Harry went completely still, as if he'd been struck by lightning.

Ron covered his face with both hands. "It's over, it's all over... I thought we were finally rid of that old bat..."

Draco quietly pressed a hand to her mouth, and laughed. Ron shot her a furious glare.

"No, seriously — why?"

Harry snapped back to himself, voice rising with panic. "He's come after me more times in the past six months than Umbridge has!"

Watching Harry's utterly hopeless expression, Hermione set her smile aside.

"Snape's attitude toward you is genuinely terrible. But no matter how much he targets you, he has a line he won't cross. If it had been Umbridge running things instead, you wouldn't have gotten off with just this much grief."

Harry opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

He hated to admit it, but she was right.

Umbridge had been revolting this entire half-year, yet she'd never actually managed to come down on him hard. Mainly because Snape had been finding fault, docking points, and handing out detentions every single day.

Thinking back on it now...

"You could say he indirectly shielded you from disaster."

Hermione patted Harry's shoulder. "Even if it wasn't his intention, the objective fact is right there in front of you. So don't hate him quite so much. He's better than Umbridge, at least."

Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he gave a reluctant nod.

"Fine. I admit defeat."

He took a deep breath. "A bet's a bet. When does this potion-testing business start?"

"No rush."

Hermione's smile grew brighter. "I'll come find you when the time comes."

Harry looked at that smile and felt an inexplicable chill creep down his spine. He had the distinct sensation of having climbed aboard a ship he couldn't get off.

He knew that smile. Every single time Hermione was planning to make someone's life difficult, she wore exactly that expression.

Draco looked at Harry with undisguised sympathy.

The three of them shuffled off together, thoroughly miserable.

Passing the door to the Potions office, they nearly walked straight into Snape coming out.

Snape saw Harry. His expression darkened immediately.

"Wandering the corridors instead of being in your dormitory. Ten points from Gryffindor."

He ignored Draco entirely. Magnificently.

They watched the giant bat sweep away like a cold wind, and for reasons neither of them could quite explain, Harry and Ron both felt considerably better.

They still had no idea why Snape had apparently developed a split personality — all smiles one minute, then back to his usual scowl the next.

But...

This was right.

This was the Snape they knew.

The warmth from a few minutes ago had clearly been a hallucination brought on by exhaustion.

...

Hermione watched the three of them until they disappeared around the corner, then drew her gaze back.

The corridor went quiet.

The ease on her face dissolved completely.

Death.

That mass of black shadow, the one before which even Grindelwald had been utterly powerless, had left her with an urgency she had never felt before.

It was too strong. Strong enough to exceed everything she could currently handle.

She needed to get stronger. Fast.

And the quickest path was harvesting Soul Energy in bulk.

As it happened, something had gone wrong in Asgard. She wasn't sure what yet.

She'd planned to deal with it later, but now it looked like perfect timing.

For Earth's safety. For her Soul Energy. This trip was no longer optional.

She wasn't going alone this time, though.

She'd bring several Sin Archbishops from the Witch Cult along with her.

It would broaden their horizons, and she had a faint, nagging feeling that she might genuinely need the backup this time.

Before any of that, there were preparations to make.

She rounded the corner toward the Room of Requirement and found someone already waiting outside the door.

A platinum-blonde figure standing quietly by the entrance.

Luna.

"Why are you here?"

Hermione blinked.

"Waiting for you." Luna tilted her head, voice light and drifting. "Every time you're about to do something big, you always come here first."

Hermione laughed despite herself.

That girl's intuition was frightening.

Luna really was still the person who understood her best.

"Come on then."

Hermione reached out and ruffled her hair. The two of them stepped inside.

The Room hadn't changed much from a year ago. Same alchemy workbench, same neat rows of materials spread across every surface.

"I need to put together a few alchemical items first."

Hermione settled in at the workbench. "Once they're done, I'll take you over."

Luna nodded and asked nothing, simply moving to Hermione's side and quietly starting to help.

Magic gathered. Materials melted and reformed.

