Strange Potter

Stephen Strange sat at the long mahogany table, his fingers interlocked as he listened to Tony Stark talk animatedly, flipping through charts filled with numbers and projections. Across from them, a few Ministry representatives—including a particularly excited member from the Department of Magical Commerce—were practically vibrating in their seats.

“So, let me get this straight,” Tony said, pointing a finger at one of them. “You’re saying that thanks to Flamel’s new healing potion, my name is getting thrown around in wizarding households more than Dumbledore’s?” He smirked. “Finally, some proper recognition.”

One of the Ministry officials, a bespectacled woman with a quill hovering beside her, nodded eagerly. “Between the werewolf cure you and Mr. Banner developed and your collaboration with Flamel, you’ve become one of the most trusted names in magical medicine. Witches and wizards everywhere are calling you a revolutionary.”

Tony grinned and leaned back. “See, Strange? I’m not just a genius in one world—I’m a multiversal success.”

Strange rolled his eyes, rubbing his temples. “Yes, congratulations. Now let’s focus on the actual business side of things. What’s the Ministry’s stance on further distribution?”

An older wizard, dressed in deep blue robes with silver embroidery, cleared his throat. “The Minister—er, Fudge—is eager to continue supporting the potion’s availability, as it’s already showing significant success in curing numerous ailments. However…” He hesitated, adjusting his glasses. “There are some concerns about its rapid spread outside of regulated magical hands.”

“You mean, you’re worried no magics might catch wind of it?” Tony asked, his tone knowing.

The official hesitated before nodding. “Yes, exactly. We must ensure that such a powerful advancement remains within the magical community. The Statute of Secrecy is still a priority.”

Tony sighed, rubbing his face. “Right. Because Merlin forbid actual sick people get help.”

Strange cut in before Tony could launch into a full rant. “We understand the concern, but we need to strike a balance. Magical people aren’t the only ones who could benefit from a healing potion like this. If we keep it too controlled, it limits its full potential.”

The Ministry representatives exchanged nervous glances.

Tony leaned forward again, his expression more serious now. “Look, I get that secrecy is important, but progress doesn’t stop for tradition. We’re not saying you have to start selling this at a regular pharmacy, but you can’t keep every breakthrough locked behind old rules just because that’s how it’s always been done.”

Strange added, “The wizarding world is changing, whether you like it or not. It’s better to be ahead of the curve rather than scrambling to catch up.”

The older official sighed but nodded. “We’ll bring this to the Minister for further discussion. In the meantime, continued sales in the magical community will remain unhindered.”

Tony clapped his hands together. “Great. Now, if you need me, I’ll be basking in my newfound wizard fame. Maybe I’ll start wearing a cape—what do you think, Strange?”

Strange gave him a deadpan look. “You’d look ridiculous.”

Tony smirked. “See? You’re just jealous.”

Strange sighed, already regretting everything.

Remus and Pietro were sitting outside on the porch, the evening air crisp with the promise of autumn. Remus had settled into the comfortable silence of the moment, but Pietro was struggling to sit still. He was bouncing his leg nervously, his eyes darting around the yard like there was something he needed to get up and do.

“You know, you don’t have to move around so much,” Remus said with a smirk, watching Pietro from the corner of his eye.

Pietro’s eyes widened, his hands immediately flying into the air. “But I can’t help it, Dad! There’s just so much stuff to do! I mean, look at all this space! We could be running races, or climbing trees, or playing with magic—oh, magic is great, you should see what I can do now! I just need a bit more practice, but when I’ve got it down, no one’s gonna know what hit 'em! Well, except you, I guess, since you’ll see me do it first. But still! You gotta see it!”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh, leaning back in his chair. “You’re a bundle of energy, aren’t you?”

Pietro barely paused for breath, too excited to even process the question. “Of course I am! You know, Mum says I have to calm down sometimes, but how can I calm down when there’s so much to do? I mean, there’s so much to explore, and magic is just everywhere! I bet there’s something new to discover every day, and if I stop and sit around too long, I might miss something awesome! Did I tell you about the time I helped Lyall find that hidden cave yesterday in the forest? It was so cool! We were in there, just—”

Remus held up a hand to cut him off, chuckling. “Pietro, I get it. You like to be on the move. But sometimes, just sitting still, like we are now, is okay, too. You don’t have to be running around all the time. It’s good to rest every now and then.”

Pietro stopped, his face scrunching in concentration as he tried to process this new concept. “Rest? Like, just... sit here and do nothing? But what if something happens while I’m resting?”

Remus smiled, shaking his head. “Sometimes doing nothing is exactly what you need. You’ll learn that as you get older.”

Pietro opened his mouth to protest but then closed it, trying to figure out whether or not Remus was being serious. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, okay, but only for a bit. I still have a ton of stuff to do later! But this is pretty nice. We should do this more often, I guess.”

Remus laughed again, ruffling Pietro’s hair. “Deal. But only if you promise to take it easy once in a while.”

Meanwhile, inside the house, Wanda was sitting with Lyall at the kitchen table. Lyall was focused on a small project, carefully assembling a magical creature model, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. Wanda leaned back in her chair, watching him, a small smile on her face.

"You're so serious when you're working," Wanda said, her voice soft. "Your focus is impressive."

Lyall glanced up at her, a shy smile flickering on his lips. "I like getting things just right. It's... it’s fun, making something work."

