After all of the Hogwarts students were led to their tables according to house, the other houses came in one at a time much as it had happened in the movies.
Beauxbatons Arrival
In glided a procession of Beauxbatons students, every step choreographed into elegance. They wore powder-blue silk that shimmered with starlight, and their entrance was accompanied by a gust of enchanted butterflies that spiraled like jewels in the candlelight.
At their head was a woman of impossible grace, tall and commanding—Madame Olympe Maxime, half-giant and magnificent in her presence. The room seemed to shrink around her. And beside her, shining like the morning star, Fleur Delacour.
I felt the ripple through the hall—boys leaning forward, slack-jawed; girls whispering with a mix of admiration and envy. Fleur's Veela blood rolled across the chamber like perfume, bending attention toward her without effort.
Shortly after their theatric entrance, the students were led to the side of the hall with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Once the students were all seated, and after several grumbles from the Gryffindor and Slytherin men about why they had to be seated with the puffs and birds instead of them, the next school began to arrive.
Durmstrang Arrival
The floor shook next. From the shadows at the back of the hall, sparks spat from the flagstones as the very air seemed to split. Durmstrang arrived not with elegance, but with thunder.
They stormed in, their furs snapping like banners, staff-tips striking sparks against the stones. The sound echoed like war drums. At their center, hunched slightly from the weight of his fame, was Viktor Krum—his presence dragging as many gasps from the Hogwarts girls as Fleur had from the boys.
The Durmstrang headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, swept in with his wolfish grin, his eyes darting about like a scavenger measuring the worth of meat.
The students clapped politely, though the whispers that ran through the tables were far from polite. Slowly the Durmstrang students began to sit with the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Then began the sorting, and as no students important to the plot entered, I zoned out until it was over while wondering exactly what types of food would be in the feast. Then, when it was finally over and everyone sat with their new houses, Dumbledore prepared to speak.
Dumbledore rose, spreading his arms, his voice magnified with easy command.
"Welcome, one and all! Tonight, we mark the beginning of something extraordinary. The Triwizard Tournament—revived after centuries—will once again test the mettle of our schools' champions. But first—let us eat!"
The feast roared to life. Platters of roast, tureens of soup, pies spilling steam. Laughter broke out, nerves settling. As the feast was in full swing, while speaking with the rest of the staff sitting between McGonagall and Aurora Sinistra, I looked out across the Great Hall, taking in the faces of the students. While glancing around, I found my eyes had met Hermione's. She quickly looked away before looking back. Seeing I was still looking, she awkwardly waved, face red, and began to furiously pick at her food. Waving back, I chuckled. The Hermione in this version was definitely attractive and older due to me slightly altering the background of the world. Definitely gonna have to give her some tutoring sessions later on.
Looking elsewhere, I noticed the Slytherin table, also seeing the faces of Pansy and Daphne, giving them both a small wave. I definitely planned to help Daphne's sister; I would have to see if the horse talisman would heal her or if I would need to get some other ability or item to break curses. While the horse talisman could heal her and bring her to peak health, if it did not get rid of the curse then she would slowly grow sick again like a spreading cancer, and while I could just repeatedly heal her, it just made more sense to get rid of the source of the problem.
One other girl I was curious about—Fleur—happened to meet eyes with me, and I could tell she had a spark of interest. Though I could see it in her eyes, she likely thought I was like all the other men she had dealt with, that I was caught in her Veela allure. She was damn hot, I would give her that, but even the full team of Veelas back at the Quidditch World Cup couldn't phase me, let alone a half-Veela like her. Giving her a quick wink, I bluntly turned my head, knowing my apparent disinterest was the best way to lure a girl like Fleur. When every guy fumbled over her and showed her all the attention in the world, then the guy who could treat her like everyone else became more interesting.
When the last plates vanished, Dumbledore's voice reclaimed the air.
"Now, to business. The Goblet of Fire shall serve as the impartial judge. Those of age—seventeen and older—may submit their names beginning tomorrow. The Goblet will choose three champions—one from each school—to compete in tasks of skill, daring, and intellect. Fame and glory await… but so does peril. The tournament is not for the faint of heart."
"The Goblet shall remain here in the Great Hall for a period of one week. During that time, all who wish to and meet the qualifications are able to place their name into the Goblet for a chance to be selected as champion. But be warned, for if you are chosen you have no choice but to compete—the Goblet places you in a binding magical contract. Well! With all that being said, it is now time to go to bed, off you trot!"
Next day.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom buzzed with nervous chatter. The usual mixture—fourth years fidgeting, whispering about the Triwizard Tournament, pretending they weren't curious about the new professor. The girls looked at me dreamily, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown whispering to each other.
I let them stew for a moment before stepping forward. My footsteps echoed across the stone floor, silencing the room in waves.
