Date: October 18, 2011
Location: Queens, NY (The Basement)
The concept of E-Waste was baffling to Lloyd. In the Wizarding World, objects were heirlooms, a wand was for life and cauldrons was passed down until the bottom rusted out, and even then, it was usually made repurposed as a planter as magic was durable.
Here, in the realm of the No-Majs, durability was a sin against the economy. Lloyd sat cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, surrounded by a pile of what could only be described as technological carcasses.
He had spent the morning scavenging behind a Best Buy, a store that seemed to sell shiny plastic bricks to glassy-eyed consumers.
The dumpster out back had been a goldmine of cracked screens, frayed charging cables, and devices that had been discarded simply because a newer model had been released.
"Wasteful," Lloyd muttered, picking up a smartphone with a screen that looked like a spiderweb of shattered glass.
"They trap lightning inside silicon and glass, and then discard it because it has a scratch."
Subject 42 was sitting on Lloyd's shoulder, watching intently. The Niffler held a small screwdriver, which he was using to clean his ears.
"Observe, 42," Lloyd lectured, holding the phone up to the dim light.
"To the Muggle, this is broken. The circuit, the flow of energy is severed but to a wizard, a break is merely a gap in the narrative of the object."
Lloyd didn't have a wand, and his mana was precious so he couldn't afford to cast a full Reparo on every device, he had to be surgical.
He closed his eyes and extended his senses, the Mage Sight overlay settled over his vision, turning the world into a grayscale wireframe.
The phone in his hand glowed faintly and he could see the electricity angry, bottled lightning stagnating where the circuit was snapped.
He placed his thumb over the crack in the screen.
"Sarcimoni," he whispered a variation of the mending charm used for delicate fabrics.
He pushed a tiny pulse of mana into the glass.
The magic didn't just glue the pieces together; it convinced the molecules that they had never been separated.
The spiderweb fracture hissed and the glass grew warm. Slowly, the cracks retracted, the shards knitting themselves back into a smooth, pristine surface.
Lloyd exhaled, opening his eyes, the phone looked brand new so he pressed the power button.
The screen lit up, displaying a picture of a golden retriever and a battery icon at 12%.
"It lives," Lloyd said, tossing the phone onto a small pile of three other restored devices. "We are necromancers of the digital age, my friend."
Subject 42 chattered, pointing a claw at the phone.
"No, we are not keeping it," Lloyd scolded. "We are selling it. We need capital.
The Devil's Snare ate two pounds of hamburger yesterday. At this rate, the plant eats better than I do."
He stood up, gathering the resurrected technology into a canvas bag.
He threw it on his trench coat, checked that the Niffler was secure in the inner pocket, and headed for the door.
Location: Benny's Pawn & Loan, Astoria
Benny's Pawn Shop smelled of stale cigar smoke and regret. The shelves were lined with the detritus of desperate lives: wedding rings, power drills, guitars with missing strings, and VCRs that no one would ever buy.
Lloyd walked in, the bell above the door jangling.
Benny, a man who looked like a toad that had been granted a wish to become human but regretted it, looked up from a magazine.
"We ain't buying DVDs," Benny grunted without looking properly.
"I am not purveying optical discs," Lloyd said, approaching the counter.
He placed the canvas bag down with a heavy thud.
"I am selling communication devices. Refurbished in mint condition."
Benny narrowed his eyes as he put down the magazine and leaned over the counter. "Phones? Let me see."
Lloyd pulled out the first phone, a sleek, black model he believed was called an iPhone 3GS. He slid it across the glass.
Benny picked it up, turning it over in his greasy hands.
He pressed the button, the screen lit up. He swiped his thumb across it.
"Screen's replaced," Benny noted, squinting.
"Usually these things are third-party junk. Glass feels... smooth. Original?"
"Better," Lloyd said cryptically. "It has been structurally reinforced."
Benny snorted. "Yeah, sure. I'll give you fifty bucks."
"The device retails for five hundred," Lloyd countered, his voice cool.
"This unit is flawless. I will accept two hundred."
"Seventy-five."
"One hundred and fifty and I will refrain from mentioning the cursed aura attached to that acoustic guitar in the window."
Benny paused.
He glanced at the guitar hanging behind him. "The Fender? What's wrong with it?"
"It hums in B-flat when no one is touching it," Lloyd lied smoothly. "A classic symptom of a banshee attachment. Very bad for business."
Benny stared at him.
Lloyd held the gaze, his expression unblinking, Niffler in his pocket shifted, letting out a small sneeze.
"God bless you," Benny muttered, confused. "Alright, look. Hundred bucks. That's my top dollar. I gotta make a profit here."
Lloyd considered it.
