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The nap trap: promise yourself thirty minutes, wake up five hours later. That was Li Feng now. He cracked his eyes open to find the sun low in the sky—and the RV smelling faintly of cake.
Yawning, he shuffled to the kitchenette. "Skye? Didn't peg you as the baking type."
The girl flushed, tiny in oversized oven mitts. "Uncle… I was hungry. So, I made a cake."
She'd thought about leaving when the sirens wailed through town. But wandering into the night alone? Too risky. And Austin—strange, yes, but not dangerous. Just unreliable. Now, with her stomach growling, she'd raided his flour and tins.
Li Feng plucked the mitts from her hands, eyeing the cooling cake. "Could've woken me. I'd have taken you to a diner." He cut a slice, chewed, and blinked in surprise. Sweet and fluffy. "Not bad. Might have a career in this."
She smiled shyly. "As long as you like it. But… can we go home now? Robert must be worried."
"Right, right." He handed her the plate, slid into the driver's seat, and fired up the engine. "Let's get you back."
By the time they pulled up to the store, the bar next door was cordoned off with police tape. Li Feng wasn't shocked—he'd phoned the tip in himself. But the store's shutters were down tight.
"Still closed?" he muttered. Hospital visit dragged on? Or maybe the wife didn't make it.
Skye's voice was small. "What do we do?"
"I don't have his number," Li Feng admitted. He craned toward the second floor. "He give you a key?"
She shook her head.
Before they could decide, a woman strolled up with three uniformed cops. Red hair, civilian clothes, a sway in her step. She rapped on the driver's window. "You must be Mr. Austin."
Li Feng blinked. Familiar face. It took him a second too long to place her, then his pupils contracted. Black Widow.
She leaned in with a casual smile. "Natasha. Robert's niece. He must've mentioned me."
Niece? Li Feng's mind spat curses. Robert, you liar. She could be your grandmother. Out loud, he chuckled. "Of course. Heard of you."
Her sharp eyes caught the flinch. He knew exactly who she was. Interesting.
"I'm here for Skye," she said smoothly. "You didn't hear? Robert had an accident."
Li Feng raised his brows. "Accident? Overslept all afternoon, missed the news. Don't tell me his wife didn't make it, he panicked, dropped dead, and now they're both holding hands in heaven?"
Skye glared. Natasha's face stayed composed. "Something like that."
One officer shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to the girl. Not the place for gallows humor.
Natasha crouched to Skye's level. "Sweetheart, why don't you step out?" She tugged the driver's handle—locked.
Li Feng leaned back. "Locked for safety. Use the side door." Then, almost idly, "So… the black egg hatched yet?"
Her brows flicked. Black egg? Fury.
The side door opened. Skye climbed out, clutching the hula doll. Her voice trembled. "Uncle… can you adopt me? I don't want another new family."
Li Feng's throat tightened, words stuck. Natasha stepped in smoothly. "Skye, Austin can't. No job, no home. He can barely take care of himself."
Li Feng's jaw clenched. Barely take care of myself? Lady, one trinket from my stash could buy your agency.
Natasha smoothed Skye's hair, passing her to the officers. "Make sure she's placed safely."
The cops nodded, escorting her away.
Li Feng slid back into the seat, ready to peel out. But Natasha didn't follow Skye. She stood there; eyes locked on him.
Damn it. Fury's hound won't let go.
Tires squealed. He hit the gas.
A heavy thud landed on the roof. He checked the mirror—Natasha crouched low, blade buried in the metal for grip.
"Seriously?" he muttered. "On my roof?"
She braced herself, balanced and calm.
"Romanoff!" he barked, swerving. "You're a spy, not Spider-Man!"
Her voice cut steadily over the engine's roar. "Austin, I don't want a fight. I just want to talk."
He barked a laugh, throwing the RV into a wild spin, dishes clattering. "Funny. That's what Fury said before trying to cage me."
She held firm, nausea rising as he weaved the RV in dizzying arcs. Enhanced body or not, even she felt it.
"Can't shake you, huh?" Li Feng grinned. "Then let's try something new."
He flicked his hand. Ahead, the air split into a whirl of orange light—the rim of a portal.
"Hang on, darling," he called, gunning the engine. "Sunrise view incoming. Excited yet?"
Natasha's eyes narrowed. No machine. No device. The "wormhole" wasn't tech. It was him.
