Chapter 397: The Avengers

When Peter and Strange were pulled into the Mind Hall, they were still dazed. Strange was used to arriving at the dream base after falling asleep, but he found it strange that this time they hadn't landed in the familiar high-level conference room, but in a corridor of a tall tower.

Peter had no idea what was going on—he remembered that one moment he was playing a video game, and the next he was suddenly in this strange place.

Charles looked at Peter helplessly and said, "Kid, I'm not one of those rigid parents, but staying up playing games at 3 a. . is just a bit…"

Peter scratched his head, offering an embarrassed smile, and seeing Stark's less-than-pleased expression, he explained, "It's not like this every day—there's just a new game out recently."

"By the way, where exactly are we? How did I suddenly end up here? And why are all of you here too?"

Peter frowned and said, "My spider-sense didn't trigger at all—how did you get me here?"

Charles explained the situation to the two newcomers, then added, "Dr. Connors is also staying up late with his research, but since what he's working on is extremely important, suddenly stopping it could be dangerous, so I didn't bring him here…"

Stark snorted, "You didn't say that when you just hypnotized me and dragged me over."

Charles sighed helplessly. "Fine, I can bring him over now—if you're okay with hundreds of giant lizards running around New York City tomorrow."

"No way!" Steve immediately spoke up.

"Professor Charles, I understand everything you just said—so what am I supposed to do now?" Peter asked.

"First, let's go to my world and study magic."

Steve raised no objections; he simply asked, "Are you sure multiple people can enter?"

"We can try first. If it doesn't work, Charles can pull us out—after all, they're both new here, mentally fresh, so they can handle one failure."

"You go in together. I'll stay outside in case anything goes wrong." Charles turned toward the railing, and the others followed Stark toward the door at the end of the corridor.

Stark stepped through the door first, blinked in confusion, and found himself back on the small boat—his three companions who had entered with him sat beside him, all now transformed into their childhood selves. They stared at each other's faces and burst into childish laughter, the lamplight reflecting on their innocent features, making their eyes brighter than starlight.

Surprisingly, the skinniest among them was Steve, who had once been the strongest—he was now a small, thin boy wearing glasses, looking exactly like the bookish kid you'd find in any school.

Peter hadn't changed much—he was already young, so he was just proportionally shrunk, his face still recognizable. Young Stark and Strange had both been good-looking, but Stark's eyes shone especially brightly.

The other three, besides Stark, stared curiously at their arms and bodies. Stark turned around and shouted, "Stop laughing—row faster! We need to get off the boat quickly; only those in the front row can see what's inside."

The process—from rowing, disembarking, to arriving at the hall—was identical, as if replaying a game from the very beginning.

This time, however, Peter was the first called. When he stepped up to the chair, he reached out to grab the Sorting Hat—but it tilted its head to avoid him. Even as it settled on his head, he still tried to grab the brim, but the teacher quickly stopped him.

"How does this thing even work? Do you have a brain? Where are your legs? Inside the hat, or on the brim?" Peter fired off a string of questions, then continued, "They say you sort students into houses based on their qualities—so what exactly do you use to judge a person's qualities?"

"How many students have you sorted? Ever made a mistake? What happens if you do?"

Then Peter heard the Sorting Hat take a deep breath—and suddenly, a deafening roar filled the hall:

"Gryffindor!"

Next came Steve Rogers. He stepped forward, glanced curiously at the hat, then sat down obediently. As the teacher placed the hat on his head, it let out a low, thoughtful "Hmm…"

"Determined, kind, brave—child, you astonish me. You possess so many fine qualities…"

On the way here, Steve had already heard Stark's brief introduction to the four houses. He asked the Sorting Hat, "Which house suits me best?"

"Actually, both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff suit you well. Ravenclaw could work too—it depends on which house you prefer. Would you like me to explain them?"

"Gryffindor is the lion of the wild—courageous, fearless, always charging ahead. Of course, they sometimes cause chaos through recklessness."

"Hufflepuff is the badger of the cave—kind, united, generous with sharing, but sometimes too sentimental, leading to hesitation…"

"Oh! Wait—I feel it… In this regard, you cannot deceive yourself. You belong—Hufflepuff!"

The table with the most students erupted in loud cheers. Steve walked over smiling, shaking hands and hugging them. The Sorting Hat was right—when he heard Hufflepuff's qualities, a voice inside him told him he belonged here.

When Strange sat down, the Sorting Hat fell silent for a long time, then asked, "Your mind holds many strange things—where did they come from?"

"Never mind that—where am I supposed to go?"

"No, no, no—I must warn you: your mind contains knowledge that borders on forbidden. It could endanger your safety. If you don't tell me its source, I'll shout right now and have the teachers stop you—and your parents."

