Marvel's Hogwarts Professor

"Damn it!" Snape muttered under his breath, feeling the unsettling distortion in the surrounding space.

He had only just received word that Ian's team was under attack and had immediately used the Apparation spell to rush to their aid. But as soon as he cast it, he sensed a strange force disrupting the area. If he hadn't reacted swiftly to stabilize his surroundings, he could have been severely injured.

This was no ordinary interference—it was a trap.

An instant realization struck him, and he quickly opened communication with Steve Rogers, instructing him to gather the students and retreat to the central command room. At the same time, he reached out to Lockhart for backup.

After receiving Lockhart's assurance, Snape glanced once more toward Ian's location. If teleportation was off the table, he'd get there by other means. Determined, he tightened his grip on his wand.

"Black Mist!"

In a breath, Snape's form dissolved into a dense black mist that surged forward, streaking across the open space and fading into the distance. It was a skill he'd learned during his time serving under Voldemort—a dark magic that allowed swift, spectral travel.

The mist weaved through the hallways, gliding past doors and windows, which trembled and cracked as he passed, leaving jagged holes edged with a faint, corrosive residue. It was a volatile magic, lethal to anyone in its path.

Several Hydra soldiers noticed the eerie mist and opened fire, but the bullets passed harmlessly through Snape's form. He had no time to waste on these Muggles, and anyone in his way suffered the consequences as he moved through them. Within seconds, lifeless, desiccated bodies were left in his wake, and the sight sent shudders of terror through the others nearby.

Following the trail of his magical marker, Snape finally reached the base's armory hall. Relief washed over him as he glimpsed the familiar sight of the thunder cage that entrapped the so-called worshippers of the "Dark God."

"Thank Merlin they're safe."

"Ian, I'm here!" Snape's voice echoed as he reappeared in human form, striding swiftly toward the young wizards.

"Professor Snape! You made it!" called out one of Ian's teammates, her face brightening. The others, too, shared her look of relief.

Snape scanned their faces, sensing the strain they had been under. "Stay calm," he said in a low, steady voice, offering reassurance. "Remember what I taught you in class. Reach for the magic, call upon your emotions."

With a wave of his wand, he took over the control of the spell, strengthening the runes in mid-air and amplifying the cage's power. The thunder cage hummed and pulsed with renewed intensity, at least doubling its strength.

Inside the cage, Jax, Dormammu's disciple, had stopped his assault and now watched Snape intently. The dark sorcerer licked his lips, a glint of greed flickering in his eyes as he sensed the dark desires and buried emotions within Snape.

Through the vast power of Dormammu, Jax could clearly perceive the powerful darkness within Snape—a well of suppressed hatred, ambition, and old scars.

If he could turn Snape to Dormammu's worship, it would be a major victory. Not only would he gain a formidable ally, but Dormammu would reward him handsomely for such a valuable convert.

Savoring the opportunity, Jax decided to alter his approach. If Lockhart arrived in time, he'd be ready. But if not, this could be an even greater prize.

Leaning back, Jax sat cross-legged in the center of the cage, casting a calculating gaze at Snape.

"Mr. Snape, may I address you as I like?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. He kept his focus on maintaining the cage's integrity, but Jax's voice crept into his mind like an oily tendril.

"Allow me to introduce you to a magnificent being," Jax continued, his voice laced with reverence. "One who rules the vast and all-encompassing dark dimension, spanning countless realms. He is the master of the shadows and the true source of dark magic: Dormammu."

Snape's eyes glinted, but he remained silent. His students were straining under the pressure, and he couldn't allow his mind to be distracted.

"Focus," he said sharply to the students. "Keep your minds clear and steady. Don't let outside voices sway you."

A few of them exchanged nervous glances, but they nodded, each attempting to ignore the lingering whispers.

But Jax's voice slipped back into Snape's mind, calm yet insistent.

"Fear not, Snape," he whispered, "our words are for you alone. Your students can hear nothing."

Snape's heart skipped, and he could feel his skin prickle with unease. His Occlumency defenses should have shielded him, yet Jax had found a way through. It was an unsettling reminder of the dark arts' danger, and even more, Dormammu's power.

