Chapter 82: Cross-World Teleportation
After George's redesign and modifications, he had mastered most of the magics he learned from Kamar-Taj.
Some spells that required cooperation with the Time Stone were still out of reach for now, but everything else was firmly under control.
German National Weapons Research Department
"Dr. Erskine, you've wasted too much time. If there's no progress soon… I can't promise your family stays comfortable. Things can change, doctor," John Schmidt said, voice low but sharp.
Since Hitler assigned him to oversee weapons development, Schmidt had managed to take over the remnants of the Malik Family's influence. That leverage helped him gain full control of the department.
The only project that truly held his interest, though, was Erskine's research on unlocking human potential.
Unfortunately, the attempt to capture Erskine's family hadn't gone as planned. They were intercepted by an unknown group before they could be brought in. Still, Schmidt kept that quiet. As far as Erskine knew, they were locked away somewhere under Nazi supervision.
So Erskine kept working. For their sake.
"I'm close," Erskine said, weary. "Really. I just need more time. Let me see them, just once."
Schmidt didn't even look up. "You know how this works. No results, no reunions. Get back to it."
He turned and walked out, headed toward the archives, where a few recently gathered occult books waited. Useless junk, probably — but at this point, he was open to anything.
Hogwarts Island
"Fred, make the arrangements. I need to visit the television lab," George said, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.
"Yes, Master. You may leave whenever you're ready," the old butler replied.
It had been nearly ten years since George started the TV project. Today, the first working model was finally ready for testing.
While the car drove through a busy street, a minor crash ahead blocked traffic. George sat back, looking out the window, when a commotion nearby caught his attention.
A skinny kid, maybe eleven or twelve, stood near the alley. A few older boys had cornered him, grabbed his food, and shoved him.
What stood out wasn't the bullying — that was common enough — but how the kid pushed back, fists swinging despite the odds. A taller boy jumped in to help, but they still got outmatched.
The attackers took off, laughing, and George caught some of the conversation across the road.
"You okay?" the taller boy asked, wiping dirt from his face.
"Yeah," the skinny one said. "I can fight them all day."
The taller one sighed. "Steve, you gotta stop throwing yourself at people twice your size."
"Thanks, Bucky. But my mother told me people like me, who are easily bullied, must never back down. If you do once, you'll never get up again,"
George blinked. Steve. Bucky. That clicked.
He didn't act on it, though. He made a quiet mental note and later had someone look into the boy's situation.
Under a different name, he arranged treatment for Steve's mother — diagnosed with early-stage tuberculosis — and got her a nursing job at one of his hospitals. That was it. He didn't push any further.
Some things weren't meant to be touched. But it felt right to do something small.
That night, under a calm sky filled with stars, children ran barefoot on the castle lawn. Fireflies blinked near the hedges. Their laughter rolled across the grass, rising and falling like waves.
George stood at a window for a while, just watching.
Then he turned and disappeared from the balcony.
He appeared in the Room of Requirement, which reshaped itself into a quiet chamber. Sitting cross-legged on the center cushion, George took a slow breath.
First, he recalled all his Shadow Clones — dozens of them, each returning with their bundles of memory. It was like slamming ten open books into his head at once. But George barely flinched.
His mind absorbed it all without a hitch.
He meditated for half an hour. It wasn't just for peace of mind — the technique also helped circulate the internal energy he'd cultivated and kept the Chaos Pearl drawing in external energy at a faster rate. That part mattered more than anything.
Finally, he stood and opened his eyes.
Inside the Chaos Space, the land had changed.
Vegetables grew in neat rows. A medicinal herb garden spread across the far end. Everything was organized, labeled, and separated by stone markers. A light mist hung over the plants, glowing slightly in the dim energy of the space.
In the center, where the stone platform stood, George walked across the soil barefoot.
The pyramid-shaped platform was made of compacted rock, carved with runes and chalk lines. It still retained some warmth under his palm. At the top, a hexagonal magic circle sat engraved in sharp, clean lines, pulsing faintly like a resting heartbeat.
He stood for a while, quietly checking each line and node of the formation.
This was the one. A cross-world teleportation array.
It wasn't theoretical anymore. He'd made the changes, tuned the Runes, and prepped it for a Shadow Clone test.
The real world — especially the Marvel one — wasn't safe for this. Even if he pulled off the spell cleanly, the Sorcerer Supreme might sense it, and that was a whole problem on its own.
But here, in his world, he had full control.
Even if something went wrong — even if he accidentally opened a portal to a hostile world — he could seal it before anything spilled out.
He stood back and gave a nod to the waiting clone.
The clone stepped onto the platform, calm and silent. George raised his hand, focused, and connected mentally to one of the "three thousand stars" floating high in the inner sky — the very first world he'd ever drawn from.
He felt a click.
Like a lock turning, something opened.
A sharp pulse hit the space as the chaos energy above surged downward into the array. The magic circle flared to life, lines glowing white-hot, humming louder with each second.
George's temples began to throb. His grip tightened. His mind strained to hold the connection.
Then the light became too much, too bright to see — and just as his link was about to snap from overload, it cut cleanly.
The platform was silent.
The clone was gone.
He exhaled slowly. Not a trace of damage to the space.
Just silence. And a bit of smoke rising off the stone.
___________________________________________________________________________
Spin-Off Story: "The Wandering Three"
The sky above Hogwarts Island was the kind of soft, cloudless blue you'd only ever see after a summer rain. Everything smelled like cut grass and magic.
And that meant one thing to the three kids hiding behind the greenhouse.
It was a perfect day to explore.
