Long before Professor Snape discovered his empty room or Dumbledore realized a Triwizard champion had gone missing, Arthur Hayes was already putting considerable distance between himself and Hogwarts. The day after boarding the Hogwarts Express alongside excited first-years heading ho for Christmas holidays, he had set his carefully planned journey across the Atlantic in motion.
His objective was simple: go to the United States and implent plans to ensure he would know when Captain Marvel landed on Earth. This mission was the result of months of planning and consideration. A preliminary visit to the USA was necessary.
However, traveling to the United States presented a bigger challenge than he’d initially anticipated, especially for a wizard. Normal magical thods were simply out of the question.
MACUSA, the Magical Congress of the United States of Arica, had beco practically paranoid about magical visitors after the Grindelwald incident decades ago. The chaos caused by that dark wizard, combined with an Obscurus running wild in New York and Newt Scamander’s escaped creatures, had turned Arica’s magical governnt downright hostile to foreign wizards. They’d created incredibly powerful wards against unauthorized magical entry, and getting approval for an international Portkey involved bureaucratic nightmares Arthur couldn’t be bothered with.
"Bloody wizards and their paranoia," Arthur muttered, reviewing his options one final ti from his manor. He didn’t notice he was scolding himself too.
Apparition across the Atlantic was technically possible, but only for extraordinarily powerful wizards—Dumbledore might manage it, perhaps Voldemort too. Arthur had only mastered Apparition a few months ago when it was taught at Hogwarts. This was one thing he hadn’t done self-study in and had waited for a proper teacher before trying. The risks were too high.
Currently, his proficiency was good, but not "leap across an ocean without splinching yourself into a thousand pieces" good.
That left just one realistic option: a Muggle airplane. Pre-9/11 air travel was relatively straightforward, and as a British citizen, entering Arica for a short holiday wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. It wasn’t glamorous, but it would work.
Arthur booked a first-class ticket—if he had to endure hours trapped in a tal tube hurtling through the sky, he’d at least do it comfortably. He used his real na on the booking and no magical disguise; this was ant to be a simple reconnaissance mission, after all.
The Boeing 747 rumbled beneath him as Arthur leaned back in his seat, ignoring the flight attendant’s offer of another orange juice. He’d brought so newspapers and financial magazines, using the long flight to catch up on the non-magical world. He needed to be sure how far the world had progressed in this universe full of Marvel technology.
After what felt like an eternity of recycled air, diocre food, and cramped discomfort (even in first class), the aircraft finally descended toward Los Angeles International Airport. Looking out the window, Arthur could see the sprawling cityscape beneath him, so different from London yet oddly familiar—like a half-rembered dream from his previous life.
This LAX felt smaller and more dated than the one in his vague mories. The terminals had a distinctly late-80s/early-90s feel—all beige plastic and geotric patterns. It was a jarring reminder that he was navigating a tiline still unfolding.
The immigration process was straightforward until it wasn’t. Arthur had just collected his luggage and was heading for the exit when two n in plain suits stepped into his path.
"Mr. Arthur Hayes?" the taller one asked, flashing identification discreetly. "Agent Miller, FBI. This is Agent Johnson. Would you mind coming with us for a few questions, sir?"
Arthur assessed his options quickly. Was he in trouble? Had so magic detector found him? He could use magic to escape—a subtle Confundus charm or perhaps a quick disillusionnt spell—but that seed unnecessarily risky. These agents appeared to be ordinary Muggles, not magical law enforcent. Using magic here could violate the Statute of Secrecy and potentially cause more problems than it solved. Plus, if they were connected to SHIELD or so other Arican agency with advanced technology, magical interference might only confirm whatever suspicions they already had.
"Of course," Arthur replied with practiced calm. "Though I’m not sure what the Federal Bureau of Investigation would want with a British citizen on holiday."
They led him to a small, windowless room containing nothing but a table and three chairs. It was a basic interrogation setup which made Arthur relax a little. It did not look like serious trouble.
"Please, have a seat, Mr. Hayes," the shorter agent said, gesturing to the lone chair on one side of the table. "I’m Agent Johnson. This is Agent Miller."
Arthur sat down, placing his carry-on beside him. "What’s this about, exactly?"
"Just routine security screening," Johnson said, his tone friendly while his eyes remained watchful. "You’ve never visited the United States before, correct?"
"First ti," Arthur confird.
"And yet you’ve recently purchased a property in Beverly Hills. Quite expensive for a... student, wasn’t it?"
