As McGonagall casts the spell, Strange finds himself inherently standing up a bit straighter and squaring his shoulders back. Her magic feels like rules, structured, like a sonnet or a poem, something you memorize and study and practice. He can clap out the beats in his head. If we shadows have offended, finite incatatum. It is magic that Wellington would like, which means that Strange likes it because Wellington would like it. But it is magic that he worries won't work with fairy magic, the magic of the land itself, a wordless song that you twirl to and keen into the night.
Still, he has occasionally been wrong before. He might be wrong now. Probably not, but you never know. And Minerva is a powerful magician and she is offering her help so he shall take it.
Strange takes the mirror and places it on the ground. He sets the dead plants on either side of the mirror and draws a circle on it. And then suddenly, the reflection shifts. It shows a ceiling that is not his ceiling, a different part of the Terror.
Strange picks up the mirror and moves it around, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever his enemy might be. He looks back at McGonagall, giving her a wide grin, an expression of 'see? Look what I did!'...
...and then almost drops the mirror entirely when he spots a familiar looking head of thistledown colored hair. That wide grin shifts very quickly to a strained one as Strange looks down at the mirror with utter loathing.
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rosecarmine
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Date: 2020-07-17 07:03 pm (UTC)Still, he has occasionally been wrong before. He might be wrong now. Probably not, but you never know. And Minerva is a powerful magician and she is offering her help so he shall take it.
Strange takes the mirror and places it on the ground. He sets the dead plants on either side of the mirror and draws a circle on it. And then suddenly, the reflection shifts. It shows a ceiling that is not his ceiling, a different part of the Terror.
Strange picks up the mirror and moves it around, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever his enemy might be. He looks back at McGonagall, giving her a wide grin, an expression of 'see? Look what I did!'...
...and then almost drops the mirror entirely when he spots a familiar looking head of thistledown colored hair. That wide grin shifts very quickly to a strained one as Strange looks down at the mirror with utter loathing.