He saw visions. Terrifying visions of an ancient civilization whose people lived and breathed the craft of death and dark magic, the embodiment of undeath itself. It showed him its secrets, the rise and fall of such people, the extinction of the gods, and the dawning of a new era for humanity. The source of life and death magic and beyond.
"All right then," John started, his voice resonating in the silence of the room. "For today's training your objective is to work together as a team! And your goal is to take this book away from me before I finish reading to the halfway point."
Mirai's face darkened as he swore. "Madara… The name keeps coming up. If it is him or someone related to him, no matter who he is, I will never let him go."
The beam traveled towards the Hokage building, slicing through the air like a hot knife through butter. It pierced a see-through wall in Hiruzen's office with pinpoint accuracy, leaving a clean hole in its wake.
"Hiruzen, the village has no need of Mirai in these peaceful times." Danzo insisted. "His presence is a disruption, a reminder of the past conflicts. He belongs to an era of war, not peace. We cannot afford to have him disrupting the fragile balance we've maintained."
Friend. The word warmed Jonathan more than a Weasley Christmas sweater. "Anytime, Harry. We've got to stick together, right? Us dimension-hopping, destiny-defying, slug-wrestling wizards."
"Kid, Voldemort's a snake with a wand and daddy issues," Strange scoffed. "I'm talking multiversal threats. Things that make your average Dark Lord look like a toddler with a temper tantrum."