Finite space is closed. The inky sludge shifts in the infinitude of time. Silver slime drips from the relativity of not-down. A form rests on the hooked tendrils. The figure ebbs between this world and the next—between the corporeal and immaterial.
Then, instantaneously like the spark of the universe, heat and life are introduced into the simulated void. It intrudes upon spaces notwithstanding.
"Uh, hello?" A girl asks. She has brown hair that can't choose between straight and fluffy. Blue eyes quiver with adrenaline.
"Hi." I attempt to talk. Instead only gargles come out. Wait, mouth, right.
Tendrils roll over, scooping my liquid matter and almost-mercury back into my human form. "Hi!" I cheer. "Do you want to be friends?"
"U-Uh, is this cabin free? The o-others were filled." Heightened heartbeat, imbalance of muscle tension. She's close to passing out.
"Yeah. You can stay here, but do you want to be friends?"
She sits in the corner, squishing herself as far as she can into, starkly refusing eye contact with me. "Sure? Uh…" I sit right next to her, and give her a small hug with real arms! Tendrils split from my shoulders and give her some head pats, too! That should make her feel better.
Surprisingly, it works! Her muscles relax. Only by 0.00001 percent less, but it's progress!
There's something about this girl that just makes you want to protect her and cuddle her and hold her tight. I think I do that, too. She's like me.
"I'm Dreamer!"
She sits up, but slumps down as I continue holding her. "Victoria."
"Huh," I 'huh.' "What kind of people name their child that?"
"I…wouldn't know." Oh, are her parents dead? Hmm, oh. Yeah. They are. That's sad.
This is sensitive. I'm not good at sensitive. Thomas said so. "I'm not human."
"I—I guessed that," Victoria stammers.
"Yeah, but my dad didn't know. I'm not his biological daughter. He's actually a…muggle. Yeah, let's go with that. He might seem tough and prickly on the outside, but he has a heart of gold!"
"Sounds…nice." That was NOT the right approach.
"Do you mind if I call you Tori?"
"Huh?" Contrasting to before, she loses all stress as it's replaced with confusion. "I mean, sure? Why though?"
"We're friends, right? I like to think friends give each other nicknames. Or if you're superior to them."
"I—Well—I… How can you shorten Dreamer?"
I hum. "You can't, but that's fine! I'm perfect anyway! Superior to all!" Even Thomas.
She chuckles. "Right… You're actually pretty weird, Dreamer. Funny, and slightly terrifying, too."
"Thanks!" I beam. "I don't really try sometimes…" I relax my hugs as she's now just as relaxed. I think my work is, as they say, good. I only had to meddle with her glands a little, too. No mind stuff.
"You're superior to most things on this train, too," I compliment. Tori tries, but she can't hide the redness in her ears.
Kind of cute. Weird, by Thomas's standards, for her to accept me so quickly, but I think that just makes sense.
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The train chugs along.
For some reason, every time somebody passes the cabin, Tori's heart speeds up just a little. Even more than a little, her blood pressure has been steadily rising.
I've had to just dump her chemical soup to fix her a few times.
"I don't know why," she begins, "but I feel calm right now. But I also know I'm terrified of you and that terrifies me."
"Hehe. Yeah…"
The sweets trolley passes by, we both decline, but I slip just a little into the shadows to steal some snacks. I'll leave some tentacles as payment.
Everyone loves tentacles.
Two others had a similar idea. I see two faint sources of heat around the corner, ready to use the power of deception and guile to steal some pies. Very untrustworthy.
Let's help them.
For some reason, humans are very good at finding out if I'm looking at them. Something about me being near them, watching through dimensions, makes their hair move…but only on their neck.
So I sprout a few thousand eyes into the wall ahead of the trolley lady. She pauses, turns to look at them, and pulls air into her lungs as they prepare to exhale—loudly and quickly.
Each eye blinks in unison. I grab onto the time around the lady with a tentacle to slow her down just a little. Maybe just a little reversal before she noticed me. Anyway, the two ginger twins take advantage of time not-working and steal a bunch of sweets.
The lady walks forward, thirty-something Earth-years younger. Completely unaware of what happened, she continues forward with just a little more spring in her step. All students, both young and old wonder if something happened to the older lady, but also feel deja vu with the younger one.
I wonder how long it'll take for her to notice. I'd give it twenty-seven minutes and eighteen seconds exactly.
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"Firs' years! O'er here!" The big, friendly, half-giant shouted over the flock of adolescents. Tori and I lock hands so as to not get separated. Routing students with a few pricks, prods, and shoves with tentacles, we find a dinky boat to sit in.
Some not-important mortals hop in the boat. Two boys, I think. Their skin is too well taken care of, and they look slightly effeminate. I wonder what they use to moisturize.
Plasma works for me.
They give me some weird looks. I wonder why? A rift is torn open, sprouting a tentacle to rub my chin.
They try to actively squeeze themselves away from me, but fail to do so. Apparently, they thought that this boat was bigger that it looks. Silly.
Tori seems to be fine with me. I'm not even messing with her bodily functions this time. I like her. I wonder if I can convince her to give me pats on my head.
I put a spinning tentacle under the boat, pushing us forward a little faster than the rest.
We drift to the almost-front, plodding along at an abysmal pace. Then we see it.
A castle—almost monumental in size, even from our distant perspective. Glimmering lights in ever-burning pyres twinkle in mystery at our approach. Almost every student here goes slack-jawed at the sight.
Me? I'm thinking about how I could eat the entire castle in less time than an electron could finish its orbit.
At the same time, I have to ignore the questioning prods Physics gives me as it questions the legality of ever-burning pyres. Energy out of nothing and whatnot. I just shoo it away and leave it up to me.
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We dock at a small port. It almost feels like we're going through the school's back door.
We walk up the uneven stone steps, feet stepping over each other as we cram together. Some people trip, but I pick them up with hair-tacles before they bash their faces on the stones. They struggle at first, but soon resign to their fates.
The oaken door slowly swings open—very dramatic. A stern, black-haired witch donning emerald-green robes stands there, expectantly. "Here's the firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid says.
Her gaze slowly pans over us, pausing on me as she looks upon my entourage relaxing in my hair. Smiling, I wave at her. She continues on anyway.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she says after what feels like forever. We follow her into the school, like ducklings.
Instead of being in front of the Great Hall, where greatness like me deserves to be, we're led to a side chamber.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall finally says.