Black Castle, Scotland — July 15th, 2010
The children's arrival shattered the heaviness of the morning like a stone through glass. Within minutes, breakfast had descended into its usual chaos, with James interrogating Sirius about the staff while Sirius tried to deflect, and the other kids crowding around with wide eyes and increasingly creative flattery, trying to get him to demonstrate again.
Elena was the only smart one. She had circled around to Arthur's side of the table and was deploying the most devastating weapon in any seven-year-old's arsenal.
Puppy eyes.
"Daddy. Can I have one?"
"No. You are too young."
"But I'd be really careful."
"No."
She held the look for three more seconds, a masterful effort, then accepted defeat with the quiet dignity of someone who fully intended to revisit this conversation at a strategically superior moment.
Arthur decided his best bet was to never make eye contact with her on this subject again.
Sirius, meanwhile, had quietly passed the staff to Harry under the table. It had been too much for him. Not the magic, but the attention. Sirius was a showman to his core, but even he recognized that letting a roomful of children watch him fire another spell through a weapon that had just demolished a load-bearing wall was a terrible decision. Even by his standards.
"This is the only one, isn't it?" Harry said quietly, holding the staff under the table where the children couldn't see.
"The only one I have," Arthur confirmed, sipping his tea.
Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he set the staff on the table between them, carefully, deliberately.
"I can't keep this."
"Harry—"
"It's not just that there's only one and we'll all need them. I can feel it. It's not a perfect fit."
"That is obvious," Arthur replied easily. "Since a wand chooses a wizard, why wouldn't it be the same for a staff? They are just larger, more complex foci."
"Ollivander!" Harry's eyes lit up. "Can he make one?"
"Staff crafting is a lost art," Arthur said, shaking his head slightly. "The old families used to craft them, but the practice fell out of fashion centuries ago when wands became the standard for convenience and concealment. The knowledge isn't entirely gone, though. Ollivander should have the theoretical foundation. Even if he hasn't made one before, I'm sure he'd be fascinated by the challenge of experimenting."
"I'll go see him after the gathering," Harry said with quiet determination. "Sirius, coming?"
"Try and stop me," Sirius called from across the table, finally escaping the interrogation of his son and godson.
Harry wrapped the staff back in its leather covering. "Amelia, do you think the DOM have knowledge about staffs?"
Amelia set down her teacup, her expression thoughtful. "They should, given the ancient artifacts they study every day. I will ask if they have anything in the archives that could help. Maybe they even have records of a staff crafter."
"That would be brilliant."
—
With the wizards in noticeably better spirits, the only people left at the table with dull, brooding faces were the non-magical members of the group. Daniel and Aurora.
Ariadne had worn the same icy, unbothered expression from the beginning, so no one had any idea what she was thinking. She probably preferred it that way.
Suddenly Daniel's fist hit the table.
"Enhanced!"
Every head turned.
"Have you lost the plot, mate?" Sirius asked.
"Arthur." Daniel pointed at him. "Yesterday. You said Ariadne was enhanced. 'Something like Captain America,' you said. Then you told me, and I quote, 'After the fight, Daniel.' Then after the fight, it was the Pensieve. Then after the Pensieve, it was whisky. Then it was morning." He spread his hands. "I have been waiting since yesterday afternoon. You promised you would explain."
"Did I promise?" Arthur asked innocently.
"You said 'I promise.' Those exact words. In front of witnesses."
Arthur looked at Ariadne. She shrugged, entirely unhelpful.
"Fine," Arthur sighed. "What do you want to know?"
"What is it? How did she get it? And can I have it?"
"Don't you know what A.I.M. has been working on for the last few years?"
Daniel frowned. "A.I.M.? I don't pay much attention to it since you and Eileen are personally involved. Why? Did A.I.M. recreate the super-soldier serum?"
Eileen took over from her seat. "Not exactly. Our scientists developed something special. A regenerative treatment. Human enhancement turned out to be a side effect of the healing process."
Daniel turned to Arthur. The look on his face was the look of a man rearranging a jigsaw puzzle he'd thought was complete. "I never really understood why you invested millions in A.I.M. and absorbed so many losses over the years. I thought you did it just because Eileen was working there." He paused, looking at his friend with new eyes. "I was wrong. Again."
Aurora, who had been quiet, leaned forward intently. "Can it make any human stronger? Is it safe? Are you going to sell it?"
