Harry cleared his throat. "Since I am here, there is another matter I want to discuss."
Four heads turned toward him instantly. Even Dumbledore's posture sharpened.
Harry continued, "You must have seen the spell model in my diary — the one meant to create an alternate dimension with variable temporal flow."
All four professors went rigid. The air tightened.
McGonagall's voice was barely a whisper. "Harry… surely you are not suggesting that you are ready to cast it."
"I'm not," Harry said. "What I am saying is that I've completed the theoretical framework. The core structure exists. But I need permission to test it at Hogwarts."
The explosion was immediate.
Vector looked horrified. "Test it? Harry, that construct had no confirmed stability. No dimensional skeleton. No time-ratio lock. If you attempt activation without proper reinforcement—"
"It could collapse inward!" Thorne snapped. "Do you understand what a spatial recoil does? It can rip a tear the size of a classroom!"
Flitwick squeaked in alarm. "And a black hole the size of a class might appear and that means end of the planet itself..."
McGonagall looked ready to faint. "Such a pocket dimension would require layers upon layers of stabilization before even a partial activation. You mean to say you have completely theorized them all?"
Harry let them unload everything.
Then he answered methodically.
Harry explained everything from temporal skeleton, stabilization wards, and failsafe collapse trigger, the shutdown sequence, the energy regulator, and the reinforcement runes he planned to use. He didn't claim mastery, only that the base model was functional and ready for testing.
By the time he finished, the professors were pale, but listening.
Finally, Dumbledore spoke.
"Harry," he said slowly, "why do you want to test something this advanced so soon?"
Harry exhaled, "If I don't push forward then I don't think anyone else would even attempt anything like this in hundreds years from now and that is hundred years lost to theory alone."
Of course the main reason was the impending doom that would befall entirety of the planet in the next five years. But Harry thought he didn't need to tell them yet, he will tell them next year.
The room fell silent.
Dumbledore studied him for a long, heavy moment. Not fearful — but deeply, profoundly concerned.
"What's the temporal flow that you are going to try?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry replied, "1:10. 1 hours outside, 10 hours inside."
"Everything that I have theorized is made for that limit, and once I understand everything about maintaining the temporal flow, I'll increase it."
Dumbledore's fingers steepled beneath his chin as he absorbed this. The other professors went utterly still.
Vector spoke first, voice tight. "A tenfold dilation… Harry, that is not a small adjustment. That is a temporal strain on both the anchor and the internal framework."
Flitwick nodded anxiously. "At that ratio, even a minor error in the tether could cause desynchronisation. The pocket might drift or stutter. You could end up with temporal echoes or—"
Thorne cut in sharply. "Or worse, the interior could begin aging independently. Do you have a flux buffer prepared? A stabilisation array?"
Harry answered calmly. "Yes. I designed a regulation grid tied directly to the anchor. It monitors drift, compression, and internal entropy. If the balance falters, the dimension collapses automatically."
McGonagall inhaled sharply. "Automatically? Without trapping you inside?"
Harry nodded. "Without trapping anything inside."
The room fell silent again.
Dumbledore finally leaned back. "A temporal ratio of one to ten is… ambitious, but not reckless. In theory."
He studied Harry's expression, searching for hesitation and finding none.
"What you are asking," Dumbledore said quietly, "is permission to create and test a structure that is beyond the level of most Unspeakables. Something that, if miscast, could do irreversible damage."
Harry held his gaze. "Which is why I'm asking here. And why I'm asking now."
Dumbledore exhaled slowly, deeply. The decision weighed heavy on him, and the professors could feel it.
His eyes softened, but his tone stayed firm. "If we approve this… you will conduct the first test under supervision. No full activation. No entry. Only structural casting and temporal ping measurements."
Harry nodded immediately. "That's exactly what I wanted to do."
Vector added, "And you will provide us your updated models, anchor diagrams, and stress simulations."
"Done."
Thorne squinted. "And you will not adjust the temporal ratio during the test to anything but 1:10."
Harry hesitated—barely—but nodded. "I won't."
Flitwick sighed, resigned. "Then… I suppose we can at least observe the first attempt."
McGonagall still looked like she might collapse, but she said nothing.
Dumbledore finally folded his hands over the desk.
"Very well, Harry. We will prepare a secure chamber. After your mastery exams conclude, we will begin your first controlled test."
Dumbledore's agreement had barely settled into the room before Thorne cleared his throat.
"When," he asked cautiously, "were you planning to conduct this test?"
Harry didn't hesitate. "Now."
Every single professor in the office went rigid.
