Bear's Beauties: Existential Crisis 8 (Patreon)

<<Albus Dumbledore>>

“Before we get too far ahead of ourselves, are you familiar with the concept of alternate timelines or the multiverse?” the broad shouldered man, Mister Sandosen, asked.

I’d never heard of the term ‘multiverse’ before, but alternate timelines sounded like something related to time turners. “I’m afraid I can’t say that I am. Why don’t you explain what they are.”

Mister Sandosen sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before speaking, “Alternate timelines are the easiest to explain. Consider a person walking down the road and they come to a fork. History splits in two, creating one Earth where they went left and a second where they went right. Now apply that concept to everyone, every choice, everywhere.”

That if true would very quickly create an effectively infinite number of Earths, probably what he meant by the term multiverse. Assuming the term is based off the words ‘multiple’ and ‘universe’ which, based on the way he is speaking, seems probable.

“A fascinating concept, I assume you believe that you are from one such alternate timeline?” I asked. Were matters with Tom not so grave, I’d be quite interested in discussing the concept at length, the possibilities are quite fascinating.

“Not exactly, we’re all from a bit further abroad,” Mister Sandosen said, to the amused snorts of the women with him, while pulling a book out of a pocket.

Taking the offered book, for the first time in well over a decade I was stunned speechless. The title… ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone’. The exact details of young Hyacinth’s encounter with Tom in her first year were only known to Tom and young Hyacinth herself. But the child on the cover was clearly a male version of young Hyacinth…

“How did you come by this?” I asked the young man, meeting his gaze. I sent a minor Legilimency probe, merely enough to determine if he was telling the truth. Only to be rebuffed by the greatest Occlumency defenses I’d seen or heard of.

“Take the concept of alternate timelines and apply it to every world with intelligent life in every galaxy. That’s the Multiverse. Combine that with the concept of the World as Myth, that every piece of fiction is the creator glimpsing some alternate world and telling others about it, each of which has its own connected multiverse. That is the Omniverse.

“We’re all from different parts of the Omniverse, gathered by an extremely powerful entity called a Q. Because the Omniverse is in danger. An entity known as the Anti-Monitor will travel from one universe to another, destroying them and adding them to the universe it controls. Eventually, it will leave its multiverse and travel to another.

“By that point, it’d be too powerful to stop. Right now though, while still powerful, it’s weak enough to be beaten. But… the odds are still slim. That’s why we’re here: we’re traveling to different worlds to recruit aid for when the Anti-Monitor goes on the attack in five years time. Magic has the potential to be a deciding factor.”

“That is a rather… interesting story,” I said. It was quite a fanciful story. “I trust you have some means of verifying this story?”

Mister Sandosen reached into a pocket, pulling out a cube that swiftly bloomed into a familiar stone basin. I hadn’t realized that there had been a pensieve developed that could be shrunk down and carried in one’s pocket. I will have to enquire where he obtained it.

[hr][/hr]

<<Hyacinth “Harry” Potter>>

The woman named Nikhol kept staring at me, and not like when people first realized that yes, they were looking at “the” Hyacinth Potter. But more like… more like I was being studied thoroughly. Like when Professor McGonagall was examining my wandwork.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked, causing the woman to blink before shaking her head.

“My apologies, but what is the purpose of the mark on your forehead?” the older woman asked.

“It’s a scar, from when Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby.”

“Then why is there a soul fragment inside it?”

“What? What soul fragment?”

“Someone mutilated a soul and stuck part of it onto your own, rather poorly too. If I were to attempt something so stupid I can think of several better ways off the top of my head. Anyway, I apologize but sensing it has been rather distracting.”

I barely heard her, my mind racing as a wave of revulsion and violation swept through me. It had to be Tom’s. Before my thoughts could spiral, I was pulled into a hug and my face was shoved into the pigtailed blonde’s chest.

“Aw, be moar considerate Nikkie. Ya just told the giwl here she has part o’ a creepy stalka in her head,” the blonde said, her accent not one I’d heard before.

