The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed louder than it had the day of Harry's lordship announcement.
Harry sat between Ron and Hermione, buttering toast with deliberate calm while Ginny read over his shoulder and Neville attempted to peer from the other side. Luna hummed softly, already halfway through her copy of the Daily Prophet.
The headline stretched across the front page:
ICW GRANTS HARRY POTTER INTERNATIONAL CREATURE CONSERVATION LICENCE
SECRET SANCTUARY DISCOVERED WITHIN HOGWARTS
Subtext detailed the provisional international license, the structured breeding programs, the dragon containment wards, and the official recognition of the sanctuary as a protected conservation site under ICW oversight.
The Great Hall erupted.
"What do you mean he has dragons?"
"He's running a preserve?!"
"A Thunderbird?!"
"Herbadene Blacks are classified Class XXXXX!"
At the Hufflepuff table, jaws dropped.
Ravenclaws were already debating ethical implications and spatial enchantment theory.
Slytherins looked calculating, measuring power, influence, precedent.
Gryffindor simply cheered.
At the staff table, only those who had toured the sanctuary remained calm. McGonagall sipped her tea serenely. Sprout looked proud. Flitwick vibrated with excitement. Snape wore an expression of resigned inevitability.
Ron leaned in. "You couldn't just have a normal hobby, could you?"
"I tried Quidditch," Harry replied mildly.
Ginny grinned. "You're insufferable."
Luna looked up dreamily. "You've built a bridge between worlds. That tends to make headlines."
Harry only smiled faintly and returned to his breakfast.
Licenses in Hand
That evening, Harry stood once more in Dumbledore's office beside Vale.
Official parchments lay neatly stacked on the desk, each bearing the seal of the International Confederation of Wizards.
Vale handed them over one by one.
"Primary Creature Conservation License. Dragon Stewardship Authorization. Inter-Dimensional Habitat Exemption." She looked impressed despite herself. "You are now legally permitted to operate what is, effectively, a sovereign magical preserve."
Harry accepted them with a nod. "Thank you."
Dumbledore beamed. "History continues to accelerate around you, my boy."
And then,
A warmth.
A presence.
A voice.
Harry.
He froze.
Dumbledore's eyes sharpened instantly. "Harry?"
Vale stepped forward slightly. "What is it?"
Harry looked around slowly.
"He's calling me," he said quietly. "Aslan."
Silence fell thick and heavy.
"It looks like," Harry exhaled, "I'm going back."
Dumbledore and Vale exchanged a glance.
Without hesitation, Dumbledore conjured a comfortable bed beside his desk, layered with monitoring charms and stabilizing wards.
"You will remain here tonight," he said gently. "We shall observe."
Harry nodded. He was too tired to argue.
He lay down.
Closed his eyes.
Narnia – 1,300 Years Later
He stood in golden grass.
Before him towered Aslan.
The Lion's eyes were older. Sadder.
"Much has passed," Aslan said softly.
Images unfolded like living tapestries.
Prince Caspian fleeing into the night. Doctor Cornelius pressing Queen Susan's horn into his hands. Miraz's shadow rising over Narnia.
Trumpkin bound and dragged. Nikabrik and Trufflehunter rallying old Narnians at the Dancing Lawn.
The Pevensies, Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, ripped from the Strand tube station as the world tore apart around them.
Cair Paravel in ruins.
Lucy seeing Aslan when no one else could.
The failed attack. Caspian's fury. Peter's recklessness. Narnians falling.
Then,
Gunfire.
Forest.
Mud.
Normandy.
Harry stumbled from the trees in torn British uniform, rifle raised, beard thick and tangled, eyes hollow with war.
He nearly fired.
Then saw them.
"Harry!" Susan and Lucy screamed.
The rifle fell.
The embrace was desperate, shaking, tearful.
They journeyed to Aslan's How.
Lucy waited for faith. Peter demanded action.
Harry stayed with Lucy.
The castle infiltration failed.
The White Witch's spirit nearly rose again before Edmund shattered the ice.
Peter dueled Miraz. Sopespian betrayed. War ignited.
Harry and Lucy found Aslan in the woods.
Together, Lion and King summoned the river god.
The Telmarines fell.
Peace returned.
Caspian crowned.
Farewells spoken.
Peter and Susan told they would not return.
But Harry,
"You may come again," Aslan told him.
Harry returned to Normandy, he fought, reunited with Allied troops and healed.
Then during an attack on a village gunfire erupted then as Harry turned a corner...BANG, pain and silence. He fell, his last thoughts being of his parents and siblings, then darkness.
And then, Aslan again.
"Yes," the Lion said gently when Harry asked if this was what he meant. "I would see you again."
Aslan walked him through a kingdom beyond kingdoms, fields brighter than any sunrise, faces familiar.
Mr. Tumnus.
The Beavers.
Those lost in the first war. And those who passed after he his siblings returned home.
A deeper magic. A truer country.
Then he returned
Harry gasped.
He bolted upright in Dumbledore's office.
No wounds.
No blood.
Just the quiet ticking of instruments and the soft glow of warding charms.
Dumbledore leaned forward immediately. "Harry."
Vale was already checking the monitors.
Harry looked down at his hands.
Whole.
He let out a long, shaking breath.
"I died," he said quietly.
Dumbledore's expression did not flicker.
"And returned," he replied gently.
Harry swallowed, then looked toward the window where dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky.
"He said I'd see him again."
Vale studied him carefully. "And?"
Harry managed a small, tired smile.
"I did."
Outside, the sun rose over Hogwarts.
And somewhere beyond worlds, a Lion watched.