"It is perfectly safe," Eileen said. "But no, we are not selling the enhancement version. Like I said, enhancement is a side effect of the primary treatment. We are going to market a stabilized version of the treatment itself, without the enhancement component. Arthur was very clear about not creating millions of superhumans."
"Wise," Harry murmured.
"What is the primary treatment?" Aurora asked. "What's so special about it?"
Eileen's voice carried the quiet pride of someone who'd spent years building something meaningful. "It is called Extremis. And it can heal and regrow things that modern medicine cannot touch. Severed limbs. Spinal cord damage. Organ failure. Severe nerve degeneration."
Daniel and Aurora stared at her, stunned into silence.
The wizards were less impressed.
Sirius frowned. "What is so remarkable about that? Our potions can do the same thing. We have been regrowing bones for centuries with Skele-Gro."
Harry shook his head. "Because Muggles do not have our potions, Sirius. For them, a lost limb is permanent. Some spinal injuries mean a wheelchair for the rest of their lives. This... this is massive."
"It is going to change the world," Daniel said quietly. The ruthless businessman in him had already caught up to the implications. "When is the launch?"
"Couple of months," Eileen said. "We are preparing for the fallout now. Regulatory battles, pharmaceutical industry pushback, the political lobbying. It is going to be an absolute circus."
"We need to prepare on the financial side, Arthur," Daniel said, the gears already spinning at light speed. "Something like this is going to move global markets. Pharmaceutical stocks, insurance companies, medical device manufacturers, hospitals. The ripple effects will be massive."
Arthur waved a dismissive hand. "You can handle all that, Daniel. I am a little busy."
"Of course you are." Daniel shook his head. Then he paused. The gears shifted from business to personal. "Arthur. The enhancement side. The part you're not selling."
"What about it?"
"Can I have it?"
Arthur chuckled. "You don't really need that, Daniel. The guards and the magical protections I have placed around you and your family will keep you perfectly safe."
"I know, and I trust you, Arthur," Daniel said, his voice deadly serious. "But I need a Plan B. I need to be stronger to protect my family when those creatures you showed us yesterday inevitably appear in front of me."
"Extremis is primarily a healing technology, Daniel," Arthur said gently. "The enhancement is secondary. If what you are after is real combat effectiveness, I would rather give you something better."
Daniel frowned. "Better than what made Ariadne into... that?"
"The super-soldier serum."
Aurora went rigid. Daniel's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"People have been trying to recreate that for decades," Daniel said slowly. "Governments have poured billions into it. Nobody has succeeded. The original formula died with Erskine."
"Things have changed. We have living experimental proof now. A perfect baseline to work from."
Daniel's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, living proof?"
Arthur glanced at Aurora. Then back at Daniel.
"Captain America."
Aurora stood up so fast her chair scraped against the stone floor. "What?"
"Steve Rogers has been frozen in the Arctic ice since 1945. The serum and the extreme cold kept him in suspended animation. I found him a few days ago with Tony and Fury. He has been recovered. He is awake."
Aurora's hand went to her mouth. She was MI6. She knew exactly what a living Captain America meant.
"How is Fury keeping this a secret?" she managed to ask.
"Because Fury keeps everything a secret. Rogers is currently adjusting to the new era. When he is ready, he will appear in public."
"That is... that is incredible news," Aurora breathed.
Daniel's business brain had already jumped three steps ahead. "So, if you have a living super-soldier, you can study the serum's effects in real-time. Map what it did to his cellular structure. Reverse-engineer it."
"I plan to work with Tony on it," Arthur confirmed. "Between his expertise, and a living subject, recreating the serum is feasible."
"How long?"
"Depends on how interested Tony is," Arthur shrugged. "He already has his hands full with his suits and might not be that interested in biology right now. It might take years."
Daniel processed this at speed. "So I wait for the serum?"
"That would be the smart move."
Daniel was quiet for a moment. Then: "What if I take Extremis now for the healing, and take the serum later when it's ready?"
"Greedy, aren't we," Arthur said.
"Practical," Daniel corrected without shame. "Very, very practical. Can it work? Both together?"
"I don't see why not. Tony is already on Extremis. When he develops the serum, he'll have to account for that interaction anyway. You'd just be in the same boat."
Daniel looked at Arthur. Then he looked at his wife, Margaret.
"Can I take Extremis now?" Daniel asked, his tone shifting from tactical to personal. "I am not young anymore, Arthur. My knees sound like bubble wrap when I use the stairs. My back gives out if I sit at my desk wrong. And I have old injuries from the early days in London. Things that never healed right."
