Their headmaster looked like the eminently reasonable British grandfather you never had, crossed with a hippie and Merlin. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses from where he sat, behind one of the most beautiful pieces of furniture I've ever seen.
"It never ceases to amaze me, how the three of you are at the center-most point of unprecedented occurrences." Dumbledore looked them over, and turned his attention back to me. "And now you've brought a guest to Hogwarts. Good afternoon."
I felt compelled to answer him. Maybe I've got a weakness for older men with British accents. Makes no sense, I'm heterosexual.
"Good day, Sir," I replied. "Thank you for seeing us."
He nodded and fixed Harry with a look that could drill holes in steel. "Do tell me this tale, Mister Potter."
Harry did exactly that, and answered other questions when the Professor wanted clarification.
"Such an oddity. Minutes, even a few hours of time travel is hardly new to me. But twenty-two years in the future, and across an ocean as well!" The old man shook his head, apparently there was something about magical time travel I didn't know. "Children, you mustn't speak of this particular aspect of our guest's origin. Miss Granger, you know well the rules. Please see to it that Harry and Mr. Weasley are well-informed."
The kids nodded their heads enthusiastically. Clearly, mucking with the timeline was frowned on here.
"If you'll pardon me, Frank...May I call you by your first name?"
"Of course Professor Dumbledore." Like I was going to tell him no!
"Thank you, Frank." He turned back to Harry. "Now then, what makes you believe that Frank's presence is not some sort of Death Eater trick?"
"Well," Ron spoke up, out of turn, "he's a Muggle. Not a lick of magic in him."
"Professor," Hermione said, distracting him from chastising Ron, "Frank is not a Death Eater!"
"Why do you say so, Miss Granger?"
"Well, beyond the alien technology that no Death Eater has been known to have, Sir, he saved my life. No Death Eater would do that."
"Indeed?" Dumbledore stared at me, and I think I felt it down to my toes. "Why did you save Hermione?"
"A zombie...What do you call them, 'Inferi'?" I asked.
"Well, it's not really an Inferius, as it wasn't raised by magic. And it clearly had its own mind still intact. It spoke to me." Hermione replied.
Dumbledore held up his hand. "Miss Granger, while I appreciate the lesson, I don't think now is the best time. Shall we simply say that calling the thing an Inferius gets the picture across?"
The kids nodded, so I kept going. "He tried to use her as a hostage to keep us from leaving, so his masters could come for me. I disliked the thought of a nice girl being in danger, so when Ron distracted him, I killed the bastard. Hermione wasn't in danger anymore."
"Professor, he tore the Inferi's head off, spine and all!"
"Well. Thank you Ronald." Dumbledore said graciously. "Hermione, you are suggesting that Frank is not a Death Eater because he is capable of doing good?"
"Not precisely, Professor Dumbledore. Death Eaters are perfectly capable of being good. They are, after all, perfectly lovely, in many cases, to their spouses and children. However, were he a Death Eater, he would not have bothered to save me. After all, I was in a position that most would not be able to aid. He has also yet to use magic of any form, nor does he have a wand. A Death Eater would not be out without a wand, acting like a Muggle."
"Harry, would you like to offer an opinion?" Dumbledore leaned forward.
"Well...I think that if he meant us harm, we wouldn't be here to talk about it." Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable speaking that way to Professor Dumbledore.
"It seems that the children are convinced of your intentions, and Hermione believes that you are a source of help for Harry. How do you feel about it all?"
"Professor," I began, "I'm not entirely chuffed by being abducted, but there is a certain logic to the Room of Requirement...assuming that no one is lying to me. Harry touched the stone, which led them directly to me, we engaged in a trust-building experience, and I helped them find a way home."
"A 'trust-building experience'," the old man arched his eyebrows and frowned, "is a euphemism for…"
"Helping one another against a common enemy." That was my answer. "One way or another, I'm here now, a non-wizard, and am willing to stay long enough to see if Hermione is right."
"Professor," Harry said, "I forgot to mention one thing. Not long after we arrived, Hermione used Muffliato so he wouldn't hear our conversation. He heard us anyway."
I felt that awful splat of shit hitting the fan. The old man did not look the least bit happy about what he heard.
"You are truly a Muggle?" Dumbledore stood up, drew his wand from his robe, pointed it at me, and said, "Incarcerous."
The next thing I knew, I'm wrapped in rope from head to toe. An older wizard with alternative lifestyle interests? Hm.
"Now, if you are a Muggle, you will not be able to move until I release you. It would seem this is not something you're immune to."
I heard him tapping his foot. Clearly, he was trying to figure out what to do next.
He made a decision and explained himself, "In 20 seconds, I will cast a strong stinging charm on you. To avoid that, you must free yourself. Let the test begin."
Harry, Ron and Hermione protested. Dumbledore shushed them and started counting.
My right arm stretched under the ropes, narrowed down to a long blade, hooked the lower loop and I pulled straight up. The rope parted to my elbow, and the rest dropped off. I shook out my hand and it resumed a normal appearance.
The old wizard and I locked eyes. I shifted my weight slightly, better to move if it came to that.
"Professor Dumbledore, do not cast a spell. This is the only warning you will get."
I was profoundly grateful that he stood still. His eyes were wide, and he looked me up and down rapidly.
"Wand-less spell casting? Diffindo perhaps?" He sounded eager for answers. "Were the ropes cut, or severed in another manner? What about your arm?"
"It wasn't a spell. I cut them."
That's when Hermione spoke up and tried to explain that I'm partly machine, pointing excitedly at my arm. The old professor sat back on the corner of his desk, and clearly tried to absorb what he was hearing.
"Truly, Frank? You aren't a wizard?"