The Sorting Hat spoke sternly: "I never expected that after the great war, pure-blood parents would still teach their children these forbidden dark magic secrets. Which family are you from? Hey, wait—what's your surname? Strange? You're not some distant branch of the Strange family, are you?"

Before Strange could explain, the Sorting Hat seemed to have already filled in all the gaps himself. "Fine—these pure-blood families are always so bold, thinking a name change will fool me?"

"This school has existed for over a thousand years—I know its rules. If you don't want your secret discovered, you'd better…"

Consume

"Slytherin."

As the Sorting Hat uttered this name, its tone grew somber, utterly unlike its usual high, excited pitch—like an echo from distant history.

The group welcoming Strange was far less enthusiastic than those of other houses. They merely rose and gave him a reserved nod. One slightly older boy stepped forward, shook his hand, and said, "Welcome. You won't regret your choice—we are Slytherin."

After sorting, everyone returned to their houses. Strangely, the four were assigned to four different houses, so they could only meet again when two of them shared a class.

The first charms class was shared by Ravenclaw and Slytherin, so Stark could discuss spell usage with Strange.

Since Stark had already studied this once, he cast the levitation charm effortlessly. Strange made no move—he simply stared intently at his wand, lost in thought. Stark noticed and asked, "What are you thinking?"

"You know," Strange stared fixedly at the wand, as if recalling something, "I don't see power in this wand. If you'd lived in Kamar-Taj, you'd understand—magic is completely disconnected from human society."

"The education, production, and distribution systems you see in human society don't apply here."

He turned the wand in his hand. "What surprises me most is that this dream world has an entire industry dedicated to crafting magical tools. Did you hear them? There's a commercial street, a wand shop…"

Strange shook his head. "In reality, that's nearly impossible. Even if we had materials, methods, and producers, there simply aren't enough customers."

"Why?" Strange answered himself. "Because magic is still an unscalable discipline. Whether someone can learn it doesn't depend on their learning ability, effort, or time invested—it depends on luck."

He looked up at the blackboard. "And yet, why do they have so many buyers and customers? I think the answer lies right here."

"They have a complete educational system—teachers, students, textbooks, homework. They learn, grow, graduate, and become members of the wizarding world, each fulfilling their role."

Strange sighed. "Since stepping into the universe, I've wondered: Kamar-Taj's mission to protect Earth won't end just because humanity grows stronger. On the contrary, endless challenges await us in the cosmos."

"Magic, as humanity's most unique ability, may not be the sharpest spear—but it will always be the strongest shield. How to make this shield even harder, to face the dangers coming one after another—that's what I've been thinking about."

"Undoubtedly, the path forward is magic and technology advancing together. Where magic falls short of technology is in its accessibility."

"In elementary school, ordinary humans start by learning numbers and basic arithmetic, progressing all the way to advanced calculus in university. Magic has no such progression."

"Is it because magic's nature requires borrowing power from cosmic deities?" Stark asked.

"Correct. But learning how to borrow power is only the first step. What makes human magic extraordinary is that we've developed unique magical technologies."

"Have you seen any civilizations in Andromeda with convenient portals like ours? Even the powerful Kree—do they have mirror dimensions? Can they use the Crimson Bands?"

"Do you think they don't want to?"

"Human creativity is a treasure in any field—but magic's problem is that the barrier to mastering these technologies is too high."

"Because we borrow power from cosmic deities, young wizards aren't allowed to access overly powerful forces—they can't control them. But the less they practice, the less they learn to control. Only those with exceptional talent can grasp these techniques in this blind-man-feeling-elephant state."

Strange looked down at the small wooden stick. "This gives me a new idea. Although children who just joined Kamar-Taj can't directly borrow power from the deities, older wizards could borrow it and craft it into magical items like this wand."

"Then young wizards would have a chance to gradually become familiar with magic. If combined with a school system like this one—progressive, step-by-step learning—magic might become accessible."

"But what about the cost of borrowing power? Who pays?"

Strange looked at Stark in surprise. "Cost? When did that become an issue? Don't you remember? The previous member gifts, the fees paid by the deities—even if the Masters worked at full capacity, we'd have enough to last until next century."

Stark slapped his forehead. He'd forgotten—Kamar-Taj had gone from buyer to middleman, now squeezing both sides.

"Actually, what I most want to learn is wand-making. But we seem unable to leave this school." Strange touched his face, slightly regretful. "I really want to know—do they really have a way to produce magical items steadily and efficiently?"

"Doesn't Kamar-Taj have such a method?" Stark asked curiously.

Strange shook his head. "Even the Sorcerer Supreme needs luck to craft a protective artifact—not every attempt succeeds. But here…" He glanced back at the students behind him. "Even the youngest wizards each have a wand."

"Not just that—I heard there are artifacts left by the four founders. I'd love to see one." Stark rubbed his chin.

In truth, Stark was also deeply interested in forging—even if it was magical forging, it might still be useful to him, especially since he still had a magical energy core.