Wanda nodded, her expression tender. "I know. You take after me in that way. Always thinking things through before acting." She paused, considering her next words carefully. "But you know, you don’t have to always get things perfect. It’s okay to make mistakes."

Lyall looked back down at his project, his brow furrowing slightly. "But... I don’t like making mistakes. I want to make everything just right."

Wanda leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. "Sweetheart, no one expects you to be perfect all the time. Mistakes are part of learning. It's how we grow. And no matter what happens, I’ll be here. Just like I’ve always been."

Lyall looked up, meeting his mother’s gaze. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of her words seemed to settle in his heart, and he gave a small nod.

"Thanks, Mum," he said quietly, his voice small but sincere.

Wanda smiled, her heart full. "Anytime, Lyall."

Just as Lyall returned to his work, Pietro barged into the room, practically bouncing with energy. "Mum, Mum! Can I go outside? Dad says I should rest, but I don’t know if I can! There’s so much stuff to do, and I’ve got like a hundred ideas! We could build a fort or something, and maybe I can show Dad the spell I was talking about, or we could go for a run—"

Wanda held up a hand, cutting him off with a gentle but firm voice. “Pietro, you need to settle down for a bit. Just like your father said. You can go outside later, but for now, take a break.”

Pietro sighed dramatically, flopping down onto the couch. “Fine, fine. But I’m not gonna stop thinking about all the cool things I could be doing! You guys are making me miss out on so much fun!”

Wanda just shook her head with a smile, glancing over at Remus, who had appeared at the door to the room. His face was full of amusement as he watched their son.

“See?” Remus said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got your hands full with him. He's just like you, you know.”

Wanda grinned. “Well, it’s good to have a bit of energy around here.”

Pietro shot them both a playful grin. “See? I’m useful. I bring energy.”

Wanda laughed, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. The chaos, the laughter, the love—it was their life, and it was everything they could have asked for.

Blaise entered the family home, the door clicking shut softly behind him as he stepped inside. The familiar smell of dinner cooking wafted through the air, and he found his parents already at the table, preparing to eat. His mother, a sharp-eyed woman with a quiet but commanding presence, glanced up as he entered.

“Blaise,” she greeted, her tone even. “How was school?”

“It was alright,” Blaise answered, his voice steady as he set his bag down by the door. His mind was still preoccupied with the chaos of the Hogsmeade attack, and he knew his parents would want to discuss it. “But... there was a lot going on. Mordo attacked, as you know."

His father, a tall man with a commanding presence, paused his movements. “Of course we’ve know,” he said, his voice tight. “How are things at Hogwarts now? Any damage?”

“There was some,” Blaise replied carefully, pulling out a chair to sit down. “But mostly, everyone’s alright. We were able to help evacuate a lot of people, and Strange stepped in with his team. It could’ve been much worse. The Avengers are something of a different caliber."

Blaise kept his tone neutral, carefully avoiding anything that would hint at Harry’s involvement with the Chaos Magic. His parents were intelligent, and while they would likely already suspect something, he had given his word to Harry to keep it quiet.

His mother raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in Blaise’s demeanor. “You’re being cautious with your words,” she noted. “More than usual.”

“I’m just not sure what’s to say,” Blaise replied, shrugging. “It was... hectic. There was a lot happening, and I’m not sure what we could have done differently.” He paused, then added, “But I think we could use someone like Strange around more. I think his approach to things is what we need right now.”

His father, who had been silent until then, stiffened. “Strange?” His voice was tinged with a mixture of disdain and skepticism. “He’s a Sorcerer Supreme. That’s all fine and well, but he’s not someone we should openly support. He’s an outsider.”

Blaise met his father’s eyes, unflinching. He knew where this conversation was going, but he also knew how to navigate it. “Perhaps, but he’s capable. I saw it myself. And if you’re honest with yourself, you know the Ministry needs someone like him. He’s already proven himself time and again.”

His father narrowed his eyes. “You think I should support him more openly?”

Blaise nodded, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but there’s a lot to gain by backing him. He’s... different, but he gets things done. And you know how much we rely on influence and power. The sooner we adapt, the better. Strange isn’t just some magical anomaly—he’s someone who could be key to the future.”

His mother observed quietly, her sharp eyes never leaving Blaise. She didn’t comment immediately, though Blaise could see her processing the situation. She was not someone who trusted easily, but she was pragmatic. She often weighed the risks and rewards carefully before making decisions.

“We’ll consider it,” his father said after a long moment, his tone final. “But I’m not about to rush into anything without knowing the full extent of what Strange is involved in. You understand?”

“I do,” Blaise said, his voice calm. “But I still think it’s a conversation worth having. There’s more happening out there than just what’s on the surface.”

His mother gave a short, approving nod. “We’ll discuss it further later. Thank you for your perspective, Blaise.”

Blaise simply nodded, glad the conversation had shifted away from anything too dangerous. His parents weren’t fools—they could read between the lines just as well as he could. But they hadn’t pushed too hard, and that was a relief. As long as he didn’t outright reveal anything about Harry and Chaos Magic, he could keep things balanced. For now, that was enough.

“I’m going to go unpack,” Blaise said, standing up. “We’ll talk more about this later, but I think I need a bit of time to digest everything from today.”

