Magical Marvel: The Rise of Arthur Hayes

Arthur woke at dawn with his parents' parting words echoing in his mind.

Make friends and live.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as morning light crept across the plaster. Friends. The word felt foreign on his tongue, like trying to speak a language he'd never learned. 

Maybe he'd had friends in his past life, but those memories had faded long ago. Now, at twenty, he realized he didn't even know where to begin.

The problem was obvious.

He'd been living this life like a carefully managed simulation. The people around him weren't people—they were characters from stories he half-remembered. NPCs in a game where he already knew the plot, the twists, and the ending. Sure, he'd changed a few outcomes here and there, but beneath it all, everything remained a game. Level up. Get stronger. Defeat the final boss.

Arthur mentally reviewed the people in his orbit.

Aurora might be the closest thing to a friend he had, but even that felt conditional. When push came to shove, when he and MI6 inevitably clashed, which side would she choose? His pessimistic side whispered she'd choose duty over him. That's what agents did.

Carol Danvers? They'd connected during her brief time on Earth, but she was off fighting the Kree Empire now. They hadn't spoken since she'd left. Could you call someone a friend when they were literally light-years away?

Fury was the furthest thing from a friend imaginable. The spy trusted no one, and Arthur returned the sentiment.

Harry and Sirius showed promise, but right now they were still just chess pieces on the board marked "Harry Potter Plot." Maybe after Voldemort's defeat, things would change. Maybe they'd become real to him - living, breathing people rather than storybook characters walking a predetermined path.

This must be what his parents had seen. What they'd wanted to change.

Living meant existing in the present without constantly calculating future outcomes. Making friends, having fun, making mistakes, falling in love. Being human instead of playing at being human.

The thought terrified him more than facing Thanos ever could.

"Winky," he called.

She appeared instantly with a soft pop. "Master needs breakfast?"

"Actually, I was wondering… how do you see me?"

Winky's tennis-ball eyes widened even further. "Winky is Master's elf! Winky serves—"

"But when I asked you to be my elf, I wanted you to be part of my family. Is Winky… my family?"

She twisted the tea towel in her hands nervously. "Winky… thinks Winky is Master Hayes's family."

Arthur studied her carefully. Fear flickered in those enormous eyes—not of him, but of overstepping. She considered herself part of the Hayes family because she was bound to serve it. But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted a family member, not a servant who obeyed his every command.

There were good signs, small shoots of genuine connection. But it would take time before Winky truly saw herself as family. The day she felt confident enough to argue with him would be the day she truly believed she belonged.

"Yes," Arthur said gently. "Winky is part of the Hayes family. Thank you."

She vanished with a confused pop, leaving Arthur alone once again.

—

After breakfast, Arthur decided on a bold step. He would visit Phoenix Group headquarters—not as the ghostly presence his employees whispered about, but as a man trying to be… visible.

When he walked in, the front desk guard nearly fell out of his chair.

"Mr. Hayes! We weren't expecting—"

"Just visiting," Arthur said, attempting casual. It came out awkward, bordering on ominous. "Carry on."

The building buzzed with 1996's idea of cutting-edge technology. Fax machines chirped, dot matrix printers chattered, and monitors glowed with that distinctive CRT green. Arthur walked through it like a general inspecting troops, if the general had forgotten how to make small talk.

"Morning," he tried with a passing analyst.

The woman squeaked and fled.

"Nice weather," he attempted with someone from accounting.

They mumbled something about quarterly reports and escaped into the lift.

He found Daniel Wang in the executive lounge, bent over quarterly reports with a cup of black coffee.

"Let me get this straight," Daniel said, looking up. "You want to… make friends? With people here?"

"Is that so strange?"

"Arthur, your entire aura screams 'stay away.' Your eyes don't help either."

"These eyes? Don't they make me look cool?"

"Cool and untouchable." Daniel took a sip of coffee. "Why this sudden interest?"

"My parents think I need friends. Real ones, not just business associates or people who fear me."

"Your parents… who are dead?"

"Yes. Long story." Arthur waved the point away. "But they're right. So, Daniel—be my first friend?"

Daniel blinked. "Apart from work, when have we ever spent time together?"

