Sky stood alone in the Room of Requirement, his mind alight with curiosity and mischief. He had been experimenting with his storage ability for weeks now, but today was different. Today, he was testing something new—something potentially game-breaking.
He pulled a random iron door from his inventory, its origins unknown, though he had a sneaking suspicion it might've come from his previous impromptu remodeling of a police station cell. He shrugged off the thought. The past was the past.
Standing beneath the vast enchanted ceiling of the Room of Requirement, Sky released the the iron door high into the air. The door plummeted toward the ground, but just before it could crash, he stored it back into his inventory.
Again.
And again.
Over and over, he repeated the process, testing the limits of his reflexes and the mechanics of his ability, trying to understand the exact moment his storage activated and how it interacted with falling objects. Each time he retrieved the door, he noticed something peculiar—it always returned in the exact state he had stored it in, as if time itself paused for the objects inside his inventory. However, something else caught his attention—when he retrieved it mid-fall and released it again, it shot downward immediately, as if retaining all its built-up kinetic energy from before.
"Interesting..." he murmured.
Sky switched the door out for a set of iron bars that looked suspiciously like they belonged in a jail cell. He couldn't quite place where he had gotten them, but considering his history with acquiring things, it was best not to dwell on it.
He repeated the experiment, dropping the bars, retrieving them just before impact, and noting the results. Every time, they returned to him in pristine condition, but the moment he took them out again, the stored kinetic energy from their previous fall remained intact, sending them hurtling forward with the full force of their interrupted descent. The bars crashed against the far side of the room, clanging loudly against the stone floor.
As he worked, his mind raced with implications. Could he use this trick for something more? Could he potentially store projectiles mid-air? If he could store a falling object before it struck the ground, could he store an incoming spell before it hit him?
He made a mental note to test that theory later—carefully. To further push the limits, he decided to store a stack of pillows alongside the iron door. He repeated the process, dropping both at the same time, retrieving them just before impact, and then releasing them again. The pillows, much like the iron door, retained the kinetic energy of their previous descent. When he finally released them together after multiple cycles, the pillows shot forward with surprising force, slamming into the far wall with an audible thud.
He grinned. "Oh, now that's interesting..."
It was also helpful with the way he positioned the pillows right under the iron door to help with the buildup. The heavier object transferred some of its force into the softer ones, and yet they all maintained their energy when stored.
"Now, what if I hit something before storing it?" he muttered, reaching into his inventory and pulling out a worn Beater's bat—another acquisition from who-knew-where. He tossed a broken bludger into the air and swung with practiced precision, smacking them with as much force as possible before storing them mid-flight. The moment he released them from a different position and angle, they flew forward with immense speed, like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Sky couldn't help but laugh. "This... this is going to be fun."
For the next couple of hours, he tested hundreds of random things. The Room of Lo t Things had so many random things. Heavy objects, light objects, objects that could compress, and ones that wouldn't bend at all. He launched books, plates, wooden planks, and even a broomstick at high speeds. He built up kinetic energy by stacking objects on top of each other before releasing them, causing chain reactions of stored motion. The sheer versatility of his ability was astounding.
Satisfied with his tests, he reached into his inventory for something different: Fawkes's feather quill. Unlike the iron door and bars, this was something entirely different—or at least, it had been until he realized what a scam it was.
As he turned the quill in his fingers, admiring its craftsmanship, something felt off. At a glance, it seemed pristine, but as he studied it more closely, he noticed the edges of the feather were subtly fraying, the degradation so minute that it was almost imperceptible. His expression darkened.
"That bearded wanker was trying to con me!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the Room of Requirement.
Dumbledore had never intended to help him to begin with. The quill wasn't meant to last. The old man had tricked him, giving him an item that would eventually wither away, ensuring Sky wouldn't be able to hold onto it indefinitely. It wasn't just a simple favor—it was a way to manipulate the challenge to his favor.
He was intending for me to fail.
Sky's grip tightened around the quill before he shoved it back into his inventory with a scowl. If Dumbledore thought he could play him, he had another thing coming.
Breathing deeply, he forced himself to calm down. The night's experiments had proven useful. He had learned more about his abilities, discovered potential new uses, and, most importantly, gained a fresh reason to screw over Dumbledore.
Sky smirked to himself. If the headmaster wanted to play games, he'd find that Sky Kingston was a player who refused to be outmaneuvered.
You should never piss of your supplier old man.
Ill get that letter if its the last thing I do.