As he turned toward the stairs, his father’s voice called out one last time, “And Blaise—don’t forget to think before you speak. You never know who’s listening.”

Blaise gave a quick, understanding nod before disappearing up the stairs, the weight of his thoughts about the attack in Hogsmeade and the future of the magical world pressing on him.

In the dimly lit back room of a rundown pub far from Britain, a group of cloaked figures sat in tense silence. The atmosphere was heavy with unease, the flickering candlelight doing little to warm the cold dread creeping through them.

Theodore Nott Sr. sat at the head of the table, his fingers drumming against the wood. "That madness cost us dearly," he muttered. "Whatever magic he was dabbling in—it wasn’t ours. It was twisted, uncontrollable."

A murmur of agreement spread around the table, but it was filled with resentment rather than unity.

"The Ministry wasn’t prepared for this kind of magic," a masked figure said bitterly. "And yet, who stepped in? Not us. Not the Dark Lord’s followers. No, it was that muggle-loving sorcerer, Strange, and his outsiders. They came into our world and meddled like they had any right."

Another Death Eater slammed his fist on the table. "Strange and his people humiliated us! They showed the world that wizards, purebloods, couldn’t even defend themselves against some foreign magic! How many of our own were captured because of him when the dark lord fell?"

"Too many," Nott said darkly. His gaze flicked around the room, eyes filled with something cold and calculating. "The old ways, our ways, are slipping away. The Dark Lord would never have allowed this. He would have crushed those interfering Avengers before they ever stepped foot on our land."

A younger Death Eater shifted uneasily. "But... he’s gone. If he were coming back, wouldn’t he have done so by now?"

Nott’s expression turned sharp. "That is why we must find him. He is waiting. Watching. And if we do not act, if we do not restore him to power, then the world will move on without us. The Ministry will grow stronger, emboldened by Strange’s interference. Magic itself will be reshaped to their liking."

Silence fell over the room, the weight of his words settling in. Then, one by one, they nodded.

"Then we begin," another Death Eater said firmly. "We find our master. And when we do, we take back what was stolen from us."

The decision was made. The search for Voldemort had begun.

Hermione sat stiffly at the dinner table, her parents’ eyes locked onto her as she finished telling them about the attack on Hogsmeade. She had tried to downplay it, but there was no softening the fact that she had been in a battle—again.

Jean Granger was pale, her hands clenched tightly around her napkin. Richard, on the other hand, had a deep frown, his fingers drumming anxiously against the table.

“Hermione,” he said slowly, voice tight with controlled frustration, “this is the third time you’ve been in real danger. First the troll, then that stone, and last year the bloody Chamber of Secrets! And now, you’re telling us that some dark wizard turned an entire village into a battlefield?”

Hermione winced. “It wasn’t like that—”

Richard scoffed. “It sounds exactly like that!” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hermione, how are we supposed to sit back and keep letting you go back to that place?”

Jean reached for her husband’s arm. “Richard—”

“No, Jean, think about it! Our daughter keeps getting caught up in dangerous situations. What if next time she doesn’t come back?”

Hermione’s stomach twisted. She had been expecting this. She had seen the worry in her parents' eyes last summer after the Chamber of Secrets incident. But now, with everything that had happened… she couldn’t blame them.

“I can’t leave Hogwarts,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I won’t.”

“Hermione—” Jean began, but Hermione pushed forward.

“This isn’t just about school, Mum. It’s about who I am—who I’m meant to be! I can’t just walk away.”

Richard exhaled sharply, standing up from his chair and pacing. “We don’t understand that world, Hermione. We don’t know how to keep you safe in it.”

Hermione swallowed hard. “I do.” She hesitated before adding, “And… I have people looking out for me.”

Richard’s frown deepened. “You mean that Potter boy?”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “Harry and Neville. And Professor McGonagall. And the Avengers—”

“Oh, well, that’s comforting,” Richard said sarcastically. “The literal superheroes are involved now.”

Jean sighed, rubbing her temples. “Richard, let’s not—”

“No, Jean. I’m serious.” He turned back to Hermione. “I need to think about this. We need to think about this.”

Hermione’s chest tightened. “Dad—”

“I said we’ll think about it.” His tone left no room for argument.

Silence filled the room, heavy and tense.

For the first time, Hermione was afraid that when summer ended… she might not be going back to Hogwarts.

Arthur Weasley stood outside Minister Fudge’s office, adjusting his robes. The summons had been unexpected, and with everything going on—the hunt for Umbridge, the fallout from recent attacks—he wasn’t sure what to expect. Taking a steadying breath, he knocked.

“Come in!” called Fudge’s familiar voice.

Arthur stepped inside to see Cornelius Fudge seated behind his desk, a broad smile on his face. The office was as grand as ever, filled with paperwork he was certain the Minister barely glanced at.

“Ah, Arthur! Just the man I wanted to see.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Minister, you sent for me?”

“Yes, yes,” Fudge said, waving his hand as if brushing aside unimportant details. “I’ve been reviewing some changes within the Ministry, and I’ve decided to promote your assistant to your position."

Arthur blinked. “Promote my assistant? Minister, if he’s being promoted, then who—”

Fudge leaned forward, his expression growing shrewd. “Why, you of course will take your promotion to my undersecretary.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped. “Me?”