Hermione worked with practiced ease, and the foundations of several robes slowly took shape.

At one point she caught the flow of magic as Luna fed materials into the process. Her brow lifted slightly.

Level four?

In the year and more she'd been away, Luna had actually reached this level?

That was elite Auror territory.

Never mind Hogwarts students, even the Aurors Fudge had brought with him, few of them could hold their own against Luna in a one-on-one fight now.

"You've been working hard."

Hermione said it offhandedly.

"Mm."

Luna's voice stayed easy. "I have to keep up with you. Otherwise I won't be qualified to go wherever you go anymore."

Hermione's hands paused for just a moment.

She looked over at Luna.

The girl wore the same drifting, faraway expression she always did, as though what she'd just said was barely worth mentioning.

But Hermione knew better. Level two to level four in a year and a half wasn't something "hard work" could cover. That was countless nights of grinding, countless moments of pushing her magic until there was nothing left, over and over again, breaking past her own limits every time.

Luna, unhurried, easygoing, a little lazy by nature, had pushed herself to that point, just to keep pace with her.

She made it sound like nothing. But it couldn't have been easy.

Hermione didn't say anything else. She just moved a little faster.

Before long, after pouring a large batch of alchemical materials into recharging the Philosopher's Stone, six deep-crimson robes were finished.

Each one was covered in densely layered runes, giving off a faint, steady hum of magical energy.

"Done."

Hermione gathered the robes and turned to face Luna.

"Ready?"

Luna nodded.

"Then let's go."

Hermione reached into her pocket and drew out a small cloth pouch.

Luna, completely familiar with the routine, ducked right in.

Hermione took a breath. She let the intention settle in her mind.

Cross over.

Magic surged. Space folded.

The Room of Requirement disappeared.

In its place — a familiar scene.

The Marvel world. Ministry of Magic headquarters.

Hermione landed and let Luna out of the pouch.

Luna looked around, taking it in.

"Haven't been here in a while. Tom Riddle's kept the place in good shape."

"He really did build out the whole Ministry of Magic here."

A note of genuine wonder in her voice.

Hermione lifted her left hand.

On the inside of her wrist, a small apple-shaped mark surfaced.

She ran her thumb lightly across it.

Magic flowed in. The mark lit with a faint red glow, the outline deepening into the color of a ripe apple.

The magic threaded outward through the mark, crossing the space between worlds, carrying a silent summons.

Simultaneously.

In 4 separate locations across the Marvel world, Agatha, Wanda, Tom Riddle, and Kaecilius each felt a sudden heat flare at their wrist. The apple marks gleamed briefly into view.

All four of them understood at once.

The Prophesied Witch was calling.

➤ Next: The Archbishops of Sin Gather for the First Time

Chapter 376 - The Archbishops of Sin Gather for the First Time

Kamar-Taj, training grounds.

Strange sat cross-legged on a prayer mat, hands locked in seals, fine beads of sweat pushing through his forehead.

Seven orange-red Magic Circles hovered in front of him, each one slowly rotating, each one bleeding faint light.

"Focus, Stephen."

Kaecilius stood behind him, voice steady. "Sustaining magic isn't about how much power you have. It's about keeping your intent unified."

All seven Magic Circles collapsed at once.

They scattered into a drift of glowing motes and were gone.

Strange bent forward, gasping, and dragged a hand across his forehead.

"I honestly don't think the Sorcerer Supreme title is meant for me," he said, shaking his head.

"You, Wong, Mordo — any one of you would be a better fit."

Kaecilius shook his head. His expression shifted, going serious.

"Not me."

"Why not?" Strange looked genuinely baffled. "Your power is leagues above mine. Your time at Kamar-Taj goes back further than mine. What disqualifies you?"

"Because I've made mistakes."

Kaecilius said it flatly. "And there are more important things I need to do."

"As for Wong and Mordo."

"Their potential isn't sufficient."

Strange went quiet.

"That's enough for today."