"Wands out. Books away," I said, voice calm but carrying. "Defense Against the Dark Arts isn't learned in pages—it's learned in practice. You want theory? Go to the library. You want survival? You're in the right place."
Quills stilled. Eyes sharpened. Even Malfoy, lounging with exaggerated boredom, sat a little straighter.
I flicked my wand and the desks rearranged themselves into a wide circle. In the center, a conjured training dummy flickered into existence—its surface etched with runes from half a dozen magical traditions.
"Dark creatures, curses, and hexes won't fight fair," I continued. "Neither will I. Consider this your first lesson: adapt or fail."
I snapped my fingers. The dummy raised a wand-arm and hurled a stinging hex at Harry. Gasps. A shield charm snapped up just in time—clumsy but effective.
"Good, I figured you would be able to block it, Harry," I said, pacing. "But predictable. You'll learn shields. You'll learn counters. And you'll learn things wizards here don't often teach—runes from the East, charms from America, tricks stolen from battlefields most of you will never hear about. Magic is bigger than Britain. It's bigger than Hogwarts. If you're in my class, you'll learn it all."
Another gesture, and the dummy shifted—now sprouting shadowy tendrils, its form mimicking a Dementor. Several students shivered.
"Don't panic. Panic gets you killed. Breathe. Focus. Who knows the incantation?"
A few shaky hands rose. Harry's among them.
"Good. Then all of you stand," I ordered. "Pair off. You'll practice on this boggart-coded construct. Fail, and it will knock you on your arse. Succeed, and it will recoil."
The room filled with movement. I prowled like a wolf among them, correcting stances, snapping out advice, nudging wands an inch higher or lower. I let Ron try first. His Expecto Patronum was weak, silvery mist barely forming, but I clapped him on the shoulder.
"Well done. The rest of you—your turn. Fail fast, learn faster."
For the next hour the classroom rang with incantations, laughter, and the occasional scream. By the end, half of them were sweaty, exhausted, and more alive than when they entered.
I dismissed the class with a wave of my hand. "Next time, we escalate. Practice your shields before then—or regret it. I also plan to open a dueling club. I have already spoken about it with Dumbledore. There we will learn not only the magical but martial arts as well. I have seen how wizards fight when they lose their wands, and it's pretty pathetic—like two hobos scrapping over a bologna sandwich, seeing which can pick up their wands first. I mean to correct that."
The students spilled out in excited knots, buzzing with adrenaline. All except Hermione. She lingered by her desk, biting her lip as though wrestling with herself. Finally, she approached.
"Professor Cross?" she asked, voice careful.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
Her eyes glinted with curiosity. "Just Hermione, please. Um, you… you used incantations I've never heard of. And that shield correction—it wasn't in any textbook. Where did you learn all that?"
I smiled, leaning against my desk. "Everywhere. I studied at Ilvermorny, traveled through Asia, and picked up spells most wizards here wouldn't even believe exist. Britain clings to its traditions, but the wider magical world keeps moving. Magic doesn't belong to one country, Hermione. Someday, it might not even belong to just witches and wizards."
Her breath caught. "You mean… you think—?"
"That one day," I said softly, "everyone could use magic. That's my dream. Foolish, maybe. Dangerous, definitely. But worth chasing."
Hermione stared at me like I'd handed her the keys to a new world.
"Would you…" she hesitated, then steadied herself. "Would you consider teaching me more? Privately, I mean. Beyond the curriculum."
I chuckled. "You'd make me regret agreeing if I said no. You work harder than anyone in this castle. Yes, Hermione. I'll tutor you. But be warned: what I'll show you isn't in books. It's heavier. Wilder. It'll demand more than just cleverness."
Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes were blazing with determination. "I can handle it."
I inclined my head. "Then we begin tomorrow evening. Don't be late."
She nodded, almost too eagerly, then hurried out to catch up with Harry and Ron. I watched her go, already planning the first lesson.
One student, at least, was ready to dream bigger.
Last class of the day.
Having taught the other classes, I thought to myself how interesting it would be to expand the magical capabilities of the Hogwarts Universe. Making use of some hacks, I used a different version of the Genie lamp to wish to have the ability to teach any of the magic or technology in one world and to have it be usable to any who I taught it to or whoever learned from my teachings, as long as the source of the knowledge stemmed from me. So if I taught a student to cast Prestidigitation, then anyone that student taught could also learn it. Or if I were to publish a book, then those who read the book could learn the content inside.
Over time, the ceiling of the magic in the Harry Potter world would be cranked up to 10. To begin with, I would start small though. Let's see how teaching Firebolt works. Might just make Hermione an Archwizard in my tutoring sessions, on top of the extracurricular activities I had planned.
