I try to call Hypnotist Jerry and ask him to come back and fix my mind, but his line always goes to voicemail. I email him and report all the strange occurrences. “I must still be under your spell somehow,” I write. “Please tell me how to stop this.” Now I know how Connor must feel. I meditate and try to re-hypnotize myself back to the life I knew, but there are too many things I have suppressed deep inside so I give up quickly. I ask a quantum physics professor if it’s possible for a portal to another dimension that can show the future to just appear out of thin air. “In science fiction movies, yes. In real life, no, not at the macro level of matter, but that should be obvious, Ms. Brown. Are you working on some sort of screenplay or something?” At least in Harry Potter there are other wizards who can experience the magic along with you. Here, it’s just me and it’s getting more outrageous every day.

In Thayer dining hall, right now, a stunning sight unfolds. The lunch procession is on the right side of the café instead of the left where it usually is. Just like at Professor Alexander-Grant’s house, the entire room rotated on its axis. This. Is. Not. Possible. Someone would have had to rebuild overnight, tearing out walls, adding new water and gas lines to make this happen. I know that did not occur. Students shuffle in and out as if they don’t notice that the entire configuration of the space has changed. I stop a short, brown-haired woman who looks like she just came off some kind of sports field. Her hair is in a ponytail and she’s wearing cleats and white socks that stretch up her calves.

“Hey, has the lunch line always been over there?” I ask.

“Yea,” she says flippantly before hurrying on her way.