The castle was locked down within the hour. The students, panicked and confused by the sudden battle, were swiftly escorted back to their dormitories by the prefects.
Up in the Headmaster's office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The portraits of past headmasters pretended to sleep, though several were blatantly peeking through half-closed eyes. Harry, Lupin, Tonks, Bill, and McGonagall stood around the large mahogany desk.
In the center of the room, Dumbledore was quietly examining his restored hand.
And sitting casually in one of the plush chintz armchairs was Ethan. He was leaning forward, eyeing a bowl of moving, scuttling sweets on the edge of the desk.
"Are these... cockroaches?" Ethan asked, leaning in closer.
"Cockroach Clusters, yes," Dumbledore said, a faint twinkle returning to his eyes. "A peculiar treat, but quite popular in certain circles. Would you care for one?"
"Why not? I've eaten worse," Ethan shrugged. He reached out, grabbed one of the scuttling chocolate bugs, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully. "Huh. Crunchy. Tastes like dark chocolate and pecans. Not bad."
Everyone in the room just stared at him. The man had just manhandled Death Eaters without a wand, healed an incurable curse, and was now casually snacking on wizarding candy while the castle was on high alert.
"Right," Dumbledore said, clearing his throat and taking charge of the room. "I believe introductions are in order. Ethan, you have already met Harry. This is Minerva McGonagall, my Deputy Headmistress. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Bill Weasleyâall trusted members of the Order of the Phoenix."
Ethan gave a polite wave, swallowing the last of his cluster. "Nice to meet you all. Sorry about the mess downstairs."
McGonagall stepped forward, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Albus, I must insist. Who is this man? How did he breach the castle's wards? And what kind of magic was he using in the corridors?"
Ethan dusted off his hands and stood up. "I guess I should take this one. You all know my name, but what you don't know is that I'm not from this world. I'm from a completely different dimension. And technically, a different timelineâabout a decade in the future, give or take."
The room went dead silent.
Lupin exchanged a skeptical look with Bill. McGonagall frowned deeply. "Mr. Williams, this is hardly the time for foolish tales. Interdimensional travel? Time travel without a Time-Turner? That is impossible."
"I know it's hard to believe," Ethan said, completely unfazed. "A guy in a leather jacket drops out of the sky, fixes your Headmaster, and claims he's from the multiverse. It sounds like a bad sci-fi pitch. But Professor Dumbledore, you have a Pensieve, don't you? Showing is a lot faster than telling."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He walked over to a black cabinet, opened it, and carried out the shallow stone basin, setting it on the desk. "Normally, one must extract the memory with a wand..."
"I've got it," Ethan said. He brought his index and middle fingers to his temple. Tapping into the Dumbledore template's mastery of mind magic, he slowly drew out a glowing, silvery thread of memory. He dropped it into the basin.
Dumbledore tapped the edge of the Pensieve with his wand, causing the silvery liquid to rise and project a holographic image into the air above the desk, visible to everyone in the room.
The Order members gasped as the projection stabilized.
It showed the massive, snowy training courtyard of Kamar-Taj. Dozens of sorcerers in robes were sparring. They weren't using wands; they were conjuring glowing orange weaponsâswords, shields, and whipsâout of thin air.
"My world has magic too," Ethan's voice echoed in the quiet office as they watched. "But we don't hide from Muggles, and we don't fight other wizards. We protect the Earth from dimensional threats."
The memory shifted. It showed Ethan and a few other sorcerers battling a massive, terrifying creature from the Dark Dimensionâa beast with too many eyes and teeth, far worse than any magical creature in Newt Scamander's briefcase. Ethan was seen casting massive geometric shields and tearing the creature apart with raw, explosive spatial magic.
Then, the scene shifted again to show the New York skyline, towering glass-and-steel skyscrapers that dwarfed anything in the wizarding world, with Stark Tower gleaming in the background.
"Merlin's beard..." Arthur Weasley would have said, but Lupin and Tonks were equally speechless. Even Dumbledore watched with rapt fascination.
The memory flickered again, shifting to a more recent scene inside the New York Sanctum.
It showed Ethan's bedroom. He was lying on his bed, alone. His pants were halfway down his thighs, and his hand was moving in a very fast, very rhythmic, and highly compromising motion while he stared intently at a magazine.
The silence in the Headmaster's office became absolute.
Tonks' eyes widened to the size of saucers. Harry's jaw hit the floor, his face instantly turning the color of a tomato. McGonagall let out a sharp, scandalized gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.
Ethan froze, the blood draining from his face as he realized what memory the system had snagged.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ethan shouted, lunging forward and aggressively waving his hands through the projection to dispel it. "Wrong memory! Wrong memory! Don't look at that! Technical difficulties!"
The projection vanished in a splash of silvery light, returning to the basin.
Ethan stood by the desk, his face burning hot. He refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Lupin cleared his throat, staring very hard at the ceiling. Tonks suddenly found the tapestry on the far wall incredibly interesting, though she was visibly biting her lip to stop from laughing.
Dumbledore, ever the diplomat, calmly folded his hands together. "Well. That was certainly... an enlightening presentation, Mr. Williams."
Author's Note:
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