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Magical Marvel: The Rise of Arthur Hayes : Ch. 178
🕑 Added 2025-10-13 19:01:49 +0000 UTCChapter 178: Hogwarts Again
The next morning found Arthur cross-legged in his manor's meditation room, golden light filtering through the tall windows and painting patterns across the polished wooden floor.
Last night had been great—but the vacation was over. Carol was back to her duties as a cosmic peacekeeper, dealing with whatever galactic emergency required her presence this week. Arthur, meanwhile, had returned home, ready to continue his experimentation with chi.
The chi within him had been significantly depleted from his sparring match with Carol. Not empty, but low enough to test his recovery rate properly.
On that barren, sulfur-choked planet, recovery had been impossible. The air had been dead—no life, no chi, just a toxic wasteland. His chi had remained static, unchanging.
But here on Earth? That was the real test.
He closed his eyes and extended his senses. It was time to discover whether gaining the dragon's power had truly fixed the fundamental chi recovery issues that plagued practitioners on Earth.
Even before the Iron Fist transformation, Arthur had possessed the sensitivity to perceive Earth's thin chi. The energy had been there, barely perceptible. But whenever he'd attempted to draw it in, to replenish his reserves, the ambient energy had simply ignored him.
Now, though?
The difference was immediate and startling.
When he called, the chi came running.
It wasn't the effortless ease he'd experienced in K'un-Lun, where the dimension's pure life force was so concentrated that recovery felt like breathing divine fire into his lungs.
Earth’s chi was still sparse but it moved toward him eagerly, as if recognizing something familiar in him now.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. Hours instead of minutes—but still, hours instead of months. That changed everything. Earth could finally sustain him. He no longer needed to return to K’un-Lun for survival, though it would always be the faster route.
He settled deeper into meditation, allowing the flow to stabilize. Chi coursed through his meridians like water finding the perfect path.
Time became irrelevant. The morning light shifted across the floor, climbing the walls, then beginning its descent as afternoon approached.
Arthur remained motionless, aware only of the slow, steady replenishment of his reserves, feeling each meridian fill like cups under a gentle stream.
When his chi reserves finally reached capacity, completely restored to their maximum, Arthur still didn't move.
His brow furrowed in concentration.
Something else had caught his attention. There was something else in the air, so faint he'd almost missed it entirely beneath the more familiar sensation of chi. Another energy, one that felt simultaneously familiar and utterly foreign. It didn't respond to his call the way chi did. It didn't flow or move at his command.
It simply... existed in the surroundings, like chi but fundamentally different. Some areas held higher concentrations, others seemed completely devoid of it.
He opened his eyes, realization dawning. “No way…”
He stood, the room’s light bending slightly as his form blurred. Then, with a soft pop, he vanished.
—
Hogwarts castle stood proud against the Scottish highlands, its towers reaching toward stars just beginning to appear in the twilight sky.
Arthur reappeared within its wards without triggering so much as a ripple. A faint shimmer cloaked him as he invoked Death’s invisibility, layering additional charms until even the ghosts would fail to notice his passage.
He'd come here specifically to test a theory, but since he'd made the journey anyway, he decided a nostalgic walk through the castle wouldn't hurt.
Years had passed since he’d last stood within these walls, and though the stonework remained timeless, the spirit of the castle had changed.
The castle felt... lighter somehow. Brighter. Not in any physical sense but in the atmosphere itself. Laughter drifted up from the courtyards below, genuine and carefree. Students moved through the corridors with easy smiles rather than the wary tension that had characterized his own years here.
The very air felt freer, unburdened by the weight of secrets and manipulations that had once pressed down on everything.
He glanced toward the castle. Its windows glowed warmly under the evening sun. Hogwarts was… happy.
He couldn’t help but smile.
McGonagall now sat as Headmistress, with Sprout as her dependable deputy. New faces had filled the positions left vacant by war and retirement—younger professors with hopeful eyes and passionate dedication to their subjects.
The castle had adapted, rebuilt, and emerged better than it had ever been during Dumbledore's tenure. Without behind-the-scenes manipulations, without yearly adventures that risked student lives, Hogwarts had finally become what it should have always been: an institution of learning first, not a chess board for greater games.
Arthur made his way toward the Great Hall, where the sounds of preparation for dinner echoed through the corridors. His meditation and chi recovery had apparently taken longer than he'd estimated—the evening meal was nearly ready to begin.
At the staff table, McGonagall sat in Dumbledore's old seat. Professor Sprout occupied the deputy's chair, while new faces filled the Transfiguration and Herbology positions.
Arthur's funding through Sirius and Amelia had clearly been put to good use. New equipment gleamed in the corridors he'd passed. The castle's infrastructure had been updated and modernized where appropriate. Even the food being arranged on the tables looked more varied and nutritious than the heavy.
