The door rattled and its hinges threatened to rip out. Bam! It opened wide. However, instead of the afternoon sunshine, a sliver of moonlight sliced through.
Harry's jaw could have hit the floor. He snapped his head, looking at the windows, where it was still daytime outside. But beyond the main door that just opened, it was a moonlit night. How was that possible?
I rolled my eyes. Gojo Satoru must have created that portal with his Limitless Cursed technique, manipulating space and time. The young man was obviously showing off. I should ask him sometime how spatial manipulation works.
The silence inside the Dursleys' home was shattered rudely as eight figures poured in through the portal door, one after another. They were epic main characters of their stories who strode into the mundane confines of Privet Drive like gods slumming it in suburbia.
The air crackled with their arrival, making Harry shrink back in fear. Some Nexus Club members utilized magic from different dimensions, which often caused resonance or dissonance.
I rose from the couch with a warm expression, like greeting old comrades at a reunion.
First came Light Yagami, slipping through the door with the precision of a scalpel. He was tall and lithe, moving like liquid shadow with hands in his pockets. His college school was a crisp white shirt, a navy blazer, and a tie knotted to perfection. The attire somehow wasn't creased by portal travel.
I've always been envious of Light's good looks. His brown hair fell in artful waves, framing a face that could charm confessions from stone.
Light's sharp eyes scanned the room as if appraising threats and opportunities. He adjusted his cufflinks with a flourish and halted elegantly like a predator at rest.
"Injustice thrives in the shadows," he said smoothly. "Is there a television in the house where I can watch crime news?"
I pointed at the CRT TV, and he swiftly approached it, completely ignoring Harry. I hoped against hope that he wouldn't write any criminal names in his Death Note. Unexplained deaths in the wizarding world would be attributed to, well, wizards and witches.
Trailing Light was Anakin Skywalker. He was broad-shouldered and brooding in his dark Jedi robes, striking a sharp contrast with Petunia's floral wallpaper.
He stood with his arms crossed. "The force is weak here," he said to no one in particular. "By the way, where's the washroom?"
I, being the self-appointed traffic police, pointed towards the staircase leading to the boys' bathroom on the first floor. "Up on the right."
Anakin rushed towards the bathroom with purpose. Next to arrive was Gojo Satoru, who had created the door portal in the first place. His effortless swagger and tall frame made him stand out. It was strange to see him in live action rather than anime.
Gojo had a black blindfold over his eyes, and his white hair was spiked like usual. He wore a high-collared jacket and walked with pure cocky nonchalance, with hands jammed in pockets. His head was tilted as if the universe were a mildly amusing puzzle.
"Hey, did I tell you guys? Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the Honored One," he drawled. "But, uh, where's the washroom?"
I sighed. "Anakin is using the upstairs one. If you don't mind, you're welcome to use the ladies' washroom next to the kitchen. There's nobody else in the house."
Gojo nodded and walked towards his nature's call destination, but on the way, his head turned towards Harry for a moment. A faint but worried smile played on his lips. Wasn't he the most powerful sorcerer in the world, only of a different kind? What was worrying him?
My internal thoughts were disrupted when Neo Anderson walked inside, his long black coat billowing like digital smoke. It was as if he had been flying seconds ago.
Neo took off his tinted glasses, wiped them, and placed them safely in his robe pocket. With piercing dark eyes and slicked back hair, he eyed the Dursleys' home without expression.
Man, he's good, I thought. If I weren't heterosexual, I'd already be ovulating. But I kept my thoughts to myself.
Neo walked up to the confused-looking Harry and patted his head. "What's on your mind, kid? Did Kaiser scare you?"
"I dunno what's happening," the boy replied timidly.
"Neither do I," Neo said and took a seat beside me. "I have questions for Kaiser," he said, watching me from the corner of his eye. "But I'll demand the answers after everyone has arrived."
"Yes, sir," I responded with pursed lips. Neo was an inquisitive one, and telling him things in advance only complicated his thought process. Therefore, I made the executive decision not to convey the Nexus Club's agenda for today to him.
Neo picked up a spoon and tried to bend it mentally. Nothing happened. Harry furrowed his brow and asked, "What are you trying to do to the spoon, mister? If you need a mirror, there's one in the washroom."
Neo smiled thinly, as if he were waiting for the moment. "There is no spoon."
"I don't underst—" Harry began, but stopped himself when he saw that the man's hand was empty. The spoon was gone from his grasp, replaced on the table several feet away.
"How did you—"
A terrifying roar sounded through the door portal, and something heavy and alive landed on the other side, sending a mighty gust of wind that ruffled Harry's hair and dropped many articles in the living room.
Daenerys Targaryen entered, her silver-blonde hair braided in Valyrian patterns. She was gorgeous and breathtaking, wearing a crimson silk gown slit high for the rider's stride.
Dany wasn't that tall, but she held her chin lifted all the time. She was a queen after all, and obedience wasn't a request. Bow or burn was her motto.
I personally went up to greet her and guided her to the largest sofa in front of the fireplace, which belonged to Vernon. She wrinkled her nose at the furniture but took it, nonetheless. "This will do for now. Please hurry. Drogon may get restless if I am locked in here for long."
I nodded and turned. A man barreled into the room, talking into his phone rather loudly. It was indeed a mobile phone, but so large I could've mistaken it for a dumbbell. "Alright, Ben. I'll talk to you later. I have an important club meeting to attend. Stay classy!"
Ron Burgundy's red blazer was tailored sharply over a cream shirt. The tie was colored burgundy, just like his name. With his magnificent mustache and a sculpted 70s puffy bouffant hairstyle, he struck a pose with a hand on his hip.
Just then, Gojo entered the living room looking relieved. Ron signaled at him with an empty hand, as if he wanted a drink. The jujutsu sorcerer sighed and waved his hand. "Don't use me like your bartender, Ron," he grumbled with a chuckle.
As if by magic, a scotch tumbler materialized in Ron Burgundy's hand. He puffed his chest and grinned wolfishly. "Thanks, my friend. This is top-notch stuff. Although the joint we have walked into needs jazzing up. It's drier than a witch's—well, you know. This pub sucks is what I mean."
He winked, swirling his drink, and took a sip, clearing his throat afterwards loudly. "Splendid stuff. Where are the hot waitresses?"