Chapter 3: Pop Culture Obsession

Early in the morning, I ‘wake up’ in the inky abyss.

 

“Hah,” I sigh. My appendages breach the fabric of space-time, pushing everything dark into the expanded space under my bed. “Now stay,” I chide the Abyss. It snarls and rolls its metaphysical eyes in response. “I mean it!”

 

Whipping a few tentacles together, they form the shape of an owl. I mean, it looks close enough to the ones I’ve eaten. “WHOOOFGHHG!” It hoot-gurgles. Like me, it’s female.

 

“This,” I gesticulate. Heh, what a fun word. “Is Nyx. You’re her prey.”

 

I step out of my room, ignoring the muffled screams of a beast of the dark. I think my room will be a slightly brighter place now.

 

I run through the halls, not-so-purposefully tripping some Arthurs and Meow-Maids on the way to the dining hall. Don’t ask me. Ask Thomas and his obsession with Super Paper Mario.

 

I plop myself down at the head of the table, of course in the most regal seat available. Right as I’m about to dig in to the massive piles of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, one of Thomas’s robo-tentacles drops down from above me and picks me up, dropping my in one of the inferior plush chairs.

 

Dropped by an inferior tentacles. Hmph.

 

“You know…” Thomas starts, admiring the eight extra limbs fanning from his back. His right arm splits in two, one cyborg hand reaching for his mug, and the other handing me a latter. “I feel like Otto was onto something in those movies.”

 

I raise an eyebrow. “You stole the idea.”

 

“Ah! But! I improved on it! I mean, using my own version of nanobots to make them interact with anything and everything makes them amazing. Plus their ability to melt and reform is a definite plus.”

 

I ignore his obvious addiction to media in favor of the letter he gave me. Ridiculous. Why is he giving me payback? I didn’t annoy him at all!

 

Let’s see… Dumbles has too many titles to be relevant, doesn’t he?

 

Dear Ms. Archimedes,

 

          We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

          Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

 

Eh, okay. I don’t need anything after that. I mean, we already bought almost everything yesterday.

 

Holding out my arm, earning an eyebrow from Thomas, crashes and buzzes are heard as Nyx pummels her way through the processors of the maids and butlers.

 

I hand her my letter of acceptance. Hand, as in, she eats the letter. Then she flies away to deliver it to Professor McGonagall; though in actuality, a hole in the fabric of space is punched like it’s a ticket, and Nyx is a Polar Express Conductor.

 

I whip tentacles around the table, tilting it so that gravity does all of the well-deserving work of feeding me. Hair-tacles pick up on the slack by catching the random bits that miss my mouth.

 

Oh well. At least they tried. It’ll still go in me either way.

 

“My inventions aside,” Thomas drawls, “we still need to pick up your wand. Unfortunately, since everyone, barring a few, gets their letters at about the same time, Diagon Alley will be jam-packed with people; especially…kids.” Thomas shivers at that last part.

 

Weird reaction for someone that has me and two actual daughters.

 

————————————————————————————————————

 

Ok. This is ridiculous.

 

There’s so many people here. It’s a wonder nobody has been trampled yet! …Maybe someone has and nobody has noticed it yet.

 

Now, it would be really easy for me to remove agency and have this crowd part like the sea, but Thomas says it’s bad for me to do that to people.

 

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We make the mutual decision to teleport the short walk it could’ve been had people decided not to be here today.

 

With a bang as air is forced away from our landing, we walk forward up towards Ollie’s counter. He stutters something, but plainly gives up, moving towards something he’s much more comfortable with.

 

He presents my custom-made wand in the box with that soft foam comforting it. “Thirteen and a half inches, your…hair as the core, and that strangely warm wood provided surrounding it. I’m sorry to say, but I did end up using all of the wood. For some reason, your hair kept…eating it.”

 

Thomas and I chuckle. “It does that,” he says. “And I believed I paid yesterday, correct?”

 

“About that, sir. These coins—I can’t accept them. The Goblins can’t find their era or composition, and have deemed them counterfeit.”

 

Thomas clicks his tongue. One of his robo-tentacles pops out from beneath his coat and grabs the bag from the back of the shop. With a quick switch, we leave the shop, probably paying the right coins this time.

 

“Damned bankers.” Thomas mumbles more obscenities. “They know the price of these coins. They just used Ollivander to get them on top of galleons.”

 

I ignore Thomas’s tirade in favor of my Me wand. I wave it around, forcing big, big amounts of magic through the core.

 

Things begin flying towards the center of the street as I accidentally make a black hole the size of a grain of rice. Before anybody’s skin is forcefully ripped off, Thomas waves the black hole away. He’s still mumbling too.

 

Hmph.

 

*BAMPH* Hmm, the ground looks nice today. Especially the mud on my very nice dress.

 

So, who wants to have their soul eaten?

 

This ginger girl apparently…oh. A side character soon to be main. Curses. I can’t eat her.

 

“Ginny! Get back here!” A slightly plump woman grabs the girl’s shoulder as Thomas finally notices what happened. Oh, wait, he noticed; he’s just caring now. “I’m sorry for ruining your dress, dear.” Molly immediately turns motherly upon seeing me.

 

“It’s fine,” I lie. I will eat someone’s soul later. “It’s just clothing.” It’s my favorite. Ginny will dissolve in my stomach for eternity.

 

“Don’t be like that! Let’s just get you cleaned up.” She waves her wand, pulling all the dirt from my clothes.

 

At this moment, Thomas decides to stop blending into the background, and he kneels in front of Ginny. “You should watch out, kid. Not everyone will be as forgiving.”

 

“Mmm.” She nods.

 

“Good girl.” Thomas stands back up, metallic joints popping. He faces Molly, much more stone-faced. “Thank you for your help. I’m not as well versed in the magical arts,” he lies.

 

“Ah, I see.” She glances at him—inspecting him. She notices his distinct lack of a wand and turns to her kid. “Well, we must be off.”

 

We stand there as she runs off, not willing to deal with…us. What’s her deal?

 

————————————————————————————————————

 

“Alright, got your…trunk?” Thomas asks while shivering at using the British word.

 

“Yep!” I hold it over my head. Nyx perched herself right on top. It’s actually comfortable.

 

“Okay. Let’s hop in my car and head to the train station.”

 

“Hell no!” I refuse, teleporting there instead.

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