“Yes, Arthur, you.” Fudge stood and circled the desk, hands clasped behind his back. “Let’s not dance around it. The Ministry needs stability, and more importantly, it needs people who understand how things work. You have experience, integrity, and you’re well-liked—even by those insufferable Muggleborn advocates.” He said this last part with an air of forced reluctance, playing into the Fudge persona.

Arthur hesitated. “Minister, I appreciate the confidence, but surely there are more qualified—”

“Nonsense!” Fudge cut in. “You’re the best man for the job. You’ve worked in the trenches for years. You’ve seen how things fall apart when left to the wrong people.” He gave Arthur a knowing look. “Do you really trust anyone else to take this position?"

Arthur stiffened at that. There were worse people for sure.

Fudge smiled. “I need someone I can rely on. Someone who actually cares about making this Ministry function. You don’t want power, Arthur, and that’s exactly why you should have it.”

Arthur hesitated. It was true—he did care. And maybe, just maybe, he could actually change things for the better.

Fudge clapped him on the shoulder, the smile never leaving his face. “Come now, Arthur. Do the right thing.”

Arthur exhaled slowly. “…When do I start?”

Fudge beamed. “Immediately! Now, about your office decor—”

Arthur groaned. He had a feeling he’d regret this.

Loki grinned inward. That was easy. These magicals are so simple.

The small, enchanted mirror felt cool in Hermione’s hands as she clutched it tightly. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her room dark except for the soft glow of the mirror’s surface.

She took a deep breath and whispered, “Harry?”

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, the mirror shimmered, and Harry’s face appeared, his hair even messier than usual. He rubbed his eyes, blinking at her.

"Hermione?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "What’s wrong?"

Hermione hesitated, her grip on the mirror tightening. “I can’t sleep,” she admitted. “I keep thinking about the battle. About how close it was. About how—” She swallowed hard. “My parents don’t understand. They weren’t there.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, watching her closely. “They’re scared for you.”

“I know,” she said softly. “And I can’t blame them. But I don’t want to leave Hogwarts, Harry.”

His expression darkened. “They actually said that?”

“My dad’s thinking about it,” she admitted. “And I don’t know what to do. If they make me leave…”

She trailed off, throat tightening.

Harry sat up properly, running a hand through his hair. “They won’t. You’ll talk to them, and if that doesn’t work, I will.”

Hermione let out a shaky breath. “You can’t just storm in and demand they let me stay.”

He smirked slightly. “I wouldn’t storm in.” Then, seeing her unimpressed look, he sighed. “Okay, fine, maybe I would a little. But only because I can’t imagine Hogwarts without you.”

Hermione bit her lip, some of the tension in her chest easing slightly. “You mean that?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “We’ll figure it out, Hermione. I promise.”

She exhaled slowly, some of her fear loosening its grip. “Thanks, Harry.”

“Anytime. Mione.” He smirked.

She hesitated, then added, “And don’t call me Mione.”

Harry rolled his eyes but grinned. “Fine, Hermione.”

“Good.” She fought back a smile. “Now, go back to sleep.”

He yawned. “Only if you try to get some rest too.”

As the mirror dimmed and his face disappeared, she curled up under her blanket, holding the mirror close.

Maybe things would be okay.

The evening light filtered in through the windows, casting a warm glow on the room. Remus Lupin sat on a worn armchair, watching his sons, Lyall and Pietro, as they stood in front of him, wands in hand. Both boys had inherited a unique blend of magic—both their special abilities and the wand magic that they were now learning to use. Lyall was a little unsure, while Pietro was already brimming with confidence.

Remus smiled at their eager faces. It was a delicate balance, teaching them both the traditional magical skills of wand use alongside the raw power of their own unique abilities.

"Alright," Remus said, his voice calm and steady. "Let’s focus on how we can combine both types of magic today—your wand magic and your special abilities."

Lyall, who had a healing ability that only worked on himself, held his wand with hesitation, clearly not convinced he could use it the way others might. His magic was different—while he could heal his own wounds and injuries in a heartbeat, the idea of casting spells with a wand felt foreign to him.

"I don’t know if I can do it, Dad," Lyall admitted quietly. "I can heal myself, but I don’t think my magic will work with a wand the same way it works inside me."

Remus nodded, understanding. "Your magic is special, Lyall. But the wand can still help you focus that healing power. It might not change what you can do, but it could make your magic stronger, more controlled."

Lyall furrowed his brow, looking at the wand in his hand with a mix of doubt and curiosity. "I’ll try."

Pietro, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with energy. His wand magic and special abilities seemed to come to him naturally. He could channel his unique magic, which was somewhat similar to Harry’s in how it worked, alongside his wand magic. He was quick to try new things, always eager to test his limits.

"I think I’ve got this," Pietro said with a grin, twirling his wand in his hand and making sparks fly from the tip. "I mean, using both kinds of magic at once seems like an easy thing, right?"

Remus chuckled at his son’s boundless energy. "It might seem easy, but remember, it’s about control. You can use both magics, but you need to focus your energy."

Pietro nodded, clearly excited to try again. But before they could continue, Remus picked up a feather from the table and set it in front of them.

"Let’s start with something simple," he said, holding the feather out. "Try to levitate this. Focus on both your wand magic and your special abilities, but make sure you control the flow of your magic through the wand."

