Barracks | Closed for now to Messrs. Weasley and Weasley
Ever since she had learned about the power of magical teleportation called Apparition, Lute had become obsessed - mostly because if magical non-prodigies (with red hair! Nasty common color, red.) could handle it, she would never be able to live with herself. Never mind that other worlds might have different systems of magic.
She would Apparate, or die trying.
Setting her jaw, Lute recalled what George Weasley had told her: "And all that's involved is picturing your destination, being determined to get there, and you have to be sure about it..." Right, easy enough: step one was to picture her destination. Her eyebrows knitted together as she tried to picture as vividly as possible the little set-up currently sitting in her room: a few chairs clustered around a circle she'd drawn in the dust on the ground. It was not a grand destination - Lute, for all her ego, did understand that small steps needed to be taken first - but the ferocity with which she was staring at the chairs suggested that it might as well be some sort of nirvana she was trying to achieve with all her might.
Step two was determination, and Lute definitely did not lack for that. No, the hard part was what came next. 'You have to be sure about it'...? What did that mean? Was she supposed to be able to will herself over to the chairs by determination and visualization alone?
For a few minutes, Lute stood there in silence, staring hard enough to burn a hole through the chairs she'd set up, waiting for something to happen. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face. She was growing impatient. This surely couldn't be all one had to do...
"This is ridiculous," she finally muttered under her breath. "That fool probably hasn't even done this before." Maybe she'd have to ask George Weasley again for more details or something, or check if he was really telling the truth with a third party. She didn't care for either idea, but right now, no matter which way she spun it, she wasn't succeeding. Ugh, I might as well put the chairs back... Lute turned away, her concentration slipping--
BANG! Something that sounded not unlike a gunshot resounded through the barracks, followed seconds thereafter by a terrified scream. "AHH!"
She would Apparate, or die trying.
Setting her jaw, Lute recalled what George Weasley had told her: "And all that's involved is picturing your destination, being determined to get there, and you have to be sure about it..." Right, easy enough: step one was to picture her destination. Her eyebrows knitted together as she tried to picture as vividly as possible the little set-up currently sitting in her room: a few chairs clustered around a circle she'd drawn in the dust on the ground. It was not a grand destination - Lute, for all her ego, did understand that small steps needed to be taken first - but the ferocity with which she was staring at the chairs suggested that it might as well be some sort of nirvana she was trying to achieve with all her might.
Step two was determination, and Lute definitely did not lack for that. No, the hard part was what came next. 'You have to be sure about it'...? What did that mean? Was she supposed to be able to will herself over to the chairs by determination and visualization alone?
For a few minutes, Lute stood there in silence, staring hard enough to burn a hole through the chairs she'd set up, waiting for something to happen. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face. She was growing impatient. This surely couldn't be all one had to do...
"This is ridiculous," she finally muttered under her breath. "That fool probably hasn't even done this before." Maybe she'd have to ask George Weasley again for more details or something, or check if he was really telling the truth with a third party. She didn't care for either idea, but right now, no matter which way she spun it, she wasn't succeeding. Ugh, I might as well put the chairs back... Lute turned away, her concentration slipping--
BANG! Something that sounded not unlike a gunshot resounded through the barracks, followed seconds thereafter by a terrified scream. "AHH!"