CHAPTER 3:

RECURSION

Two weeks later…

Futaba Sakura, formerly Futaba Isshiki, once known and feared as the hacktivist Medjed, now feared as Alibaba, was ill at ease. Which was technically not a novel state of affairs for her. After all, she was a hikikomori, a severe shut-in. Even before her mother's death, she had been reclusive.

But over the past few weeks, she had been getting strange…things. Dreams, visions, stuff like that. True, she was no stranger to weird dreams or hallucinations, especially after her mother died, and certainly over the last couple of months, but these were different. They almost felt like memories, memories that she didn't remember experiencing, of herself dressed in a rather saucy Pharaoh outfit, speaking to some British boy who was apparently a wizard. All in a pyramid that seemed like something out of a hybrid of The Matrix and Stargate.

The strange thing is, she felt herself gaining an attachment to the boy. Almost like an imaginary friend, really. Which was stupid, really. She reckoned she was a bit too old to have imaginary friends. The fact that, in some ways, she was pretty childish for her age didn't quite register with her.

She must be more fucked in the head than she was already. Between her trauma, her guilt, her various viewing and gaming binges, and what weird shit she saw online, she knew her head had one hell of a sign on it reading Hic sunt dracones, or Here be dragons. Well, worse than dragons. Dragons had nothing on some of the weirder and nastier hentai she had stumbled across and regretted it…or searched for.

But yeah, to keep dreaming about this boy was plain weird. And she had seen and experienced some weird shit. Though at least this wasn't too bad. She could pretend she was an Egyptian Pharaoh with a wizard boyfriend from Britain, instead of a terminally-depressed hikikomori otaku, one whose smartphone, despite Futaba taking all kinds of precautions, had recently picked up a nasty piece of malware in the form of a weird app. One that looked like a stylised red and black eye with a pentagram for a pupil.

It wasn't the only thing bothering her. There was that guy Sojiro took in, with Sojiro acting as the guy's probation officer. Akira Kurusu wasn't whom she was expecting for someone on a year's probation for assault. Then again, apparently he was trying to stop a rape, and the would-be rapist was drunk, fell over, and was apparently able to press charges, with not only the police taking his side, but the would-be victim. Which only went to show, no good deed went unpunished.

She wished Sojiro would lay off him, though. Given what she learned through the bugs she had in Leblanc, he seemed like a decent enough guy. Hell, he had even taken in a stray cat he called Morgana. Though she heard him speaking seemingly one-sided conversations with Morgana, something about being a Phantom Thief and stealing the heart of someone. Sounded like a chuunibyou trying to be romantic or something.

Still, that sounded wonderful for a fantasy. Picaresque fiction wasn't her favourite genre, true, but she had read some of the classics. It was partly thanks to her mother's love of the Arsène Lupin books that Sojiro's café was named for its author, Maurice Leblanc, and Futaba had read them. Hell, she had read many books from the West, almost as much as light novels and manga from Japan.

If only she could have a life of fantasy and wonder, one where she hadn't driven her mother to her death. One filled with magic and adventure and excitement, like one of her novels or anime series. Fat chance of that happening, though.

To herself, she muttered, "This isn't fantasy, Futaba Sakura. This is reality. You're stuck in Sojiro's house. And you know very well that this place is gonna be your tomb."

"Candidate keywords found. Beginning navigation."

Futaba blinked. That sounded like the synthesized voice from a navigation app, coming from her phone. Suddenly, she felt as if an icicle had been stabbed into her brain. The room seemed to briefly be tinted with violet light, before it dissolved into red ripples…

"…I can see why it's called JoJo's Bizarre Adventure," Harry said flatly, staring at the screen. "You've shown me what has to be most of the series, and it's really bizarre."

Futaba shot him a look from where she squatted on her throne. "It is also considered one of the most popular Japanese franchises of all time. Besides, you like Doctor Who, and that's about a centuries-old alien travelling through time in an obsolete time machine disguised as an obsolete British police box. His most infamous nemesis is a race of robots with mutants in them that look like garbage bins piloted by a Takoyaki seller's leftovers."

"And yet you like it all the same," Harry said.

She shrugged. "So? My point is, interesting fiction is often weird."

Then again, truth, or at least reality, was stranger than fiction. Here he was, a wizard from Britain in the 90s, having somehow ended up either twenty years in the future, or else in a parallel world. And he was currently stranded in the warped mental world of a traumatised teenager.

