Wizard In Marvel

"Harry, get away!"

"Stupid boy! You wasted the opportunity I gave you, Reina Lance. You don't deserve to be my successor—Avada Kedavra!"

"Reina! No! Voldemort! Expelliarmus!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

The light flickered in front of him. Abel's eyes snapped open as he jumped up from the bed, instinctively reaching to his side with his right hand, only to grasp empty air. He froze for a moment, then it hit him—he was no longer in that world.

He exhaled softly, his tense nerves relaxing, and sat back down on the bed.

Reina Lance—that had been his name in a previous life. Now, he was called Abel Shaw. Six years had passed since his arrival in this new world. The original owner of this body had died of a fever at the age of ten, and Abel had transmigrated into it.

Of course, Reina Lance wasn't a native of the Harry Potter world either. He had traveled there from a world where Harry Potter and Marvel were nothing more than books and movies.

And now, Abel found himself in the Marvel universe. At a time when Tony Stark, Marvel's beloved billionaire playboy, was just beginning his journey, Abel had arrived in this second world.

Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, Abel saw it was only 4:40 a.m. He got up quietly, careful not to wake his mother, who had returned late from work after a long overtime shift. He made himself a glass of honey lemon water, drank it, and then changed into his workout clothes before stepping outside for his morning jog.

Jogging along the quiet, empty streets was part of Abel's daily routine. The early hour meant there were barely any cars, and the fresh air was invigorating.

Of course, he'd occasionally run into some troublemakers, but the combat skills he had honed while fighting Voldemort and the Death Eaters were not just for show—they were real and useful.

When Abel had first truly understood the world of Harry Potter, he realized that magical combat wasn't just about waving wands and casting spells. Wizards, especially Aurors, needed to master various techniques, including close-quarter combat while using magic.

Though his skills didn't make him invincible, he could easily handle two or three thugs. If there were more than that, well... Abel could always turn and run.

After his transmigration, Abel's magic power had started at zero, growing from the day he arrived in this body. Thanks to the fusion of the original soul with his own, Abel's soul had become incredibly powerful. Since a wizard's magic strength depends on the soul's power, Abel's magic had grown nearly twice as fast as it would for someone his age. His magic was also denser, comparable to that of an eleven- or twelve-year-old wizard entering magic school.

Abel was now sixteen, and while his magic growth had been impressive, it had only been six years. His current abilities were still equivalent to those of a young student who had just entered a magical school. This meant he was far from mastering powerful spells.

Moreover, the most critical issue was that there were no wands in this world. Abel could only use wandless magic, and while his spells were stronger than those of a third-rate wizard, they were still limited.

If not for the rigorous wandless magic training he had undergone in his previous life to fight Voldemort, Abel might not have been able to cast even a single spell in this world.

When he returned home around six, he found his mother, her hair disheveled, making breakfast while yawning. It was clear she hadn't showered after coming home late last night.

"Mom, if you're tired, I can make breakfast myself."

"Yawn... Sweetie, you're so considerate, but I already miss out on making lunch and dinner for you. If I don't even prepare breakfast, I'll feel guilty."

Terea Shaw came over with a plate of bacon and eggs, kissed Abel on the cheek, and set the plate down on the table. She brought him toast and milk before sitting across from him, watching as he, freshly washed, began eating.

Perhaps due to the bond with this body or the fusion of souls, Abel didn't mind Terea's affection. In fact, he cherished it. In his previous life, both in his original world and in the Harry Potter world, he had been an orphan. This was the first time he had a mother, and Abel treasured that relationship deeply.

Terea was a chef at a Michelin three-star restaurant. Female chefs were rare, especially one as beautiful as her, and her job kept her incredibly busy. She worked from ten in the morning until late at night, often not returning until after nine or ten. Overtime was almost routine.

Abel had asked about his father once, but Terea had been evasive. When he realized she didn't want to talk about it, he stopped asking. He still had her, and that was enough.

"Mom, if you're this exhausted, you should take a vacation and rest. Most Michelin-starred chefs aren't as overworked as you."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll rest after I've saved enough for your college tuition. Now hurry up, it's getting late—you should head to school."

Tuition fees for American universities are notoriously high, and many families rely on loans to cover the cost. Terea didn't want Abel to worry about finances. Despite the demanding nature of her job, her salary, which included shares in the restaurant, was substantial. Had it not been for the loans she had to repay before becoming a Michelin three-star chef, paying for Abel's education wouldn't have been a problem.

After finishing his meal, Abel wiped his mouth, said goodbye to his mother, and headed out.

He rode his bicycle to Midtown Science and Technology High School, which wasn't far from home. Along the way, he greeted his classmates, parked his bike, and walked into the school building with his bag slung over his shoulder.

Inside, a large electronic screen displayed promotional videos of famous scientists, scholars, and businessmen.

"Tony Stark," the video announced, "a renowned scientist, businessman, and philanthropist. Graduated from MIT at age 17 with PhDs in mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, and physics..."

Abel glanced briefly at the screen, then greeted his friend, and the two exchanged a friendly handshake and shoulder bump before heading to their lockers.

Abel stowed his bag, grabbed the books and pens he needed for his first class, and walked into the classroom with his friend.

And so, his peaceful school life began.