as if blown by the wind. Then, the framed picture of a still life with fruit on the wall—the edges of the frame trembled a few times, and the Apple in the picture rolled off the plate, spilling grapes all over the table.
Next was the armor at the corner of the corridor. First, the fingers on its right hand twitched, then the entire arm was raised and swayed slightly in mid-air.
Herman felt his magic extending outward along a certain path, clearer than when he fought Cerberus last time, as if he had already walked that path before, and this time it was smoother.
He tried to increase the output. The left arm of the armor also rose up, and both arms swung in the air at the same time, like a person doing stretching exercises.
A knight in a nearby painting cried out in terror, staggering back several steps with his horse, tilting the frame of the painting.
The witch in the painting covered her face and screamed, the sound carrying through the canvas directly into the corridor, sharp and clear.
Before Herman could even release his strength, everything in the corridor—both in and out of the paintings, still and not still—began to shake.
The candlestick flew off the lamp stand, the picture frames detached from their hooks one by one, and the armor's legs also left the ground. The entire suit of armor seemed to be lifted up and suspended in mid-air by an invisible hand.
The candles on the wall lamp holders flickered, the portraits floated haphazardly in mid-air, the clattering of the frames echoed, and the entire corridor seemed to be lifted up and shaken from both ends, with everything flying around.
Herman quickly withdrew his senses.
The magic receded like the tide, and those things that had lost their support crashed back into their places.
The armor's two arms slammed back heavily to the sides of the body with a dull metallic clang, and the helmet rolled on the ground, spinning twice before coming to a stop.
The frame was hung up straight again. The knight in the painting tumbled and fell off his horse, then got up and sat back down, cursing and pointing at him through the canvas, still yelling.
Herman stood in the middle of the corridor, catching his breath, and looked down at his hands.
That feeling was clearer than ever before.
The magic flowed out as if it were alive, without any stagnation or hesitation; it went wherever he wanted it to.
This smooth feeling was somewhat similar to the path he had slowly figured out while practicing the Levitation Charm. However, the Levitation Charm required conscious control, while this felt more like the body already knew how to do it; he had simply given it a starting instruction.
Herman thought that to enhance this ability, he would probably need to use it more, actively optimize it, let his body remember it, and even develop new abilities.
Marlene is right, he really is born with this skill, it's much easier for him than using other magic, and it seems there's a lot of room for improvement or research.
He stood there for a while, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down, and then continued walking forward.
As he walked down the corridor he had made a mess of, he straightened the crooked picture frame. The knight in the painting glared at him through the glass and muttered something, but he couldn't hear what he was saying.
As Herman walked, he pondered that he needed to find a place to practice this skill properly.
The common room is no good, as it's too crowded and people will see us. The dormitory is too small and unsuitable, and besides, it's under Snape's jurisdiction. He might accuse me of disturbing the peace and impose some kind of punishment.
An empty classroom won't work either; if we make a noise and the professor catches us red-handed, we'll have to spend time explaining.
He needed a quiet place where no one would disturb him and where he wouldn't be seen by passersby.
Suddenly, a place from the original story popped into his mind, which was also on his list of places to visit: the Room of Requirement.
I walked back and forth three times in front of that tapestry on the Seventh Floor, thinking about the room you needed.
Herman remembered the setting, but he couldn't quite recall the exact location. He only remembered that it was on the Seventh Floor, and there was a tapestry depicting Troll dancing ballet.
It's still early, let's go look for it.
But he had only taken two steps when a transparent shadow hung upside down from the ceiling, shrieking and laughing, "Troublemaker! I've caught a troublemaker! I'm going to tell Filch to hang you up! Ha ha!"
Herman looked up and recognized him; it was Peeves.
Peeves is a notorious troublemaker at Hogwarts. Unlike the portraits, who generally don't tattle, Peeves will, and he might even embellish the stories.
Although the professors are unlikely to take it seriously, with Snape around, if he finds out, he might use it as an excuse to make a fuss.
Herman looked at Peeves' smug expression, his mind raced, and suddenly an idea came to him.
"Hey, Peeves, wanna make a bet?" Hearing this, Peeves stopped floating away, his round little eyes darting around. "What kind of bet?"
Herman pulled out the alchemical deck of cards from his pocket. Compared to a sword and shield, this deck of cards was easier to store; he could just put it in his pocket. He had kept it with him ever since he went out last time, and today he finally got to use it.
He flipped the cards over in his hand. "Keep it simple, bet on big or small, whoever has the higher card wins."
Peeves's eyes lit up, like a crow seeing a flashing toy. He flipped over and floated down, hanging upside down. "Let's bet! Don't try to renege on your bet if you lose!"
Herman shuffled the cards and drew one, placing it on the floor between the two of them.
The moment his fingers touched the cards, the alchemical deck seemed to sense his intention; the cards warmed slightly at his fingertips, and then, as they were flipped over, an Ace of Spades appeared.
Not to be outdone, Peeves drew a card, flipped it over, and saw it was the 9 of clubs. He paused for a moment, then drew twice more, losing decisively each time. By the end, his face had become even more translucent than usual.
Herman put his cards away. "You lost. Don't tell anyone about what happened today, not even Filch."
Peeves pursed his lips, as if hesitating whether to keep his promise.
But Peeves was clearly unwilling to admit defeat so easily, and floated over again. "One more round! If you lose, I'll tell you a secret!"