The post-coital silence of the Headmaster's office was heavy, warm, and slled faintly of ozone and sandalwood. Ethan was sprawled on the rug, Tonks draped across his chest like a satisfied cat, her lavender hair tickling his chin. He was just starting to think that "multiversal travel" had so seriously underrated perks when the world decided to intrude.
The heavy oak doors rattled under a series of firm, urgent knocks.
"Professor Dumbledore? Are you in there?" Harry's voice ca through the wood, muffled but unmistakably anxious. "Sir, we've returned. We have the item!"
Ethan and Tonks froze. Their eyes t, wide with a shared "oh shit" mont. They were a tangle of naked limbs on a floor that was still technically vibrating from their "graduation ceremony."
"Oh, sweet rlin," Tonks hissed. Her hair flashed a panicked, neon yellow.
****
What followed was a blur of motion that would have made a Quidditch Seeker look like a slug. Tonks rolled off him, her wand out before her feet even hit the rug. With a violent, sweeping motion, she hissed, "Scourgify! Tergeo! Reparo!"
It was a masterclass in dostic magic.
The puddles on the mahogany desk vanished instantly.
The scattered lemon drops leaped back into their silver bowl.
The silver instrunts flew back to their stands, and the massive desk slid back to its precise original position with a heavy, floor-shaking thud.
Ethan, anwhile, was a whirlwind of leather and zippers. He shoved his legs into his trousers, zipped up with a winced 'click,' and threw his jacket on just as Tonks used a quick nding Charm on her own torn robes. She ran a frantic hand through her hair, settling it into a relatively calm bubblegum pink, though her cheeks were still a tell-tale shade of scarlet.
"Ready?" she whispered, her voice a jagged rasp.
"As I'll ever be," Ethan muttered, leaning against the desk with a practiced, casual slouch. He checked his reflection in a silver instrunt; he looked like he'd just stepped out of a bar fight, which was close enough to the truth.
Tonks flicked her wand at the door. The heavy locks disengaged with a series of tallic clicks, and the doors swung open.
****
Harry and Bill Weasley strode in, looking exhausted but triumphant. But they weren't alone. Trailing behind them were two figures Ethan recognized instantly: a lanky redhead with a smudge of dirt on his nose and a girl with bushy hair, a fierce expression, and an armful of old, leather-bound books.
Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
"Mr. Ethan! You're back," Harry said, stopping short. He blinked, looking at the two of them. "Is... is the Headmaster not back yet?"
"He's still out in the field," Ethan said, his voice a little lower than usual. He cleared his throat. "We finished our run at Gringotts. We have the Cup." He pointed to the golden, badger-engraved cup sitting on the desk.
"And we have the Diadem," Bill said, stepping forward. He placed a heavy, exquisite silver circlet on the desk. It was shaped like an eagle with outspread wings, a large, sparkling blue sapphire set in its center. Even under the dim candlelight, it humd with a faint, oily darkness. "The Room of Requirent is a ss, but it was sitting right where you said it would be."
"It's hard to believe," Harry murmured, staring at the Horcrux. "I've seen this thing before, in the Room of Hidden Things. I had no idea it was a Ravenclaw treasure... or this."
Hermione's eyes, sharp and inquisitive, darted around the room. She wasn't looking at the Horcruxes. She was looking at Ethan, then at Tonks, then at the slightly askew pile of books on the desk that hadn't quite been 'Reparo-ed' into perfect alignnt. Her nose crinkled.
"Is it just ," Hermione whispered, her voice carrying that classic I-know-sothing-is-up tone, "or does it sll... funny in here? Like... vanilla and scorched air?"
Ethan and Tonks let out a synchronized, awkward laugh that was about three octaves too high.
"Ha... ha... what sll?" Ethan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You must be slling the... ozone. Goblins use a lot of anti-theft charms. Very sulfurous. Right, Tonks?"
"Right! Sweat!" Tonks interjected, her hair flashing a defensive orange. "It's sweat, Bill! You try robbing Gringotts and jumping off a dragon. I was sweating bullets. Ethan was sweating. It's a very... damp profession."
Bill frowned, looking at his sister-in-law-to-be. "I'm a Curse-Breaker, Tonks. I know what dragon-sweat slls like. This is more... floral."
"It's the lemon drops!" Ethan blurted out, pointing to the bowl. "Dumbledore's lemon drops have a very aggressive scent."
****
Ron, who had been staring at Ethan with a mixture of awe and suspicion, finally spoke up. "So... you're him? The one Harry told us about? The 'Master Sorcerer' from another world?"
"Ethan Williams," Ethan said, extending a hand. "And yeah, the world-traveling part is true. The 'Master' part is just what happens when you don't have to carry a stick to cast a spell."
Ron shook his hand tentatively. "Bliy. Harry said you punched a hole in the air and walked into the castle. I thought he'd finally cracked under the pressure."
"He's quite real, Ron," Hermione said, though she still hadn't stopped squinting at the disheveled state of Tonks's robes. "Though I'd love to know the theoretical basis for your 'geotric' magic. It doesn't seem to follow any of Gamp's laws."
"It follows the laws of 'whatever gets the job done,'" Ethan replied. "Look, we have the Cup and the Diadem right here. The Diary is gone, the Ring is neutralized, and the soul-piece in Harry is... well, it's history. That leaves the Locket and the snake."
"We need to destroy these now, surely?" Ron asked, reaching for the Cup.
"No," Ethan said firmly, stopping Ron's hand. "Voldemort has a spiritual link to these anchors. If we destroy them one by one, he'll feel the 'static' in his soul. He'll panic. He'll move Nagini—the snake—and hide the Locket sowhere even I can't find. We wait for Dumbledore to return with the Locket. Then, we hit them all at once."
At the ntion of the na Voldemort, Ron, Tonks, and Bill all let out a synchronized gasp.
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Woah, guys, seriously? We're going to be out of breath before the final battle if you keep doing that every ti I na the guy. He's a dark wizard, not a jump-scare in a horror movie."
"It's a habit," Ron mumbled, looking embarrassed.
Ethan let out a long, heavy yawn, his body finally catching up with the "Adamantine Focus" workout he'd just endured. "Alright guys... I am wiped. That was a lot of fighting and... afterwork." He glanced at Tonks, who quickly looked at a tapestry. "I need a good night's sleep before we finish this."
"Of course, Mr. Ethan," Harry said, nodding respectfully. "You've helped us more in one night than we could have done in a year. You've earned a rest."
"Yeah," Ethan muttered, walking toward the door with Tonks. "I definitely earned it."
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