Marvel's Master of Heavenly Magic

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*****

The ability to share powers meant that as long as his second body in the Harry Potter world learned various spells, his main body in the Marvel universe could use them as well.

Even though he didn't have a wand in the Marvel world, that wasn't a problem.

From what he knew, not everyone in the Harry Potter world needed a wand to cast spells. High-level wizards could perform wandless magic, and wizards in Africa traditionally used hand gestures for spellcasting.

Wands just made casting faster and more efficient, which is why most wizards chose to use them.

And in time, he could learn how to craft a wand himself. The Marvel world had plenty of materials infused with special energy, and he might find something suitable for wand-making.

Though Harry Potter spells weren't known for their raw destructive power, their utility was immense. Some of them even seemed to touch upon higher principles of magic.

For instance, if he could master Apparition, in the Marvel universe he could escape from most enemies even if he couldn't defeat them.

"But before all that, I need to figure out how to get rid of that dark wizard."

Killing someone would have terrified the George of his previous life.

Back then, he was just an office worker. He couldn't even imagine killing a chicken, let alone a person. At the supermarket, he always bought pre-cleaned chickens.

But this life had changed him.

In just three months, he had gotten used to it.

In those three months of training, he had already killed twelve people.

The lab didn't keep useless mutants around. As someone being trained to become an assassin, his schedule alternated between honing his abilities and learning how to kill.

And the fastest way to learn was through real combat.

He had no choice—if he didn't kill in combat, he would be killed.

It was one of the many reasons he was desperate to escape the lab.

He wasn't a saint, but he did have a moral line, and mindless slaughter wasn't something he enjoyed.

Of course, he could choose to report the dark wizard. At this point in time, if he informed the Ministry of Magic, they would most likely act on it.

He lived with the dark wizard in Knockturn Alley, and it wouldn't be difficult to come into contact with an Auror.

Dora hadn't dared to take this route because years of torment had instilled a deep, bone-deep fear of the dark wizard. He'd rather kill himself than try to resist.

But there was a potential problem with reporting him.

If the Ministry of Magic didn't act quickly enough, the dark wizard might escape with all his money and come back for revenge.

If, however, George could kill the dark wizard without leaving any trace, he'd not only eliminate the threat but also inherit all of the wizard's belongings.

Through Dora's memories, he knew that the dark wizard had no living relatives. Upon his death, George, as his adopted son, would be the sole heir.

Besides, he wasn't without confidence.

First, the dark wizard didn't suspect him at all.

To the dark wizard, Dora was a timid child who didn't even have a wand and hadn't learned a single spell.

Second, George had experience using his abilities to control blades and had already killed trained mercenaries.

Wizards, when caught off-guard, weren't much faster to react than ordinary people. Sure, they might have stronger constitutions, but they weren't invincible.

Finally, since George wouldn't be using magic or a wand, the chance of Aurors discovering him afterward was slim.

Of course, things could still go wrong—nothing was guaranteed.

But great rewards come with great risks. If he pulled this off, not only would he have a house in this world, but he'd also gain a considerable amount of wealth, enough to focus on studying magic without distractions.

According to what he'd gleaned from Dora's memories, the dark wizard had made a fortune selling illegal potions over the years.

"You're half an hour late today. Do you want me to turn you into a rat and roast you over a candle with a Transfiguration spell?"

While George was lost in thought, the door suddenly swung open. A bald, dark-robed old wizard stood there, his cold, snake-like eyes fixed on George.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Merton. I'll be right there."

George mimicked Dora's usual fearful behavior and hurriedly got dressed.

The old wizard squinted and said, "Dora, don't worry. Even though I've declined your Hogwarts acceptance letter, as long as you continue to serve me well, I'll teach you some powerful magic—better than what they teach at Hogwarts."

"Powerful magic? It's probably just spells for cleaning and cooking," George thought to himself, but outwardly, he remained obedient.

As he stepped out of the cramped room, the sun had just risen. It was around six-thirty in the morning.

"It's night in the Marvel world, but day here. That's pretty convenient."

Controlling two bodies at once still felt strange, but by having one sleep at night and the other act during the day, he could slowly adjust.

After leaving the cramped room in the hallway, George, following Dora's memories, began his usual tasks: preparing breakfast for the old wizard, cleaning the shop, and standing at the door to attract customers.

There weren't many legitimate customers at the Knockturn Alley potion shop. Most regular wizards wouldn't buy potions here, as there were proper potion shops in Diagon Alley.

