King's Cross Station, London - 1946
The war was over, but the gray fog of austerity still hung over London.
Crowds bustled through King's Cross, tired men in demob suits and women in sensible coats.
They ignored the two men standing near the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10.
Ernst leaned against a pillar, checking his watch.
Behind him, Azazel shifted uncomfortably, his tail hidden beneath a long trench coat.
"I feel it," Azazel whispered.
"The brickwork... It's vibrating. It's a spatial fold. A pocket dimension anchored to the architecture."
"Don't touch it," Ernst warned without looking up.
"We are guests, Azazel. We play by their rules."
"They are late," Azazel growled.
"It is an insult."
"It is a power play," Ernst corrected.
"They want us to feel unimportant. Patience."
Ernst knew exactly why they were waiting.
The British government had forced the magical community's hand.
In exchange for the nuclear schematics Ernst had provided, data that would jumpstart the British atomic program by a decade, the Crown had ordered Hogwarts to open its doors to "Dr. Ernst Shaw."
The wizards hated it.
To them, Ernst was a Muggle warmonger.
At exactly 11:01 AM, the barrier rippled.
A man stepped out of the solid brick.
He wore a plum-colored velvet suit that clashed violently with the dreary station.
He had a long, silver beard and half-moon spectacles perched on a crooked nose.
Albus Dumbledore.
He smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes.
"Dr. Ernst," Dumbledore said, extending a hand.
"My apologies for the delay. School business is never-ending, I'm afraid."
Ernst shook the hand firmly.
"Professor Dumbledore. The honor is mine. I didn't expect the Deputy Headmaster himself."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, sharp and assessing.
"When the King commands, we obey. Shall we?"
Dumbledore tapped the brick wall with his wand.
The masonry shivered and melted away, revealing a wrought-iron archway.
"Welcome to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."
The Hogwarts Express
They boarded a private compartment on the scarlet steam train.
The interior was plush, smelling of old wood and magic.
Dumbledore sat opposite Ernst, observing him like a dangerous specimen.
"Tea?" Dumbledore offered.
He waved his wand, and a tea service appeared, along with a jar of sweets.
"Cockroach Cluster?" Dumbledore asked, holding out the jar.
Inside, brown, insect-shaped candies writhed and crawled over each other.
They looked horrifyingly realistic.
Azazel recoiled, his hand going to his hidden knife.
"They are alive."
"A delicacy," Dumbledore said innocently.
"Though not for the faint of stomach."
It was a test. Dumbledore wanted to see the Muggle recoil in disgust.
He wanted to prove that Ernst didn't belong here.
Ernst didn't blink.
He reached into the jar, grabbed a squirming cluster, and popped it into his mouth.
Crunch.
He chewed slowly, savoring the shock on Dumbledore's face.
"Peppermint," Ernst noted, swallowing.
"With a hint of chili. An impressive animation charm, Professor. It mimics the nervous system of an insect perfectly."
Dumbledore lowered the jar, his amusement fading into wariness.
"You are well-informed, Doctor."
"I do my research," Ernst said, wiping his fingers.
"I know that the Statute of Secrecy is fraying. I know that Grindelwald's war almost exposed you. And I know that you need me as much as I need you."
"Need?" Dumbledore's voice hardened.
"Hogwarts needs nothing from a man who builds bombs."
"The world is changing, Albus," Ernst said coldly.
"Atoms are being split. Genetics is being rewritten. Magic can no longer hide behind a wall. I am here to learn how your energy works. In exchange, I gave your government the means to defend itself against the Soviets. It is a fair trade."
Dumbledore sighed, looking out the window at the passing countryside.
"Perhaps. But know this, Dr. Ernst: Magic is not a machine. It is not a code you can crack. It has a will."
"We shall see," Ernst replied.
"The Board of Governors has granted you access to the Library," Dumbledore stated formally.
"Including the Restricted Section. However, my conditions are absolute."
Dumbledore leaned forward, his aura flaring with palpable power.
"You will not interact with the students. You will not teach. You will not experiment on school grounds. If you have any questions, feel free to come to me. I will be your tutor... and your warden."
"Agreed," Ernst nodded.
"I have no interest in children. I am here for the books."
"And your... associate?" Dumbledore looked at Azazel. "I sense he is not entirely human."
"He is my bodyguard," Ernst said.
"He goes where I go."
"Very well," Dumbledore relented. "But warn him. The castle has defenses against those of... demonic heritage."
"He is not demonic, he is a mutant," Ernst promised.
As the train chugged north, Ernst looked out the window.
He had breached the sanctum.
The knowledge of the wizarding world, Transfiguration, Potions, Animagus transformation, was now within his grasp.
I will strip that library bare, Ernst thought.
And then, I will build a better wizard.
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