"Go to A.I.M. next week," Arthur said with a smile. "Eileen will set you up."
Daniel pumped his fist under the table like he had just won the World Cup.
Aurora looked at Daniel, then at Eileen. She hadn't planned to speak. But Daniel's openness had cracked something loose in her, the same vulnerability she had been carrying all night without voicing it.
"I have shrapnel scars from '95. My shoulder never really healed right after that fall two years ago. Some mornings I can barely lift my arm above my head." She paused. "If there's a family dose going..."
"You too, Aurora," Arthur nodded. "The family dose is always available for family."
Aurora exhaled a long, shaky breath.
"Can wizards use it?" Sirius asked abruptly.
Everyone looked at him.
"What?" Sirius shrugged defensively. "I do not need the healing. But if it makes you move like that—" he pointed a thumb at Ariadne "—I would not say no to being a bit spryer on my feet."
"We haven't tested it on wizards yet," Eileen said. "The interaction between the Extremis compound and a magical core is completely unknown. It might work perfectly. It might make you explode."
"Explode?" Sirius blinked.
"Probably not. But we'd want to run tests first."
"I'll wait for the tests," Sirius decided quickly. "I like my limbs attached."
A beat passed.
"But put me on the list."
—
The afternoon quieted down. The children were outside on brooms, chasing each other through the clouds. Amelia was in the study, drafting urgent missives on parchment. The yearly gathering was winding toward its final evening.
Arthur found Harry alone in the library. He was by the window, watching his children fly.
"Harry. Before everyone leaves tomorrow, there is one more thing."
Harry looked up. He had been somewhere far away, lost in thought.
Arthur reached into his expanded jacket pocket and pulled out a small leather-bound book. It was thin. Worn. Handwritten.
Harry took it carefully, opened the cover, scanned the first page, and looked up sharply.
"Ancient Magic?"
"Do you remember the last spell you cast on Voldemort?" Arthur asked softly. "The golden spell? The one Bellatrix took for Tom?"
"Yes," Harry said, his brow furrowing. "I scoured through the Hogwarts restricted section looking for an explanation for years but found absolutely nothing." He looked back down at the book. "Ancient Magic? Is that what it is called?"
"Yes. Ancient Magic," Arthur replied. "The oldest form of power there is. It is not a spell system. It is not something you learn from standard textbooks. It is the ambient magic of the world itself - raw, unstructured, woven into the fabric of every living thing. Most people cannot touch it. But some can."
"And I am one of them."
"Yes." Arthur paused, letting the weight of the moment settle. "And you got it from your mother."
Harry's hands went completely still on the leather cover.
"The night she died," Arthur said quietly, "the protection she placed on you was not just love, Harry. The mechanism, the way she channelled it, the way it bound to your blood and persisted for years, that was Ancient Magic. No spell. No incantation. Pure intent. She may not have known what she was doing. But in the moment that mattered most, she reached for something ancient and it answered."
Harry didn't speak. He was looking at his hands. Arthur let the silence hold.
"The golden light against Voldemort," Arthur continued, "that was the same thing. Your instinct reaching for Ancient Magic under extreme duress."
Harry stared at the book for a long moment. "You think I can master this?"
"I think you have the potential. Whether you can develop it is another question entirely. It's hard, Harry. Genuinely hard. The kind of hard that breaks people. But if you can master even the basics, you'll be stronger than any wand or staff could make you."
What Arthur didn't say was that the chances were slim. Arthur had struggled with Ancient Magic himself, and he had advantages Harry didn't, the memories of another life, a body conditioned by chi and the mystic arts, and years of dedicated preparation. Harry was nearly thirty, with a normal human body and decades of wand dependency already baked into his magic. The odds of him reaching true proficiency were low.
But Harry Potter had beaten worse odds before.
"Start with the breathing exercises in chapter one," Arthur said. "Don't skip ahead. Don't rush. And don't tell anyone outside this room what you're studying."
Harry held the book like it was something precious. Which it was.
"Thank you, Arthur."
"Don't thank me yet. The staff is step one. This," he nodded at the journal, "is step two. Step two is harder than anything you've ever done. Including Voldemort."
Harry smiled. It was thin, but it was real. "You are not great at motivational speeches, are you?"
"I am honest. That is better."
Harry stood up, looked out the window one last time at his children laughing on their broomsticks, and walked out of the library with the journal. He carried a mountain in his hands, and he didn't yet know how to climb it. But he was going to try.