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Chapter 29 - Chapter 29

Ethan's return to consciousness was gentle this time, a slow climb from a shallow darkness rather than a violent expulsion. He blinked, expecting the familiar wave of bone-deep weakness, the cellular hangover that followed a template's expiration. But there was… nothing. He felt fine. Normal.

That's new, he thought, a flicker of surprise cutting through his post-battle haze. Only an hour passed. He had burned through the last of the Goku template and immediately loaded the Harry Potter one. The combined usage should have wrecked him, but it seemed the wizard template was too physically weak to have any negative side effects on his Saiyan body. His own training was paying off more than he knew.

His eyes scanned the quiet cabin of the X-Jet. A fragile peace had settled over the strange, exhausted group. Up front, Storm and a weary Cyclops were piloting them home through the pre-dawn sky. In one corner, Colossus and Nightcrawler were talking in low, gentle tones, the quiet artist and the devout Christian finding common ground. In another, Logan and Yuriko—Lady Deathstrike—sat together, a strange, tense silence between them that felt like it could either break into a fight or… something else. Ethan filed that thought away under 'weird but possible'.

In the center of the cabin, Professor X and Magneto were hunched over a chessboard, a silent, intense battle of wits, while Mystique knelt between them, watching the game with the focused stillness of a predator. And in the very back, slumped in a seat and psychically forced into a coma, was Colonel William Stryker.

Ethan's gaze lingered on him, and the peaceful feeling in the cabin evaporated. A cold, hard knot formed in his stomach. That guy can't be allowed to walk away from this.

Xavier's plan was to hand Stryker over to Nick Fury, to let human justice run its course. It was a noble idea. It was also incredibly stupid.

Stryker wasn't some common criminal. He was a man of power, of connections. A man who could twist the system, call in favors, and paint himself as a patriot. He'd be out in a year, Ethan guessed, and he'd come back with a vengeance. He'd seen what men like Stryker could do with Marvel's black-tech resources—he'd seen the abomination they'd made of Deadpool in one of the movies. Stryker was a weed that had to be pulled up by the roots.

Then there were the Justice Points. The man was a walking, talking piñata of righteous reward. A man who, upon discovering his son was a mutant, didn't seek a cure but instead tortured him, vivisected him, and used his brain as a weapon. A man who kidnapped innocent children and turned them into living weapons. A man who planned global genocide. Killing someone like that wasn't just an option; it was a moral imperative. And a very profitable one.

Finally, there was the tactical element. Stryker knew too much. His research, his data on mutant genetics and weaknesses—if that fell into Nick Fury's hands, the leash on the mutant community would get a lot tighter. And that was assuming SHIELD was clean. Ethan knew about Hydra, the secret cancer that festered within the organization for decades. Giving Stryker's data to SHIELD could be the same as handing it directly to the Red Skull's successors. Fury had a bottom line, a code. Hydra did not.

But the Professor would never sanction an execution. His morality wouldn't allow it. Ethan's eyes flickered over to the chess game. But Erik would. Magneto was a pragmatist. A killer. He would understand the necessity of it. Okay, Ethan decided. I'll talk to him later. A problem like Stryker is a problem we can solve together.

With that dark decision made, he closed his eyes and began to sift through his new prize: the memories of Harry Potter. It was like binge-watching a TV show inside his own head. Fourteen years of life, from a cupboard under the stairs to a graveyard where a dark lord was reborn. He had it all. The spells from the first four years at Hogwarts, from simple charms to jinxes and curses. The Patronus Charm Lupin had taught him. The problem was, Harry's practical application of magic, outside of Expelliarmus and a few other combat spells, was sloppy. Good instincts, poor study habits. Nothing I can't fix with practice, Ethan thought. I'll be a better Harry Potter than Harry Potter was.

He ran a mental diagnostic. Bloodline, check. Memory, check. He touched his forehead. No scar. Interesting. The system gave him the blood and the memories, the core of the protagonist, but nothing external. The scar was from Voldemort's curse. The remnant of the dark lord's soul that lived in it… that was gone, too. Which meant…

A sudden, gut-wrenching realization hit him. No Horcrux means no Parseltongue. No… no wand.

Panic flared in his chest. A wizard without a wand was like a Saiyan without the ability to use Ki. Harry's memories didn't contain the secrets of wandless magic; the boy could barely cast a spell with a wand. Without that focus, that amplifier, the magic inside him was just a sea of untapped potential with no pipeline to the surface. Was he limited to only using magic when he loaded the Harry template and the system gifted him a wand for an hour?

No. Unacceptable, he decided fiercely. Magic was too useful, too versatile, to be a temporary rental. He had to find a way.

But how? He couldn't exactly pop over to Diagon Alley and have a chat with Ollivander. Phoenix feathers and dragon heartstrings weren't listed on Amazon. But this wasn't that world. This was Marvel. A world where magic, science, and cosmic power all blended together. A world of black technology.

A new idea, brilliant and exciting, began to form. A magic wand was just a tool, an object that channeled energy. Wood with special properties, a core from a magical creature, assembled in a specific way. The principles could be studied. Analyzed. And if they could be analyzed, they could be replicated.

His eyes fell on the solid, dark shaft of the adamantium staff leaning against his seat.

What if he could find a scientist—someone like Tony Stark or maybe even Doctor Doom, or someone at the school—who could analyze the properties of the holly wand from his next template loadout? What if they could use this world's science to imbue his indestructible staff with the same energy-channeling properties?

A wicked, gleeful smile spread across his face. He imagined it. An enemy rushes him, grabs the adamantium staff, thinking they've disarmed him. And as they hold it, he just whispers a word. "Bombarda."

He pictured poking Wolverine in his beer gut with the staff, and just as Logan grabs it to snap it in half, Ethan casts an internal explosion charm. The look on his face would be priceless.

The possibilities were endless. A new project had just jumped to the very top of his priority list.

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