The evening at Maria's house proved surprisingly enjoyable, despite Arthur's lingering exhaustion. What struck him most was Fury's behavior—laughing openly, telling jokes, and showing a warmth that seemed entirely at odds with the image of the stern SHIELD director Arthur remembered from the films.
"Another beer, Fury?" Maria called from the kitchen.
"Keep 'em coming!" Fury replied with a grin that transformed his entire face.
Arthur watched this display with quiet fascination. Perhaps the man hadn't yet been hardened by years of paranoia and responsibility? Or maybe this was simply a side he never showed in professional settings.
Whatever the reason, the camaraderie didn't extend to Arthur. Whenever their eyes met, Fury's expression would cool instantly, his good eye assessing Arthur with barely concealed suspicion.
The feeling was entirely mutual. Arthur couldn't trust Fury, and Fury clearly couldn't trust him.
—
"You sure you don't want to stay another day?" Carol asked as she pulled Maria's car into the drop-off area at Louis Armstrong New Orleans Airport.
Arthur shook his head. "Better this way. I need to sort out these injuries and examine what's happened to my magic as soon as possible."
The airport bustled with evening travelers despite the late hour. Through the windows, Arthur could see families reuniting, businesspeople striding purposefully toward taxis, and airline staff navigating the controlled chaos with practiced ease.
"So when do you think we're going to meet next?" Arthur asked, making no move to exit the car.
Carol shrugged. "I'll visit the planet every now and then."
"Remember to do that," Arthur said, his tone more serious than he'd intended. "While your powers might give you more years to live, humans like Maria and Monica are mortal. Don't get so caught up in galactic affairs that you forget to come back."
"I won't forget," she promised quietly, her eyes fixed on the dashboard.
Arthur cleared his throat. "So do I get a pager or anything? I saw the one you gave Fury. I'm rather jealous."
A smile tugged at Carol's lips. "You don't need it. You can use the Kree suit to contact me."
"The pager is much cooler."
"You can exchange with Fury. I'm sure he'll agree."
Arthur scoffed. "Too late for that. My flight leaves in a few minutes."
"Make better excuses," Carol said, rolling her eyes.
Silence settled between them, comfortable but tinged with the awkwardness of a goodbye neither seemed eager to say.
"So this is it," Arthur finally said. "Next time you come, let's spar again."
Carol's eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure? You've seen me fight. You think you stand a chance?"
"You think I'll stay at only this level?" Arthur replied with mock indignation. "Perhaps I'll be as strong as you or stronger the next time we meet."
"That's good," Carol nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I was thinking I had no proper way of taking revenge for what happened at the parking lot."
"Hang on! You still hold a grudge about that?" Arthur protested. "Not my fault someone decided to attack without clarifying the situation first."
"As if a weird guy coming out of nowhere and acting all mysterious didn't deserve a beating," Carol countered. "If you weren't injured right now, I'd give you some. Wait for a proper beat down next time we meet."
"We'll see who gets beat down," Arthur said confidently. "While you're out there fighting aliens, I'll be safely practicing and growing my powers. You won't stand a chance."
"We'll see." Carol's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and Arthur sensed she was already making mental notes to train harder. Good.
They exchanged goodbyes, and Arthur watched the car pull away, Carol's blonde hair visible through the rear window until she turned a corner and disappeared from sight.
Arthur looked around and seeing that no one was watching him, he slipped into a deserted corner and donned the Invisibility Cloak. There was absolutely no chance he would leak his destination to anyone who might be watching. He hadn't even booked a ticket. The habit—or what some might call paranoia—would stick until he was as strong as Carol... or perhaps never.
Getting through security and boarding the flight to Los Angeles proved almost laughably simple with the cloak. When passengers began boarding, he simply melded into a crowded group. The gate attendant remained oblivious to the extra person slipping past.
On the plane, he found an empty seat in the back and settled in. Now he had to stay awake the whole flight. He was tired, but falling asleep was too risky. The cloak might slip off, someone would try to sit in the seemingly empty seat, or he would miss the deboarding. None of these scenarios were acceptable.
—
Eight hours later, Arthur was back in his Los Angeles manor, collapsing onto his bed without bothering to change his clothes. Every muscle ached, and his magical core felt like a drained battery—present but utterly useless.
He slept deeply, dreamlessly, for ten straight hours.
When he finally awakened, the evening sun was casting long shadows across his bedroom floor. His body felt marginally better, though his magic remained frustratingly depleted.
After a quick meal and change of clothes, Arthur used the Vanishing Cabinet to return to Hogwarts. According to his watch, it was early morning on the 19th of June.
Arthur had left his spoils from the adventure—the Kree suits and weapons—back home in London. He wasn't sure what Hogwarts' high magical concentration would do to such advanced technology. He had no intention of destroying the hard-won prizes from his nearly deadly adventure.
Next, he made his way to the hospital wing. It was early in the morning, but he knew Madam Pomfrey would be awake.
As soon as she saw Arthur, Madam Pomfrey knew something was wrong with him.
"Mr. Hayes. What's wrong with you?" she demanded, immediately alert despite the early hour.
Arthur started, "Experiment gone wrong..." but Madam Pomfrey didn't wait for explanations.
She had her wand out and was already casting diagnostic spells. Her expression grew increasingly grave as she worked.