McGonagall made a faint choking noise. Vector looked like she might pass out. Flitwick squeaked loudly enough that a stack of parchment jumped.
"Now?" Thorne repeated, voice rising an octave. "As in — now now?"
Harry nodded calmly. "Yes. Everything is complete in theory, so I don't see any reason for me to not do it now."
"But we haven't prepared anything!" Vector burst out. "We have no containment chamber, no monitoring grid, no temporal analysis wards —"
"We didn't even finish discussing the potential recoil pathways!" Flitwick added, horrified.
McGonagall pressed a hand to her forehead. "This is… Harry, this is far too sudden—"
Harry met her eyes, steady and unshaken. "I won't fail."
That stopped them.
Not because it sounded arrogant — but because he said it like it was a simple fact.
Dumbledore watched him closely, curiosity sharpening in his gaze. "What gives you this confidence, Harry?"
Harry thought for a beat, choosing his words carefully.
"Because I know I can't fail. It's the same certainty that let's me say that I can pass any mastery exam anytime."
He didn't mention that creating a stable separate dimension was very much considered beginner magic in The Continuum. And he had already done spells much complex then that when he was able to do the Praesidius Continuum spell.
The professors didn't look reassured. In fact, most looked more panicked than before.
But Dumbledore…
Dumbledore looked intrigued.
Very intrigued.
And beneath that, undeniably eager. The academic inside him — the one who had chased the limits of magic his entire life — pushed forward.
"Harry," he said slowly, "if you conduct this test now… the risk may be significant."
Harry shrugged lightly. "If I'm wrong, I collapse the spell. If I'm right, we gain something extraordinary."
Silence.
Then Dumbledore stood.
Straightened his robes.
And smiled — not the warm grandfatherly smile, but the one that meant the greatest wizard of the era was very much awake.
"In that case," he said, "you have my permission."
The other professors turned to him in alarm.
"Albus—"
"Headmaster—"
"Dumbledore, this is—"
He raised one hand and the room fell silent.
"If Harry is truly ready, then delay serves no purpose. But we will take every possible precaution."
He turned toward the fireplace and flicked his wand.
A surge of phoenix-blue fire roared upward, swirling in a tight vortex.
"Staff summons," he said. "All professors will gather immediately."
The professors did not argue. They were too stunned, too tense, too aware that they were about to witness something that should not have been possible for any second-year.
Dumbledore's office felt airless as he finished speaking.
Snape looked as if someone had hit him with a Bludger. "You are allowing a child to manipulate temporal architecture?"
Remus rubbed his temples. "Albus… this is not something even adult wizards experiment with casually."
Pomfrey's voice was thin. "If the boy ends up in temporal shock, I cannot promise anything."
Dumbledore only said, "Your concerns are valid. They do not change what is about to happen."
He turned to the Heads of House specifically.
"Minerva. Filius. Severus. Pomona. Prepare your students for immediate evacuation. This is a precaution. Nothing more."
Minerva's lips thinned until they nearly disappeared. "A precaution," she repeated, but she nodded sharply.
The Heads left at once, sweeping down the spiraling staircase with their robes snapping behind them. The castle rumbled faintly as they activated the old alarm-channel wards that only Heads of House could trigger.
Dumbledore motioned to the remaining professors. "The rest of you with me."
They walked out of the castle and crossed the grounds toward the Quidditch stadium. The evening air carried a hint of cold, and the sky was streaked with the last light of sunset. The stadium was far enough that, if anything went catastrophically wrong, a castle-wide evacuation was still possible.
Once they reached the center of the pitch, Dumbledore lifted his wand. His expression was calm, almost serene, but his eyes gave him away. They burned with the same curiosity that had driven him as a young wizard long before the world called him a legend.
A sweep of his wand carved runes into the air. A second sweep anchored them to the ground. A third completed the structure.
A building unfolded into existence: a single vast hall, stone walls reinforced with layered wards, the windows sealed, the ceiling high enough for spell discharge to vent without ricocheting. It felt like a temporary research bunker built out of transfiguration, conjuration, and raw will.
Snape examined the entrance frame with an exasperated sound. "You carved fifteen stability layers into the threshold alone."
"Sixteen," Dumbledore corrected quietly.
Remus stepped inside first. "At least this will contain the backlash if something snaps and give us time to evacuate everyone."
Dumbledore nodded once. "Good."
The rest of the professors soon returned, each reporting that their Houses had been warned and were ready to evacuate at the first signal.
They gathered in a tense semicircle.
No one spoke.
Everyone was thinking the same thing:
This could become the most significant magical event Hogwarts had witnessed in a century.