"As sorcerers, we should maintain an open perspective about the source of our magic," Jax continued in a low, persuasive tone. "You may not have joined Kamar Taj, but sorcery is all the same. The practitioners there worship Vishanti, while we honor Dormammu."

Snape's face remained a mask of indifference, refusing to acknowledge the lure of Jax's words.

"A sorcerer of your stature, Mr. Snape, should know better than to cling to the limitations of the novice stage," Jax pressed, his voice swelling with fervor. "The gods are vast and generous. Through Dormammu, I have gained powers beyond imagining. I hold not only strength but also eternal life."

A faint smirk tugged at Snape's lips. He was well aware of the temptation in Jax's words but knew better than to bite. As long as he could keep the disciple talking, he'd buy more time.

"Eternal life, Mr. Snape," Jax said passionately. "As long as Dormammu lives, I live as well."

"Eternal life, you say?" Snape responded finally, his tone mockingly skeptical. "And what, pray tell, does this 'generous' Dark Lord offer in exchange?"

Jax grinned, satisfied that Snape had responded. "My Lord Dormammu offered me life when I was marked for death, stricken with a terminal illness," he replied. "Cancer was devouring my body. I had only six months to live. But Dormammu answered my pleas. He gave me power, strength—life."

Snape held his composure, attempting to draw the conversation out even further, all the while continuing to mentally communicate with Lockhart.

Where on earth is that damned man? Am I to be converted to Dormammu's service just to avoid this fool's endless prattling?

Snape thought with irritation. To him, Jax seemed no different from the mindless followers of Voldemort who clung to their deluded ideals of pureblood supremacy and Voldemort's supposed greatness. It was all blind faith, with Jax trading the cause of purebloods for Dormammu's dark promise.

But then Jax's words pierced through his thoughts with sudden clarity. "Dormammu's power is limitless. He can resurrect life itself, and creation is a mere whim to him."

Snape stiffened at the words, the briefest flicker of interest crossing his face before he could suppress it.

Meanwhile, in the Hydra base's central command room, Steve Rogers stood with his shield at the ready, scanning the area with a watchful eye.

He had received updates that both Ian's and Vera's teams had been ambushed by dark disciples. By all accounts, his team should be next. Yet, the only interference they had faced so far had come from a few Hydra agents who were quickly dealt with.

Experience had taught him that when things felt too quiet, it often meant something far worse was about to unfold.

Behind Steve, a figure loomed within the shadows, hidden from sight. It was Maurice, another of Dormammu's disciples, who had been given a similar mission: to draw Lockhart into the open by applying pressure.

Maurice muttered in frustration, "Damn it..."

The chaos of the Hydra base's fractured space was Maurice's own handiwork. He'd used the disruption to enter stealthily, but now he found himself trapped by his own rift, unable to phase back into the physical plane. Every attempt to draw on Dormammu's power only increased the instability, risking a fatal backlash.

It was infuriating—what should have been a straightforward mission had turned into a prison of his own making. And to his dismay, he couldn't even communicate with the outside. All he could do was watch helplessly.

As he seethed, Maurice failed to notice a young wizard in the group behind Steve turn to glance in his direction, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he played idly with his wand.

Meanwhile, Steve led the wizards toward the command room. As soon as they entered, he caught sight of Vera and her team.

Vera stood at the forefront, casting a silver-white shield that shimmered with defensive magic. Across from her, a figure draped in dark robes exuded a sinister energy, one of Dormammu's disciples watching them with an unsettling grin.

Knowing the stakes, Vera was focused entirely on defense, awaiting her mentor's arrival. The disciples of Dormammu were unpredictable, and her goal was to hold the line until reinforcements arrived.

"Unified Spell—Flames of Fury!" Remy shouted, taking command.

With practiced ease, Remy guided his team to channel their collective magic, summoning a searing sea of flames that surged forth, forming flaming animals that roared to life.

But suddenly, Remy hesitated, as though receiving some invisible message. The fire continued to spread, but its color shifted from red to a pale, shimmering gold.

Noticing the shift, Wilder, one of Dormammu's disciples, sneered. Just as he prepared to retaliate, a voice rang out from within the flames.

"Vishanti's Eternal Seal!"

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