Kaecilius dispersed his Magic Circle and turned toward the exit. "I have something pressing. I need to step out."

He raised one hand and cut through the air.

Golden light flared and spread, opening a portal.

Kaecilius stepped through. The light folded shut behind him.

---

Somewhere deep in a forest.

Sunlight broke through the canopy in scattered patches, throwing dappled light across the forest floor.

A rough-hewn wooden cabin sat quietly in a clearing.

Agatha was on the ground, both hands cradling a book with a pitch-black cover that pulsed with a faint, wrong feeling.

The Darkhold.

Her eyes were half-closed, lips barely parted, murmuring incantations in a low and ancient cadence.

The pages turned on their own. Line after line of twisted text crawled across the paper like things with a will of their own.

Purple magic seeped out of the book and curled around Agatha. She drew it in slowly, steadily.

Not far off, Wanda was sprawled on the grass, hands folded behind her head, staring up at nothing in particular.

"Tom Riddle said the Lady Witch was going to take us on some big operation." She sounded thoroughly bored. "Still no word. I want to go do something."

"Play, play, play — is that all you ever think about?"

Agatha's eyes snapped open. She fixed Wanda with a look of pure exasperation. "Talent like yours, and you spend every day waiting around to have fun!"

"When the Lady Witch finds out how little progress you've made after all this time, she's going to come down on you hard!"

"And I'll get dragged into it for being your teacher!"

Wanda stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes.

"I have been working hard, okay?"

She sat up and snapped her fingers.

Scarlet Chaos Magic exploded outward, condensing into an enormous hand that closed around a nearby tree.

It squeezed.

CRACK!

The trunk split clean in two.

Agatha looked at it. She gave a cold snort.

"You're seriously showing off Chaos Magic at that level?"

Wanda pressed her lips together, not convinced, but not arguing either.

Agatha drew breath to say something more.

Then both of them felt it at the same moment, a sharp heat on the inside of their left wrists.

Agatha looked down. An apple-shaped mark on her inner wrist was glowing red, faint but unmistakable.

Wanda stared at hers. Identical.

They looked at each other.

The laziness dropped off their faces like it had never been there.

"It's time."

Agatha rose. The Darkhold snapped shut on its own and flew back into her hand.

Wanda was already on her feet, brushing grass from her clothes.

"Let's go!"

Dense purple magic erupted from Agatha's body. She became a streak of light and punched straight into the sky.

Wanda went right after her, scarlet Chaos Magic wrapping her whole body as she tore through the air.

Purple and red. Two streaks of light crossed above the treeline and arrowed off in the same direction.

---

Hermione sat in a high-backed chair at the center of a vast, empty hall. Luna stood quietly at her side.

Less than 3 minutes after the mark triggered.

A sharp crack split the air, and Tom Riddle Apparated in.

"You've come."

"I've come."

"You shouldn't have come."

"Stop," Hermione said flatly.

Almost at the same moment, a golden portal opened in front of her. Kaecilius stepped out.

He dropped to one knee, head bowed.

"Lady Witch."

Then purple magic came rolling through the hall's entrance like a tide. Agatha walked out of it and gave Hermione a slight incline of her head.

"Lady Witch."

Scarlet magic followed half a breath later. Wanda dropped from above and landed without a sound.

"Lady Witch!"

She turned immediately. "Tom~"

The excitement in her voice was impossible to miss.

All four stood at attention, waiting for Hermione's instructions, eyes moving across the others.

Hermione looked around the room and gave a single nod.

Kaecilius glanced toward Agatha. Something heavy moved through his eyes.

He could feel it coming off her — something lethal.

Tom Riddle was watching Agatha too, and doing the math quietly to himself.

After the Lady Witch had given her what she'd given her, this woman had been pulling power from the Dark Dimension without stopping. By now she was probably the strongest person in this room.

Wanda wasn't running those kinds of calculations. She was just looking around with open curiosity, clearly itching to get started.

Agatha didn't show anything. But the restrained pressure rolling off her magic was something everyone present could feel without trying.