The RV barreled through. Natasha made her call in a heartbeat—pushed off, hit asphalt hard, rolled to her feet as the motorhome vanished in golden blaze.
Silence. Only the hum of collapsing light.
She straightened, dusting herself off, and keyed her comm. "Director. Good news and bad."
Fury's voice crackled. "Tell me you've got him."
"Bad news first. He slipped." Her lips curled faintly. "Good news—it's not a wormhole device. It's his ability."
Fury cursed low. One problem solved, another made worse.
The RV exploded out of the portal like a tossed coin, tumbling end over end. Li Feng whooped, exhilarated, and snapped another shimmering ring into existence before the vehicle could crater.
A second later the orange circle bloomed open above the barren deserts of Kunar Province. The RV shot out and slammed into the sand in a graceless skid.
Li Feng stumbled free, hands braced on his knees, panting—then threw back his head with a grin. "Now that's bungee jumping. Thrilling."
The desert wasn't a vacation spot, but that was the point. Out here, no one cared if he practiced black magic. After squeezing every last spell, he could from the demon Dobby, he'd buried himself in months of drills, half-botched rituals, and grueling repetition. Low-level dark sorcery, he had down. The high-tier incantations? Untouched. Without the Ancient One's filters, they were landmines waiting to blow.
Each day of isolation hardened his control. When the heat grew unbearable, he simply opened a saucer-sized portal to a mountain river and let cold water pour through for a makeshift shower.
Still, every world jump meant preparation. He couldn't leave the RV exposed. Mordo's gift had become sacred, his anchor. Scouring the dunes, he found a rocky cave, parked inside, set a warding circle, and triggered another portal.
The world yanked him through like milk through a straw.
Cold hit first—bone-deep, breath-fogging cold. Stone walls. Iron bars.
A prison cell.
"Great," Li Feng muttered. "Last time with Mordo, rats in an alley. Now a dungeon. What's next—straight into a coffin?"
He flicked his longblade, slicing through rusted bars. The door clanged open.
Across the corridor crouched another prisoner—massive, shoulders hunched to fit inside, shuddering like a child.
Li Feng rapped his sword on the bars. "Hey, pal. You a giant or a dwarf?"
The figure stirred. Tangled hair, thick beard, wary eyes. His voice was rough, thick with working-class vowels. "Are you from the Ministry of Magic? Did you open the Chamber? I don't want to stay in Azkaban anymore let me out!"
Li Feng froze. Ministry? Chamber? Azkaban?
"…And you are?"
The man straightened as much as the cramped cell allowed. "Rubeus Hagrid. Call me Hagrid, sir. This is Azkaban. Why are you here?"
Li Feng's pulse jumped. Hagrid. Hogwarts' gamekeeper. Flying motorbike. Keeper of beasts. A world packed with alchemy, charms, magical creatures—exactly the trove he'd been craving.
His mind leapt to schematics: enchant the RV to fly, expand the interior with an Undetectable Extension Charm, build a football-field–sized vault inside. Yes, please.
Only problem? He patted his robe, sighed. "Damn. Need wizarding cash. Gold Galleons."
He squinted at Hagrid. "Tell me—you know Harry Potter? He's at Hogwarts?"
Hagrid nodded firmly. "O' course I do. He's a student there now."
Relief surged. Perfect. Right timeline.
But a thought nagged. "Wait. Azkaban? Dementor prison. Don't recall Hagrid locked up here. Unless…" Parallel branch? Fake Potterverse?
He shrugged it off. Details didn't matter. Treasure did.
He kept walking. Then stopped. Another cell.
Inside crouched a gaunt man, hair matted, eyes hollow with despair.
Li Feng leaned on the bars, casual. "You must be Sirius Black. Fancy revenge? Because I know where Peter Pettigrew is." His smile turned thin. "Give me a third of your fortune, and I'll deliver him alive."
Black's head jerked up.
Li Feng tapped his chin. "Quarter, and I'll bring you, his corpse."
The prisoner's eyes snapped alight, burning with bloodlust. He lunged at the bars, clawing to reach. "Let me out! I'll kill him myself! Peter is mine!"
Li Feng grinned. Confirmation enough. Sirius Black. Which meant he'd landed exactly where he wanted: right time, right place, richest mark in the wizarding world desperate for help.
All that remained was to open the cell—and start cutting deals.
"Knockturn Alley," he murmured, eyes gleaming. "Here I come."
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