But I couldn’t focus on the accent, my main focus was in getting my head out from the suffocatingly massive chest it was being pressed into. The thoughts of how the blonde’s chest feels compared to my coven mates, the mental images of laying kisses along them, and a myriad of other such thoughts being pressed into the bountiful bosom spawned made my cheeks flush and burn.

“Let the poor thing breathe, Harley,” an American accented voice chided, and the grip on my head loosened.

Leaning back, and taking a much needed breath, my attention was drawn back to Nikhol as she spoke, “If you would like, I can remove the fragment from you. It is not so intertwined as to require your death. I won’t say it’s a simple matter, but it is certainly doable.”

“Please,” I all but begged, even as Mrs. Figg moved to protest.

If she said anything, I didn’t hear it as I was held against the blonde’s front, her breasts serving as far too comfortable pillows while Nikhol reached out with a hand. I felt… something itching under my scar. Not the scar itself, nor the skin or my head, but something… deeper.

“Come on,” Nikhol muttered as the itching got worse.

There was a faint screaming sound, getting louder and louder, and the itching turned into a searing pain. The last thing I felt was something erupting from my scar, before the pain made me black out.

<<Harleen “Harley” Quinzel>>

None of the others had said anything, but I could tell the poor thing was being far too cheerful. Probably specifically trying to not think about what had almost happened. We’d need to send someone to her place to pick up her stuff, because I’d sooner go back to him than let her stay there. She was nearly raped a short ways from her house, ain’t no way it’ll be safe.

Even if Gandalf insisted on sending her back, we’d just grab her and take her back to the ship. No way a noseless fork-tongued freak was going to find her there! Especially once Nikkie…

My train of thought was derailed as an ephemeral screaming came from the poor thing’s scar, moments before she herself screamed and a black tar burst out of it like popping a big, bloated zit. I carefully held her as she thrashed in pain, making sure she didn’t hurt herself, while Kara made sure that the old broad didn’t interfere.

“Dujikri,” Nikkie muttered as her eyes narrowed and started to glow purple.

“Nikhol?” Taytay asked nervously as she and Lisa grabbed some doilies from the coffee table and did their best to wipe away the magic scar pus from the girl’s head.

“The fragment’s more stubborn than I anticipated. But I’ve almost… got it!” she triumphantly declared as with a last burst of yuck, a face that made him look charming made out of smoke drifted out of the girl’s scar before being caught in a force-zappy cage.

Of course, that was when Fuzzy and Gandalf popped out of the elfy bowl-mirror thingy. Gandalf immediately pulled out his magic wand which looked vaguely like a string of anal beads (kinky) and pointed it at Nikhol.

“What are you doing?” he asked/demanded.

“Determining what to do with the parasitic soul shard that was bound to this girl,” Nikkie answered calmly as the cloud in her force-zappy cage writhed and twisted in an attempt to escape. Gandalf blinked before taking a closer look at Ugly McCloudy-Face, his eyes widening in shock.

“Merlin, you managed to untangle that from Miss Potter’s scar?”

“It was a bit more slippery than I’d anticipated, but it wasn't hard. I’m just surprised you left it there. Don’t you know what could have happened if it wasn’t removed?”

“Madame Diomedes, I have been searching for a way to remove Tom’s soul fragment from Miss Potter ever since I realized what it was over two years ago. The knowledge of what method he utilized alone took months to discover, and in all the tomes and scrolls I consulted there had never been anything like Miss Potter’s situation. I… I admit I was beginning to lose hope that there was a way to remove it that did not involve her death.”

Nikkie snorted in amusement, “From my limited examination, I must say that this ‘Tom’ was a fool of the highest order. Of the dozen or so means I’ve encountered of extending one’s life, this seems to have the fewest benefits for the most drawbacks. I admit, I’ve yet to encounter a spirit that tied their existence to another living thing, but that only compounds on the stupidity of the man. In your research, did you happen upon a means of using one soul fragment to track the rest?”

“I’m afraid not, my research was focused on destroying the fragment within Miss Potter.”

“Shame,” Nikkie said before she clenched her hand into a fist and the force-zappy cage compressed down on Ugly.

