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Kaecilius's body trembled violently, his vitality ebbing away. He looked at Hermione, desperate for a lifeline but deeply suspicious of the hand offering it.
"Immortality?" he gasped, shaking his head weakly. "No sorcerer in history has achieved true immortality. Even the Ancient One simply extends her time. How… how could you do it?"
Hermione shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the terrifying offer she was making. "All you know is the Ancient One's method, Uncle Mads. But my magic operates on different principles."
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a seductive, reasonable whisper. "Look, you're going to die anyway. Your soul is currently being foreclosed on by Dormammu. Why not try my method? It can't get any worse than eternal torment in the Dark Dimension, can it?"
Kaecilius looked down at his disintegrating hands. The tearing sensation in his soul was agonizing. He had no leverage. It was a gamble between oblivion and the unknown.
"Alright," he whispered, his voice gaining a hint of resolve. "You're not wrong. I accept." He looked up, a flicker of pride remaining. "And my name is Kaecilius. Not 'Uncle Mads'."
"Okay, Uncle Hannibal. I understand, Uncle Hannibal."
Kaecilius: "???"
"Never mind, pop culture reference. Not important." Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "Do you have a Totem? Something you cherish above all else?"
Kaecilius paused, surprised by the question. With trembling hands, he reached into his robes and pulled out a worn, slightly crumpled photograph. It showed a woman and a child—his deceased wife and son. The root of his obsession. The reason he feared death.
Hermione nodded. Perfect.
She didn't chant. She didn't draw a mandala. She simply raised her wand and poked him in the chest.
"Exanimo Anima."
WHOOSH.
Kaecilius's soul was ripped cleanly from his body. It wasn't the messy, agonizing tearing of Dormammu. It was surgical. A silver light flashed as Hermione severed a fragment of his soul and bound it instantly to the photograph. It was as easy as cutting a slice of cake.
One minute later.
The dark purple corruption vanished. Kaecilius stood there—or rather, floated there—staring blankly at his own physical corpse on the floor. He looked down at his translucent hands, then at the photograph lying on the table, which now pulsed with a faint, sinister aura. He felt the connection. He was anchored.
He finally understood what Hermione meant by "immortality."
A Horcrux, he realized, though he didn't know the term. This is necromancy. This is darker than anything the Ancient One ever taught.
But… he felt relief. The gnawing hunger of the Dark Dimension was gone. He was dead, yet he remained. He was free of Dormammu.
"How's it going, Uncle Mads? Not bad, right?" Hermione's smug voice broke his reverie. "Much better than being an interdimensional snack."
She walked right through his spectral arm and patted his shoulder. "Now, since I saved you from eternal damnation, you work for me. Go gather the other zealots. Destroy the three Sanctums. Summon Dormammu."
Kaecilius's spectral eyes widened in shock. "What?! You want me to summon him? I thought you wanted to stop him!"
Hermione smiled, a look of pure, chaotic ambition. "Trust the process, Uncle Mads. Just open the door. I'll handle the guest."
New York, The Ruins of the Stark Villa.
Hermione Apparated back to the cliffside, the smell of smoke still heavy in the air. Pepper and Maya were safe with S.H.I.E.L.D., but she needed to check the site one last time.
Suddenly, her magical senses flared. A group of distinct heat signatures was moving stealthily through the wreckage.
More visitors? Her lips curled into a cold smile. People never learn.
BANG!
The front door of the ruined living area was kicked open. A squad of fully armed tactical soldiers rushed in, their movements precise and aggressive.
"Target is not here!" the lead soldier shouted, scanning the empty room. "Intelligence said she returned!"
"Ahem," a crisp, polite voice said from the shadows. "The intelligence was correct. I'm right here."
The soldiers spun around, weapons raised. Hermione slowly materialized from thin air, sitting on a piece of rubble, looking bored.
"Target acquired! Capture her!" the leader yelled. He knew she had tricks, but he was confident. He was enhanced. He was Extremis.
Two soldiers rushed her, moving with superhuman speed.
Hermione didn't move. She just flicked her wand.
"Fiendfyre!"
It wasn't normal fire. A torrent of living, cursed flame erupted from her wand, twisting instantly into the shape of a giant, screaming phoenix. The fire bird flapped its wings, unleashing a wave of heat so intense it turned the concrete to glass.
The two rushing soldiers didn't even scream. They were instantly engulfed, their enhanced regeneration utterly overwhelmed by the magical fire that consumed flesh, bone, and soul. They turned to ash in seconds.
Only the leader remained standing. His skin glowed with a violent, unstable orange-red light as the Extremis virus fought to heal the burns, but he was terrified.
"Huh," Hermione mused, extinguishing the phoenix with a thought. "An Extremis warrior. You handle heat better than most."
The leader stared at her, his legs trembling. He watched his squad get vaporized. He looked at the small girl, and the realization hit him like a physical blow. The Witch of New York.
"You… you…" he stammered.
"I… I surrender!" He dropped his weapon, throwing his hands up. "Please! I was just following orders! I'm not paid enough for this!"
Hermione chuckled. "Smart choice. You have some nerve, trying to kidnap me. Even Hydra doesn't return my calls anymore. You AIM boys are really 'special' forces, aren't you?"
The soldier was on the verge of tears. "Killian sent us! He wants you for leverage against Stark!"
"Killian," Hermione nodded. "Perfect. I was just wondering where he was hiding."
She walked up to the trembling super-soldier. "I won't kill you. You're going to be my taxi."
She raised her wand, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light.
"Imperio!"
The soldier's expression went blank. The fear vanished, replaced by a blissful, mindless obedience.
"Take me to Killian," Hermione commanded.
A Massive Cargo Ship, The Docks.
Aldrich Killian stood on the deck of the Norco, looking down at the pier as a black SUV pulled up.
"Sir," his earpiece crackled. "The extraction team is back. They have the target."
Killian smiled. Everything was falling into place. He would break Stark, then he would dissect the witch.
The door of the SUV opened, and the Extremis soldier stepped out. Behind him walked a small girl in pajamas.
Killian's smile widened. He had no idea he had just invited the Grim Reaper onto his boat.