A hundred dollars was five days of food, or two weeks of rent if he negotiated aggressively with his landlord.
"Acceptable," Lloyd said. "For this one. I have three more."
Benny's eyes widened slightly.
"You rip off a truck or something, buddy?"
"I am a hobbyist," Lloyd said, placing the other three phones on the counter.
"I enjoy fixing broken things. It is... therapeutic."
Benny processed the transaction, counting out four hundred dollars in twenties.
Lloyd watched the money with the intensity of a hawk.
As Benny was writing up the receipt, Lloyd's gaze wandered around the shop.
The shelves were filled with mundane trash. But Lloyd's Predator's Aura was itching. There was something here, something that didn't belong. His eyes scanned the back wall, past the power tools, past the dusty specialized collectibles.
There, on a high shelf, sandwiched between a porcelain clown and a bowling trophy, was a stone.
It was roughly the size of a cantaloupe, grey.
To a Muggle, it looked like a lump of concrete or perhaps a very ugly geode but to Lloyd, it pulsed.
It was a slow, rhythmic throb, like a heartbeat in hibernation but the mana signature was earthy and dense.
"That," Lloyd said, pointing a long finger at the shelf. "The rock. What is it?"
Benny looked up. "The rock? Hell if I know. Some guy brought it in last month.
Said his grandpa found it in a cave in Norway back in the 40s, tried to tell me it was a meteorite. I gave him ten bucks for it just to get him to shut up It's a paperweight."
Norway, Lloyd thought.
The 1940s. He didn't know much about the time but he knew that Norway was the ancestral home of magic ,Trolls, Dwarves.
"I will buy it," Lloyd said.
Benny laughed.
"For what? It's a rock."
"I have a wobbly table," Lloyd said deadpan. "It looks structurally sound. How much?"
"Twenty."
"Five. You paid ten, but it has been gathering dust. You are losing value on shelf space."
"Fifteen."
"Ten," Lloyd countered.
"And I will take the porcelain clown as well, to smash for stress relief."
"Deal. Take the damn rock."
Location: Queens, The Basement
Time: Evening
Lloyd placed the rock on his desk. He turned on the overhead light, but the rock seemed to swallow the illumination, casting long shadows.
He sat down, leaning close. Subject 42 climbed onto the desk, sniffing the object cautiously.
The Niffler recoiled, chattering nervously.
"You smell it too, don't you?" Lloyd whispered. He hovered his hand over the stone. It was cold, unnaturally so.
"System. Analyze"
The blue window appeared, flickering slightly as if the rock's density was interfering with the scan.
> [Analysis Complete]
> Item: Petrified Gargoyle Egg (Dormant)
> Origin: Asgardian Sub-Realm / Midgard Border
> Age: ~70 years
> Status: Hibernating
> Hatching Requirement:High-Voltage Magic or Extreme Kinetic Impact
> Potential Value: High (Gargoyles make excellent sentries).
"A Gargoyle," Lloyd breathed.
In the wizarding universe, gargoyles were mostly enchanted statues used to guard headmasters' offices.
But a biological gargoyle? An Asgardian one?
"This is not a statue," Lloyd murmured.
"This is a living tank."
He looked at the Niffler, then at the Devil's Snare guarding the door, and finally at the egg. His zoo was growing. He had a thief, a trap, and now, a potential tank.
But the hatching requirement... High-Voltage Magic.
Lloyd looked at his own hands. His mana was barely E-Rank. If he tried to pour enough magic into this egg to hatch it, he would burn out his core and spend the next month in a coma.
He needed an external power source.
His eyes drifted to the corner of the room, where the repaired Stark battery casing sat.
"Electricity," Lloyd mused. "The Muggles use it to power their lights.
But raw electricity is just unrefined lightning. And lightning is a valid magical reagent."
He stood up and began to pace.
"If I can build a converter," he muttered, his mind racing. "A runic array that translates voltage into mana... I could hook this egg up to the city grid. I could siphon a fraction of the power from the subway line running beneath the building."
It was dangerous, illegal and it was exactly the kind of reckless experimentation that had gotten him killed in his last life.
Lloyd smiled, a sharp evil smile.
"42," he said to the Niffler.
"Fetch the copper wire. We are going to steal electricity from the Metropolitan Transportation Authority."
The Niffler saluted and scrambled off the desk.
Lloyd looked back at the stone egg.
"Sleep well, little monster," he whispered. "When you wake up, you're going to be very, very hungry."
He picked up the four hundred dollars from the pawn shop. It was enough for materials and was enough to begin the ritual.
The Magizoologist was no longer just a collector, he was becoming an engineer.
Authors Note:-
Mr nipple is still the best
Who loves Niffler can support with power stones and collections.