Marvel's Hogwarts Professor

USA, New York.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

High-speed rotor blades sliced through the air, whipping up fierce gusts as a helicopter descended slowly onto a rooftop. Alexander Pierce, former director of S.H.I.E.L.D., shielded his face from the forceful wind with his right hand, hurrying toward the helicopter with an uncharacteristic urgency.

Two Hydra soldiers in black combat uniforms followed closely, scanning their surroundings with heightened vigilance, ready to face any sudden threat.

Once Pierce boarded, he gave a brief wave, prompting the soldiers to follow him inside. The helicopter door slid shut, and they swiftly took off.

"Report the current situation, Dr. Zola," Pierce said, his face set in a stern expression as he spoke into his phone.

"There's good news and bad news, Pierce. Which do you want first?" replied a slightly mechanical voice over the helicopter's built-in speakers.

Relieved by the tone, Pierce relaxed slightly. If Zola could still attempt humor, it meant the worst hadn't yet happened. Yet, regret pricked at Pierce's mind. Attacking the wizard professor was a mistake. His greed had driven him to it, and now he was paying the price.

His expression darkened.

"Sir, Mr. Pierce," the voice continued in an almost mocking tone, "according to our previous arrangement within Hydra, I extracted vital information before Strucker's will was…altered."

Zola's enjoyment was evident. His rivalry with Strucker was well-known within Hydra, spurred by Strucker's relentless attempts to study and dissect Zola's intelligence, or even his original body, like a specimen. But allies such as Pierce, unwilling to let Strucker succeed, had kept Zola safe.

"Enough, Zola. Explain the situation," Pierce ordered, his tone cold. He anticipated Zola's reluctance and warned, "Don't make me use the highest authority."

A subtle shift in Zola's tone revealed his understanding. He knew all too well the severity of those consequences. His tone resumed its original mechanical detachment, reporting each detail with precision.

"Following the Hydra protocol, along with measures previously implemented in Strucker's base, I observed the entire process of his…alteration by the wizard professor. Analysis of the event, combined with other data and historical context, suggests that Lockhart's method involved a form of soul enslavement. However, without sufficient samples, we lack data on potential countermeasures."

As Zola spoke, Pierce's expression grew darker with each word. Hydra's protocols, designed for just such contingencies, ensured that if any member faced a threat, their associates would receive a warning. Zola, as Hydra's AI, would then assess and decide on either containment or elimination.

It was a pact they had all agreed upon—one that kept their collective power and secrets safe.

"So, Zola, are you certain Strucker was…enslaved?" Pierce asked, hoping for clarification. "Did he transmit any useful information to us?"

Zola hesitated, his synthetic voice tinged with a hint of fear. "As I said, the measures I implemented in Strucker's base confirm the leak of our intelligence. Unfortunately, our surveillance seems to have been detected by the wizard professor, and all contact with Strucker's base has ceased."

For the first time in his digital existence, Zola felt the sharp edge of fear. While Pierce's control could only quarantine him in a dormant data state, Lockhart's powers posed a threat to his very essence.

Pierce, absorbed in thought, considered the unfolding implications of Strucker's betrayal. Hydra's entire network was in jeopardy, and there was a very real risk his own identity could be revealed. This mess could spell disaster for all of them, he realized grimly.

Fortunately, Strucker knew little about Hydra's middle- and upper-tier operatives. Small mercies, Pierce thought.

"What's the 'good news' you mentioned earlier, Zola?" he asked, suddenly recalling the AI's earlier words.

Zola paused. "Pierce, the good news is that, based on all available data, Wizard Professor hasn't yet pinpointed your exact location. However, your robot doubles are at high risk of exposure and may even become focal points for a search."

Pierce's brow creased in thought. He understood how Strucker had been tracked down, and the decision was now his—risk his valuable proxies or pull them in.

If he recalled the robots, his losses would be substantial. The Insight Project he'd been pressing Fury to support might also have to be shelved.

"Recall all robot stand-ins. Move them to safe houses and initiate the self-destruct protocol if compromised," Pierce commanded, his voice hardened by resignation. Given the wizard's unreasonable powers, it was time for him to sever his assets.

In his mind, he accepted that his identity might eventually be exposed to S.H.I.E.L.D. But if he was going down, he wasn't about to make it easy for Lockhart.

As Pierce plotted, Zola's voice echoed once more.

"Pierce, the other Hydra leaders have convened a meeting regarding Strucker's status."

The AI's voice grew curious. "There's more, though it's unconfirmed. Madam Hydra reportedly has ties to a sorcerer—a disciple of Dormammu, apparently—who may have information on Lockhart, perhaps even a past grudge."

Sokovia, Hydra's Underground Base.