But what truly caught his attention was the young man sitting beside the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Hair perpetually disheveled, green eyes bright with enthusiasm as he gestured animatedly while talking with Professor Flitwick—who remained happily ensconced in his position as Charms Master, apparently having no interest in administrative duties.
Harry Potter. Assistant Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Not an Auror. Not the warrior everyone had expected—practically demanded—him to become. A teacher.
Arthur remembered the night that decision was made — one of those late gatherings at Sirius’s place, laughter filling the kitchen, the smell of old firewhisky lingering in the air.
Harry had confessed, voice quiet but firm, that becoming an Auror didn't feel right. That after years of fighting darkness, of being forced into the role of warrior before he was ready, he didn't want to keep hunting threats. He didn't want to keep rushing into danger, didn't want his life to be defined by combat and confrontation. He wanted to teach instead.
The table had gone quiet — then Sirius had grinned and raised his glass. Amelia and Susan had been enthusiastically supportive.
Arthur had been the first to back Harry's decision fully and vocally. “Teaching the next generation,” he’d said, tone steady and sure, “is how you make sure the last war stays the last. Anyone can fight with the right training, but only teachers can build minds that prevent wars before they start. That takes vision—and heart.”
It had settled the matter.
Amelia had arranged for a mentor soon after—a retired Austrian duelist who'd agreed to take the DADA position temporarily while training Harry. The man had decades of practical experience, no political ambitions, and a teaching philosophy focused on practicality over theory.
Arthur had tested the new professor secretly, of course. Couldn't have someone inadequate training Harry. But the professor had proven himself capable, knowledgeable, and genuinely invested in helping Harry develop into an excellent teacher. To ensure the arrangement remained stable, Arthur had also spent an entire evening methodically unraveling every last thread of the Defense Against the Dark Arts curse, eliminating the spite-fueled magic Voldemort had woven into the position decades ago.
Now, seeing Harry there—laughing, teaching, alive in a way he hadn’t been during the war—Arthur felt a quiet satisfaction settle in his chest. Students glanced toward the young professor not with reverence or pity, but with admiration. Respect.
Yes. Every bit of effort had been worth it.
The wizarding world had moved on, rebuilt, found new equilibrium. But Arthur Hayes remained the boogeyman parents warned their children about, no matter how many times Sirius, Harry or Amelia insisted he'd saved them all.
He didn’t mind. That reputation gave him what he valued most: freedom. Plausible deniability. A good excuse to stay uninvolved when the next crisis inevitably knocked on the wizarding world's door.
After a few more moments of quiet observation, he slipped away from the Great Hall without a sound.
Outside, the night had deepened. Stars shimmered over the Black Lake, their reflections trembling with each soft ripple. The giant squid rested near the surface, its immense form lazily stirring the water.
Arthur stood at the water's edge, releasing enough of his concealment that the ancient creature would be able to sense him. He waited silently, feeling vaguely guilty about breaking his promise to visit regularly over the years.
The squid's enormous eye opened immediately, focusing on Arthur with unmistakable recognition despite the passage of time. A tentacle wrapped gently around Arthur's arm in greeting, and for twenty minutes they played their old game—the squid trying to pull him into the water, Arthur dodging and laughing silently.
The creature seemed genuinely delighted, showing no resentment about Arthur's long absence.
When they finally paused, both slightly winded from the play, Arthur called for Winky. The house elf appeared instantly, as efficient as ever, carrying a basket laden with various delicacies Arthur had learned over the years that the giant squid particularly enjoyed.
He spent another hour feeding his old friend, making sure the squid ate its fill and then some. It was the least he could do for years of neglected visits.
When midnight approached, Arthur said a proper goodbye—promising more sincerely this time to visit again within the year—and made his way back into the castle, heading directly for the Headmistress's office.
McGonagall was in her private quarters, leaving the office empty. Perfect.
Arthur sealed each portrait's frame temporarily with a subtle silencing charm—no need for Dumbledore's portrait or any of the other previous headmasters to report this unauthorized visit—then approached the shelf where the Sorting Hat rested on its stand.
"Still in one piece, old friend?" Arthur murmured as he drew closer to the ancient artifact.
"Arthur Hayes," the Hat's voice was exactly as he remembered, dry and amused. "I wondered when you'd eventually return. Hogwarts is deeply grateful for your funding, by the way. It has helped transform this castle into what it should have always been—a truly great school focused on education rather than politics."
"It was not my money anyway. Thought I'd put it toward something useful."
"A noble sentiment," the Hat said. "Very characteristic. So what brings you back to Hogwarts tonight?"
