Snowing_Melody
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Chapter 14: Setting the Stage
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 18:26:20 +0000 UTC"Natasha, what's your status? Report!" The voice in her ear was Nick Fury's, sharp, urgent, and laced with the controlled tension of a man who had just heard his top agent threatened.
"I'm stable, Director. The situation is under control," Natasha murmured, her lips barely moving as she pressed a finger to her earpiece. She kept her eyes locked on Hermione, her body a coiled spring of readiness, but her expression was one of practiced, disarming calm. She turned her full attention back to the small, terrifying girl sitting opposite her. "My name is Natasha," she said, her voice smooth as silk. "I'm with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. I'm here today because we need to ask you a few questions."
Even though this body's native language was English, Hermione's mind, still wired from a previous life, briefly short-circuited trying to process the ridiculously long, bureaucratic name. Then she remembered. In these early days, the agency hadn't yet adopted its much catchier acronym.
"The… what division?" she asked, tilting her head with a look of perfect, childlike confusion.
Natasha's professional smile didn't waver, but a flicker of annoyance passed through her eyes. She'd told Fury a dozen times they needed a better name. "The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," she repeated patiently, enunciating every syllable.
"The Strategic Homeland… what now?"
"…Enforcement, and Logistics Division."
"Division of what?"
Natasha fell silent. She stared into the girl's wide, clear, and seemingly innocent eyes and, for the first time in a very long time, felt completely and utterly out of her depth.
"Perhaps you could write it down for me," Hermione suggested helpfully, seeing the flicker of frustration on the agent's face.
"Right. I'll just have my colleague bring in a pad and…"
"Oh, don't bother," Hermione interrupted. She raised the simple wooden wand she'd been holding and gave it a gentle wave at the half-empty coffee cup beside her.
The next second, under Natasha's incredulous gaze, the hard ceramic seemed to melt like warm clay. It twisted and flowed, the brown color leaching out, the form reshaping itself with an unnatural fluidity until, in a matter of seconds, it was no longer a coffee cup, but a crisp, white piece of parchment and a sleek black fountain pen.
"Here you go," Hermione said, pushing the impossible objects across the table.
Natasha stared. Her first, second, and third reactions were all rooted in years of training. Sleight of hand. Advanced technology. Nanites. Hallucinogens. She reached out, her fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before grabbing the paper and pen. The paper felt real, its texture a fine, fibrous grain. The pen was cool and solid. She uncapped it and a drop of real, wet ink welled at the nib. It was all real.
"How…" Natasha breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "How did you do that?"
Hermione shrugged, a small, proud puff of her chest. "It's just a simple Transfiguration spell. We learn it in first year. Watch."
"Wingardium Leviosa!" The pen and paper lifted off the table, hovering in mid-air. She sent them spinning in a slow, lazy circle before letting them drop. They clattered onto the floor.
"Reparo!" she commanded. The small crack in the pen's casing instantly fused together, leaving no trace of damage. It was a violation of every law of physics she had ever known.
After witnessing this series of quiet, reality-shattering miracles, Natasha felt a strange sense of vertigo. The solid, predictable world she operated in, a world of spies, soldiers, and science, suddenly felt thin and fragile, like a painted curtain with something vast and incomprehensible lurking just behind it. She had seen super-powered individuals before—people who could control fire or lift cars—but their abilities, while impressive, could still be quantified, studied, and eventually explained by science. This was different. This was not science. This was… magic.
It took all of her formidable willpower to suppress the tremor in her hands and rebuild her shattered worldview around this new, impossible fact. She was a top agent. She adapted.
"A few nights ago," she began, her voice steady despite the chaos in her mind, "a series of… unusual deaths occurred in this city. We were hoping you might know something about them." She was prepared for a denial, for more games.
She was not prepared for the cheerful, honest nod she received. "Oh, you mean the bad guys?" Hermione said, her face lighting up. "Yes, of course I know about them. I killed them."
Natasha's pupils contracted. Before she could form a response, Hermione continued, a look of righteous indignation on her face.
"You're from a… well, whatever that long name was. You're Muggles, so I assume you're some sort of law enforcement. I did your job for you! I punished the bad guys. Doesn't that mean I should get a reward?"
What is wrong with this child? Natasha thought, her professional composure finally cracking. She leaned forward, her voice soft. "Hermione… you're still so young. Killing people… doesn't it bother you?"
"Why would it?" Hermione asked, tilting her head with an air of pure innocence. "They were bad guys. The books and the telly are very clear about it: bad guys get punished and good guys get rewarded. The hero always kills the villains who do evil things, and everyone cheers!"
Natasha's lips twitched. She learned her morality… from television? It was the most absurd and terrifyingly simplistic worldview she had ever encountered.
"Don't debate ethics with her, Romanoff," Fury's voice crackled in her ear, a sharp, strategic command. "Focus on the source. Where did she learn this? Ask about the wizards."
Natasha took a deep breath and forced another warm smile. "You're right, of course," she lied smoothly. "Can you tell me more about yourself? A clever, talented girl like you… how did you learn to do all these incredible things? I'm fascinated."
"How did I learn?" Hermione asked, looking genuinely confused by the question. "The professors at school teach you, and you practice, and then you know it. How else would you learn?"
"A… school?" Natasha asked, a strange, cold feeling beginning to creep up her spine.
"Yes, of course," Hermione said. "Hogwarts. It's the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world."
In his office on the Helicarrier, Nick Fury went very, very still. A school. Teachers. It wasn't just one anomalous child. It was an institution. It was a society. He pulled up a global map on his main screen, his mind racing with the terrifying implications. A hidden civilization of super-powered individuals, operating right under their noses for who knows how long. This was the biggest intelligence failure in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s history.
Seeing Natasha fall silent, Hermione's expression turned impatient. "Hey, I've answered all of your questions. It's my turn."
Natasha snapped back to the present. "Ask."
Hermione leaned forward, her chin resting in her hands, and blinked her large, innocent eyes. "I was using a Disillusionment Charm when I dealt with those criminals. It makes me invisible. Logically, you shouldn't have been able to see me. So how did you know it was me?"
"We… we didn't say it was you," Natasha tried, a weak bluff.
Hermione's expression hardened. "I may be young, but I'm not stupid."
Natasha let out a slow sigh. The girl had her cornered. It was time to give up a piece of the truth. "There were eyewitnesses at the first scene."
"Uncle Sal?" Hermione shook her head decisively. "Impossible. He's a Muggle. He couldn't have seen through my charm."
Natasha nodded, impressed despite herself. "We know. But he wasn't the only witness." She leaned forward and delivered the final, crucial piece of information. "The shop had surveillance cameras."
