The silence after movie night lingered.
Not awkward.
Not hostile.
Just… heavy.
Dumbledore broke it first, folding his hands together like he was about to either dispense wisdom or assign detention.
"Adam," he said gently, "given what we now know… what should we do?"
Every pair of eyes turned to me.
I blinked.
Pointed at myself.
"…You're asking me?"
"Yes," Minerva said crisply. "You abducted us, showed us the future, and traumatized half the room. You're clearly in charge."
Flitwick nodded enthusiastically. "Leadership through chaos! A valid strategy!"
Sirius snorted. "Figures."
Lupin looked tired. Hopeful. Cautious.
I leaned back, shadows rippling lazily.
"Alright," I said. "Here's the thing."
I raised a finger.
"You do nothing."
They stared.
"…Nothing?" Sirius repeated.
"Yes," I said firmly. "You stick to canon events."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "Even knowing the outcome?"
"Especially knowing the outcome," I replied. "The timeline is fragile. Change too much too early, and suddenly Voldemort wins by slipping on a banana peel or something equally stupid."
Alice nodded from the couch. "I've seen that one. Very unsatisfying."
Minerva crossed her arms. "So we allow suffering?"
"No," I said calmly. "You allow growth. There's a difference."
I looked at Lupin and Sirius.
"You two, however—" I paused, smirking. "—are coming with me."
Sirius grinned immediately. "I like this plan."
Lupin sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."
Returning the Professors
(Politely, This Time)
I snapped my fingers.
Shadows opened portals.
Dumbledore, Minerva, and Flitwick stood before Hogwarts once more—exactly where they'd been taken from.
Time resumed.
No alarms.
No paradoxes.
Dumbledore turned before stepping through.
"You are meddling carefully," he said.
"I try," I replied. "Emphasis on try."
He smiled.
Then they were gone.
Operation: Borrow the Boy Who Lived
I turned to Sirius and Lupin.
"Alright," I said. "Phase two."
Sirius cracked his knuckles. "Kidnapping a child?"
"Borrowing," I corrected. "With intent to return. Eventually."
Lupin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course."
We moved.
Privet Drive was exactly as depressing as advertised.
Number Four sat quietly, radiating neglect and emotional damage.
"Wow," Sirius muttered. "I want to punch something."
"Later," I said. "Inside voices."
Harry Potter was nine years old.
Small.
Too thin.
Sleeping curled up like the world expected disappointment.
Lupin froze when he saw him.
"…He looks like Lily," he whispered.
Sirius swallowed hard. "And James."
I didn't waste time.
Shadows lifted Harry gently, wrapping him like a cocoon.
He stirred.
Eyes opened.
Green.
Wide.
"…Am I in trouble?" he asked quietly.
That did something unpleasant to my chest.
"No," I said softly. "You're about to learn the truth."
Telling a Nine-Year-Old He's Special
(Responsibly, This Time)
We brought him to my personal dimension.
Soft grass. Open sky. Warm light.
Harry blinked.
"…Is this heaven?"
"No," Sirius said quickly. "Trust me."
Lupin knelt in front of him.
"Harry," he said gently, "we're friends of your parents."
Harry's breath hitched.
"You knew my mum and dad?"
"Yes," Lupin said. "They loved you very much."
Sirius crouched too. "And they were heroes."
Harry looked at me.
"Who are you?"
"Adam," I said. "Think of me as… tech support for destiny."
He frowned. "…Okay."
We explained.
Magic.
Wizards.
Hogwarts.
Carefully.
No prophecies.
No pressure.
Just truth.
Harry listened.
Quiet.
Serious.
"…So," he said finally, "I'm not weird?"
"No," I said firmly. "You're just early."
That earned a small smile.
Training Arc (Because Of Course)
We trained him.
Not brutally.
Not obsessively.
Just… properly.
Basic magic control.
Physical fitness.
Confidence.
Sirius taught him flying—responsibly this time.
Lupin taught him patience.
I taught him awareness.
"Shadows," I said one evening, letting them dance, "are just places light hasn't reached yet. Remember that."
Harry nodded solemnly.
He learned fast.
Too fast.
But not broken-fast.
Healthy-fast.
Two Years Later
Harry grew.
Stronger. Calmer. Happier.
Still kind.
Still stubborn.
Still Harry.
One morning, an owl appeared.
Harry caught the letter mid-air.
"HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY"
He stared at it.
Then at us.
"…So it's real."
Sirius grinned. "Always was."
Lupin smiled softly.
I crossed my arms.
"Congratulations," I said. "The tutorial is over."
Harry laughed.
And destiny knocked—right on schedule.
[Chapter Fourteen Complete.]