Lyall took a deep breath and lifted his wand. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus. "Wingardium Leviosa," he muttered, his voice soft but steady.

For a moment, nothing happened. The feather remained still. Lyall’s brows furrowed in frustration, and he tried again, this time a little stronger. This time, the feather lifted off the table, rising into the air for a few seconds before it dropped again.

Remus smiled gently. "You’re getting there. It’s not about getting it perfect the first time. Just keep practicing."

Pietro, already confident in his abilities, stepped forward. With a flick of his wand, the feather shot into the air, spinning and twirling as though it were dancing. He grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "See? Easy."

Lyall glanced at his brother, unimpressed. "Show-off."

Pietro just laughed. "Hey, it’s all about control, right?"

Remus smiled, watching them both. "Exactly, Pietro. But remember, it’s not just about speed or power. It’s about learning to control both kinds of magic. You’ve got your special abilities, and you’ve got your wand magic. The key is to blend them together."

Lyall, still holding his wand, took another deep breath. He focused on the energy within himself—the warmth of his healing magic—and then on the flow of magic through the wand. With a deep concentration, he said, "Wingardium Leviosa," and this time, the feather hovered steadily in the air.

His face lit up with a sense of accomplishment. "I did it! It worked."

Remus clapped his hands, proud of his son. "That’s great, Lyall. See? You can do it. Your magic is still yours—it’s just about learning how to control it with the wand."

Pietro was already moving on to the next challenge. He grinned at his brother. "I’ll bet I can make it float higher than you can."

Lyall smirked. "We’ll see about that bub."

Remus chuckled, watching the two of them with a fond smile. "Alright, alright. Let’s focus on learning first before we start competing."

Lyall’s confidence had grown, and Pietro was already excited to learn more. The room was filled with the sound of their laughter and excitement as they continued to practice, both sons embracing the magic they had inside them.

"You’re both doing really well," Remus said, his voice warm with pride. "Just remember—your abilities and your wands work best together when you have control. Keep practicing, and you’ll both be able to use your magic to its fullest potential."

With renewed determination, the boys continued their lessons, excited for the possibilities of both kinds of magic working in tandem.

The tension in the room was palpable. Richard and Jean Granger sat on the couch, their expressions a mix of worry and frustration. Hermione sat beside them, her hands tightly clasped in her lap, while Harry stood in front of them, feeling the weight of their gaze.

Richard was the first to speak, his voice measured but sharp. “Harry, we know you’ve done good things. You saved Hermione from the troll. I’m not blind to that.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “But this... Mordo attacking Hogsmeade? The danger you keep putting yourself in?” He shook his head in frustration.

Harry swallowed hard, feeling the sting of Richard’s words, but he knew he had to explain. “I never meant for any of this to happen. Mordo came after me. He wanted to hurt Strange. It wasn’t about the school or even the village.” Harry’s voice faltered slightly, but he pressed on. “If I hadn’t been there, none of this would’ve happened. I’m the reason all of this started. I can’t change that.”

Hermione reached out and gently touched his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. She knew this was hard for him. For both of them.

Richard’s gaze softened, but his frustration remained. “Harry, it’s not just about you being there. It’s about what keeps happening because of it. Every year, there’s something new, and it keeps getting worse.” He leaned forward, hands resting on his knees, his tone softening slightly. “I’m just frustrated, alright? I want to keep Hermione safe. And I don’t know how to do that when this... chaos keeps following her.”

Harry could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, but he pushed it down. He doesn’t get it. He’s trying to protect her. But it’s not about that.

“I get it, Mr. Granger,” Harry said, forcing the frustration out of his voice. “I really do. But this... this isn’t something you can just fix by keeping Hermione out of school. If she stays here, if she stays safe in your eyes, the danger won’t go away. It’s not just about being at Hogwarts. It’s bigger than that.” His voice grew firmer, more confident. “You can’t keep her from her life because of fear. The danger will find us wherever we are.”

Richard looked at him, his face conflicted, but Harry could see the recognition in his eyes. He understood the point Harry was trying to make, even if it didn’t make him feel any better about the situation.

Jean spoke up, her voice calm but steady. “Richard, we need to trust that this is what Hermione wants. She’s not a child anymore. She has a future, a path she’s chosen. And Harry... Harry’s been a part of that path.” She glanced at Harry with a soft smile before turning back to Richard. “We’ve got to let her live it.”

Richard sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just...” His frustration boiled up again. “It’s hard. I don’t want to see her hurt.”

Wanda, who had been standing by quietly, spoke up then. “Richard, I know it’s hard to understand. But sometimes, keeping her here... that won’t protect her. It’ll just make her feel trapped. It’s not about shielding her; it’s about helping her grow. We’re here to support you both. We won’t let anything happen to her.”

Richard looked at Wanda, then back at Hermione, his eyes softening. “I just don’t want to lose her.”

Hermione’s voice was steady but full of emotion. “You won’t. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” She met Harry’s eyes and gave him a small smile. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

There was a long silence, and then Richard exhaled deeply, nodding. “Alright. We’ll... think about it.”

Harry nodded, relief flooding through him. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a step in the right direction.

Morgan gave her new friends, Lyall and Pietro, a quick tour of her dad's lab, excited to show them some of the cool things. Regulus, following close behind, kept an eye on Motto, who was scampering around playfully.

