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Odin's face shifted, the thunderous fury of the All-Father melting away in an instant, replaced by the warm, amiable expression of a gracious host. "Ah," he said, his tone now impossibly pleasant, "a disciple of the Sorcerer Supreme! You must, of course, honor us with your presence in Asgard more often."
Hermione just stared, her mind struggling to process the sudden, whiplash-inducing change in attitude. One moment, he was about to smite her from existence. The next, he was inviting her over for dinner. What in the Nine Realms did she say to him? she wondered, glancing at the serene, smiling Ancient One. Whatever it was, it had worked.
The trip back through the portal was a silent one. As they walked through the serene, incense-scented courtyards of Kamar-Taj, Hermione finally broke the silence. "Thank you, Master Ancient One," she said, and the gratitude was genuine. The old woman had just saved her from a very messy, and likely very final, confrontation with a literal god-king.
The Ancient One just smiled. As they passed the central training ground, she gestured to a lone figure practicing complex, shadowy incantations. "That is Kaecilius," she said, her voice a calm, simple introduction. "He is another of my most promising disciples."
Hermione looked at the man. His eyes were shadowed, not just by the light, but by a deep, hollow hunger. A familiar, dark ambition. Oh, he's one of those, she thought.
"You should probably watch that one," Hermione said, her voice a casual, cryptic warning. "He has the dark circles of a man who doesn't sleep. Be careful he doesn't get disillusioned and run off to join another, more… accommodating school."
"He has his destiny," the Ancient One replied, her voice tinged with a profound, unshakable fatalism, "and I have mine." She gave Hermione a sly, knowing look. "Besides, if I were to meet an untimely end, someone would have to take up the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme. And you seem so very interested in the Eye of Agamotto, don't you?"
Hermione's face flushed. "Absolutely not," she said quickly. "Don't you dare. You find Strange. That's your plan. Stick to the plan." She looked back at the brooding Kaecilius and sighed dramatically. "A real shame. Well, I hope he finds eternal happiness in the arms of Dormammu. Amen."
A rare, genuine laugh, like the sound of tiny, cracking bells, came from the Ancient One. "Go read your books, little witch."
She retreated to the quiet, dusty solitude of the Great Library of Kamar-Taj, a place that contained more real, world-altering knowledge than every book in the Hogwarts library combined. Here, surrounded by ancient scrolls and floating, ethereal tomes, she finally allowed herself to unleash the power she had harvested.
She opened the floodgates. More than thirty thousand points of raw, concentrated soul energy, the harvested lives of a dead army, flooded her system. It was a cold, overwhelming, and utterly exhilarating rush. She felt her magical core, her very soul, expand, fortifying and crystallizing into a new, higher state of being.
> Hermione Jean Granger
> Magic Level: Lv. 4 (1 / 500,000)
>
She stared at the number, at the half a million experience points required for the next level, and a low whistle escaped her lips. No wonder wizards stagnate, she thought. This wasn't a ladder; it was a sheer, insurmountable cliff. Even with her Dark Harvest, reaching the level of a being like Dumbledore or the Ancient One would take an age.
She pushed the thought aside and turned her attention to the spoils of her Asgardian adventure. The Destroyer remains, and the Casket of Ancient Winters. Her grimoire had already analyzed them.
> [Alchemy Material: Uru Metal]
> A primordial, magically-conductive Asgardian metal. Can be melted and reshaped using the Philosopher's Stone.
> [Wondrous Item: Casket of Ancient Winters]
> An artifact of the Frost Giants, containing the power of the Fimbulwinter. Requires the bloodline of a Frost Giant to activate.
> Note: Can be disassembled.
>
The Casket was useless to her as a weapon, but the grimoire's note sparked a new, wild, and deeply ambitious idea in her mind. It was time for an upgrade.
She set up an alchemy station in a secluded corner of the library. First, she placed the dull, red Philosopher's Stone on the array. Then, she laid out the jagged, dark silver fragments of the Destroyer's armor. Channeling her magic through the Stone, she focused its power. A brilliant, ruby-red light enveloped the Uru. The indestructible Asgardian metal, a substance that had withstood Thor's might, began to soften, to glow, to melt into a pool of shimmering, liquid starlight.
Next, she turned to the Casket. This was not a task of brute force, but of magical surgery. She began to dismantle it, not by breaking it, but by carefully, painstakingly unweaving the ancient enchantments that held it together. Layers of Frost Giant magic peeled away like the skin of an onion, until she reached the very heart of the artifact: a single, impossibly cold, brilliant blue crystal that pulsed with the light of a dying star. The Ice Core.
Now came the most dangerous part. She placed her own, familiar, 11-inch vine wood wand on the station. With a whispered incantation, she drew its core—the single, powerful Dragon Heartstring—out from the center of the wood. The core, a shimmering, magical sinew, floated in the air before her.
With an intense, focused act of will, she commanded the liquid Uru metal. It flowed from its crucible, a river of silver, and wrapped itself around the Dragon Heartstring. There was a faint, musical hum as two vastly different magical traditions—the organic, chaotic life-force of a dragon's heart, and the cold, conceptual power of an enchanted Asgardian metal—collided and began to merge.
It was a long, delicate, and exhausting process. For hours, she stood, sweat beading on her brow, her entire being focused on guiding the fusion, on shaping the molten, magical metal into a new, perfect form. Slowly, it cooled. It solidified. It became a wand.
It was heavier than her old one, the dark, silvery metal cool and solid in her hand. But it was not yet complete. She took the Ice Core, the heart of an eternal winter, and placed it against the tip of her new Uru wand. She poured the last of her energy into the final enchantment, using the Uru as a conduit to fuse the core and the wand into a single, unified whole.
There was a final, soft thrum, and a faint, pale blue light began to pulse from within the silver staff. Intricate, glowing blue runes, a fusion of Asgardian and wizarding script, bloomed across its surface. An aura of extreme, supernatural cold emanated from it, causing the very air around her to crystallize into a fine, glittering frost.
It was done. Her grimoire sent a final, triumphant notification.
> [Wondrous Item: Forged]
> [Wand of Winter's Ruin]
> Core: Dragon Heartstring, infused with a Fimbulwinter Ice Core.
> Body: Enchanted Uru Metal.
> Property 1: [Extreme Cold]: All ice and cold-based magic cast by the wielder is significantly amplified.
> Property 2: [Adaptable Matrix]: The Uru metal body can be used to absorb and integrate new, rare magical materials and their properties.
She held it in her hand, feeling the immense, cold, and terrible power thrumming within it. She hadn't just crafted a new wand. She had forged a legend.