"Alright," whispered Tia, brushing a strand of curly hair behind her ear, "Nico, you take the map. I'll keep watch. Jojo—try not to break anything this time."
Jojo straightened up, all freckles and a proud expression. "That vase hit me first."
"You bumped it with your elbow," Nico muttered, unfolding the old, wrinkled parchment like it was treasure. "Okay, the corridor we want starts behind the statue of the guy holding a goblet. If we take the path past the library stairs, we should hit it."
"Library?" groaned Jojo. "Can't we go around?"
"No one's in there on Saturdays," Tia said. "Unless you count ghosts. And they don't tattle."
The three took off in a careful sprint, the kind of speed kids use when they're pretending not to run but very much are. Their shoes clacked across the stone floors, and their laughter echoed faintly through the winding halls.
For most kids, Hogwarts Island was just the place they lived—cool, yeah, but still normal. For these three, though, it was a place of endless curiosity.
Behind the greenhouse was a little wooden shed where Tia had once found a broom that could float five inches off the ground. Jojo swore he'd once heard a painting snore. Nico, who was the most serious of the three, believed the portraits were always watching—and sometimes talking—when no one else was around.
They slipped past the library's massive oak doors, Nico leading with the map.
"Left turn here," he whispered. "Look for the statue."
Jojo pointed ahead. "That's it?"
A tall marble figure stood at the end of the corridor, one arm up with a stone goblet raised like a toast. Tia walked up to it and tapped the base with her foot.
Nothing happened.
She frowned. "Maybe there's a button or something?"
Jojo gave it a good shove on the side. The goblet glowed faintly—and then, like a sigh, the statue slid backward into the wall, revealing a tight spiral staircase leading down.
All three leaned in, their faces lit by the soft orange glow from within.
"We're going," said Tia. "Last one down has to clean Professor Yui's blackboard."
"No way," Jojo said, and he bolted.
Nico folded the map with one hand as he ran.
The tunnel below was surprisingly warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon and ink. Their footsteps echoed against the narrow stone as they descended, until it spilled into a low underground chamber lit with glowing blue runes. A mirror stood at the far end, old and crooked, its surface rippling like water.
"Do you think it's—magical?" Jojo asked, clearly hoping it was.
Nico reached into his pocket and pulled out a sour-apple candy. He tossed it at the mirror.
The candy bounced right off and rolled across the floor.
"Well," said Tia, walking closer, "it's not a portal."
As soon as she stepped near it, the mirror shimmered. Her reflection stepped forward and winked.
Tia shrieked, stumbled backward, and Jojo burst out laughing. "It copied you!"
The reflection stepped back and returned to normal.
"I hate that," Tia muttered, pulling her sleeves down over her hands. "I really, really hate that."
Nico tapped the edge of the frame. "It's a mimic mirror. I read about these. They don't show you—they show the version of you that could be, or wants to be, or maybe might've been."
Jojo blinked. "That's terrifying."
"Yeah," said Tia. "Let's leave before it tells me I could've been someone who listens to my parents."
Back above ground, the three kids snuck into the kitchen where the house-elves had prepared trays of honey bread and apple cider.
"I'm just taking one!" Jojo whispered loudly as he grabbed three.
They hid behind the banisters and ate in quiet triumph.
"I heard George once built the whole Quidditch pitch in an afternoon," Nico said, chewing slowly.
Tia licked honey off her fingers. "My dad says George can fly without a broom."
"He can," Jojo said. "My brother saw him once—just floated out of the tower like it was nothing. Said he waved like it was no big deal."
They fell quiet for a moment, imagining what it must be like to be that powerful. Not scary, or serious. Just... like flying was natural.
"Do you think he watches us?" Tia asked. "Like, actually notices us?"
Nico shrugged. "I think he knows everything."
Jojo leaned back on his elbows. "If I were that powerful, I'd make all homework disappear. And make the pudding refill itself."
"You'd blow yourself up before you got to lunch," Tia said.
They burst into giggles, only stopping when Professor Yui's head appeared at the top of the staircase.
"I swear," she called down, "if I find out you three took more than one cider each again, you'll be scrubbing cauldrons for a week."
"We didn't!" Jojo called back, voice too high.
"Did not!" Nico echoed, voice cracking slightly.
Tia elbowed both. "Don't make it worse."
Professor Yui didn't chase them—she rarely did. They all knew the staff didn't really mind. Not really. They'd all grown up on this island once, too.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in the towers, sliding down banisters, trying (and failing) to charm a toy bird to fly again, and hiding from actual magical creatures that definitely weren't supposed to be roaming the East Wing.
They ended the day at the lake.
The sun was low, and the water shimmered like liquid glass. A few glowing creatures hovered just beneath the surface—silver fins, slow tails, glittering eyes.
"This place feels like a dream sometimes," said Tia.
"It kind of is," Nico said.
Jojo skipped a stone across the lake. "One day I'm gonna learn everything George knows. I'm gonna build a magic ship that flies and swims and maybe goes to the moon."
Tia nodded. "And I'll make a library that talks back. You'll say, 'Where's the book on dragons?' and it'll go, 'Right behind you, dear.'"
"And I'll invent a spell," Nico said, "that lets me stay up all night without getting tired."
They sat in the grass as the stars came out, not saying much after that. The cool wind off the lake rustled the reeds.
In the castle, the lights flicked on one by one, windows glowing like fireflies in a giant stone lantern.
Magic, mischief, a little honey bread stolen from the kitchen, and stories passed from portrait to portrait — that was what their world was made of.
And somewhere, far off in his tower, George probably knew exactly what they'd done today.
He'd probably laugh.
But he wouldn't stop them.
He'd once been a curious kid, too.