After dinner, Mark returned to his room, the soft hallway light fading behind him as he gently shut the door. The space welcomed him with a familiar stillness: shelves lined with spellbooks, parchment scrolls stacked beside notebooks filled with scribbled theories, and the faint scent of ink and lavender lingering in the air.
He settled quickly into his routine. Wand in hand, posture relaxed but focused, he resumed his magical studies, practicing on objects in the room
Though he had already memorized every spell drawn from Harry Potter's memories, Mark never treated that knowledge as complete. Mastery wasn't about knowing the words; it was about casting under pressure, while exhausted or distracted, in unfamiliar terrain, with lives on the line. True mastery wasn't static. It evolved with experience and intent.
His experiments had taught him something crucial, the strength of a spell didn't rely solely on willpower or concentration. It also stemmed from understanding of the incantation, of its emotional resonance, of how deeply it had been practiced and internalized. Magic, like music or swordplay, required not just talent but discipline.
Take the Body-Binding Spell(Petrificus Totalus), for example. Against regular opponents, it worked as expected. But against someone like Logan, a man whose raw physical power exceeded all human norms, the spell would be almost ineffective. But if Mark chose to draw on the magical powers inherited through Harry's template, his spiritual energy will surge, empowering even basic spells with staggering force. In that heightened state, even someone like Wolverine could be restrained, at least temporarily.
Still, Mark knew better than to rely on inherited gifts alone. Power without refinement was a hollow advantage. Magic was like language, fluency came through repetition, patience, and time.
The films hinted at this. A beginner's flame spell might flicker like a candle, but in Dumbledore's hands, the same spell could engulf a battlefield. Crabbe's Fiendfyre once destroyed a single room. Grindelwald had used it to burn half of Paris. The difference wasn't in the words. It was in the mind behind them.
That said, even the greatest wizards couldn't compete with raw cosmic force. Compared to a Saiyan's ability to shatter worlds, most magical attacks looked quaint. But brute strength wasn't the answer to everything.
Saiyans had limits. Against foes who could warp time, bend space, or unravel concepts themselves, strength alone meant little. Even if Mark reached the level of a planet-destroyer, he'd still struggle against someone like the Ancient One, who could fold reality with a gesture or undo an entire battle with a thought.
That was why he studied relentlessly. He needed variety and versatility.
This universe was full of threats, some physical, some metaphysical. Mutants with minds like supercomputers. Inhumans born with unpredictable talents. Ancient beings whispering through cracks in time. Aliens, gods, demons, entities from dimensions no human could fully comprehend. There was no single form of power that guaranteed survival.
Relying on just one ability, no matter how refined, was asking to be outmaneuvered.
Back in the world of Harry Potter, magic had grown tame because bloodlines had weakened, traditions had dulled innovation, and politics had stifled potential. But Mark was not limited by that world. If he continued to expand his mind, if his understanding deepened far enough, even the absurd might one day become reality.
Transfiguring the moon into a cheesecake? Ludicrous, but perhaps not impossible.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A soft sound pulled him from his thoughts.
He paused. His wand was still raised, the wooden chair halfway transformed into a dog. Its tail twitched expectantly.
Then came a voice, cheerful and unmistakably familiar.
"Mark, are you in there?"
He smiled. "I'm here. Come in."
With a flick of his wand, the door unlocked and opened.
Wanda stepped in, her red sweater catching the dim light like a small ember. Her posture was confident, though her hands were clasped behind her back in a way that betrayed nervous energy. Her hair was loosely tied, and her face lit up when she saw him.
"There's going to be a bonfire tonight, behind the school. It's for the seniors, kind of a farewell party. Professor Grey asked me to tell you."
Mark nodded, giving her a small smile. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll come."
Wanda had changed. At thirteen, she already carried herself with the calm awareness of someone older. When they'd first met three years ago, she'd been quiet, almost timid. Now, she spoke with ease and held her gaze steady.
Not everyone matured the same way. Kitty, for instance, had always looked younger than her age. Even now, at seventeen, she barely looked older than Wanda. But Wanda had always seemed just a step ahead of her peers, poised, alert, confident.
She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "So… do you have a dance partner yet?"
Mark blinked. "Dance partner? No. I don't really dance."
He had been to a few of these parties before. Early in the evening, they were simple enough: kids roasting food, music drifting through the trees. But as night fell, things shifted. Older students paired off. Conversations became quieter, more charged. It wasn't hard to see the undercurrent of teenage excitement running through it all.
Wanda's face brightened a little.
"Well… I don't have one either," she said, trying to sound casual.
"Would you go with me? Just so I'm not standing there alone all night?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a partner? Really?"
She gave a small shrug. "No one's asked me. I'm serious."
Mark laughed softly. "They're probably scared of you."
He wasn't wrong. Wanda had a reputation. She could be mischievous, sharp-tongued, and completely fearless when provoked. Ever since he'd started giving her extra lessons in magic, her practical jokes had gotten sharper and more creative.
Yes, Mark had been teaching her magic. When time allowed, he passed on techniques from the wizarding world. Not because she needed them, her powers went far beyond wands and incantations, but because it gave her structure, something to ground her abilities.
Wanda's magic came from a chaotic source. On the surface, it looked like telekinesis. But in truth, it was something much deeper. Reality listened when she spoke with conviction. Her thoughts bent the rules of the universe. If she wanted something badly enough, the world around her would simply change.
In other timelines, Wanda's power had blossomed under pressure, grief, loss, rage. One Wanda recreated a town, brought a dead lover back to life, and invented children from nothing. Another whispered three words and erased nearly an entire species.
But this Wanda, this version born into safety, with friends and mentors and hope, was different.
Here, on Earth-838, she had yet to face those traumas. There was no Mind Stone exposure, no Darkhold corruption, no breaking point. She was still growing, still learning.
Her magic had only just begun to wake.
And yet, even without the tragedies that shaped her counterparts, she still carried immense potential.
Mark could see it clearly. Not just in her power, but in her discipline, her curiosity, and her empathy.
She didn't need to destroy worlds to be extraordinary.
In Mark's eyes, she already was.
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