Or the most dangerous.
Dumbledore turned to Harry, "Harry... the stage is yours but remember, if anything happens, don't force it, prioritize your life first and collapse the spell immediately."
Harry nodded. He stepped inside the hall and swallowed hard. He had lied. The spell was not going to be 1 hour to 10 hours temporal flow.
It was going to be far more extreme:
I day outside, 10 days inside.
He rolled his shoulders, this could go horribly wrong but he had the ways to collapse it before any damage was done if it went wrong.
He lifted his hand and Elythral appeared in his grip, glowing excitedly.
The moment he whispered the first sequence, the temperature plunged. The air thickened. The floor hummed under their feet as raw spatial magic coiled around Harry in spiraling currents.
Flitwick's breath caught.Snape's eyes sharpened.McGonagall's hands clenched at her sides.
This was not student spellwork.
Harry pushed deeper.
The spatial anchor took form first—an invisible spike in reality that made the walls ripple as if the world were a sheet stretched too tight.
A pulse of pain stabbed through his core.
Harry staggered, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
"Harry!" McGonagall yelled.
Dumbledore stopped her with a raised hand. His voice was low, steady. "Wait."
Harry did not break concentration.
He expanded the anchor and wove in the temporal strand.
1:10.
The air cracked sharply.
The center of the hall shivered as a thin vertical line of black appeared—like a cut in the world. It flickered in and out, not yet stable.
But Harry felt it.
Too easy.
Too stable.
Too responsive.
He pushed again.
1:15.
The cut widened into a wavering slit of darkness.
1:20.
Blood dripped down his chin now, his breaths ragged. The pressure in the hall crushed down like an invisible storm.
Snape hissed, "This is nowhere near an hour-ten ratio…"
His voice died as the slit sharpened, becoming a faint outline of a doorway—space warping around its edges.
Harry's pupils shrank.
He pushed again.
1:40.
The hall groaned. Lights flickered. Magical shields buckled. Pomfrey conjured stabilizers, muttering complex charms under her breath.
Harry almost fell.
Almost.
He forced another surge.
1:60.
More blood. His wand vibrated violently. His magic screamed, raw and unfiltered, tearing through theoretical limits with no hesitation.
The doorway of darkness grew taller, clearer, almost solid now.
And then—
1:100.
The backlash slammed into him like a physical blow. Harry choked, blood spilling from his mouth. His knees buckled, but he didn't drop the spell.
His eyes flickered wildly—
Green.Red.Green.Red.
A cold, foreign presence seeped into the room. It was subtle, but ancient. Not Harry. Not anything the professors could identify.
Harry's breathing steadied unnaturally.
His lips curled into a sharp, knowing smirk that did not belong to a twelve-year-old.
When he spoke, his voice echoed—a faint overlay of a deeper, older tone.
"Not like that, kid."A soft, amused cadence followed."This is how you do it."
Harry's arm moved with inhuman precision.
Magic snapped.
The tear in reality split wide, unfolding like a seamless vertical gate—a perfect rectangular frame of darkness bordered by shimmering temporal distortion. It didn't glow. It didn't pulse.
It simply existed.
A doorway carved into the fabric of the world.
Stable.Silent.Impossible.
The professors stared, breathless.
None of them could calculate the temporal ratio.None of them could understand what they were witnessing.
Harry's eyes blinked back to pure green.The presence slipped away.His wand slipped from his fingers.
He dropped to one knee, coughing up more blood.
But the gate remained—calm, flawless, radiating a faint hum of compressed time.
Dumbledore whispered, voice trembling with awe and dread:
"…He opened a world."
No one answered.
Because Harry Potter—second year, barely twelve—had just torn open space and time and made a doorway into it.
Harry pushed himself to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth. His legs shook, but he didn't care. The gate shimmered behind him, a perfect, impossible arch of energy that pulsed with its own life. He stared at it like a child who had just discovered the largest secret in the world.
Dumbledore stepped forward, voice calm but edged with tension. "Harry… what is the temporal ratio?"
Harry's grin widened, blood still at the corner of his lips. "One to one hundred."
The professors froze. Flitwick's wand slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the stone floor. Vector's face drained of color. Thorne paled so badly he had to sit on the ground itself. McGonagall's lips pressed together so tightly it looked like she was holding back a scream. Even Dumbledore, who had faced horrors no child should ever see, looked visibly shaken.
Harry had said he would attempt one to ten. One hour outside, ten hours inside. That had been insane enough. But one to one hundred? That was beyond anything their mind could process.