"This is where we design all sorts of tech," Morgan said, grinning as she pointed to a workbench full of tools and gadgets. "And this is where my dad does some of his serious work."

Pietro, with his usual eagerness, bounced around the room, his bright eyes taking in everything at once. "Whoa, this place is awesome! Look at all the stuff! Can I touch this? No, wait—what about that? Oh, what's that blinking thing? Is it dangerous? It looks dangerous. I bet it's dangerous. Morgan, is this dangerous? Oh! Can I try this?" He reached for a gadget nearby.

Morgan laughed, stopping him. "Not that one. Dad would kill me if you broke it." She turned to Lyall. "Do you want to see something cool?"

Lyall, with his claws hidden under his sleeves, nodded excitedly. "Yeah, show me!" He wasn't quite sure about all the technology, but he liked the idea of trying something new.

At that moment, Pepper entered the lab, pausing as she saw the two new kids. She looked at them, unsure. "Who are you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda entered behind her and smiled softly. "These are my sons—Lyall and Pietro. They grew up a lot faster than we expected. They're here to help."

Pepper blinked, taking in the information. "Your sons...?" She looked between them again, her confusion still lingering.

Lyall shyly waved at her while Pietro immediately jumped in. "Hi! Yep, that’s us! Surprise! You weren’t expecting Wanda to have kids this old, huh? Well, neither was she, really. It was a whole thing—magic, chaos, unexpected aging, the usual weird superhero stuff. But hey, we’re here now! And we’re totally ready to help! I mean, I don’t know exactly how yet, but I’ll figure it out fast, don’t worry. Ooh, is that coffee? Can I have some? Wait, no, Mom says I have too much energy already—"

Pepper nodded slowly, still processing the situation but glad to see the kids eager to be part of things. Then she glanced back at Wanda, raising an eyebrow in mild concern but didn’t question further.

Tony and Bruce entered the lab together, deep in conversation about some new tech, but their words faltered when they saw the two new kids standing with Wanda and Pepper.

"Hey, who are these two?" Bruce asked, eyes scanning the boys as he took in their expressions.

Wanda smiled softly and waved her hand toward them. "These are my sons, Lyall and Pietro. They... grew a bit faster than expected."

Bruce adjusted his glasses, peering at them curiously. "Grew faster, huh? How does that work?"

"Magic."

Lyall, ever eager to show off, lifted his hands slightly to reveal his bone claws, which gleamed under the light. "I have claws," he said with a grin, as if it was the coolest thing in the room.

Tony’s eyes widened, and he stepped closer, clearly impressed by the claws. "Whoa. Those are...bones?" He gave a thoughtful look, tapping his chin. "They might be able to withstand some of my new alloys, but... interesting."

Pietro, not wanting to be outdone, immediately jumped in. "Yeah, but I can do magic! Watch this!" He waved his hand and a spark of purple light flickered in the air. "Boom! Magic! Just like Mom’s, but purple instead of red. Pretty cool, right? I mean, I’m still learning, but I can do a lot! Like, I can make things float, I can push stuff with magic, I even made Lyall fly through the air once when we fought that Mordo guy—oh, that was crazy, right, Lyall? You were all ‘ahh’ and I was all ‘whoosh’ and Mordo was all ‘grrr’—"

Regulus and Morgan, watching the exchange, started bickering.

"No way, Lyall is way cooler!" Morgan argued, crossing her arms and glaring at Regulus.

Regulus shot her a look. "What? Are you saying claws are better than magic?"

Morgan smirked, sticking out her tongue. "I’m saying that claws are a little cooler than magic that’s still getting practiced."

Lyall tilted his head and gave her a grin. "Hey, I’ve got these claws, but he’s got magic. We’re kind of a package deal."

Pietro rolled his eyes but grinned. "Exactly! Together, we could be unstoppable. Like, imagine—Lyall charges in, claws out, I throw some magic around, maybe levitate him for dramatic effect—bam, instant victory! Unless, you know, I get distracted, which happens sometimes, but that’s okay because I recover fast—oh, and if I ever learn portals, it’s over for everyone."

Tony, who had been looking at Lyall’s claws with intense interest, had a lightbulb moment. He turned to Bruce. "What if we made something to help him out?" he murmured, almost to himself. "Some unbreakable enhancement for those claws, maybe a bit of extra protection."

Bruce, eyes wide, nodded slowly. "You mean like a... a new metal you’ve designed? Something stronger than vibranium?"

Tony looked pleased with himself. "Exactly! I’ll need to test the alloys first, but we could make those claws pretty darn close to unbreakable. Imagine—Lyall, a walking, talking weapon."

Lyall blinked at Tony, a little confused. "You want to make my claws stronger?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

Pietro gasped dramatically. "Ohhh, that would be so cool! Like, imagine! Unbreakable claws! You’d be even scarier in a fight. Not that you’re scary, I mean, you’re nice-scary, like, cool-scary, not bad-scary. And if we figure out how to combine my magic with your claws, oh man, we could be unstoppable. Wait—do you think I could get something too? Maybe, like, magic gloves? No, wait—magic boots! No, that’d be weird, wouldn’t it? Hm…"

Tony grinned. "Well, let’s see if we can make 'em even cooler. What do you say?"

Bruce, getting excited by the possibilities, was already planning in his head.