True, he was getting some cabin fever. In fact, he'd had a few minor arguments with Futaba over the matter, and only the fact that he wasn't going to enjoy attempting another trek across the desert in search of an exit kept him in the surrounds of the pyramid. That, and she seemed a little clingy, albeit in an understated, subtle way.

And he could understand why she was so traumatised and clingy. While Futaba took him in quickly enough, it took her quite a while, at least until yesterday, before she finally plucked up the courage to show him why she had a Palace. And what he learned was horrifying…

Harry stared at the final mural as the echoes of the memory died away, before he turned to face Futaba, watching him impassively. "…What the hell were they thinking?" he eventually snarled.

"I beg your pardon?" Futaba had asked.

"…I'm not exactly the best at tact myself, even before I met Ron, and some of his lack of tact probably rubbed off on me," Harry admitted. "But even I would try to avoid reading out a suicide note blaming the child of the victim. In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was deliberate."

Futaba just stood there, staring at him silently. He wasn't sure whether her stare was approving or disapproving. So he decided to explain. "…Like you, I was raised by relatives after my parents died. My aunt and uncle, alongside their son, my cousin. Only…they treated me badly. But what made it worse was that they lied about what happened to my parents. They claimed they died in a car crash, and sometimes said they were drunk layabouts. If they were going to lie about my parents' death, then they could have said something closer to the truth, like they were murdered by a terrorist. But no…my aunt was jealous of my mother for having magic when she didn't."

Again, silence was his only answer. So he continued. "Also, you know what happened to my godfather, how he was framed, and there was what happened when the media slandered me. I've learned to question quite a bit when it comes to narratives in authority. In the end…I don't know whether your mother committed suicide or not. But…it seems strange that those men read out that so-called suicide note to you, a grieving traumatised child. At best, it seems utterly cruel." He then turned to look at her. "But at worst? If there is magic in this world, that could have been caused by something like the Imperius, which could mean your mother could have been murdered. I mean, her field of research, this Cognitive Psience stuff…if it has something to do with the mind, these Cognitive Worlds…who's to say?"

After a moment, Futaba gave him a small, sad smile. "If only someone had been there to say it at the time. I…at times, even I believe that I did kill her, a murderer by proxy. But in the end, I'm also the part of Futaba that still clings, perhaps in vain, to the truth. Wakaba did not hate me. Even if she did commit suicide, it was not out of hatred of me. True, she had scolded me sometimes, and a few times, her scolding was disproportionate to what needed punishing. But in the end, while often too busy, she was a good mother, raising me alone. Japanese society does not think highly of single mothers and bastard children." Her golden eyes flicked over to the mural. "But my other self…she is drowning in an ocean of grief and self-loathing, one created by those heartless monsters in black suits and the hatred of her relatives. They didn't care about Wakaba, only the money she made through her research and her inheritance. They despised and envied her talent, just like your aunt despised and envied your mother's magic. Even now, I am sure Uncle Youji intends to take back custody one day, if only for the childcare allowance one gets from the government for, because he wasted Wakaba's money, money which was meant to go to me, but which Sojiro gave mostly to him, in order to get me away from him."

"How bad was he? You don't have to tell me details, just…how bad?"

She just glanced at him with her eyes. "…The other relatives I stayed with were bad enough. But with him…I was treated like an animal. That's all I wish to say on the matter for now. Sojiro is a kind guardian, but the damage had been done." A cruel smirk touched her lips. "Still…I will admit, I had fun dealing with his Cognition. I had to sacrifice a number of Shadows under my command to capture his Cognition. He may not be as powerful as my mother's Cognition, but due to the trauma, he was still powerful, and it was a trial. But totally worth it."

"…What did you do to him?" Harry asked. She just kept smirking…

Harry had decided not to inquire any further. It was probably better for his sanity. Then again, while she didn't give him details about what Youji did to her, she gave the impression it was as bad if not worse than what he went through at the Dursleys.

Still, he was getting frustrated at the lack of ability to leave. In fact, he knew, before long, he was going to decide to risk a trek across the desert anyway. There was no sign of Sirius, and he wasn't allowed to go anywhere outside certain areas without an escort. He understood that the pyramid and its surroundings were dangerous, but it felt like the summer after his fourth year all over again. Though at least this time, the guards were all overt.

