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The question hung in the serene, incense-scented air of Kamar-Taj. It was not an interrogation. It was a simple, profound query from one cosmic anomaly to another.
Hermione's mind, which had been racing, analyzing, and preparing a dozen different layers of lies, suddenly went still. Lying to Nick Fury was easy. He was a man playing a game of shadows and secrets, a game she understood implicitly from her past life. But this woman… she didn't play games. She saw the whole board, across all of time. To lie to the Ancient One would be like a candle trying to lie to the sun. It was pointless. A calculated version of the truth was the only logical move.
"I'm from another reality," Hermione said, her voice calm and even.
The Ancient One just nodded, as if this were the most obvious answer in the world.
"It's a world similar to this one in some ways, but different in others," Hermione continued, carefully curating her story. "There are no super-soldiers, no gamma monsters, no men in suits of iron. There is only magic. We call ourselves wizards. We have our own hidden societies, our own governments, our own schools. I am a student at one of them, Hogwarts."
She paused, adding the crucial part of her cover story. "I was… experimenting. With a piece of forbidden, dimensional magic I shouldn't have been touching. There was an accident. It created a passage, a stable tear between my world and this one. A passage that only I can use. So…" She gave a small, slightly embarrassed shrug. "I come over to play when I get bored with my classes."
It was a masterful blend of truth and fiction. It explained her existence, her power, and her mysterious comings and goings, all while neatly concealing the true nature of her reincarnation and the grimoire.
"I see," the Ancient One said, her faint smile never wavering. It was, Hermione realized, pretty much what she had already guessed. "Thank you for your honesty. You are, of course, welcome to visit Kamar-Taj whenever you wish."
"That's… it?" Hermione asked, genuinely confused. She had been prepared for a lecture, a warning, an ultimatum. She had not been prepared for a casual open-door invitation.
"Of course," the Ancient One replied, a flicker of amusement in her ancient eyes. "What else did you expect? Did you think I would try to cast you out? To declare you a threat to our reality?"
Well, yes, actually, Hermione thought.
As if hearing her, the Ancient One continued, "The passage between worlds exists within you. I could no more stop you from coming here than I could stop the sun from rising. Besides, I am quite certain you are a human child, not some plane-devouring demon from the dark dimensions. Why would I treat you as an enemy?" She took a sip of her tea, her gaze turning distant, thoughtful. "And… there is the matter of the future."
"Your arrival has shattered the timeline. The paths I could once see so clearly are now clouded, a raging sea of uncertain possibilities. It is… disorienting. However," she said, her eyes focusing on Hermione again, "though the future is now a blur, I can be certain of one thing. Because of you, many people who were meant to live will die. And many people who were meant to die will live. There will be great tragedy, great suffering. But the ultimate outcome, for this world… is better. You are a harsh, cruel medicine, little witch. But I believe you are the cure."
Hermione was silent. There was no judgment in the Ancient One's voice, only a statement of cosmic, utilitarian fact. She didn't care about the lives of individuals. She cared about the survival of reality itself. And in her grand, terrifying calculus, Hermione was a net positive.
Having come to an understanding, Hermione relaxed completely. And then, the silence became awkward. She was sitting in a drafty, ancient monastery, having tea with an 800-year-old sorcerer, and she had absolutely nothing to say.
"Well!" she said, her voice a little too loud. "This has been lovely, Master Ancient One, but I really should be going. Homework, you know. It never ends."
The Ancient One nodded and stood, waving a hand to open a swirling orange portal. Through it, Hermione could see the familiar rooftop of Stark Tower.
She turned and stepped toward the exit, then paused, an idea sparking in her mind. She popped her head back through. "By the way," she said with her sweetest, most innocent smile, "the library here at Kamar-Taj… would it be alright if I borrowed a few books from time to time? For research?"
The Ancient One was silent for a moment. "…Very well."
Hermione grinned and turned to leave again, then popped back through a second time. "And one more thing. I was wondering if you might be willing to offer me some private instruction in the mystic arts? As a professional courtesy, of course."
The Ancient One's smile was beginning to look a little strained. She gave a slow, deliberate nod.
Hermione beamed. She was about to leave for good, but then a final, audacious thought occurred to her. She turned back. "Oh, and that tea was absolutely divine. My mental magic feels so much clearer. Could I possibly trouble you for a pound or two to take with me? And while we're at it, that necklace you're wearing, the Agamotto…"
The portal slammed shut with a final, definitive snap, leaving not so much as a single lingering spark.
Hermione stood on the rooftop, pouting. "Stingy," she grumbled.
But as she checked her grimoire, her pout vanished, replaced by a smile of pure, unadulterated glee. The brief exposure to the Ancient One's magic had been enough.
[Spells]
Magic Transformation (Constructs): Lv. 1
Portal Creation: Lv. 1
Mirror Dimension: Lv. 1
It was a massive, game-changing haul. The portal was useful, but the Mirror Dimension… that was a magical skill of the highest order. A private prison, a personal training ground, an inescapable battlefield that she could control completely. It was a perfect, all-in-one tool. The power consumption was astronomical, she realized, but the potential was limitless.
She had gotten what she came for from Kamar-Taj. For now. It was time to deal with the other item on her agenda. It was time to remind the people who had tried to hunt her that she was not a soft persimmon to be squeezed.
Washington D.C.
Alexander Pierce, Secretary of the World Security Council and secret head of HYDRA in North America, leaned back in the plush leather sofa of his penthouse apartment. He swirled the expensive scotch in his glass, a thoughtful, vaguely troubled look on his face. The mission to capture the wizard child had been a complete and utter failure. Not only had they lost an entire elite tactical team, but their most valuable asset, the Ghost, had been turned. Nick Fury had gotten to the girl first, and now she was a consultant for S.H.I.E.L.D., a powerful, unknown variable that HYDRA could no longer control. It was an unacceptable outcome.
Just as he was contemplating his next move, a quiet, conversational voice spoke from the shadows behind his chair.
"I believe you were looking for me."
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