Silver walls gleamed under the artificial light, polished machinery lining the halls, filling the base with an ultra-modern, almost futuristic atmosphere.

Lockhart strolled leisurely through the facility, his gaze scanning his surroundings with satisfaction. Strucker walked beside him, acting as tour guide with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"Master, this is a mid-tier weapons storage room," Strucker announced. "It holds enough arms for one hundred personnel."

He gestured to another room. "Here's the lab for our Super Soldier Project."

Strucker continued his tour with pride, as if he were showing off a priceless artifact. His loyalty, sealed by the golden mark, transformed him into Lockhart's ardent follower.

Lockhart nodded approvingly at each room. The base's extensive facilities, constructed at a staggering cost, left him impressed.

But his primary focus now was on consolidating Strucker's forces—and keeping them from being snatched by other Hydra leaders. Lockhart had, after all, glimpsed Hydra's intricate structure through Strucker's own words.

"Master, all relevant data is backed up, and I can transfer the authority at any time," Strucker informed him, his voice filled with deference. "It only requires facial recognition to complete the process."

Lockhart raised a hand, cutting him off. "First, secure everything in the base. I have tasks for you."

He handed Strucker a parchment covered with names, herbs, and metals, each accompanied by a detailed illustration.

"These materials are to be gathered worldwide. Notify me once you have updates," he instructed.

Strucker bowed deeply. "Consider it done, Master."

While Lockhart's curiosity about technology was limited, the promise of Chaos Magic intrigued him deeply. In his recent battle, Chaos Magic had proved invaluable, enabling everything from precision strikes over long distances to causal curses and mystical tracking.

Though these feats were technically possible with traditional magic, the energy required would have been staggering. Chaos Magic, however, operated with such natural efficiency, achieving powerful effects with minimal expenditure.

Once satisfied with his inspection of the base, Lockhart left Strucker to his tasks.

Inside the Magical Suitcase.

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff sat quietly, Pietro on the edge of the bed, bouncing lightly on the mattress.

"Wanda, this bed is so soft!" he exclaimed, testing it eagerly.

"Be still, Pietro," Wanda chided, her voice firm. "Professor Lockhart won't be back for a while."

At her reprimand, Pietro stilled, though his eyes remained alight with curiosity, taking in every detail of their surroundings.

Wanda shared his sense of wonder. She and Pietro had come here after Lockhart's conversation with Coulson, escaping to the suitcase's inner space with its blend of safety and mystery.

Wanda's thoughts drifted to Lockhart's potential. She had heard enough to suspect that the professor saw more in them than mere allies. Her pulse quickened with anticipation. What if they could master magic, too? It could be a means of protection—and perhaps more, a source of wonder.

She rose and moved toward the window, her gaze drifting to the vast lawns beyond, where strange creatures roamed.

Some were recognizable—a few leopards, several snakes—but most were exotic, creatures unlike any she'd ever seen. A flock of bright blue birds flashed past, their feathers shimmering, while peculiar balloon-like beings floated lazily, as if weightless.

Suddenly, a small, sharp voice called out.

"Miss Wanda, Mr. Pietro, what can Coffy get you to eat?"

They turned to see a creature with large ears and a stout frame—Coffy, Lockhart's loyal house-elf.

"Who are you?" Pietro asked, startled by the elf's sudden appearance.

"I am Coffy, the esteemed servant of Professor Gilderoy Lockhart," the elf declared proudly, puffing out his chest. "I manage all my master's needs."

Wanda's curiosity deepened. She exchanged a glance with Pietro before addressing Coffy. "Mr. Coffy, Professor Lockhart sent us here and mentioned he'd be back later. Do you know why he brought us here?"

Coffy shook his head. "I know nothing of that, Miss Wanda. Now, would you like something to eat?"

Disappointed but undeterred, Wanda nodded. "Yes, please, Mr. Coffy. We'd like some food."

The elf's eyes sparkled as he nodded vigorously, then gestured for them to follow him.

Within minutes, they were seated before a lavish spread—chicken legs, fish, an assortment of vegetables—all prepared to perfection.

As the delicious aroma filled the room, Pietro and Wanda's stomachs rumbled, and they eagerly dug into the feast. Coffy looked on, his expression a mixture of pride and slight disdain for their enthusiasm.

Outside, a blue-feathered bird named Sunny sensed the scent of food wafting from the room. Flapping his wings, he drifted toward the table, his tiny beak twitching.

With a playful flick of his wings, Sunny summoned a bit of magic, levitating a piece of braised fish from the table toward himself. Pietro and Wanda looked on, captivated by the small creature with its vibrant feathers and mischievous eyes.

Sunny met their gaze, calling out with a chirp that seemed to say, "Stop staring and eat, won't you?"

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