Harry Potter and Dreams Lost

As I sit in…I don’t know, one of my classes, my main body is currently floating through billions of dimensions at once, sending probes to planets to search for a large psychic presence.

 

There’s a few, but most of them aren’t pure psychic energies. I mean, I could clean them, but genocide makes Cassie sad. So, I won’t do that.

 

Class ends, and I begin wandering…to a place. My focus is split heavily right now. I’ll just go to wherever my subconscious deems is safe for my humanish body. I have several hours until dinner.

 

Let’s see… No. No. Too…harem-y. Seriously, why are there so many universes where it’s like, ‘Oh! I’m the only male in the entire world!’ Ugh. They just get repetitive and boring. Adding so many characters where nobody even remembers who is who anymore.

 

Right… No. No. Maybe… Eh, nah. No. No. No. Ugh. Why are there so few psychic worlds in infinity. It’s infinity! There should be an infinite amount. There are a few worlds with psychic presences, but it’s usually just Japan. I’d have to cannibalize several thousand of these worlds to break-even on my energy needs.

 

Also, I feel like I’m forgetting something…

 

…

 

…WAIT! “FUDGE!!!” I shout, standing up from the shoreline. “I have class with Hooch!” Class starts in two minutes. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!

 

Oh, wait. It’s rend space time!

 

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

 

I walk out of a closet. Not that many people know it’s a closet, and especially not the first-year group that makes up my class. Due to the power of, well, technically Thomas’s, I’ve managed to arrive to class just in time. Yep, definitely nothing else happened in the short three minutes of me appearing in the closet, and mayhaps forgetting to consolidate my form into something a human would call ‘comprehensible’.

 

Heh…heh…

 

No siree, nothing to see here! Not that they exactly saw… I mean, what would two, pubescent, seventh-years do to find privacy? Go into an abandoned classroom, maybe the forest? No! The closet. A closet in a high-traffic archway, too.

 

Maybe I’m overreacting? Am I overreacting? No. Surely not! I’m certainly underreacting!

 

I honestly don’t understand why this class is required. Like, okay… Here we are. A bunch of what is essentially children, who, by muggle standards wouldn’t even be learning to drive. Now, by apparent wizarding standards, we must learn how to fly! First, easy, grow wings, or…something.

 

Second, it isn’t even that necessary unless you want to go into sports. By our sixth and seventh years, students here will be learning to teleport. We also have the floo network! Yes, I understand that it’s a good getaway, but you understand what’s better? Blend into the muggles with a vehicle. Maybe find your inner dwarf and dig a bunch of escape tunnels.

 

Thomas did the second.

 

It went…uh…

 

Anyway, flying with Ravenclaw. Oh boy! There’s a sort of anxiety in the air, one that you usually feel when you hear a dog making a retching noise, waiting for the inevitable noise of splatter. Maybe excitement as well, but it’s really overshadowed by the anxiety.

 

Most of the Ravenclaws have spent the past week, holed up in the library like normal, reading over every flight tip and memoir they could find on how to fly. I think they’d be better off with a book on physics and an airplane instruction manual. Maybe a book about birds, too?

 

Apparently, I’m the only one here who is slightly relaxed. It’s nice sometimes to unwind, watch the grass flow in waves, here at the edge of the forest. A nice afternoon, some would say. Just have to be sure not to unwind too much, or I might have a repeat incident.

 

Madam Hooch arrives, hawkish eyes looking over the ambling crowd. Yeah, yeah, something something bird-like teacher teaches the flight course.

 

“Everyone! Move to the broomsticks and stand beside one. Hurry up!” She barks, kicking the proverbial ant pile. Students push and shove, clambering over each other to find a broomstick with not too many splinters.

 

“Stick your right hand over the broom and command, ‘Up!’” Madam Hooch calls out from the front. Completely pointless, even the Quidditch teams just stick it between their legs and push off.

 

Pushing some intent into the ground, I create a localized field around the broom. You know, the way Thomas and I use magic are different, yet they fall under the same principal. I use my intent and will, Thomas uses math and equations, but in the end, we’re both manipulating the world to our will.

 

Anyway, tangent slightly aside. I might confer with Thomas on magic ideas, mainly spell names to explain things. The broom, as decrepit as it is, now has no gravity affecting it. Not even micro gravity from things like the moon giving the slightest pull from it, just none.

 

The only thing that’s keeping it from flying into the stratosphere is a tether keeping it near me. Really the only thing holding it down.

 

“Up,” I lazily utter, mentally yanking on the tether. The broom shoots up, hitting my hand with enough velocity to slice it off at the wrist. Black and red fluids flow out of my stump as I stare at the quickly disappearing dot flying through the…thermosphere. “Huh.” Neat.

 

“What happ—” Madam Hooch cuts herself off as she blanks at the growing puddle around me. Her mouth gapes open and closed like a fish on land.

 

I slowly swivel my head to face her. “I’ve had a bit of an accident.” Holding up my stump, I glare at the stupid thing to stop the pointless blood flow. Thin and thick black tendrils like arteries and capillaries grow out of my hand, forming bone, blood vessels, muscles, and finally morphing into a human-like skin layer.

 

Picking up the hand off the ground, I unhinge my jaw, much like a hungry snake, and toss my hand in, eating the thing whole with a satisfying crunch.

 

“I fixed it though.” I don’t think Hooch agrees. She’s still trying to catch flies in her mouth.