The seventh years filled the classroom with a quiet tension. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, older now, sharper with age, took their seats alongside the visiting Beauxbatons students. Fleur Delacour's presence turned more than a few heads as she swept gracefully to a desk, another Beauxbatons girl—slight, blonde, and serious—taking the seat beside her. Cedric Diggory entered with his usual calm energy, clapping a Hufflepuff mate on the shoulder before sitting next to him.
I walked to the front, let the silence settle, then raised my hand—not my wand.
"Magic," I said, "isn't bound to incantations or to the wood in your grip. It's intent. It's focus. Today, you'll see something beyond your textbooks. A spell not from this world."
I extended my hand toward the dummy I had conjured earlier. Power built in my chest, shaped by will, drawn down my arm. My fingers curled into a point.
"Ignis Fulmen."
Fire snapped into existence—bright, violent. A bolt of flame screamed across the room, slamming into the dummy with an explosion of sparks. Heat washed over the class. Several students gasped; one of the Beauxbatons girls flinched, wide-eyed. The dummy toppled, smoke curling from its chest.
I lowered my hand, palm still warm, and turned to them.
"This spell is called Firebolt. Not the broom—the fire. You'll channel flame into a bolt and drive it into your target. But take note—this is not a charm. It is primal, raw, and you must be careful. Too much force, and you'll burn the room down."
Quills scratched furiously. Eyes tracked me with something between fear and awe.
"Pair off," I ordered. "Cedric with Johnson—yes, you two. Fleur, you and Rousseau."
The students spread out to the targets I conjured.
Cedric and his partner planted their feet, Cedric steadying his wand as he repeated the words. Sparks sputtered, fizzled out. His friend tried next, managing little more than a flash of orange. They laughed quietly, shoulders brushing.
On the other side, Fleur's spell flared too wide, flames licking the stone floor. I was at her side before she adjusted, stepping in behind her.
"Your focus is strong," I said quietly. "But your stance—" I gently nudged her wrist, shifted her shoulder. "Here. Keep the energy flowing straight. Don't fight it. Let it pass through you like music."
Her lashes lowered as she glanced back at me, lips curving. "You are very… unconventional, Professor."
"Magic responds to imagination, not just rules," I replied. "That's what makes it dangerous—and exciting."
She tried again. This time, the bolt cut clean through the air, slamming into the dummy with a roar. Applause and murmurs rippled through the room. Fleur allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.
I moved back to Cedric's group, correcting grip and posture. Soon enough, the classroom was alive with fire: some sputtering, some striking true, heat and light bouncing off stone walls.
By the end, I raised my hand and drew the flames back into nothing, clearing the air.
"Good work," I said. "You've seen what's possible. Practice it, refine it, and you'll carry fire in your hands. Next time, we'll move. Fire and motion together."
The students began to file out, Cedric patting his friend on the back, Fleur glancing once over her shoulder as she left with Rousseau.
Her eyes lingered a fraction longer than necessary.
I smiled faintly, shaking my hand to cool the phantom warmth still humming in my palm. Teaching could be exhausting. But it was never dull.
After class ended for the day, I had one more trip to make. Before delving into the knowledge of other worlds fully and spreading it here, I wanted to learn the pinnacle of what this world had to offer, and what faster way than to gain the memories of a figure like Dumbledore—but an easier target.
Teleporting into the Austrian Alps, snow whipping about, I transformed into a shadow, slipping past the security until I reached a small stone cell.
Inside was a gaunt figure—once a powerful and feared wizard, Grindelwald was a shadow of his former self, in a self-made cage of his own as much as the one around us now. His knowledge and skill, however, were all intact and ready for the pickings.
"Who's there?!" Grindelwald called out.
Revealing myself from the shadows, tossing the spare invisibility cloak I had taken from the Sorcerer's Stone into my inventory, I walked forward. "Mr. Grindelwald, Ethan Cross. Pleasure to meet you."
"What are you doing here? I have nothing to offer you," he said.
"You have more to offer than you think. You are full of knowledge and experience, a veritable well of value," I replied.
"Ha, get lost," he scoffed, turning away from me in dismissal. "I refuse to teach anyone. Leave me here to rot."
"Sorry, but you'll teach me whether you want to or not." Placing my hand on his head, I rammed his mental barriers. They lasted several seconds longer than the drunk Auror whose mind I had first pilfered before they broke down. His memories and skill, the knowledge of all his spells, politics, manipulation— all of it was mine now. Before leaving, I erased any knowledge of me and made the connection one-sided so that I could look into his thoughts whenever I wanted to, but he would not even know I was there in his mind.
Arriving back at the castle, I went to bed planning what I wanted to teach in my next classes, the dueling club, and the tutoring sessions with Hermione. Plans swirled around my mind as I drifted off to sleep, looking forward to the next day.