Dumbledore understood more than he let on.
Unlike Snape, he had spent decades studying the Muggle world. Grindelwald's predictions about the Second World War had proven disturbingly accurate, and the invention of nuclear weapons alone had convinced Dumbledore that dismissing Muggle knowledge was foolish. He had the time, the curiosity, and the freedom to look beyond wizarding insularity.
So while Rowan spoke, Dumbledore could follow most of it.
"The universe Muggles talk about," Dumbledore murmured at last, "other civilizations beyond our world… it seems they were not entirely wrong. It's unfortunate their technology is still so primitive compared to what you describe. They would be of little help."
He studied Rowan for a long moment, then said gently, "For now, tell no one. Panic would serve no one, least of all us. It's very late. You should rest."
"Yes, Headmaster," Rowan replied, polite and composed, before leaving the office.
As he walked the quiet corridors, Rowan replayed their reactions in his mind.
That went well enough.
The fabricated "great disaster" wasn't a whim. It was leverage. If Dumbledore and Snape truly believed Rowan had been chosen to confront a future extinction-level threat, then helping him would become a priority rather than a risk.
At the very least, they wouldn't block his requests. A Time-Turner. Guidance on advanced charms. Access to restricted knowledge.
Even doubt wouldn't hurt him. Indifference was the worst possible outcome, and that seemed unlikely. What he had shown in the Forbidden Forest wasn't just magic. It was a warning. A reminder that pushing Rowan away would be dangerous.
Dumbledore, after all, believed in destiny. Otherwise, he wouldn't have invested so much hope in Harry Potter, the child of prophecy.
And if twenty years passed without an alien invasion?
That was a problem for the future. By then, Rowan doubted anything in this world would still be beyond his reach.
Back in the office, Dumbledore turned to Snape. "What do you think, Severus?"
Snape hesitated. He still felt as though his thoughts were tangled.
"I don't see why he would lie," he said finally. "What he showed us wasn't wizarding magic. Not ancient magic either. Those spells don't exist in this world. If someone taught him, I can't imagine who else it could be."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "For a moment in the forest, I almost felt Voldemort had become irrelevant."
And that realization unsettled him.
Voldemort was dangerous not because he was unbeatable, but because he was hard to kill and Dumbledore was growing old. His greatest fear had always been what would happen after his death.
That was why he had watched Harry so closely.
But compared to a threat that could wipe out all of humanity, Voldemort's ambitions suddenly felt… small.
"If Rowan is telling the truth," Dumbledore said quietly, "then our plans may need to change."
"Do you believe him?" Snape asked.
"I don't know," Dumbledore admitted. "But when the safety of humanity is involved, we must treat it as real until proven otherwise."
He considered for a moment, then smiled faintly. "For now, we proceed as normal. If he needs something, and it is within our power, we give it to him. Encourage him. Guide him. Observe him."
Snape nodded.
The next morning, Rowan entered the Great Hall and immediately felt the weight of countless eyes.
He was used to attention. Last year had brought plenty of it. But this was different. Older students, younger students, all watching him with a mix of awe and unease.
News of the Dementor's death had spread.
To young witches and wizards, Dementors were not fairy tales you grew out of. They were real. And adults feared them just as much.
Most wizards couldn't cast a Patronus. In older centuries, anyone who could was considered exceptional.
And Rowan had killed one.
He had just sat down when a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Rowan Mercer," Snape said coolly. "Come to my office after breakfast."