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The book in the Map Chamber was a revelation. It wasn't just a history; it was a confession. A hundred years ago, a fifth-year transfer student named Isidora Morganach, along with her mentor, Professor Percival Rackham, had discovered how to see and manipulate a rare, ancient, and powerful form of magic—the very magic that Hermione had been hunting.
It's a power that feeds on emotion, Hermione pieced together, her mind racing as she absorbed the forgotten history. Isidora wanted to use it to take away pain, but she became addicted to it, corrupted by it. Rackham and the other guardians had to stop her. They defeated her, but they couldn't destroy the power itself. So they sealed it away.
"She sealed it in a vault," Hermione whispered, her eyes fixed on the final, cryptic entry in the book. "A vault hidden deep in the valley, beneath the school."
She closed the book, her heart hammering with a new, singular purpose. She said a quick, perfunctory goodbye to Tom, who was still admiring his new, semi-solid form, and left the Chamber of Secrets.
She didn't wait. She didn't hesitate. She strode from the castle, her new wand in hand, and with a powerful kick against the flagstones, she launched herself into the night sky. The Cyberpunk 2077 broom, with its Stark-enhanced thrusters, carried her across the Scottish highlands at a blistering speed.
She followed the map in her mind, the one from the forgotten book, until she reached a deep, mist-shrouded valley a few miles from the school. According to the records, the entrance to the final vault was here. She landed in a dark, overgrown mine entrance, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and a faint, ozone crackle of dormant magic.
The entrance was blocked by a massive, seamless slab of rock, sealed not just by its own weight, but by a powerful, ancient enchantment. She could feel it, a deep, resonant hum that vibrated in her very bones. This was it.
She raised her wand, no longer the simple vine wood stick of a schoolgirl, but the dark, Uru-metal staff of a conqueror. She didn't bother with a simple unlocking charm. She pressed the tip of the wand to the stone and channeled her own, formidable, Level 4 magical core into it.
"Bombarda Maxima!"
The explosion was not a simple bang; it was a deafening, earth-shattering concussion that shook the entire valley. The ancient stone, which had resisted the passage of a century, was blasted into a cloud of dust and rubble.
She walked into the darkness beyond, her wand illuminating a long, deep, and perfectly silent tunnel. She walked for what felt like miles, descending deep into the earth, until the tunnel opened into a vast, natural cavern.
And there, in the center, it was.
It was not a treasure chest. It was not a magical artifact. It was a swirling, flowing, living vortex of pure, unrefined creation. A nebula of black and red energy, a liquid galaxy of pure, raw, emotional magic, contained in a shimmering, invisible sphere. It was the power that Isidora had tried to hoard, the power the guardians had died to seal away. It was the source.
Hermione approached it, her heart pounding. The air crackled, and her hair stood on end. She could feel the thing calling to her, a siren song of infinite power, a promise of godhood.
She reached out a single, trembling finger.
The moment her skin made contact with the containment field, the grimoire in her mind roared to life. It was not a gentle hum of analysis; it was a hungry, ravenous, and overpowering scream. A tidal wave of pure, irresistible suction erupted from her very soul.
The black and red vortex of power convulsed. It fought for a moment, like a living creature being dragged into a net, but it was no match for the cosmic, parasitic nature of her grimoire. The vortex was torn from its ancient prison, collapsing in on itself, stretching into a long, brilliant thread of black and red light that shot directly into Hermione's mind.
And then, the world exploded.
[Ancient Magic: Elemental Control (Lv. 1)]
[Ancient Magic: Force Manipulation (Lv. 1)]
[Ancient Magic: Soul Shield (Lv. 1)]
[Ancient Magic: Power Link (Lv. 1)]
She fell to her knees, a cry of pure, agonizing ecstasy ripped from her throat. The power was overwhelming, a flood of new knowledge, new senses, new abilities so profound it was almost too much to bear. She felt the earth beneath her, the very atoms of the stone. She felt the air, the wind, the distant rumble of thunder. She could fly. Not on a broom. Her body itself could dissolve into a storm of black and red energy, a living tempest.
She felt the concept of force, of pushing and pulling reality itself with a thought. She felt a cold, hard, and absolute silence settle over her soul, an impenetrable shield that would make her immune to any mental or spiritual attack. And she felt a new, strange connection, the ability to link targets, to share effects, to…
An Avada Kedavra chain-lightning, she thought, a giddy, hysterical laugh bubbling up in her chest.
Marvel Universe.
She appeared in a flash of orange sparks, not in Tony's workshop, but high above the streets of New York, the faint, acrid smell of smoke and ozone in the air. She was here to see Fury, to continue the squeeze for more materials, but a new, more interesting development had presented itself.
Below her, a battle was raging. Steel drones, dozens of them, were swarming through the air, their weapons firing indiscriminately. And on the ground, in a small, domed garden, two familiar suits of armor—Iron Man and War Machine—were fighting back-to-back against a new, more powerful foe. A man in a massive, bird-like suit of armor, wielding two crackling, incandescent whips of pure, plasma energy.
"Whiplash," she murmured, recognizing the climax of the Iron Man 2 plot. So Tony solved his little poisoning problem without me.
She watched, amused, as the three men battered each other. It was a clumsy, brutish, and deeply inefficient fight. Finally, she sighed. This was taking too long.
She raised her new, dark silver wand, its icy core thrumming with power. She pointed it at Ivan Vanko.
"Expelliarmus."
The spell was silent, wandless, and invisible. It struck the Whiplash armor with the force of a conceptual sledgehammer. The suit, an intricate web of interlocking plates, circuits, and weapons, was instantly identified as a "weapon."
And it came apart.
With a sound like a high-speed car crash, the entire suit simply… disintegrated. Rivets popped, plates flew off, and the plasma whips sputtered and died. Ivan Vanko, who a second ago had been a god of destruction, was suddenly just a confused, half-naked Russian man, standing in the middle of a garden, completely bewildered.
Rhodey, in his War Machine suit, just stared. "What the…?" he began. "Did that suit just fall apart? Was that Hammer tech?"
Ivan Vanko just looked at his empty hands, a look of profound, soul-deep confusion on his face. He nodded slowly.
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .