After that conversation with Dumbledore, Arthur was in no mood to return to the Slytherin dormitory or rest. His mind buzzed with too many thoughts, demanding action rather than reflection.
The Great Lake beckoned—its vast expanse of water offering both solitude and space for experintation. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grounds as he walked.
As he crossed the grounds, whispers followed him like persistent shadows.
"There he goes—Hayes can’t use magic anymore—"
"Got the news from St. Mungo’s..."
Arthur’s lips twitched with dark amusent. The Hogwarts rumor mill remained impressively efficient. His magical difficulties had sohow beco common knowledge re hours after his return.
This unwelco developnt would inevitably bring trouble from his enemies. The question was whether to hide until he recovered or face challenges directly. Arthur had no misplaced pride about strategic retreats when necessary.
The experints he planned would help him decide.
The afternoon sun cast golden ripples across the lake’s surface as he reached his destination. Arthur chose a secluded spot where the Forbidden Forest nearly touched the shoreline, creating a natural blind spot from castle windows. A massive oak with gnarled roots provided the perfect natural workbench.
Arthur set down his small bag and unpacked his tools: a leather-bound notebook, his own wand, a spare wand "borrowed" from the Room of Requirent, and a silver artifact that resembled a cross between a compass and pocket watch.
"Right then," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves. "Let’s see what we’re dealing with."
First order of business: assess the physical changes. While he wasn’t certain what effects the Tesseract and Space Stone exposure might have had, he knew the healing ritual had certainly enhanced his body. He now needed precise asurents.
Arthur started with basic strength tests.
Push-ups: fifty completed without breaking a sweat.
Pull-ups on a low-hanging branch: thirty with minimal strain.
A sprint along the shoreline: barely winded.
"Not bad," he noted, jotting observations in his notebook and comparing them to his previous capabilities. "Definitely improved."
Next ca reflex testing. He tossed pebbles into the air, catching them before they fell. First simple tosses, then behind his back, then with his eyes closed, then multiple stones simultaneously. His success rate was nearly perfect each ti.
Arthur paused, sensing sothing else had changed. His hearing seed sharper—he could detect birds rustling in distant trees. His vision had improved—details on the opposite shore appeared with unexpected clarity. Even his sense of sll had heightened—the loamy earth beneath his feet, the algae at the lake’s edge, the faint trace of smoke from Hagrid’s chimney all registered distinctly.
"Fascinating," he whispered, docunting everything.
The ritual had genuinely transford him physically. Not dramatically enough to draw imdiate attention, but significantly nonetheless. His body felt completely rebuilt, optimized like a finely-tuned machine. Not superhuman, but perhaps the peak of natural human capability.
"Approximately one and a half tis previous capabilities," he wrote in his notebook. "Complete healing of all previous injuries, including micro-trauma from years of training."
He couldn’t verify that last part himself, but what Healer Cadwallader said and the absence of familiar aches and pains spoke volus. Every scar, every slightly misaligned bone from childhood injuries—all erased as if they’d never existed.
The enhancent wasn’t as dramatic as what the super soldier serum had given Captain Arica, but Arthur felt satisfied nonetheless. Money well spent.
Now for the critical assessnt: his magic.
Arthur picked up the borrowed wand first, having already confird his own produced no response. The spare was nothing special—likely abandoned by so student decades ago—but any functional wand should produce at least minimal effects.
"Lumos," he commanded clearly.
Nothing. Not even the faintest glimr.
"Wingardium Leviosa." He directed the wand at a small stone with precise movents.
It remained stubbornly earthbound.
One by one, Arthur progressed through every first-year spell, then second-year, then more advanced magic. No response whatsoever. The wand might as well have been an ordinary twig plucked from the forest floor.
"Wonderful," he muttered, tossing it aside in frustration.
Ti for deeper investigation. Arthur placed the silver instrunt on his palm, closed his eyes, and slipped into ditation. This magical core visualization technique required both the artifact and considerable concentration, but it was currently his best diagnostic tool.
Colors blood behind his eyelids as he sank deeper into the trance. There—his magical core ca into focus, but not as he rembered.
