The sun was already high in the sky, casting long, golden shafts of light through the stone-mullioned windows of the classroom. Ethan stretched, his joints popping like a string of small explosions. The silk mattress was still warm, but the space beside him was empty. A small, handwritten note sat on the pillow, the ink still slightly damp.
"Duty calls. The Ministry is a headless chicken right now, and apparently, being an Auror means I'm the one who has to catch the stragglers. Can't push my luck with the new boss too much.
P.S. You're a menace, Williams.
— N.T."
Ethan chuckled, tossing the note aside. With Voldemort turned to confetti, the remaining Death Eaters were scattered and desperate—the perfect time for the Ministry to finally do its job. He dressed slowly, feeling a strange lightness in his chest. The war was over, his pockets were full of legendary loot, and for the first time in weeks, he didn't have a specific person to kill.
He stepped out into the corridor, enjoying the relative peace of a half-empty Hogwarts. As he rounded the corner near the Transfiguration courtyard, he saw a familiar, tall figure in emerald-green robes.
Professor McGonagall.
Ethan raised a hand in a casual wave. "Morning, Professor! Or afternoon, I guess. Taking a breather from the repairs?"
Minerva stopped dead. Her back went rigid, and for a split second, her eyes went wide—not with her usual sternness, but with a look of absolute, soul-deep mortification. As Ethan approached, he noticed a dark, crimson blush creeping up her neck, staining her cheeks a shade of red that rivaled the Gryffindor banners.
"M-Mr. Williams," she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual. She adjusted her spectacles with a trembling hand, her eyes darting everywhere—the floor, the ceiling, a nearby gargoyle—anywhere but his face.
"You okay, Professor? You look a bit... flushed," Ethan said, tilting his head. "The sun is pretty bright today."
"I am... quite well! Perfectly functional! Robust, even!" she blurted out, taking a sudden, aggressive step backward. "I simply have a... a great deal of Transfiguration theory to review! Very complex! No time for pleasantries or... or lingering in hallways!"
She turned on her heel, her robes snapping like a whip. She practically sprinted down the hallway, her pace far exceeding what was necessary for a casual stroll. It was the fastest he had ever seen a human move without using Apparition.
Ethan stood there, scratching the back of his head in genuine confusion. "What the hell was that? Did I forget to zip up?" He checked. Everything was secure. "Wizards are weird. Maybe she's just allergic to sunlight."
*****
Ethan found a quiet spot on the battlements overlooking the Black Lake. The giant squid was lazily waving a tentacle at the surface, and the air was crisp. He leaned back against the cool stone and swiped his hand through the air.
"System. Status."
A translucent, shimmering blue panel flickered into existence, visible only to his eyes.
[ User Status ]
Name: Ethan Williams
Affiliation: Kamar-Taj (Sanctum Master Rank)
Current World: Harry Potter (Expulsion Countdown: 22:14:35)
Current Template: Albus Dumbledore [100% Synchronized]
Active Skills:
[Adamantine Focus]: High-tier sensory and physical endurance.
[Lesser Danger Sense]: Instinctive warning for localized threats.
[Dimensional Anchor]: Hogwarts Anchor Set (Return Path Secured).
[Spectral Command]: Dialogue with Echoes of the Departed.
[Master of Death]: Passive immunity to Soul-attacks and the Killing Curse.
Inventory:
The Elder Wand (Stored)
The Invisibility Cloak (Stored)
The Resurrection Stone (Stored)
[Legendary Item Box (x1)] - Unopened
[Random Template Ticket (x1)] - Unopened
System Points: 58,400
"Less than a day," Ethan muttered, watching the timer tick down.
He'd spent nearly two weeks in this world. He'd gone from a "madman on a tower" to the literal savior of the British Wizarding world. He'd robbed Gringotts, completed the Hallows, and shared a bed with a Metamorphmagus. Not bad for a sabbatical.
Should start collecting souvenirs, he thought. I've got the joke shop toys, but I need something for the Master. A few rare wands for her to study? Maybe some restricted-section books? She'd love the way this world treats the concept of 'intent' versus 'formula.'
"You seem in deep thought, Mr. Williams."
Ethan turned to see Albus Dumbledore approaching, his silver hair catching the light. The Headmaster looked genuinely happy, the weight of the Horcruxes no longer dragging at his spirit.
"Ah... Professor. What brings you up to the windy bits of the castle?"
"Just strolling," Dumbledore said, a genuine smile tugging at his beard. "Unlike before, I now find myself with the leisure to simply walk and admire the masonry. It is a gift I had forgotten how to appreciate."
"Ha. True," Ethan said, looking back at the lake.
"So, what has stolen your focus today?"
"Oh, nothing much. Just realizing my time is up. I can't stay in this world for more than another day at most," Ethan said, glancing at the invisible timer. "I was thinking about what souvenirs to bring back. Who knows when I'll get a chance to return?"
Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly. "You are returning to your world so soon?"
"Yeah. I've stayed long enough. At the end of the day, I'm an interloper. This world is starting to push back. It's... expelling me."
Dumbledore looked intrigued. "Expelling you? Does this world have a consciousness, then? A sense of who belongs and who does not?"
Ethan looked at him, deadpan. "Are you serious right now? You're a wizard, Albus. You teleport, fly on sticks, and have family heirlooms granted by Death itself... and you find the idea of a sentient universe odd?"
Dumbledore coughed into his hand, a rare look of sheepishness crossing his face. "Ahem... well, put that way, it does sound like a silly question. Old habits die hard, I suppose. We like to think we understand the limits of magic, even when we are standing in the middle of a miracle."
He stepped up beside Ethan, looking out at the Forbidden Forest. "If you are looking for souvenirs, perhaps I can offer a few suggestions that go beyond the usual postcards and chocolate frogs."
"I'm all ears, Professor," Ethan said, leaning back. "What's the 'insider's list' for a departing sorcerer?"
Dumbledore stroked his beard, his eyes twinkling with a depth of wisdom that usually preceded a very expensive suggestion. "If you are looking for artifacts of true substance, Mr. Williams, one does not look toward the gift shops of Hogsmeade. You require items that bridge the gap between our worlds."
"I'm listening," Ethan said, leaning back against the cool stone of the rampart.
"A Pensieve," Dumbledore suggested. "Not a standard one, but a basin carved from the stone of the castle itself. It allows one to organize the chaos of the mind—a tool I suspect a Master of the Mystic Arts would find quite harmonious with his meditations. And perhaps... a collection of silver instruments. My own were quite damaged in your recent 'demonstration' against the Diadem, but I have others that measure the thinning of the veil between dimensions."
Ethan nodded, mentally clearing a spot in his inventory. "Those will do nicely. My Master back home—Wong—has a thing for ancient basins. He'll probably think I stole it from a museum, which isn't far from the truth."
"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed. "But a departure such as yours cannot be marked merely by the exchange of luggage. Tonight, a small gathering. Just the staff and the Order. A final toast to the man who rewrote our stars."
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