He saw their faces and felt a laughter bubble up from deep inside him. A wild, childish laugh, bright and careless, spilling into the hall. It was laughter born of triumph, of proving the impossible could be done.
"I did it," he said, voice trembling with exhilaration. "I actually did it."
The professors were rooted to the spot. Snape's dark eyes were wide, unblinking. Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles reflected the glow of the gate, and the small smile of curiosity he usually wore was gone, replaced by something like awe… and fear. Even Pomfrey, who had spent her life preparing for emergencies, could only stare, unsure whether to heal him or faint.
Vector murmured, "This... this changes everything about magic..."
Harry let the silence stretch before he added casually, almost as if it were a minor footnote. "Oh, and it's not hours."
Every head turned sharply.
"It's days," he said simply. "One day outside equals one hundred days inside."
The hall went quiet in a way that made the walls seem to shrink. McGonagall's knees bent slightly, as if she needed support. Thorne's jaw dropped. Vector looked ready to collapse onto a bench. Even Snape's usual scowl faltered into something more primal—shock.
"And the time compression doesn't affect biological age," Harry added, shrugging as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Dumbledore's voice was low, almost reverent. "Harry… this is not manipulation of time. This is… rewriting it."
Harry laughed again, lighter this time, a mixture of relief and triumph. He looked at the gate, his eyes bright with something uncontainable. "No this is still manipulation. Breaking it is not something I can even think about. But it works."
Harry said nothing. He just stepped forward, crossing the shimmering threshold of the gate. The professors hesitated for barely a heartbeat before curiosity—and something deeper, something that pulled at the very core of their scholarly hearts—pushed them after him.
The moment they emerged, a collective gasp echoed through the group.
An endless field stretched in every direction. The grass was impossibly green, almost radiant under a sun that hung perfectly in the sky. It rolled on, unbroken, no hills, no trees, no rivers—just pure, uninterrupted space. The horizon seemed to vanish, blending seamlessly into the sky. The air smelled faintly sweet, almost alive, yet utterly clean.
They looked at each other, hesitant. Nothing moved to disturb the stillness, yet the place itself hummed with energy. Even the professors, hardened by decades of magical experience, could feel it—the hum of something beyond ordinary magic, a subtle pulse beneath their feet.
"I… I can breathe," Vector whispered, voice trembling. "It's… it's perfectly normal."
"Gravity's… standard," Flitwick added, leaning forward with wide-eyed fascination. "I can jump, and… it feels just like Hogwarts. There's no… strain, no distortion."
McGonagall's hand rested on her chest, her eyes scanning the endless green expanse. "But… the temporal shift…" she murmured. "How can it be… this stable?"
Snape's usual scowl was replaced with a rare expression of awe. "It shouldn't be possible," he said flatly. "Everything here should be collapsing, tearing, breaking… and yet—" He stopped, gaze fixed on the perfect horizon.
Even Pomfrey, who had come out more from concern than curiosity, felt a thrill she couldn't suppress. There was nothing threatening, nothing chaotic—yet the weight of what had just been done pressed on her mind. Time itself, the very flow of it, was bending to the will of a second-year boy.
Dumbledore stood apart for a moment, hands clasped behind him, eyes shining. He inhaled slowly, savoring the calm of the field, and then looked at Harry. The boy said nothing, his expression unreadable, but the very fact that he had brought them here—had forced reality itself to stretch like this—made Dumbledore's heart race.
No one moved for several moments, simply letting the impossibility sink in. The silence was thick, electric, almost vibrating with the sense of wonder. Time would stretch here. Days would pass inside while hours ticked by outside. Yet they felt nothing abnormal. There was no nausea, no dizziness, no strain. The human senses were untouched. The field was infinite, perfect, and utterly stable.
Vector whispered, almost reverently, "I… I can't believe it. This… this defies everything."
Flitwick nodded, bouncing slightly in place, unable to contain his excitement. "Yes! But it's… it's beautiful! Perfectly… perfectly stable!"
McGonagall, still trying to reconcile what she was seeing with everything she knew about magic, finally found her voice. "Harry… tell me… this… this field… how did you—how is this stable? And why does it seem… infinite?"
Harry shrugged casually, almost as if it were nothing. "It's easier that way," he said. "Contrary to popular belief, infinite space is simpler than limited space. If I wanted it confined, I'd have to manage the spatial limits… the walls, the boundaries, the tension at the edges. That's a headache. But infinite space? The field just… stretches itself out. Everything else handles itself accordingly."
Flitwick bounced on his toes, clearly thrilled. "Handled itself? That's… astounding! You mean the dimensional energy, the spatial framework… it balanced automatically?"