Ah. So that was it. His financial activities had triggered so sort of alert in their systems. Arthur had indeed purchased a mansion in Beverly Hills six months ago using a holding company linked to his investnts. He had thought of it as a worthy investnt with the stock market crash coming soon.
"Family investnts," Arthur explained smoothly. "My parents left well provided for, and property in California seed a sound long-term strategy."
The questions continued for another twenty minutes—about his background, his plans in the United States, his financial resources. Arthur kept his answers simple and consistent, sticking as close to the truth as possible without ntioning magic or his foreknowledge.
"I’m pursuing several business opportunities," he explained when asked about his unusual wealth for soone his age. "My father’s investnt strategy proved quite lucrative, and I’ve continued expanding the portfolio."
Eventually, seemingly satisfied, Agent Johnson closed his notebook.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Hayes. Enjoy your stay in California."
"Cheers," Arthur replied, resisting the urge to add a sarcastic comnt about the hospitality. As he left the room, he wondered whether SHIELD might already be monitoring for unusual activity. The tiline was unclear—he couldn’t rember whether SHIELD was fully operational in this period or if they were that important enough without evidence of alien activity.
The important thing was that they’d let him go. Arthur collected his luggage and headed outside to find a taxi.
The warm California air hit him like a wall as he exited the terminal. It was so different from the perpetual dampness of Britain—dry and clear, with none of the constant threat of rain that characterized his holand. As he slid into the back seat of a yellow cab, Arthur gave the driver the address of his Beverly Hills property.
"First ti in LA?" the driver asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
"Is it that obvious?" Arthur replied, not particularly interested in small talk but recognizing it as unavoidable.
"New arrivals got a certain look," the driver chuckled. "Like they ain’t sure whether to be excited or terrified."
The driver continued chatting about local attractions, traffic patterns, and celebrity gossip until they finally pulled up outside an impressive diterranean-style mansion with high walls and an ornate gate. Arthur paid the fare, adding a generous tip mostly to end the interaction quickly, and approached the security keypad.
The mansion had cost him a significant portion of his investnt profits, but it was an investnt that would likely triple in value within a decade. More importantly, it provided him with a secure base of operations in the United States for now. He could later buy another property in New York since that was where all the action was going to be.
He settled down in his new ho and after setting up so security asures in the property, first mundane and then magical, he called it a day.
—
The next morning, Arthur turned his attention to the primary objective he was here for: locating Carol Danvers’s imminent arrival point. His fragnted mories pinpointed a Blockbuster video store, likely in a suburban area of LA, soti in the first half of 1995.
As he began his reconnaissance, however, he imdiately confronted the staggering scale of the problem. Blockbuster wasn’t just present in 1990s Los Angeles; it was bloody everywhere. A quick search revealed not five or ten locations, but over fifty scattered across the sprawling tropolis and its surrounding suburbs. Driving past store after store, the iconic blue and yellow signs blurring together, Arthur realised that matching one to the hazy, fleeting image from a decades-old movie mory was practically impossible.
"Right," he muttered, leaning against the rented car he was using, gazing at yet another indistinguishable Blockbuster facade. "Plan B it is."
Thankfully, Arthur had prepared for this difficulty. During his intensive study of the field of enchantnt, he’d worked on sothing beyond just his Diadem modification project. He’d also developed a series of specialized detection artifacts—small, rune-etched silver discs designed to resonate with unusual energy signatures.
These detectors were highly experintal. Without actual cosmic energy to calibrate against, Arthur had relied on theoretical principles and obscure references to celestial magic found in the Room of Requirent. He wasn’t even certain if Carol Danvers’ energy signature would register as ’cosmic’ or perhaps ’space magic’ to his devices, but they were his best option.
"Right then," Arthur said to himself, closing his case of twenty-four silver detector discs. "Ti to get to work."
He’d rented a nondescript sedan that wouldn’t attract attention and plotted an efficient route to visit as many Blockbuster locations as possible each day. At each promising location, he would discreetly place one of his silver detectors—under shelves, behind ventilation grates, inside potted plants—ensuring they wouldn’t be easily found by Muggle cleaning crews.
A subtle Sticking Charm and Notice--Not spell secured each device in place. If any of them detected significant cosmic energy—like a Kree-empowered human crashing through a roof—the master crystal he kept with him would vibrate and glow, alerting him imdiately.