On the other hand, Futaba was at least pleasant company. She was creepy, true, what with the glowing golden eyes, warped voice, and oft-impassive expressions. But she was nice to him, and he had to admit, he was getting along well with her. It was like talking to Hermione, albeit a Hermione who was more stoic. He didn't even have pleasant company in Durzkaban, just a belligerent trio of a walrus, a giraffe, and a pig.

Would he call her a friend? Not quite yet. He was on good terms with her, but there was no getting away from the fact that she was a self-admitted distillation of the repressed psyche of a Japanese teenager.

Before they could say anything further, however, Futaba stiffened. Her eyes widened in surprise…and dare he thought, even panic? "No…what is she doing here? She is…"

She leaned towards the screen, tapping at the holographic keyboard. Harry noted the urgency in her typing. The screen soon showed the central staircase of the pyramid, and wandering up the stairs was…was…

Futaba.

This Futaba was very different to the one he was sitting near. For one thing, she was dressed more normally, albeit a little slovenly. Her rumpled, food-stained shirt had the words, 'GIT GUD, FILTHY CASUL' on it, above two knights, one fat with a hammer, the other slender with a spear, standing over a corpse of a smaller knight. Headphones were around her neck. Her eyes were dark, unlike the Shadow form of her. She also looked anxious, peering at a plastic and metal block in her hands.

"Ugh, c'mon, no service?" she muttered. "Damn phone. It's probably this stupid app fucking things up."

After a moment, Shadow Futaba leaned forward, activating something. "There's no service because you are not in what you think of as reality anymore, Futaba," she said gently.

Despite her quiet tones, the other Futaba leapt into the air from her Shadow Self's voice coming from a PA system. "WAAH! WHO ARE YOU? WHERE AM I?!"

"…Think of your mother's research, Futaba," Shadow Futaba said. "You are currently within a warped Cognitive World. As for who I am…you'll soon see. Please, wait there. We will be there shortly." Then, with a tap of the keyboard, massive doors slammed shut around Futaba.

"Did you just trap her?" Harry asked.

"For her own safety. I know myself too well. She might very well have fled before we have a chance to speak with her. In addition, someone entering their own Palace could have unforeseen consequences."

"And how did I understand her? I mean, you told me you're speaking in English for my sake, but how could I understand her? She was speaking in Japanese, right?"

"You're within a Cognitive World. It effectively acts as a universal translator. Now, let's go…"

They found Futaba huddled up on the ground, shivering. "No…please…stop it…" she was whimpering.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked quietly.

"She's reliving her memories of the day Wakaba died and the suicide note was read out," Shadow Futaba said. "Go to her."

Harry walked over to her, sat down next to her, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey."

"WAH!" she yelped, before uncurling, and staring at him through teary eyes. "Oh my God, a strange boy is near me and he's…" She blinked as her rambling dried up. "…Wait a moment. Have I seen you before?"

"Perhaps you have, due to cognitive bleed between myself and you," Shadow Futaba said, walking over and picking the discarded oblong plastic and metal object off the ground. She frowned.

"…Who are you? What are you?" Futaba asked, hyperventilating in panic.

Harry said, as soothingly as he could, "I'm Harry Potter, and this…well, she's you, apparently. Part of your psyche or something. You're in your own mind somehow."

Suddenly, Futaba's panic seemed to stop, as if a switch had been flicked. Her eyes went over to her Shadow Self. "So we are in my Cognitive World?"

Her Shadow Self nodded. "I expected no less from you. This app…how did you get it?"

"I dunno, it just turned up a few days ago!" Futaba said, before frowning in recollection. "And it came with a message…'Compliments of the servant of the Velvet Room', whatever that was."

"…Well, whoever sent it to you, it's how you entered this Palace, I believe," Shadow Futaba said. "That's good news for you, Harry."

"Why?"

"Because it can potentially get you out, both of you. Come with me, please. I'll need to write a letter…"

"I have never heard of that happening to an owl before. True, they get attached to their owners, but to go so far as to follow them into death?"

"But Headmaster, can't we do anything?"

"I'm afraid we cannot. Harry and Sirius are lost to us, and out of despair, Hedwig has followed them through the Veil…"

CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:

Wait, what? How did Futaba get the Metaverse Navigator app? And will there be consequences to her entering her own Palace early? Also, why has Hedwig gone through the Veil?

No numbered annotations this time.