Previously, his core had resembled a white sphere pulsing with warm energy. Now it appeared as a swirling vortex of deep blue, shot through with threads of cosmic purple. Larger and more powerful, yes, but fundantally altered in its nature.
The Space Stone had changed his magic at its most basic level. Arthur would have been thrilled at this developnt if not for the complications that ca along with it.
While maintaining his ditative state, Arthur attempted to access this transford core. To his surprise, he could reach it easily enough—but as the magic tried to flow outward, it encountered resistance.
The problem wasn’t with his core but with his magical pathways—the channels through which magic flowed from core to extremities. These pathways hadn’t evolved alongside his transford core. Though sowhat strengthened by the ritual, they remained fundantally incompatible with his new, transford magic.
His current magic was simply too powerful for his existing channels.
Arthur considered the solution: precisely control his magic, allowing only tiny amounts to flow through the pathways. Continue this practice until the pathways naturally strengthened and expanded. Eventually, full function would return.
It was similar to how young wizards learned magic. They began with wands that helped control magical flow, and after years of practice, their pathways developed to the point where so could perform wandless magic given they tried and trained for it.
But theory and practice were vastly different challenges. A child’s magical core was small, making control relatively simple. For Arthur, with a core now potentially rivaling Dumbledore’s in size, the challenge would be exponentially more difficult.
He attempted to regulate his magic, visualizing a thin trickle rather than the natural flood. Failure. He tried again with a different approach. Another failure. Again and again, with minimal progress.
At this rate, regaining even basic spell-casting ability might take months, perhaps years.
Growing increasingly frustrated, Arthur retrieved Ravenclaw’s Diadem from his bag and tried again. The results improved—ti estimates shortened from years to months—but still far longer than he’d hoped.
"If only I had a compatible wand," he muttered, eyeing the useless pieces of wood beside him.
Standard wands couldn’t interface with his altered magical signature. He needed sothing custom-crafted specifically for his unique core.
"And exactly how am I supposed to arrange that?" Arthur asked the empty air. "Not exactly sothing Ollivander advertises in his shop window, is it? ’Special wands for wizards who’ve been fundantally altered by cosmic artifacts—inquire within.’"
Obtaining even a standard second wand required Ministry permission—unlikely given his reputation. Foreign wandmakers might offer possibilities, but finding one skilled enough to work with his unique situation presented additional challenges.
For the imdiate future, wandless magic remained his only viable path. He would need to focus exclusively on regaining control. Yet even success would only restore basic functionality. Accessing his full potential would require additional interventions.
Simple practice wouldn’t suffice. He needed external assistance.
Arthur dug through his mories of the Marvel universe. There were multiple paths to enhancing the human body. Arthur first eliminated all the thods that relied heavily on luck. It left him with fewer options.
Chi manipulation like the masters of K’un-Lun and Ta Lo practiced, Wakanda’s heart-shaped herb. These were the thods he could think of currently, but there might be other ways. Maybe the Ancient One and the sorcerers at Kamar-Taj would know more.
If all else failed, he could ask Carol for help and use Kree technology to transfuse so Kree blood into his system. But that would be his last option. Unless absolutely necessary, he didn’t want to play around with blood and genes.
Fortunately, ti was on his side. The major MCU events were years away. He could develop his approach thodically.
The more imdiate challenge was the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournant. Without magic, navigating the maze’s obstacles would be tricky—especially since he couldn’t bring weapons inside. Whatever Hagrid had prepared wouldn’t be simple to overco with physical abilities alone. Add Barty Crouch Jr.’s interference to ensure Harry reached the cup first, and the situation beca truly complicated.
Despite these challenges, Arthur found his mood improving as he packed away his supplies. The situation wasn’t hopeless—just extrely difficult. He had identified potential solutions, even if they weren’t ideal.
Nothing worth having ever ca easily, after all.
With renewed determination, Arthur began walking back toward the castle. Physical enhancents would have to compensate for magical limitations in the upcoming task. He’d overco greater obstacles before.
As he approached the massive entrance doors, Arthur suddenly froze mid-step. His newly enhanced senses detected sothing unusual—the subtle shifting of weight, controlled breathing, the faint rustle of fabric against stone.
Soone was hiding in the shadows beside the doorway, waiting.
Watching.
For him.
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