Explosion
Tonight I saw my reflection in the window that doesn’t open. Sometimes I think that it’s not a real window at all. I know that on at least one occasion, I have heard thunder and rain beyond these walls only to see sunshine through that window. It is not right. Something is not right. I am happy, but I cannot put my finger on this feeling of unnaturalness about the place I live. Why do I live with so many people, for example? Sometimes I have considered that this is a residence for retired celebrities. Yet when I looked in that window last night, I saw that I was still gorgeous. Why retire when I have so much life left in me — me, Gilderoy Lockhart? The magic within my body is virile, and the smile on my face is winning. There is no need for me to be here, I thought, but I must be able to prove that. I need to be able to show these pretty women in the green coats that I am in perfect health, perfect condition. I need to wow and woo my audience, to amaze these people with no life in them who stare at walls and count the tiles…
My opportunity arises in a much more modest form than I am used to: a single candle that one of the green ladies left by my bedside. Oh, the things I could do with this! I take the candle and pause to see my beautiful, illuminated countenance in that fake window’s glass. There is a strange woman a few rooms down from me who collects bubble gum wrappers that will conflagrate in large numbers. She leaves them everywhere, and I am clever enough to collect them.
Tonight, I got in trouble for the first time.