Hermione spoke.

"Some of you haven't met. Let me make introductions."

She gestured toward Kaecilius.

"This is Kaecilius. Archbishop of Sin of the Witch Cult. Gluttony."

Kaecilius dipped his head.

"This is Agatha Harkness. Archbishop of Sin. Greed."

The corner of Agatha's mouth lifted.

"This is Wanda Maximoff. Archbishop of Sin. Wrath."

Wanda grinned and gave a little wave.

"This is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Archbishop of Sin. Pride."

Tom Riddle kept his face empty and nodded once.

Hermione turned last to Luna.

"This is Luna Lovegood. Archbishop of Sin. Sloth."

Silence.

Everyone except Tom Riddle, who already knew, went still.

Sloth?

This soft-eyed, faintly dreamy girl who looked like she'd wandered in half-asleep was an Archbishop of Sin?

Hermione noticed. She didn't explain.

"There is one more Archbishop," she said. "Envy. Unable to be here today."

"You'll meet them soon enough."

Something moved through the room.

A sixth?

Who?

Hermione leaned back in the high chair and let her perception spread outward. She ran her assessment without any of them knowing she was doing it.

Agatha walked the dimensional sorcerer path. She had absorbed the dregs of Dormammu's power and taken the Darkhold fully under her control. Over a year since they'd last met, and she had climbed to Tier-6 magic. Not just stronger, qualitatively different.

Half a dimension lord, at this point.

Tom Riddle: Tier-5. Pure wizard system. Bedrock-deep foundations.

Wanda: Tier-5. The embryonic form of Chaos Magic already there in her core. She coasted, but the raw talent was something you didn't come across twice in a generation.

Kaecilius: Tier-4. Kamar-Taj orthodox lineage, the Masters of the Mystic Arts tradition. Methodical, grounded. A little behind the others, but his body was a Horcrux vessel, same as Tom Riddle, which meant soul energy could be fed into him directly. Moving him up the ranks was simple. It just depended on her.

Luna: Tier-4. Pure wizard system. She worked hard. She was still a little soft. But there wasn't much to be done about that.

She was the Lady Witch's personal connection, after all.

And then there was Loki, away in Asgard, running Frigga's Vanir magic. He'd been wearing Odin's face for a long time. She had no idea what that kind of long game had done to his craft.

"Now that everyone's here, put these on first."

Hermione swept her hand through the air. Five deep-red robes lifted and drifted with precision, one to each person.

Tom Riddle caught his and shook it out.

The fabric was dark red, packed with alchemical runes in intricate rows. Over the chest: a black apple. Inside the apple, a serpent twisted in on itself.

The mark of Pride.

She had adapted the Slytherin house crest. Slightly.

"These are the official robes of the Witch Cult's Archbishops of Sin," Hermione said. "Each one carries your mark."

Kaecilius spread his open. On the chest: a gaping maw.

Gluttony.

Agatha's showed a heap of coins.

Greed.

Wanda's: flames.

Wrath.

Luna's: a closed eye.

Sloth.

"Beyond the markings, each robe is enchanted — waterproof, fireproof, magic-resistant, vacuum-sealed." Hermione let that land, then added, "You could do all of that yourself. But it would take focus to maintain, and it would drain your power continuously."

"With these, your combat effectiveness goes up at least one tier."

Agatha's eyes sharpened. She had the robe on before anyone else had moved.

Purple magic stirred. The robe pulled itself flush against her frame. The runes lit up in a soft murmur, syncing with the power inside her.

"Acceptable."

She nodded, satisfied.

The others followed, pulling the robes on, feeling out what each enchantment did.

Hermione watched them standing there, all dressed in matching deep red, and let the smallest smile touch her mouth.

Now that was more like it.

The Witch Cult was starting to look like something real.

She let the smile drop.

"All right. To business."

Her voice went level, and the room settled with it.

"I called you all here because there is a major operation."

➤ Next: Upheaval in Asgard