Obligatory Shopping Spree

Harry Potter? That seems plausible.

"Why here?" I bounce as I ask, feeling slight excitement from…somewhere. I think my stomach.

"Just common enough that if the world were to die—somehow, then nothing of great value would be lost. I mean, these worlds are everywhere," Thomas declares with a broad smile. I think his eyelid is twitching.

"This seems like fun. Like I'm the big bully on the playground."

He sighs. "Yes, but everyone on the playground thinks they're the top dog, and I'm the supervisor making sure you kids don't kill yourselves." He drums his fingers on his desk. Tap, tap, tap. "Furthermore, we need to establish ourselves in this world, so I got permission to manipulate time a little. It's currently two years before the main events of the story."

"Right, so what now?" I ask with my hands on my hips, ruffles fluffing. "I mean, it's not as if we can just walk into the wizarding world."

"Dreamer," he deadpans. "We're the most powerful beings in the world."

Right.

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Anyway, Thomas opened up a bank account, transferred a lot of money into it, then I made a bunch of gold to just make it a little more.

It's easy. Just smash a bunch of air together.

Leaving shellshocked goblins behind, we walk onto the slightly busy street. I don't know how we're going to buy things, especially since we don't have my fabled 'Letter from Hogwarts,' but we can make do.

We walk into Ollivanders' to find an empty shop. The dusty floorboards creak as my bare feet and Thomas's polished wingtips tread across it. We both slowly turn our heads in sync and stare at the corner of the wall. Peeking around the corner with a hint of glee, a man that can be simply described as wispy appears.

Oh, it's Ollivander…and he's getting slightly unnerved by our unending, unblinking, silent stare. "Ahem," he coughs. "Can I help you two?"

"Yes," Thomas answers. I continue staring, not even breathing. "My adoptive daughter received a letter from this place called Hogwarts. After much, much confusion, several events have led me to this place where we need a wand for her," Thomas word-vomits lies continuously.

"Hmm." Ollivander rubs his chin in a pondering-ing way. "Let's see what we have."

What followed was a single hour of me trying out each wand proffered to me. None of them would work. I knew that. Thomas knew that. Ollivander was starting to realize that. Why did we come here? I don't need a wand, and all of this shattered porcelain hurts my feet.

"It couldn't be…could it?" Uh oh. I see your thoughts, Ollie, and let me tell you, I'm not Harry—the chosen one.

Luckily, before that train could get rolling, Thomas interrupts him. "Perhaps, I should tell you that Dreamer isn't my biological daughter; she's adopted. Actually, as a matter of fact, she isn't even human—a magical creature in the guise of a human."

"Oh?" Ollie turns to Thomas, curiosity trumping the annoyance at this fact. "Then a custom wand is in order. Most magical creatures, if they use a wand, need a core of something related to their kind, and a compatible wood."

"Would a tentacle work?" I offer. Ollie, cringes a little, but then comprehension dawns on his face.

"Yes, it would. However, depending on the strength of the magic in the…tentacle, it would determine the strength of the wood."

I pluck one of the 125,893 tentacles from my head—the ones acting like hair. It squirms around as it loses physical connection with me, but stops after I command it to stay still. Placing it in Ollie's outstretched hand, and ignoring his mild look of horror, I turn to Thomas expecting pats for a job well done.

Thomas sighs for some reason, but still gives me the head pats. Yay!

"You're going to need a good wood for that," Thomas comments. "Something exponentially more powerful than anything you've ever touched before. Luckily, I have just the thing." Out of his jacket, Thomas pulls the amalgamation of one coffee-induced night: Void wood.

Not-so-creatively named by Thomas, this piece of bark was stripped straight from the world tree, Yggdrasil, and infused with the power of me! Well, specifically my home. But I made my home out of me, so it still counts!

Thomas places the only-slightly warm wood in Ollie's other hand. It pulsates a little on contact.

"I-I see. I'll h-have this done by t-t-tomorrow, but I'll need p-payment upfront." Ollie barely gets through his sentence. Probably due to Thomas's overwhelming presence.

"Of course." Placing a pouch of 27 gold doubloons before Ollie can even say the price down on Ollie's counter, Thomas turns to leave. I follow, skipping along as my bare feet patter on the cobblestone.

"We need to get you robes, Dreamer," Thomas says, not really focusing on me. How dare he suggest I wear clothes that aren't frilly and purple. Gray is not purple, and thus not me. Plus…

"Why?" I ask, flourishing several arm-thick tentacles from my back and compressing them into Hogwarts robes, gaining several gasps from passerby's. I think I just saw a mother gasp and hurry her child along. Don't worry. I probably won't eat your son. I might eat the sun, though.

Thomas gives me a stare. A tired, judgmental stare that fully encompasses his regret in letting me come to this world. A stare that is one bad thing away from letting him make the burning of the library at Alexandria look like a joke.

"Fine," he gives in. "But we're getting you some shoes. We can't have you walking around barefoot."

I pout, but we enter the clothes store anyways. Grumpily sitting down in a wooden chair, Thomas moves on to talk to the Madame about feet stuff. I kick my feet back and forth until I see something.

Boots. Hiking boots, I think. Ones that are thick and made of dragonhide. If they were black and purple, maybe with some of Thomas's metals, and a lot more tentacles, they'd be perfect.

"THOSE!" I calmly shout, pointing my finger like an attorney. Gusts of wind blow throughout the store to punctuate my statement. Thomas looks unamused compared to the Madame who is shocked.

"…We'll take the boots."

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One pair of boots and fourteen stores later, I'm staring in wonder at the boots.

"Let's see…the letter should arrive tomorrow. Then, we can get the wand. Maybe get lunch," Thomas mumbles nonsense to himself. Nothing is more important than the boots.

Tentacles invade the boots, giving them a nice purple sheen. They vibrate a little, but calm down under my touch. They squeeze a little tighter when I put my feet inside.

I might need Thomas to work out the kinks later.

"Thomas, I need some of that dead star you have laying around."

"Sure. Why not hand the Eater of Everything an alloy made from the core of a dead—dwarf star." Huh. That was easier than I thought.