The customers that came here were mostly dark wizards or those who didn't care much for the Ministry's laws.

The Ministry of Magic usually turned a blind eye to this kind of behavior.

Almost all wizards knew the shady dealings that took place in Knockturn Alley, so how could the Ministry not know?

In George's opinion, this was a normal state of affairs.

Rather than letting dark wizards run wild underground, it was better to have them confined to Knockturn Alley. If something went wrong, at least there would be leads to follow.

Even many high-status wizards needed a place like Knockturn Alley to exist.

For example, Lucius Malfoy, one of the most respected wizards in society, would occasionally sell his illegal potions and magical items here to make a quick profit.

By about four in the afternoon, George finally found the perfect opportunity to strike.

"I need to brew a Draught of Madness. Close the shop for now, stand by the door, and don't let anyone disturb me, or I'll make you wish you were dead!"

The old wizard carefully took out rare magical herbs from several boxes, glaring menacingly at George.

George immediately lowered his head and, trembling, replied, "Yes, yes, I won't let anyone disturb you."

The old wizard wasn't making empty threats.

Previously, Dora had let a customer disturb the wizard during a potion brew, causing it to fail. As punishment, the old wizard tormented Dora with dark magic for an entire night, nearly killing him.

But this was also the perfect chance for George to kill the old wizard.

Based on Dora's memories, George knew that the Draught of Madness was a high-level potion. Once consumed, it would cause total mental breakdown, turning the victim into a madman.

As a result, it was extremely valuable.

However, brewing such a potion was incredibly difficult and dangerous.

If anything went wrong during the process, an explosion could occur, injuring or even killing the wizard.

In fact, potion-making, especially at advanced levels, was never a safe endeavor. Almost every year, wizards died from potion-brewing accidents.

This was one of the reasons why high-level potions were so expensive, and skilled potion masters were so rare.

Watching the old wizard step into the small brewing hut in the backyard, George quickly closed the shop door and tiptoed to the window of the hut, peeking inside.

He saw the old wizard in front of his brewing tools, handling ingredients such as alioth, venomous tentacula, lacewing flies, and a two-headed snake's gallbladder, carefully preparing and then adding them to the cauldron.

The old wizard hadn't taught Dora any magic, but to help him better serve customers, he had taught him quite a bit of herbology and potion-making.

So, using Dora's knowledge, George knew that the brewing stage was the most dangerous part of potion-making.

At this point, the wizard had to fully concentrate on casting the necessary spells while simultaneously channeling magic into the potion to balance it.

"Now, explode!"

After patiently waiting for an hour, George saw that the old wizard had reached the crucial stage of brewing. He immediately activated his ability, causing the candle holder on the table to topple over, knocking the cauldron off balance.

The thick potion spilled onto the table, mixing with the remaining herbs.

"Not good!"

The old wizard immediately stopped the brewing process, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He raised his wand, trying to cast a protective spell, but before he could, the mixture exploded violently.

The blast hit the old wizard head-on, throwing him across the room. He crashed into the wall of the small hut, then fell to the floor, coughing up blood several times.

"A wizard's body really is tougher than a normal person's," George thought, astonished.

Despite the old wizard being in his seventies or eighties and taking a direct hit from the explosion, he was still alive. If it had been an ordinary person, even a strong, young man, they probably wouldn't have survived.

This wasn't just a simple explosion; it was the result of a failed potion brew. The blast was infused with magical backlash and violent magical energy, far more dangerous than it appeared.

"In that case, let's finish this properly!"

With veins bulging on his forehead, George focused all his power on the chandelier hanging above the hut. Since inheriting the wizard's bloodline, he had noticed a significant boost in his mutant abilities. Where he could previously control around ten pounds of weight, he now found he could control at least fifty pounds with full effort.

If he fully developed this ability, he would certainly surpass his previous limit of one hundred pounds.

The chandelier, already weakened by the explosion, shook violently under George's control. It tore free from the ceiling and plummeted straight toward the old wizard, who hadn't yet recovered.

"Ah!"

The wizard let out a final scream as the chandelier, driven by George's power, pierced his eye and lodged deep into his brain.

Even with a wizard's resilient body—capable of surviving limb loss or other severe injuries as long as they weren't immediately fatal, with the aid of healing spells and potions—there was no recovering from a direct hit to the brain. Only someone at Voldemort's level of power could possibly survive such a fatal wound.

(End of Chapter)