Magical Marvel: The Rise of Arthur Hayes

The sharp pops of apparition echoed through the ruined manor, growing louder and closer with each crackle of displaced air. Arthur, still trembling on the conservatory floor, turned his head weakly toward the sound. Figures materialized just outside the shattered doors, their long, dark cloaks absorbing the dim light like shadows given form.

Wands were drawn, held at the ready, their tips glowing with a faint, ethereal luminescence. The newcomers moved with a practiced, silent efficiency, fanning out, their eyes scanning the devastation, taking in the scene in rapid, professional sweeps. Despite the surreal nature of their attire in the modern setting of his home, they radiated an undeniable aura of authority, of competence, of... magic.

One of them, a woman with a stern, no-nonsense air about her, detached herself from the group and approached Arthur. Even in the dimly lit conservatory, he could see the sharp lines of her face, the unwavering directness of her gaze. She reminded him, eerily, of a character description he vaguely recalled from books he'd read in his previous life—Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This woman possessed the same aura of calm, unflappable authority.

By now Arthur, even in his dazed state, understood what had happened. He had unleashed accidental magic on his attackers. A bitter realization twisted in his gut—if only this latent power had manifested moments earlier, his parents might still be alive.

But there was something else too. If magical law enforcement existed here, alongside the technology and figures of the Marvel universe he'd already confirmed... this wasn't just the Marvel world. This was a crossover universe where both existed simultaneously.

The female Auror lowered her wand slightly as she neared, her sharp, intelligent eyes assessing him with a thoroughness that was both clinical and oddly compassionate—the kind of compassion one might expect from a seasoned investigator handling a traumatized witness rather than the warmth of a comforting adult.

"It's alright, son," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I'm Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We're here to help you."

Arthur blinked and managed a small, shaky nod. "My... my parents..." he stammered, his voice hoarse and thin. He trailed off, gesturing weakly towards the lifeless forms on the floor.

Amelia's gaze followed his gesture, her expression hardening almost imperceptibly. She took in the scene—the bodies of his parents, the mangled corpses of the intruders, the wrecked conservatory, the clear signs of something beyond mundane violence.

"We detected a significant magical signature in this location," she stated, her voice neutral, devoid of accusation, but undeniably pointed. "Did you do this?" She gestured toward the bodies of the attackers, her expression carefully controlled.

Arthur nodded slowly. "I don't know how," he whispered, allowing genuine confusion to enter his voice. "I was scared. Angry. It just... happened."

"Accidental magic," said another Auror, a younger man with a scarred face. "But Merlin's beard, I've never seen accidental magic do this."

"Power on this scale in a child his age..." a third Auror murmured, her wand moving in complex patterns as she performed what Arthur assumed were diagnostic spells. "Extraordinarily rare."

"The boy's in shock, Williamson," Bones said sharply. "Magical assessment can wait." She turned back to Arthur. "What's your name, child?"

"Arthur Hayes," he replied, allowing his voice to quaver.

"Arthur," Bones said gently, "I need to know what happened here. Can you tell me?"

Arthur began to recount the events, seeing no reason to lie when he was clearly the victim. He described the peaceful evening, the sudden intrusion, the masked figures, the gunfire, his parents falling. As he spoke, the memories flooded back with painful clarity, and to his surprise, his eyes welled up again and his voice became hoarse with genuine emotion.

Amelia listened intently, her gaze unwavering, her expression inscrutable. When he finished his disjointed account, she nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Then, she gestured to another Auror, who stepped forward and began to cast more elaborate spells, their wands weaving intricate patterns in the air, illuminating shimmering trails of residual energy.

"Definite accidental magic," the Auror confirmed after a moment. "Extremely powerful, but uncontrolled."

"Am I in trouble?" Arthur asked, voice small, innocent.

Amelia's expression softened slightly. "You did nothing wrong, Arthur. What happened was accidental magic—a natural defensive response when a young wizard is in danger. You couldn't control it, and you're not responsible for the outcome."

She paused, watching his face intently, gauging his reaction. "Are you aware... are you aware of magic, son? Of the wizarding world?"

He shook his head slowly, feigning the bewilderment expected of someone whose worldview was being upended. "Magic?" he whispered, his voice laced with a carefully crafted blend of fear and curiosity. "Like what is performed by stage magicians?"

"No," Amelia replied with gentle firmness. "Not illusions or tricks." She drew her wand, pointing it at a shattered side table nearby. "Reparo."

Before Arthur's eyes, the splintered wood gathered itself, fragments flying through the air, rejoining seamlessly, the entire table reconstructing itself as if the damage had never occurred. Even the bullet holes vanished, the polished surface becoming smooth and unblemished once more.

Arthur stared, letting his genuine amazement at seeing real magic for the first time show on his face.

"You are a wizard, son," Amelia said softly.

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Just then, another sound, distinct from the magical 'pops' of apparition, echoed through the ruined manor. The discreet hum of approaching vehicles. Cars stopping outside. Doors opening, closing. Footsteps approaching with measured precision.

The non-magical authorities had arrived.

Four plainly dressed figures entered the conservatory, their demeanor subtly different from the robed Aurors. No wands, no robes, but an air of quiet competence, a shared, unspoken understanding with the magical authorities already present. They were Muggles, but not ordinary ones. These were liaisons—agents operating in the shadows, aware of the magic that existed just beyond the veil of everyday reality.

The leader, a woman in her forties with sharp eyes and greying hair pulled back in a severe bun, approached Amelia Bones directly.

"Madam Bones," she greeted with a curt nod. "MI6, Supernatural Division. I'm Agent Harlow. We received the alert."

"Agent Harlow," Amelia returned the nod. "Five deceased Muggles, professional mercenaries by the look of them. Two civilian casualties, and one magical minor." She gestured toward Arthur.

"The boy's parents?" Harlow asked, her gaze briefly shifting to Arthur before returning to Bones.

"Yes," Amelia confirmed. "It appears to be a targeted attack. Mundane methods—firearms. The attackers were killed by a surge of accidental magic from the child."

Harlow nodded, seemingly unsurprised by this information. "We'll handle the non magical authorities. Official report will cite a home invasion gone wrong. Self-defense with improvised weapons." She turned toward Arthur, her expression softening marginally. "I'm sorry for your loss, young man."

Arthur nodded numbly, his mind racing beneath the facade of shock. The two groups, Aurors and MI6 agents, moved with practiced coordination around him, a silent ballet of inter-agency cooperation. Whispered conversations ensued, logistical arrangements being made. Cover stories for the local police, protocols for handling the bodies, procedures for managing the crime scene.

Arthur watched everything with exhausted detachment, his confusion slowly giving way to a chilling clarity. This world was far more complicated than he had imagined. The non-magical authorities were more aware of their magical counterparts than books had ever suggested. The Marvel Universe's technological advancements had apparently forced the wizarding world into a delicate cooperation with Muggle governments to maintain their secrecy.

As the adults continued their work, Arthur huddled in a shock blanket someone had draped over his shoulders, his eyes never leaving his parents' bodies. This world was far more dangerous than he had anticipated—a place where both magic and high-tech threats could destroy everything you loved in an instant.

And in that moment, as the reality of his situation truly sank in, Arthur made a silent vow. He would master both worlds—magic and technology. He would gain power enough to ensure that no one could ever hurt him again. And one day, when he was strong enough, he would find out who had sent these men and why.

One day, they would pay.