Chapter 17: The Trash Has Become The Treasure

I walk towards the Great Hall, holding the weird block I found in hand.

 

The final thing I took from the Room of Hidden Things was this weird yellow cube with a light gray swirl on one side. I’ve tried crushing it, throwing it, burning it, shoving magic into it, several other verbs proposition direct object referring towards the antecedent cube.

 

Well, except chewing it. I’d rather not though, since that might actually break the darn thing, but I can’t figure out what it’s supposed to do!

 

Oh, damn it all.

 

*Boing* Huh, it squished and…flowed into me? Hmm, alright. Something’s changed. Let’s run a self-diagnosis…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Oh! It’s built a new ability tendril. It’s almost like the brain-in-a-jars that hold knowledge that Thomas feels shouldn’t be on his SSDs.

 

Hmm, this one appears…to give me a vacuum vortex inhale? Might as well keep it. Very little energy expenditure, and I could probably eat a few moons with ease with this. Dunno? Might use it some day…Chekov’s gun-style.

 

Except I probably won’t use it to un-alive myself, not that I could anyway.

 

Anyway, I’m heading for the Great Hall, with a newly stitched and knitted satchel at my side. Contrasting greatly with the nebulous colors of my outfit, the satchel is a nice forest green with yellow sunflowers dotting the yarn. The satchel is, in fact, only slightly enchanted, but as more of an access point towards a certain stomach dimension.

 

One full of neat knickknacks I’ve made.

 

I hop over the seat, grabbing a few flapjacks simultaneously. The Weasley twins look up from their huddled conversation and breakfast.

 

“Yes?” Fred speaks up after the slight pause of recognition.

 

“I’ve come with a proposition—a business one. I know, for a fact, what you two have already planned to do after you finish schooling.”

 

“Oh? What’s that?” Hmm, George. Testing the waters, ehh?

 

“Open up a shop.” I continue, ignoring the flash of surprise that they immediately cover up, “Now, I found your secret stash of goodies in the abandoned bathroom. I say, we sell them. We can mark up the price a little since they’re smuggled goods, but I feel a few extra coins in the future.”

 

“Can’t the third years just buy it themselves?”

 

“What do you have to do with any of this?”

 

“First, yes, they could, but Filch and Mrs. Norris have noses for these sorts of things. Second, and this ties into the first, given my…ability to be in multiple places at once and to look like anyone, I could give the three of us alibis while we sneak out and buy the stuff.

 

Also, we could take requests on imports and exports, for an extended fee, of course.”

 

The two turn to each other, putting up a hand to stop me from reading the lips of their hasty discussion. Meanwhile, I patiently eat my caloric breakfast while they talk business.

 

Then, they turn back.

 

“We need to see something.”

 

“Particularly something fun.”

 

“And chaotic.”

 

“That you’ve made.”

 

Ahh, foresight. How I adore you, and how you annoy Yuki. I open my satchel and pull out a small glassy sphere, just the size of my eleven-year-old palm. A multitude of prismatic colors swirl around inside, damped slightly by a misty fog.

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“These,” I announce, “are Whimsy Pearls. That can…well, do anything, I suppose.” What does one expect? I made them out of magical garbage I found in the room of garbage. “They can’t be affected by magic, except mine, of course, and when purposefully smashed upon the ground..."

 

I lean in for dramatic effect. “Well. Chaos ensues. Those that receive their effects will hear an announcement that dictates what will happen. Sometimes fun, sometimes boring. Who knows? I certainly don’t.”

 

Their faces are…skeptical. Understandable. “Here, have a few.” I give them three each. “Try them out and we can meet together…later. Soon would be best.” I get up, swiping a few leftovers, and leave for my first class.

 

Though, a part of me splits off to go start some construction work.

 

———————————————————————————————————————

 

Hmm, let’s see if I can parse their thoughts… And… Random tentacles, GO!!!

 

[Fred’s POV]

 

I attentively listen to Professor McGonagall, drinking in every word.

 

Haha…kidding. Okay, I pretend to listen to Professor McGonagall, but I’m my mind is actually drifting towards other topics—specifically, the mystery that is Dreamer Archimedes. Everyone knows she’s a magical creature of some kind; she’s made no effort to hide that.

 

It’s just…what is the extent? How far and how much can she do? She seems to know a lot, judging by last night's and this morning's conversations, and seems interested in doing business with us.

 

How would we even set up shop? I’d have to discuss it with George, but there’s already a few problems. First, location. We can obviously work out of an abandoned classroom or bathroom—there’s tons of ‘em anyway—but what about mobility?

 

We might need to change location to keep the teachers off of us. But then how do we inform our clientele that we’ve moved? Also, wrangling in customers…Well, we might have a few plans for that anyway.

 

Going back to Dreamer’s offer…her pearls, specifically, for some unknown reason, weigh heavily in my pocket, pulsing with some unknown power. I don’t know how she made them, if she even did, but they have to be worth a fortune if they can do what she claims.

 

I lock eyes with George, who Professor McGonagall kindly sat across the room from me, and we agree. I’ll break the first one.

 

I pull one out of my robe’s pocket, gliding my fingers over the smooth surface. An almost ethereal glow illuminates the underside of the desk. I drop it.

 

It breaks with naught a noise, and the fragments rapidly turn to dust and blow away right before my eyes. Nothing happens. Not for a moment or two, then…I feel It. Some pressure on my skull—my mind—tickling the surface to deliver a quiet yet booming message.

 

<”FOR THE NEXT MINUTE, REMEMBER TO TAKE YOUR MEDICINE.”>

 

The abstract voice ends; the reversing echo that seems reminiscent of the Headmaster’s voice echoes into the cognitive wind. Ugh. I’m being poetic today…why?

 

Judging by the visible discomfort on everyone’s faces, they all heard it, too. Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, looks like she’s about to unleash years of torment on someone.

 

“AHHH!!!” That is, until one of the girls in class screams. I don’t know her personally, but I do know she rooms with that girl Dreamer’s fond of—Victoria. Rumor has it that they’re not treating Victoria too well, but…George and I haven’t gone up the girls’ stairs yet…

 

Everyone rounds, looking into the corner the girl is pointing towards, and we all stiffen.

 

S-Something sits there. Almost like…a person, slouching against the wall. But…their skin…their body. It’s all…like spaghetti. Ropes of…fleshy red…stuff form the vague form of a human, except that same stuff is branching out, covering the walls the floor.

 

“Everyone, back wall. NOW!” Professor McGonagall commands, and, for once, we comply. Everyone scrambles over each other as Professor McGonagall points her wand at the…thing, tip glowing with magical power.

 

Dreamer, what in Merlin’s Beard is this?! We asked for chaos, not nightmares!

 

Or…is that her view? She isn’t human. Dang! We’ll need to give her a dictionary.

 

The thing opens its mouth, moving its mouth in a mockery of human speech. “Every…one. Back…wallll…now…” It’s slight, but I think I see Professor McGonagall pale at the thing’s echo.

 

Then, it fades into nonexistence. What was that? Was…was that a minute? I—We need to talk with Dreamer about…severity, but if she can do this at any time…

 

It might be time to do business.

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