"We could try now. What do you like? Want to catch a football match at the stadium?"

Daniel raised a brow. "What if I say no? Will you magic me into agreeing?"

"I want friends, not puppets."

A small smile tugged at Daniel's lips. "Alright. There's a United vs Arsenal match next week. I'll get tickets. You do know what football is, right?"

"Just book them." Arthur gave him a look before vanishing.

—

Encouraged by this small victory, Arthur spent the next few days roaming London, trying to experience an ordinary life.

He slipped into cozy cafes, lingered in bustling pubs. He didn't exactly try to make friends—but he was open to conversation, should someone start one.

No one did.

He sat in corners, nursing pints and eavesdropping on conversations about mortgages, bad bosses, and television shows. The talk washed over him like white noise. After years of isolation, he'd become a true introvert. Worse, his subconscious automatically judged everyone he met as unworthy of attention and friendship.

He didn't mean to. But with every interaction, boredom crept in. He'd start calculating their futures, their potential usefulness, their threat level. They'd never be more than passing faces in the cosmic drama of his life.

After a couple of days of this routine, Arthur gave up.

Maybe I should move to New York, he mused. Teasing Tony Stark sounds fun. Maybe we could even be friends.

—

A week had passed since Dumbledore's death, but Sirius hadn't sent word yet. Perhaps Harry was still processing his grief, or maybe Sirius simply hadn't found the right moment to discuss Horcruxes with Voldemort's forces so active. Either way, removing the soul fragment from Harry remained on hold.

So Arthur turned inward, drowning himself in Dumbledore's collection of arcane books. At least magical theory never ran away when he tried to understand it.

—

An emergency call from Daniel came three days later.

"We have a situation," Daniel's voice was tight. "Someone broke into the building last night."

"I'll be right there."

Arthur appeared thirty minutes later, having chosen the mundane route instead of just materializing inside.

His wards hadn't alerted him, which meant this wasn't a magical intrusion. A mundane intruder, then. Interesting.

The security department looked like a battlefield. Every guard present sported injuries—black eyes, split lips, hands pressed gingerly to ribs. His hand-picked team, all ex-military or special forces, had been thoroughly humiliated.

Thorne, the security chief, looked worst of all. "Sir, I take full responsibility—"

"Spare me the ceremony, Thorne. What happened?"

"Single intruder. Female. Came in around 2:00 AM. Cut the main power manually, then sabotaged the backup generators. Seventeen minutes of complete blackout. In that time, she accessed five floors, including the archives."

"No alarms?"

"None. She neutralized them."

"She defeated everyone?"

"Yes. Took out every guard who crossed her path—swiftly, non-lethally. Broke a few ribs maybe, but no fatalities."

"Footage?"

"Destroyed." 

"Of course she did." Arthur moved through the offices, magical senses extended. Nothing. Not a trace of power, magic or otherwise. "What did she take?"

"That's the strange part," Thorne said. "Nothing's missing. She accessed our files, spent time in the archives, then left. "

"And your assessment of her combat ability?"

Thorne hesitated, then spoke grimly. "Sir… I think she might be stronger than you."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Stronger?"

"She moved like smoke. Guards couldn't predict her strikes. Fast, precise… and playful. Like she was enjoying herself."

This piqued Arthur's interest. A woman who could demolish his security team without killing anyone? Someone potentially enhanced. Hand? Or someone from the Red Room? Maybe even the Black Widow herself? He wasn't entirely certain of the current timeline regarding Natasha Romanoff but it should be unlikely.

"Anything useful?" Daniel asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Nothing concrete. But whoever she is, she's exceptional."

"And dangerous."

"For the mundane." Arthur headed for the exit. "Handle the cleanup. Finding her will require special tools."

"Special tools?"

"Yes." Arthur's smile was sharp. "Leave her to me."

—

Back at Hayes Manor, Arthur entered his secure vault and withdrew a Time-Turner from its protective case. The delicate hourglass swirled with temporal energy, sand dancing in impossible patterns.

With no way to trace her through conventional means, the Time-Turner offered the most direct solution. He could observe the break-in as it happened, learn who this woman was and why she'd targeted his company.

Five precise spins backward.

Time to meet the woman who humbled my warriors… and learn why.