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, I am a Muggle...Not the sort you're used to, but a Muggle just the same."
"You must tell me the story. I have never encountered anyone like you in my lifetime."
"I have no issue with expanding your knowledge. That being said Professor, from a completely practical perspective, I'm a penniless guest, and I'm attached to eating three meals a day. A roof over my head is optional, but I prefer having one. I feel at quite a disadvantage."
"Young man," Dumbledore stood up to his full height, exuding offended sensibilities, "no guest at Hogwarts will go uncared for. Rest assured, you will be provided with accommodations, food, and a house elf."
"Thank you, sir." What in the name of Louis the Fourteenth is a House Elf? I made a mental note to ask Curly about that later.
Harry spoke up. "If you need money, I can loan you some."
"I appreciate it, Scruffy. Professor, it just came to mind that I need a favor from you already."
Dumbledore looked very intrigued, and bid me continue.
"I'm carrying quite a few Muggle weapons, and the alien item, in this bag over my shoulder. They could be very dangerous to people who have never seen anything like them. Is there somewhere I could leave this bag that's secure?"
"I shall keep them safe for you myself. Your consideration does you credit."
I put the bag on the floor, and unzipped it. There were four grenades, a first aid kit, ammunition, and a large Tanto in there. I added what I was carrying on my person — .45 pistol (I pulled the clip and ejected the bullet that was already in the chamber), two combat knives, and two more full clips — to the bag and zipped it up. I kept the Man Scythe and a pocket multi-tool.
"I appreciate this very, very much." I pushed the bag across the floor with my foot.
"The object on your back?" Dumbledore asked. "Is that a weapon as well?"
Ron and Harry nodded vigorously. Thanks boys.
"This is almost a part of my soul. I don't leave it behind unless absolutely necessary. Believe me when I say that I will not use it except in self defense, and then with care for anyone near me."
"He's really brilliant with it!" Ron said.
Dumbledore shot Ginger a look, and the lad quieted right down.
"Children, one at a time, tell me everything that happened in Frank's world. Leave nothing out. I should like your unique observations." Dumbledore leaned back against his desk, and it was clear that no one would be dismissed until he was satisfied.
** - HPDEB - **
"There is the matter of your immunity to a spell. That is unheard of from a Muggle, and rare (without preparation) from a wizard." Hermione heard Dumbledore say. She suspected that there would be quite a bit of investigation into that complicated problem. Mister Stewart might survive it. She hoped he would.
"Sir," Frank said, "I've never been exposed to magic, so I have no idea what to expect or what should happen. All I know is that I clearly heard the three of them discussing our situation after Hermione said 'Muffliato'."
Professor Dumbledore tapped his thigh with the wand in his hand, contemplating the unprecedented immunity.
"I believe you and I should test the boundaries of this ability of yours. I should also like to learn more about you and where you come from. It sounds the world is a terrible mess, two decades from now. Would you care to join me tomorrow that we might get to know one another better and plumb your secrets?"
Frank bowed, he was quite gracious before Dumbledore, and said that he looked forward to it.
"Grand, young man! Now, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I am fairly certain you all know the location of the guest tower across from the painting of some drunken knights?"
They all nodded.
"I leave it to you three to escort Mr. Stewart there. Frank, as a Muggle, you will need this key to enter your room. I'll have Pippy meet you there. He will aid you as necessary. I shall see you all for dinner."
** - HPDEB - **
Grand, I get a servant, of the elvish kind. I had to wonder if Pippy looked like Liv Tyler's Arwen. I wouldn't mind that!
My young friends escorted me out of Dumbledore's office and up a few floors to the guest room assigned by Professor Dumbledore. As we walked, they mentioned that it was not very far from their dormitory. I nodded. I had no idea where I was.
There was a good chance that my brain was making a map of wherever I walked, but I had other things on my mind. I would find out later that it had been, thank goodness.
They pointed out a portrait of a rather large lady as we meandered by. It was perfectly three dimensional and in gorgeous color. Hermione even waved to her.
"Good evening, children, Sir." Out of politeness, shocked to my toenails, I stopped and said, "Hello."
Turns out her name is Portia. Lovely girl, likes to drink. Animated AI paintings? Ghosts? I'd be sure to ask about it later.
"I never once thought to ask her name," said Hermione as we walked away. "She's always referred to as the Fat Lady. I feel rather silly." She shook her head.
"In any case, students are divided into one of four houses when they arrive at school for the first time." Hermione explained, leaping right into answers to questions I hadn't asked yet.
Harry picked it up. "There's Gryffindor: that's us. Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw. And Slytherin."
"Each of the houses is named for a founder of Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin," Hermione added.
"The houses are also our teams for sport," Ron said. "Harry here is the Captain of our Quidditch team, and I'm the Keeper."
"Quidditch is a sport," I mumbled, "Harry's Captain. Ron keeps things."
Not long after that, we came to a smaller staircase. Hermione pointed out the painting Dumbledore had mentioned. A bunch of knights were drinking at a table, and appeared to be very rowdy. We passed them and went up two flights. At the top of the stairs was a short hallway that dead-ended.
We stopped at the first door on the right.
"This is the one," my young curly-haired guide announced, and waved her wand.
The door opened on a well appointed room...if you're a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism and striving for an accurate 16th century master bedroom. Which isn't to say that there weren't more modern additions. There were a few torches, a lovely tea service, a steamer trunk, and a pleasant-looking quilt on the bed.
A desk in the corner looked to house an ink well and quill. There was a door against the far wall that I hoped led to a bathroom. The carpet was rather plush, it would probably feel lovely barefoot.
"I wonder when Pippy will arrive. Odd name for a valet, isn't it?"
I didn't realize that I'd be trying not to wet my pants a few seconds later.