"Needed to be in a place saturated with magical energy to test something specific," Arthur explained. "Decided while I was here, I might as well visit some old friends. So tell me—how has everything been at Hogwarts? Any adventures or interesting developments since the war ended?"
"Fortunately not." The Hat's tone carried distinct satisfaction. "Hogwarts has been remarkably quiet, aside from the usual childhood dramas and minor pranks. Which is precisely what a school should be—a place for learning and growing, not an annual venue for life-threatening adventures involving dark wizards, ancient artifacts, and what not."
"Those yearly catastrophes did make things interesting, though," Arthur said with deliberate mischief in his tone.
"I'm quite certain the vast majority of people prefer boring school life to the constant threat of death," the Hat replied tartly.
"You might be wrong there. Children sometimes seem to have a death wish. They actively seek out danger."
"Only because adults keep putting them in positions where danger finds them first," the Hat countered. "Remove the external threats, and most children are surprisingly content with ordinary teenage concerns—exams, friendships, romance, house competition, and determining which career path to pursue."
They conversed for nearly an hour, falling into the easy rhythm of old acquaintances catching up. The Hat updated him on castle life in detail—house dynamics, which students showed particular promise in various disciplines, amusing incidents involving confused first-years and frustrated professors. It was oddly comforting, this glimpse into Hogwarts functioning as it should.
Finally, as midnight approached, Arthur said goodbyes to the Hat, a promise to visit again in a few years and made his way outside.
He apparated to a point fifty feet above the castle's highest tower, hovering in the night air.
Now for the actual reason he'd come to Hogwarts. Not nostalgia, pleasant as that had been, but to test the discovery he'd made during his meditation.
Arthur closed his eyes and extended his senses fully—not just his chi perception, but everything. Magic, mystic arts, and that newly awakened sensitivity granted by consuming Shou-Lao's heart.
The sensation that washed over him nearly knocked him from the sky entirely.
There it was.
That same elusive energy he'd barely detected during his meditation, but now vastly stronger, flowing like vast underground rivers through the stones and wards of Hogwarts. Old. Powerful.
A slow smile spread across his face.
“Ancient magic.”
He could feel it now. Truly, clearly feel it now.
The castle blazed with it, every stone saturated with centuries of accumulated power. The wards hummed with it, layers upon layers of protection woven so deeply into reality that they'd become part of the natural order. Even the forest below pulsed with primal energy far older than the school itself.
This was what he'd sensed in his meditation room—that faint, almost imperceptible energy that existed alongside chi but obeyed different rules entirely. Ancient magic, the raw force that existed before wizards learned to channel it into spells, before wands, before words.
The dragon's heart hadn't just enhanced his chi. By connecting him more deeply to life force itself, it had awakened his sensitivity to all natural energies.
Arthur reached out, trying to draw it in as he did with chi.
Nothing happened.
The ancient magic remained stubbornly present but unresponsive. He could sense it, almost taste it, but it wouldn't answer his call.
But that was acceptable. He had time to learn, to experiment, to understand.
Arthur smiled in the darkness, suspended above the glowing castle. The truly dangerous periods of the MCU timeline were still years away. Thanos and his obsessive quest for the Infinity Stones, the universal-scale threats that would eventually emerge—all of that remained distant concerns. He had time to master this new awareness, to unlock whatever techniques or principles governed ancient magic's use.
His schedule was already full regardless. Continuing his chi manipulation training, advancing his understanding of both traditional magic and the mystic arts—all of that demanded significant time and focus.
Also his other power pursuits would also take some time. Carol had hit roadblocks on the way to the planets he had listed. Some did not have jump points and would take months to travel to. Others were monitored and controlled by galactic powers who didn't appreciate cosmic-level beings barging in uninvited. And any planets under Asgard's official protection were completely off-limits due to Odin.
So Arthur genuinely had time. Years, potentially, to develop a proper understanding of ancient magic and create techniques to harness it in practical applications, particularly combat situations.
The ancient magic wasn't going anywhere. It had been here for millennia; it would still be here when he was ready to truly engage with it.
He opened his eyes fully, gazing down at the glowing castle below. "At least there was progress in sensing it. That's more than I had yesterday."
Then, with a soft ripple of displaced air, Arthur vanished.
Back to his quiet life, for now.
Comments
Guto
and because of this a spiritual recovery type of situation occurs
Guto
idea, Arthur can create or find a pocket dimension to use as his main base, but it would be dry of energy, so he creates a ritual to use the Power Stone to revitalize the chi and magic of the dimension, but an accident occurs that makes the ritual connect with a dimension of pure ancient magic, which makes the ritual fill the pocket dimension with dangerous amounts of chi and magic without stopping, forcing Arthur to let the energies leak to Earth.
hector lyng
I really wanted to see her feel more connected to Harry, but it was a great episode.
