"It looks like your Lumos is in pieces," Neville grins, catching Stark at practice. He's never met the other man, but that's not surprising. He's still friendly. "What spell are you working on?"
Oh. Nice grin. Neville would have blushed and shuffled a foot on the ground if he were younger.
"You don't look that old at all," Neville chuckles. Not that that means anything. "Lumos is a spell in my world; it casts light. Instead of several small lights," he explains.
"And those were fireflies. Light's easy to do." He holds up a hand and a ball of light starts to glow just above his palm. "Getting little bugs to do what I want, even if I did pull them out of the air, is more interesting."
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"My what is in pieces? That better not be some new slang, or I'm going to feel really old."
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"You don't look that old at all," Neville chuckles. Not that that means anything. "Lumos is a spell in my world; it casts light. Instead of several small lights," he explains.
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"And those were fireflies. Light's easy to do." He holds up a hand and a ball of light starts to glow just above his palm. "Getting little bugs to do what I want, even if I did pull them out of the air, is more interesting."
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