Morgan looked between the boys, then back at the adults. "Wait, you all want to make Lyall stronger? What about me?"

Tony gave her a wink. "We'll get to you, don’t worry."

As Lyall stood in Tony’s lab, surrounded by Morgan, Regulus, and Pietro, he grinned mischievously. “Watch this,” he said, lifting his arm.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Lyall, I know you said you heal fast bu—"

Before she could finish, Lyall unsheathed his claws and swiftly dragged them across his forearm. A thin red line appeared for a brief moment before the wound began to close up, the skin knitting back together as if nothing had happened.

Regulus let out an impressed whistle. “That’s kinda cool… and kinda gross.”

Pietro, meanwhile, was already talking a mile a minute. "Oh, that is freaky but also awesome! Like, imagine how useful that is! You’d never need bandages! Or, wait, do you even get scars? Or is it just, poof, gone? Because that would be so unfair. I trip over stuff all the time and still have bruises. Wait, what if we tested it? Like, not anything crazy, but just to see how fast—no? Okay, fine, but still, that’s insane. Do you think it works on—oh! What if we—"

Morgan groaned. "Pietro, breathe."

Pietro paused, blinking. "Oh. Right. Gotcha."

Then he took a deep breath—and immediately kept talking.

Pietro threw his hands up. “How does it work? Do you have like, super blood? Magic skin? If I stabbed you in the heart, would you be fine? Not that I would! But, like, scientifically speaking—”

Tony, who had been observing from the side, raised a brow. “Neat trick, kid. But maybe don’t slice yourself open for fun, yeah?”

Pepper, just walking in, caught the last part of the scene and froze. “Excuse me—did he just cut himself on purpose?”

Wanda shot Lyall a warning look. “What did I say about showing off like that?”

Lyall shrugged. “That it’s awesome?”

Wanda pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. That it’s reckless.”

Morgan, still staring at Lyall’s arm, reached out and poked it. “That’s so weird. Does it hurt?”

Lyall shook his head. “Only for a second.”

Tony rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “That’s one hell of a built-in safety feature. I bet—” He stopped himself before finishing the thought, catching Wanda’s glare. “—Never mind.”

Wanda crossed her arms. “Good choice.”

Pietro began again. “Okay, but like, seriously, does it feel like a papercut? Or more like a bee sting? Or maybe it’s like when you step on a Lego—wait, no, that’s worse than death. But if you can heal, does that mean you don’t feel pain the same way? What if someone chopped your whole arm off? Would it grow back? Or would it just—”

Lyall groaned, rubbing his temples. “Pietro, will you shut up for like, one minute bub?”

Pietro blinked. “I mean, probably not, but you can dream.”

Morgan giggled, while Regulus smirked. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Pietro just grinned and kept going. “Anyway, like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, if your healing is magic and my magic is, well, magic, do you think if we combined them, we could make something extra cool? Like, what if I could make your healing even faster? Or—”

Tony crossed his arms. “Kid, do you ever take a breath?”

Wanda sighed. “No. No, he does not. Since he’s gotten used to being a child instead of a baby, Pietro seems to have inherited my brother’s speed—but only for the mouth,” Wanda said, rubbing her temples. "It comes and goes as he gets excited. I think his magic reacts and enhances it."

Pietro gasped dramatically. “That is so not true! I mean, sure, I talk a lot, but it’s all important stuff! Like, what if Lyall’s healing could be enhanced? Or what if—”

Lyall groaned. “Mom! Please tell me there’s a spell to make him stop talking.”

Tony smirked. “Kid, if there was, I’d have used it on Clint years ago.”

Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Regulus sat across from Sirius and Remus in the Black family library, anticipation buzzing between them. Piles of old, dusty books lay scattered on the table, some open to pages detailing the Animagus transformation process.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, smirking. “So, let me get this straight. You lot want to become Animagi?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “We’ve been talking about it, and we know it takes years, but we’re willing to put in the work.”

Regulus grinned. “If you could do it as a teenager, then it can’t be that hard.”

Sirius laughed. “Oi, it was hard! And dangerous. James, Peter, and I nearly got stuck a few times.”

Neville shifted. “But it would be useful. And…kind of amazing.”

Hermione frowned. “I still think the risks are significant, but I also think the benefits outweigh them. If we can learn to control the transformation, we’ll have another skill to protect ourselves.”

Remus, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. “It’s not just about control. The process requires patience, dedication, and a deep understanding of your own magic. You don’t just change into an animal—you become it, in a way.”

Harry nodded. “We understand. That’s why we came to you.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus before exhaling. “Alright, we’ll guide you through it, but you need to follow everything we say. No skipping steps, no reckless experimenting. Understood?”

A chorus of nods followed.

Remus pulled out a parchment. “The first step is meditation and self-discovery. The magic chooses an animal that represents you—it’s not something you decide. You’ll need to spend weeks, maybe months, reaching that level of awareness.”

Sirius grinned. “Basically, lots of staring into fire, contemplating the meaning of life, and waiting for some deep revelation.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Wonderful.”

Harry grinned. “Sounds like fun.”

Neville scratched the back of his neck. “I guess we better get started.”

Sirius leaned against the library table, arms crossed, eyeing his ten-year-old son skeptically. “Regulus, you do realize how dangerous this process is, right? It takes years, not weeks. You’re still a kid.”