As it shrank down to nothing, Ugly McCloudy-Face gave a shriek like Craney when I nailed his berries with my sledgehammer when he got too handsy at Pengy’s Christmas Party. Only Fuzzy gets to squeeze my ass like that! Although I suppose I’d make an exception if it’s during fun times and it’s to get Fuzzy excited. But Fuzzy’s the only guy who gets to touch The Girls or My Ass! Anyone else gets my sledgehammer to their bits!

Wait, not now, focus. Important stuff going on.

“… she’s not going back to her relatives. At the same time as the dementors showed up, she was being held down by several young men, one of which felt like a relative,” Lannie told Gandalf, finger toying with her lightsaber.

Gandalf didn’t look to be in the mood to argue, he looked more like Batsy that time I told him about one o’ his henchmen o’ the week bragged about raping their nephew. Good. Looks like Gandalf needed the wake up call, kinda like I did.

There was more talkin’, but my focus was on the poor girl still passed out using The Girls as cushions. Taytay had done a good job in gettin’ her cleaned up from the magic scar pus, only bit of it left was on her clothes. Even her glasses were completely cleaned.

<<Bear Sandosen>>

Harry (and that was weird, but she insisted) eventually woke up from whatever had knocked her out when Nikhol pulled Riddle’s horcrux from her. Dumbledore apologized for what she’d nearly been subjected to, assured her that she’d never be returning to her aunt and uncle’s, and then went with Kara and Lisa to collect her things so she wouldn’t have to risk being near her cousin if he was there. They returned half an hour later, all three pissed. But, no one felt like asking what had happened so it went unsaid.

It took a little bit of wrangling to figure out what we were going to do about the shuttle and get all of us to Grimmauld Place, but eventually it was decided that Nikhol would pilot the shuttle to Hogwarts with Dumbledore while the rest of us would be side-along apparated by members of the Order of the Phoenix. A Patronus message later, and there were a series of ‘pops’ outside before people started filing into the house.

Dumbledore gave the quick and dirty explanation: we were outsiders with knowledge and abilities that would aid in defeating Riddle, after which they’d be helping us with a much bigger issue, more details would be given later. Of the Order members present, I only recognized three. Remus looked like David Thewlis, that pink hair was unmistakably Tonks, and freaky eye, staff, bad leg, and hideous scarring screamed Mad Eye Moody.

“You look like ya picked a fight wit a woodchipper,” Harley declared as soon as Moody hobbled over.

“You should see what I did to the chipper.”

Did he just…

“And people say you don’t have a sense of humor,” Tonks snarked with a grin.

There was a bit more banter back and forth, mostly between Harley provoking reactions from the Order, before Nikhol and Dumbledore both left and each of us were paired off.

“This is going to feel weird,” Remus warned me as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

The books did not prepare me for apparation. Oh it did feel like being squeezed through a tube, but words on a page couldn’t convey the full sensation, and it was not a pleasant one. When it stopped, I was gasping for breath like I’d sprinted a marathon.

“Deep breaths, it’s always unsettling the first few times,” a black man said as Taylor leaned over, her hands on her knees.

Oh, oh shit, “If one of you has a paper for us, show it to her, now!”

Several of the Order stared at me in a mix of surprise, confusion, and suspicion, but Moody stomped over and shoved a slip of paper into her hands. Almost immediately, her composure improved and she let out a sigh of relief. The paper was handed to the rest of us, one after the other, and when… Harry read it last, it was burned.

The reveal of Number Twelve went like it did in the film, and we were led inside. Of course, someone tripped over a coat rack which set off the resident banshee.

“MUDBLOODS, FILTH, STAINS OF DISHONOUR, TAINT OF…” she screamed.

Yeah, no. I pulled the blaster from its place on my hip and immediately shot the screaming portrait in the face, moments before two points started to smoulder and burn. That caused an entirely different kind of screaming as the animated portrait recoiled in pain and fled to a corner, before who could only be Sirius Black ran up and pulled the curtains shut.

Turning to us, the spitting image of Gary Oldman looked at me and said, “Two things: I owe you a bottle of firewhiskey and where can I get one of those?”