Magical Marvel: The Rise of Arthur Hayes

As the Hogwarts Express rumbled northward through the English countryside, Arthur Hayes sat alone in his compartment, the familiar landscape blurring past the window. The brief encounter with Potter and his friends had stirred memories he usually kept carefully compartmentalized.

With a quiet sigh, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small silver pocket watch. The timepiece wasn't particularly expensive or magical—just a simple Muggle antique that most wizards would dismiss as worthless. But to Arthur, it was priceless.

He clicked it open, revealing not a clock face but a photograph: a smiling couple with a young boy between them, all three beaming at the camera in front of an elegant London home. Arthur's thumb brushed over their faces, his expression momentarily softening before the mask of indifference settled back into place. Such moments of vulnerability were reserved for solitude—a luxury rarely afforded in the wizarding world where portraits could gossip and ghosts drifted through walls without warning.

Arthur Hayes had not always been Arthur Hayes.

Before this life, he had existed in another world entirely—a world where Harry Potter was nothing more than fictional stories created for entertainment. The memories of that previous existence had faded with time, becoming fragmented and dream-like, but they remained, shaping him in ways he couldn't fully articulate.

—

His rebirth had been abrupt and disorienting: darkness, a floating sensation, and then sudden, terrifying awareness inside the body of a newborn infant. Unable to move with any coordination or communicate, trapped in a helpless form while possessing the consciousness of an adult. His first memory in this new existence was the harsh light of a hospital room, unfamiliar voices speaking in British accents, and a woman's exhausted but joyful face looming above him.

"He's perfect," the woman had whispered, eyes brimming with tears. "Look at those eyes, Richard. So alert already."

"Takes after his mother," a man had replied fondly. "Brilliant from day one."

Sarah and Richard Hayes. His new parents. The photograph in his pocket watch captured them as they had been—alive, vibrant, proud. Unaware that their newborn son was anything but ordinary.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Arthur began to piece together fragments of his new reality. He was in London, in the late 20th century. His parents were ordinary people—a middle-class couple who had no idea that their newborn son was anything but ordinary. They named him Arthur, a name that felt both familiar and foreign to him. He couldn't remember his old name, but he knew it wasn't Arthur.

The Hayes family lived in a comfortable townhouse in Kensington, London. Richard ran a successful accounting firm with several prominent clients, while Sarah lectured in economics at Imperial College. They were educated, cultured, financially secure—and utterly clueless about the unique nature of their child's consciousness.

From his earliest days in this new life, Arthur had been careful to develop at a seemingly natural but accelerated pace. He spoke his first words at six months, read by age three, and demonstrated a prodigious memory that his proud parents attributed to good genes and early education. But Arthur knew better. He was playing a long game, and he wasn't going to waste this second chance.

Given his rebirth in London, Arthur had initially assumed he was in the Harry Potter universe. The possibility excited and terrified him in equal measure. If Hogwarts existed, if magic was real, then so too would be the dangers of that world—Dark Lords, magical wars, blood prejudice. He needed to prepare.

But his attempts at performing accidental magic yielded nothing. He even stayed awake on Halloween night in 1981, when he was four years old, to watch for any signs of celebration—the night Voldemort was supposedly vanquished by the Potters. There were no fireworks, no cloaked figures dancing in the streets. If this world contained Hogwarts and magic, it was as hidden from Muggles as it was supposed to be.

Still, the possibility lingered in his mind. In the meantime, he focused on what he could control—growing up healthy, exercising regularly, and accelerating through the early years of childhood as efficiently as possible.

—

Years passed, and Arthur turned six. He had already begun to make a name for himself in the neighbourhood. His parents marveled at his intelligence, at the way he devoured books and solved problems that were far beyond his years. They enrolled him in the best schools, encouraged his curiosity, and did everything they could to nurture his talents.

It was at this age that his carefully constructed understanding of his new reality first began to crack. 

The morning remained vivid in his memory. Sitting at the breakfast table, his mother reading the newspaper while his father prepared toast. Arthur had been idly watching the television in the corner—BBC News reporting on international events—when the screen changed to show a press conference.

"...and now we go live to New York, where Howard Stark, founder of Stark Industries, is about to address concerns over the company's new defense contract with the Pentagon..."

Arthur froze, orange juice halfway to his mouth. Howard Stark. Not a fictional character, but a real person, making headlines on the morning news.

"Mother," he asked carefully, setting down his glass, "who is Howard Stark?"

Sarah Hayes glanced up from her paper. "One of those American industrialists, darling. Built his fortune during the war, I believe. Weapons manufacturer primarily. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Arthur replied, his mind racing as he watched the unmistakable figure of Howard Stark—older than his movie depictions but recognizable nonetheless—approach a podium.

That single moment shattered all his assumptions. He was not in the Harry Potter world. He had been reborn into the much more dangerous Marvel Universe, where heroes, villains, and gods were commonplace.

This revelation made Arthur rethink all his plans for the future. In the Marvel world, being an ordinary human meant vulnerability—unless you carved out your own path to power. He had already checked his ancestry on both sides and knew for sure he wasn't descended from any aliens or likely to inherit superpowers. His path to significance was clear: technology or enhancement. And for both, what he needed was knowledge and money.

After that revelation, Arthur redirected his focus with laser precision. Academics became his first battleground. He threw himself into his studies with a fervor that startled his teachers and delighted his parents. Grade skipping became the norm as he flew through primary school, his age a constant mismatch with his academic level. His parents, initially hesitant about his accelerated education, were soon convinced by his unwavering logic and the undeniable proof of his advanced intellect.

Alongside academic pursuits, physical prowess became essential. The Marvel world was not a place where brains alone guaranteed survival. He convinced his parents to enroll him in a well-regarded London dojo that taught a pragmatic blend of martial arts. He wanted practical skills, not just forms and katas. The dojo became his second classroom, where he trained with a focus and intensity that impressed his instructors and intimidated fellow students.

Then came the financial aspect. Building a tech empire required capital. He began dropping carefully crafted "insights" during dinner conversations with his father—casual remarks about emerging technologies, undervalued stocks, and market trends. These "hunches," as he called them, yielded substantial returns, transforming his father's small accounting firm into Hayes Investment Strategies, a boutique investment firm catering to wealthy clients.

Everything had been proceeding perfectly according to plan. With the Wall Street crash of 1987 successfully navigated thanks to Arthur's subtle warnings, the Hayes family fortune had grown substantially. Another few years, and Arthur would have been positioned to enter university early, perhaps intern at Stark Industries or another tech giant, and begin building the foundations for his true ambitions.

Then came the night that changed everything—the night Arthur discovered that this world held more dangers than he had anticipated, and that his carefully constructed plans weren't the only ones in motion.

The pocket watch snapped shut, pulling Arthur back to the present. Outside, fields gave way to dense, rugged forests as the train pushed northward. Memories of his parents always left a hollow ache, like an old injury flaring in bad weather.

He tucked the watch carefully back into his pocket and returned to his notebook, forcing himself to focus on equations and diagrams that could bridge magic and technology. The past was fixed, immutable. Only the future mattered now, and Arthur Hayes intended to shape it exactly as he wished, no matter what obstacles stood in his path.