Regulus lifted his chin stubbornly. “And I want to be the youngest Animagus ever.”

Sirius sighed. “That’s not a good reason.”

“Yes, it is,” Regulus shot back. “You, James, and the rat did it when you were fifteen. If you could do it in three years, I can do it faster.”

Harry smirked. “Sounds like a challenge.”

Sirius gave him a warning look before turning back to his son. “This isn’t a game, Regulus.”

“I know,” Regulus said seriously. “But I can do it.”

Remus, watching quietly, finally spoke. “Sirius, if he’s willing to put in the effort, we should give him the chance.”

Sirius sighed, rubbing his face. “Fine. But if you mess around, we’re stopping immediately.”

Regulus grinned in triumph.

“Alright,” Remus said, unrolling a parchment. “The first step is self-discovery. You need to meditate and connect with your magic to find the form within you.”

Hermione sat up straighter. “How do we do that exactly?”

Sirius grinned. “Simple. Close your eyes, clear your mind, and wait for something to happen.”

Neville blinked. “That’s it?”

Remus chuckled. “It sounds simple, but it’s not. You need to focus on your magic, not your thoughts. It may take weeks before you even get a hint of what your form might be.”

Regulus plopped down on the floor immediately. “Then I better start now.”

Harry, Hermione, and Neville exchanged amused looks before following suit.

Sirius shook his head. “This is going to be a long process.”

Remus smiled. “Let’s see who figures it out first.”

As Harry focused, the world around him faded into the background. His breathing slowed, and deep within his mind, something stirred.

At first, it was just a flicker—a shape forming in the darkness of his thoughts. Then another. And another.

A massive wolf, its fur as dark as the void, eyes glowing emerald green.

Then, in a blink, it shifted.

A serpent, long and coiled, its scales glinting like polished obsidian.

Then wings—massive, leathery wings spreading wide, belonging to a dragon wreathed in crimson fire.

Harry’s pulse quickened. He could feel each form as if he was becoming them, muscles adjusting, instincts shifting. He could hear the growl of the wolf in his throat, sense the flickering tongue of the snake, feel the raw power of the dragon’s mighty frame.

He should have been scared. Instead, he grinned.

This was awesome.

A final flicker, and the forms disappeared, leaving him breathless.

When he opened his eyes, the others were still focused, lost in their own meditation. Nobody had seen what he had.

Sirius noticed his shift first. “You okay, kid?”

Harry smirked. “Oh, I’m more than okay.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You saw something, didn’t you?”

Harry hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain it yet, and honestly, he wanted to figure it out himself first.

So, he just shrugged. “Maybe.”

Remus studied him but didn’t push. “Then keep at it. Your form will become clear in time.”

Harry nodded, but inside, he wasn’t so sure.

Because from what he’d seen, his form wasn’t one thing. It was many. And he had no idea what that meant.

As the group continued their meditation, Hermione gasped softly. In her mind, she saw an owl sitting in a tree. At first she was stunned because of her fear of flying but the more she thought the more it made since. Owls symbolize wisdom and knowledge.

Neville, on the other hand, saw something completely different. A massive golden lion stood before him, its mane wild and untamed. The beast exuded courage and determination, mirroring the way Neville had grown into himself over the years. The lion met his gaze, and instead of fear, Neville felt pride swell in his chest.

Regulus remained quiet as he focused. Then, in the depths of his mind, a figure emerged—a massive white wolf standing tall and strong in the snow. Its fur was thick and pristine, and its piercing red eyes locked onto his. Regulus expected it to be wary, distant, like he often felt from others. But instead, the wolf stepped forward and gently pressed its forehead to his. 

When they all opened their eyes, excitement buzzed in the air.

"I saw an owl,” Hermione said, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Neville grinned. “A lion for me.”

Regulus hesitated before meeting Sirius’s gaze. “A white wolf.”

Sirius stilled for a moment before nodding approvingly. “A strong choice.”

Remus smiled. “Wolves are fiercely loyal. They fight for their own.”

Meanwhile, Harry remained quiet, gripping his knees as his mind raced. Because unlike them, he didn’t see just one form. He saw them all.

And something told him that wasn’t normal.

“All right,” Sirius said, leaning forward, “now that you’ve seen your forms in your mind, it’s time for the first real step. This part takes patience, and I know that’s not your strong suit, Harry.”

Harry smirked. “I can be patient when it’s important.”

Remus chuckled. “That’ll be tested, trust me.” He handed each of them a single mandrake leaf. “You need to keep this in your mouth for an entire month. No swallowing, no spitting it out. Keep it there while you eat, sleep, and talk.”

Regulus frowned, staring at the leaf like it was his mortal enemy. “A month? I’ll choke in my sleep.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sirius said, smirking. “I did.”

Hermione placed her leaf in her mouth without hesitation, adjusting it slightly before nodding. “Not as bad as I expected.”

Harry did the same, his confidence unwavering. “Easy.”

"Not to bad." Neville placed the leaf in his mouth.

Regulus hesitated a moment longer but, with a determined huff, tucked his leaf into his cheek. He wasn’t about to be left behind.

Sirius clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Now, the next step will be just as fun—making the potion. And trust me, it smells worse than anything you’ve ever imagined.”

Regulus groaned, and even Hermione looked mildly concerned. Harry, however, grinned. “Sounds like an adventure.”