"Exactly," Harry replied simply. "I just set the initial parameters. Once it started, it took care of the rest. No collapsing edges, no distortions, no friction with the real world. It just… exists."
Vector's eyes gleamed with a mixture of fear and excitement. "A self-stabilizing infinite pocket dimension… Harry, you've essentially bypassed every constraint we believed fundamental to mortal magic."
Snape's scowl was gone, replaced by something rare: reluctant awe. "And you did this… without any catastrophic backlash?"
Harry shrugged again. "Nothing catastrophic. Just a little… fatigue. That's all. The magic flows, and the space does what it wants."
Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly as he absorbed it all. "I have seen many extraordinary feats in my time," he murmured, "but this… this is unprecedented. You've taken a concept thought impossible and made it routine, simple even, within your own framework."
Pomfrey, usually quick to worry about injury, glanced at Harry. "And you're certain this is safe?"
"As safe as it gets," Harry replied, almost teasing. "The space itself is perfect. No rifts, no tension, no danger. All the complexity is handled by the rules of the field itself. I just… opened the door."
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with excitement as he stepped forward. "Well then… if the space is infinite, why not make full use of it?" With a flourish of his hands and a few precise wand movements, the very air before them shimmered.
In an instant, a magnificent mansion rose from the green expanse. Its walls gleamed in soft gold and white stone, towers stretching gracefully, windows catching impossible sunlight. Balconies jutted out, gardens sprouted in carefully arranged patterns, and the surrounding grounds were filled with serene courtyards, libraries, and fountains. It was almost a small castle, but elegant, refined, and alive with subtle magic.
Harry stepped closer, mouth slightly open. "That… that's amazing. You just made it?"
Dumbledore chuckled, twirling his wand idly. "Indeed. And it can serve many purposes—research, study, rest… even a training ground if necessary." His gaze lingered on the mansion, then returned to Harry with a twinkle in his eye. "Though I must admit, in front of your… particular magic, this is hardly worth mentioning."
Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. "Professor, my magic isn't some exclusive thing that only I can do. I may be the first to make this particular spell work, but it doesn't mean that any of you couldn't, given the proper knowledge and practice."
Dumbledore's grin widened, a mixture of pride and excitement lighting his face. "Ah… that is the mark of a true wizard. To do great things, yet remain humble enough to know that greatness is not yours alone."
Flitwick bounced slightly, practically vibrating with glee. "A mansion, infinite space, and a temporal flow unlike anything known… this is beyond even my wildest calculations!"
McGonagall, still staring, added, "And all of it conjured in moments… it's… staggering."
Harry smirked, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes. "Well… I just opened the door. The rest… is for people like you to explore."
Harry stepped back, eyes flicking to the shimmering gateway hovering in the middle of the field. "We should probably move this," he said. "It's going to be tricky to play Quidditch if a pocket dimension is right in the middle of the pitch."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed. We should find a more… discreet location. Somewhere inside the castle itself, perhaps?"
"Exactly," Harry agreed. "Now that the space exists, I'm curious… how do you all intend to use it?"
The professors exchanged glances. Their reactions were varied but unmistakable: McGonagall frowned thoughtfully, imagining training simulations; Flitwick practically vibrated with excitement, thinking of research applications; Vector and Thorne whispered about theoretical studies and experiments. Pomfrey looked cautious but intrigued. One thing was clear—they all wanted to explore the possibilities of spatio-temporal magic.
Harry's lips curled into a small smile. He reached into his subspace pouch and pulled out the Continuum, the book that had taught him everything he knew about spatio-temporal magic. He held it up. "Anyone care to touch it?"
Hands reached out eagerly—but passed straight through the book.
A small sigh escaped Harry. "Right… that means I can't share this. And this book… this is crucial. It's everything I know about spatio-temporal magic, the foundation of my understanding."
He paused, then his eyes lit with an idea. "But… I can make something else." With a few precise gestures, Harry began conjuring a series of books, each forming out of thin air, glowing faintly as they solidified in his hands. "These will contain everything I've read at the beginner level in the Continuum. Not my advanced work, just the basics, condensed and organized."
Six volumes appeared, perfectly bound and shimmering faintly.
The professors stared. Vector blinked. Flitwick bounced in place. Dumbledore leaned forward, eyes twinkling.
"You mean… this is not just your understanding of the Continuum?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry shook his head. "No. This is all the beginner-level content I read. Everything. So you can study it without worrying about the advanced stuff, which… well, you'd probably blow yourselves up if you tried."