By the end of the first day, Arthur had checked eight locations and placed sensors at three of them. The process was mind-numbingly boring but necessary. As he drove back to the mansion, he reflected on the absurdity of his situation—a wizard using advanced magical techniques to track down a superhero whose existence was still unknown to the world.
Days passed in this fashion, with Arthur thodically working through his list of Blockbuster stores. So days were more productive than others, but the routine remained the sa: drive, observe, place sensors when appropriate, and move on.
On the fifth day, Arthur found himself in Simi Valley, standing across the street from a Blockbuster that seed eerily familiar. The layout of the strip mall, the positioning of the store, even the palm trees nearby—all matched his fragnted mories more closely than any previous location.
"This might be the one," he murmured to himself as he casually crossed the street, a detector disc concealed in his palm. With practiced nonchalance, he brushed against the exterior wall of the store, using wandless magic to affix the crystal in a spot hidden from casual observation.
Sothing about this location felt right. Arthur placed two detectors instead of his usual one, for redundancy. Better safe than sorry.
With the detectors deployed, his primary objective for the trip was complete. He had a few days left before his scheduled return flight. Figuring he’d more than earned a break after years of relentless self-discipline and study, Arthur decided to actually experience Los Angeles. He attended exclusive parties with introductions facilitated by his apparent wealth, enjoyed the vibrant nightlife, and generally allowed himself a brief period of carefree indulgence. It was a strange contrast to his usual monastic existence at Hogwarts, a reminder of the wider world and its varied pleasures.
For those few days, Arthur Hayes wasn’t a wizard, a student at a magical school, or a cautiously reborn soul with knowledge of future events. He was just a teenager having the ti of his life. His worries about superheroes, villains, magical studies, and his place in the universe seed distant and unimportant.
—
The day before his scheduled departure, he descended to the spacious basent of his Beverly Hills mansion. He placed his expanded trunk on the smooth concrete floor and with a flick of his wand, a large, ornate cabinet floated out, settling gently against the far wall.
This wasn’t just any cabinet. This was a Vanishing Cabinet, the sa type used by Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts in the canon. Arthur had acquired this particular cabinet from Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley a few sumrs ago.
The shopkeeper, sensing Arthur’s unusual interest, had initially quoted an exorbitant price. Arthur, however, had "persuaded" Borgin to drastically reconsider. He’d ultimately purchased the artifact for a fraction of its value.
Since acquiring it, Arthur had spent considerable ti in the Room of Hidden Things at Hogwarts, repairing the damaged counterpart, reinforcing its structure and recalibrating its delicate enchantnts.
He had tested short distances successfully, and now it was ti to see if the magic worked across continents. Taking a deep breath, Arthur opened the cabinet door and peered into the absolute darkness within. Without hesitation, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
For a disorienting mont, there was nothing—a sensation of being nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. Then, reality reasserted itself. Arthur pushed open the door and stepped out, not into his LA basent, but into the familiar, chaotic clutter of the Room of Hidden Things at Hogwarts.
"Perfect," he said, satisfaction evident in his voice. The connection worked flawlessly, creating instantaneous, untraceable travel between his secure base in LA and the heart of Hogwarts.
After a mont to appreciate his success, Arthur returned through the cabinet to his basent in Beverly Hills. Now everything was in place. His detectors were deployed across Los Angeles, ready to signal Captain Marvel’s arrival. The Vanishing Cabinet provided an instant transit thod, allowing him to respond the mont an alert ca through, bypassing all magical and mundane travel restrictions.
All that remained was to return to London via conventional ans, maintaining the appearance of a normal holiday. While using the cabinet would be more convenient, Arthur preferred to have official records of his departure from the United States. Future visits might not require such caution, but for this first trip, properly docunted entry and exit seed prudent.
The next morning, Arthur took one last look around the mansion, ensuring everything was in order before locking up and calling a taxi to the airport.
As the plane lifted off from LAX, carrying him back across the Atlantic, Arthur allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. The pieces were falling into place. When Carol Danvers finally arrived on Earth, he would be ready.
The preparations weren’t perfect, but Arthur had a Plan C to ensure he didn’t miss this mont in any way, and it involved putting more detectors around Carol Danvers’s friend’s ho, though that would have to co later since she didn’t live in LA. With the Vanishing Cabinet giving him access to the USA anyti, he had ample ti.
For now, though, he had a different challenge to face: explaining to the Professors why the Hogwarts champion had skipped the Yule Ball and caused them such embarrassnt.
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