The X-Jet touched down on the villa's lawn just as the first, pale fingers of dawn were stretching across the New York sky. The air was cool and still. Ethan stumbled off the ramp, a deep, cavernous hunger clawing at his insides. The high-intensity battle and the back-to-back transformations had left his Saiyan engine running on fumes. Without a word to anyone, he made a beeline for the basement door.
He emerged sometime later, a look of profound, almost religious satisfaction on his face. He had devoured a truly heroic amount of jerky, canned goods, and chocolate bars. When you're truly, desperately hungry, he thought, even processed junk food tastes like a Michelin-star meal. He finally understood Goku's simple, all-consuming joy at the sight of a feast. It wasn't just food; it was life itself.
"Ethan!"
A small, pajama-clad missile launched itself from the base of the main staircase, and he found himself with an armful of a very worried Wanda Maximoff.
"Hey, you're up early," he said, surprised, easily setting her back on her feet. It was barely six a.m., an hour she usually considered an insult to the sanctity of sleep.
"I couldn't sleep," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his shirt. "You were gone all night. I was worried. I heard the jet and came down. Professor Ororo said you were in the basement."
A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in Ethan's chest. This feeling… being cared for, being missed. It was nice. Really nice. A luxury he'd never known in his previous life.
"Where's your lazy brother?" he asked, ruffling her hair.
Wanda pulled back, her face instantly scrunching up in annoyance. "Pietro is still sleeping like a log. He's a bad brother. He stole my pudding last night!"
"He did what?" Ethan gasped with mock outrage. "Unacceptable. I'll deal with him later. For now…" He reached into his pocket and produced two brightly colored lollipops. "I found these in the basement. I was going to give you one and him one, but since he's a pudding thief, I guess they're both yours."
He internally sighed. Sisters are just better. They worry about you. Brothers just steal your pudding.
Wanda's face lit up. "You're the best, Ethan!" She took the lollipops, hugged his arm tightly, and stood on her tiptoes to plant a small, sweet kiss on his forehead.
"Okay, okay," he said, laughing. "But don't you dare eat these before you brush your teeth. Or I'll tell your mom."
As they walked through the living room, he saw Magneto descending the stairs, looking as though he hadn't slept a wink. An opportunity.
"Wanda, why don't you go back upstairs for a bit?" he said softly. "I need to have a quick chat with this old gentleman."
She nodded and scampered off. Ethan waited until she was gone, then stepped into the corridor, intercepting the Master of Magnetism. "Mr. Erik," he said, his tone polite but firm. "Do you have a moment?"
A slow, curious smile spread across Magneto's face. "Of course, Ethan. I find I very much enjoy our conversations." He was intrigued. He'd made his truce with Charles, but it was a temporary thing, a marriage of convenience. This boy, however… this boy was a prize worth cultivating.
"I was just wondering," Ethan began, his voice low, "what your thoughts are on our guest, Colonel Stryker."
Magneto's smile vanished, replaced by a look of cold contempt. "My thoughts? My thoughts are that he is a cancer. A monster who tortures children. He should be executed for his crimes." He sneered. "But your Professor Charles, in his infinite wisdom, believes the man should be handed over to human justice, as some sort of… peace offering to SHIELD. It is dangerously naive." He shook his head. "I gave Charles my word I would not harm the man on our journey here. It was a promise that tasted like poison."
"SHIELD fears our power, not our good behavior," Ethan said, echoing Magneto's own philosophy. "And Stryker can't be allowed to live. He knows too much."
"A pity my hands are tied by my promise to an old friend," Magneto said with a theatrical shrug.
A slow, conspiratorial smile spread across Ethan's face. "You made a promise. But I didn't." He let the words hang in the air for a moment. "I'm going to deal with him. But to do it without the Professor interfering… I might need a small favor. A distraction, perhaps."
Magneto stared at him, stunned for a second, and then he let out a great, booming laugh that echoed in the quiet villa. "Hahaha! Excellent! Oh, you are truly magnificent, boy! I appreciate you more and more!" He was genuinely delighted. Logan, a man with a century of reasons to kill Stryker, had been pacified by Charles's words. But this child, with no personal grudge at all, was ready to defy the Professor and do what needed to be done.
"I'm just protecting my school," Ethan said with an innocent shrug.
"Of course you are," Magneto replied, his eyes twinkling with a shared, ruthless understanding. "Everything I have ever done has been to protect my people. We are more alike than you know, Ethan. You should reconsider my offer to join the Brotherhood."
"Let's talk about it later," Ethan said, deflecting. With Magneto's tacit agreement secured, he had what he needed. He gave a nod and headed for his room.
Magneto watched him go, a thoughtful, calculating expression on his face. Perhaps, he mused, he doesn't need to join me. If a boy with a spine like that one day replaces Charles as the head of this school… our paths may yet converge.
Two days later, it was as if the raid on the school had never happened. The local police reports had been… amended. The government inquiries had been quietly shut down. The memories of dozens of officials had become foggy, indistinct. The sheer, terrifying power of Charles Xavier's telepathy had smoothed over reality itself, restoring the school's fragile peace. Ethan watched it happen with a mixture of awe and fear.
Now, he stood on the lawn, saying his goodbyes. Wanda clung to him, her face buried in his side. Even Pietro looked genuinely reluctant to see him go. He, Professor X, Magneto, and Mystique were about to board the X-Jet, escorting the still-comatose Colonel Stryker to his final judgment at SHIELD's headquarters, the Triskelion in Washington, D.C.
As the jet lifted off, Ethan settled into his seat and closed his eyes. The sight of Xavier's power had sparked a thought. He sifted through Harry Potter's memories, past the duels and the dragons, looking for something specific. He found them. Two spells. The Memory Charm, Obliviate, and the False Memory Charm. Spells to erase and rewrite a person's reality. Harry, he recalled, had known of them, but he'd never had the finesse to use them properly; he'd probably just end up like Gilderoy Lockhart, a drooling simpleton. But the knowledge was there now, a dangerous new set of tools in Ethan's own mind, waiting to be sharpened.