So you channel what's in you and pull from your surroundings to support and fuel what's behind it?

He stops abruptly, turns, and watches the small, probably toxic, glowing winged-raccoon skitter across the hallway with something crinkling in her mouth. Well. It is getting late. She's likely just waking up.

I'm usually about starting fires, not putting them out. Well, actually, there was that one time with the spell in the Nott farmlands. But then this is more metaphorical-mental fires (hopefully), not actual fires.

He shakes his head and keeps walking.

So you're not going to turn into an eel.