As the sleek, black sedan navigated the final approach to the Potomac, the iconic, three-winged structure of the Triskelion loomed into view, a monument of glass and steel. Ethan watched it grow larger, his expression calm, but his mind was already in motion.
Load Harry Potter protagonist template, he commanded silently.
A subtle, almost imperceptible shift occurred in the back of the car. One moment, Ethan was a boy in simple clothes. The next, he was clad in a voluminous black wizard's robe, a Firebolt and a silky, shimmering cloak resting on the seat beside him, a holly wand held loosely in his hand.
Professor X, sensing the change, turned in his seat. "Ethan," he cautioned, his voice low and paternal. "Our purpose here is diplomacy. We are handing over Stryker and the evidence of his crimes. We must avoid any unnecessary conflict."
"I know, Professor," Ethan replied, his smile disarmingly innocent. "Just being prepared. If Director Fury and his people have any… ulterior motives, I want to be ready to respond."
Charles considered this and gave a slight nod. It was a sensible precaution.
Just then, Stryker, who had been slumped in the corner since being freed from the Professor's mental hold, let out a dry, rasping cough. His lips were cracked, his face pale with dehydration.
"Mr. Stryker looks thirsty," Ethan said, his voice full of a surprising, gentle concern. From the deep pockets of his new robe, he produced a sealed bottle of mineral water. "Here, have some water."
"What a compassionate young man," Charles thought, a swell of pride warming his chest. Even after all the horror this man had inflicted, the boy was capable of showing simple human kindness.
In the front of the car, Magneto and Mystique exchanged a silent, questioning look in the rearview mirror. Kindness? Magneto thought, his mind racing. The boy asked me for a poison that could kill a man instantly if added to water. He watched as Ethan unscrewed the cap, his initial thought being that the boy was about to make a suicidal, foolish move right here, in front of Charles. It made no sense. It was a betrayal of the ruthless intellect he'd come to admire. Unless, a new thought occurred, he has another plan entirely.
Ethan's movements were shielded by the folds of his robe. He uncapped the water. Then, with a sleight of hand a stage magician would envy, he tipped a tiny, sealed vial into the bottle. A single drop of viscous, deep blue liquid swirled into the water, turning it a vibrant, unnatural sapphire. Holding the bottle low, out of the Professor's line of sight, he gave his wand a tiny, almost imperceptible flick and whispered an incantation so soft it was little more than a breath. "Inmutatio."
A faint shimmer, like heat haze, pulsed through the bottle. The sapphire blue vanished. The water was once again perfectly, innocently clear.
He smiled and handed the bottle to Stryker.
The Colonel, parched and arrogant, snatched the bottle and drank it all in a series of greedy gulps. He then tossed the empty bottle onto the floor of the car, a look of hateful defiance in his eyes. He didn't die. He didn't even choke.
Magneto's eyes narrowed. He was completely baffled. He knew the poison Mystique had acquired for the boy. It was a potent neurotoxin. A single drop in the bloodstream meant instant death. He gave up? Erik thought, a flicker of disappointment running through him. No. Not this boy. There is something else at play here.
A cold, satisfied smile touched Ethan's lips. Done.
Killing Stryker was easy. Killing him without anyone from SHIELD or the X-Men tracing it back to him? That required finesse. That required magic. He'd spent the flight sifting through Harry's memories, searching for the perfect tool. Flashy spells like the Killing Curse were out; they left a trail. He needed something subtle. Something with a delay.
He'd found it in a first-year textbook. Transfiguration. A magic that temporarily alters the form and properties of an object. The key word was temporary. The duration of the spell was dependent on the caster's skill. A novice like first-year Harry could turn a match into a needle for a few minutes. A master like Dumbledore could probably make it last for days. Based on Harry's fourth-year skill level, Ethan figured his own transfiguration of poison into water would hold for about three to four hours.
For three to four hours, the liquid in Stryker's stomach would be nothing more than harmless H₂O. But when the spell wore off, the water would revert to its original state: a fatal, fast-acting neurotoxin. By then, they would be long gone. Stryker would simply collapse in his cell. The coroner would find a lethal, unknown substance in his system. An untraceable, magical murder.
The car pulled up to the grand entrance of the Triskelion. The doors opened, and they were greeted by a smiling Agent Maria Hill, flanked by a squad of armed agents.
"Professor Xavier, Director Fury is waiting for you upstairs," she said, her tone professionally courteous. "We'll take custody of William Stryker here."
"Of course, Agent Hill," Charles replied with a nod.
As two agents took Stryker by the arms, the Colonel turned and gave them all a final, sneering glare, a look that promised retribution. He wasn't worried. He knew he was too valuable to be left to rot.
Magneto watched him go, a look of profound disgust on his face at Charles's naive decision to let the man live. Then, across the bustling lobby, he caught Ethan's eye.
The boy gave him a single, almost imperceptible wink.
And in that instant, Magneto understood. The boy hadn't given up at all. He had just set a much longer, far more elegant trap. A slow, deeply appreciative smile spread across his face.
Powerstones plz