Chapter 61 - A Harry Potter Howler!

“I joked to General Martok that, at this rate, I was half-expecting the Gorn, the Tholians, or maybe even the Organians to show up and delay us again,” I said with a laugh, joined by the crowd at the sheer absurdity of the idea. Those races hadn’t been encountered in centuries. “The Ferengi betting houses have the Organians listed at 10,000 to 1—mostly because no one’s heard from them in over a century and they’re practically Gods. Personally, I think—”

Naturally, because this is my life, I didn’t get to finish the sentence.

With a flash of brilliant white light, a smoking red envelope materialized mid-air, styled like something out of an ancient Earth wizarding school. It hovered ominously for a beat, parchment curling at the edges, radiating heat and drama in equal measure before it came to me.

Picard’s eyes widened in recognition—he’d seen this before. Not the letter, specifically, but the theatrical flair.

“Q,” he growled, like someone who’d just spotted an ex at a diplomatic gala.

I, for my part, recognized it instantly too—a Howler from the Harry Potter franchise. It wasn’t even scheduled to appear until the next installment in the holo-series, Chamber of Secrets, was released.

Given recent events, people freaked the fuck out—understandably—thinking someone had just beamed a bomb or some other nightmare into the room. I quickly signaled Tyr to stand down before he vaporized the envelope and the nearest dignitary.

“Calm down, everyone!” I shouted, my voice booming through the room via amplification. “You’re not in any danger—I know exactly what this is.”

I really didn’t. I mean I had a little bit of an idea, but I didn’t know anything. Fake it till you make it.

Anyone familiar with Harry Potter knew ignoring a Howler was a terrible fucking idea. So I reached out and carefully took the thing from the air. The envelope was thick parchment, the kind that smelled faintly of ink and old libraries, sealed with a blood-red ribbon and a heavy gold wax crest.

I cracked the wax seal that had a symbol that somehow made my soul hurt to look at. Like I was seeing a conceptual truth that my mortal mind was just not equipped to handle.

The envelope tore itself from my fingers and hovered midair, opening wide. Then came that unmistakable, theatrical voice, echoing through the chamber with all the smug self-satisfaction of a god on vacation.

“The Organians have asked that I convey their appreciation for your generous invitation to observe,” Q’s voice rang out, each word laced with that familiar, galactic condescension. “However, they find your three-dimensional reality a bit... claustrophobic.”

A pause, theatrical and deliberate.

“They send their regards from the fifth hyper-spatial fold, where time is optional, entropy is recreational, and causality is more of a hobby. They wish you well... and the best of luck with your adorably linear mortal endeavors.”

The voice lingered for one last flourish.

“Oh—and Gothic, they said they loved the statue. Very lifelike. They’re having it re-created in dark matter for their foyer.”

A brief chuckle.

“And Jean-Luc... still bald, I see. Consistency is so comforting.”

The Howler burst into flames, then vanished with a puff of glittering cosmic dust.

Silence. Heavy. Absolute.

Then, all hell broke loose.