MARVEL-THE MULTIVERSE TRADER

The morning after binding Lily Potter to him in contract, Nova lounged back in a conjured leather chair within room, grinning like a man who'd won the lottery twice on the same day.

Because he had.

He hadn't just secured a powerful witch under contract — no, he'd gotten Lily Potter, the mother of a legend, Harry Potter, as his secretary.

And soon enough, she'd be more than that.

Nova chuckled to himself, recalling the image of her soul projection in the mindscape. That wild mane of crimson hair, those emerald eyes burning with hatred and protectiveness, a figure so perfect it looked like the gods themselves had hand-crafted her.

E-cup perfection, a tight waist, hips made for sin, and legs long enough to tempt a saint.

Sure, right now she looked like death warmed over — skin pale, hair limp, body frail from over a decade comatose. But underneath it all, he knew what lay waiting.

And once he finished restoring her body to match her healed soul?

He grinned wider. "Celise's going to get jealous."

Nova smirked, conjuring an illusion of Lily beside Celise. Both stunning, both deadly, both his.

A multiversal trader deserves his proper entourage, he mused, eyes gleaming with lazy hunger.

After all, what good was power if you couldn't enjoy the spoils?

When he made Celise his secretary, Nova set a personal rule: in every world he traveled, he would choose one beautiful, capable, dangerous woman to act as his right hand. A woman to manage his affairs, handle his business, and — when necessary — decorate his bed.

Not through force.

Through power, loyalty, and the knowledge that with The Trader, you could grasp the stars.

Celise from the Black Clover world… and now, Lily Potter from the Harry Potter world.

---

Yesterday had been the first step. He'd healed Lily's mind and soul, stripped away thirteen years of madness and agony, replaced torment with clarity. He left her body weakened by design — after all, how suspicious would it be if a woman long thought brain-dead sprang out of bed with curves that could make a veela jealous overnight?

Patience.

Once she left St. Mungo's, he'd finish the restoration properly. Bring back the crimson-haired goddess from her prime, strengthen her beyond anything the Order or Ministry had ever seen.

And then? They'd begin to build their business empire.

The Wizarding World was ancient, yes — steeped in centuries of tradition, bloodline politics, and stagnant customs. But it was still evolving. Not so much in Britain, of course, where progress was throttled by old families clinging to power like drowning men clutching driftwood.

But in other parts of the world? In places like America, Japan, the Chinese enclaves, and India? They'd already begun integrating Magi-Tech — a fusion of technology and magic that left the British Ministry trembling in denial.

In Japan, enchanted katanas paired with spell-imbued circuitry. In America, rune-powered firearms, arcane-infused medical fields, and even enchanted vehicles zipped through concealed cities. The Americans had entire magical metropolises hidden in plain sight, away from eyes of muggles.

But here in Britain?

They had artifacts, cursed heirlooms, and relics hoarded by wizened old lords sitting on decaying titles. Markets bound in red tape, innovation choked by the same dozen pureblood families playing kingmaker since the bloody days of Merlin.

Muggleborns and half-bloods? Clever ones capable of reshaping the world?

Their ideas buried under Ministry mandates. Their talents wasted in desk jobs, or worse — hunted and quietly disposed of if their ambitions drew too much notice.

But that would change.

Because a war was coming.

And war rewrote everything. Power would shuffle during the war.

He already had plans for the coming conflict. Plans that would unfold like dominoes the moment Voldemort made his next move.

But that was still three or four years away.

So for now, he'd start small→ Potions.

Altough here in this world, the market is saturated with potion business but that's not the case in Black Clover world or Marvel's Earth, where potions were rare or put of normal public reach, but here they existed — even an average Hogwarts student with a halfway decent NEWT could brew a half-dozen effective, reliable potions.

And it wouldn't stop at potions. He'd export enchanted items, warded gear, cursed trinkets that meant nothing to jaded British wizards but would fetch a king's ransom elsewhere. Especially magical trunks — those endlessly spacious, warded chests would be worth fortunes in other worlds.

He could practically hear the gold piling up.

So for the time being, his plan is only potion export. Other business plan will have to wait until Lily comes to him. Afterall she is lady Potter, of house of Potter, which is a ancient house.

This identity along would be enough to grease things for his business.

But first, Harry Potter.

The threat of Lucius Malfoy wasn't invented. Nova didn't bluff about things that mattered. While he couldn't claim absolute certainty — magic and fate were fickle beasts — he was sixty to seventy percent sure Lucius was already maneuvering to eliminate the boy standing between his son and the Black inheritance.

And Harry needed to stay alive.

In one piece.

Because Lily Potter wouldn't truly belong to him until she saw her son safe — until she owed that security to Nova.

Time to meet one of his childhood legends.

He might not be the Boy-Who-Lived in this world, but he was still Harry bloody Potter.

----

Nova apparated into a quiet, upscale wizarding neighborhood with a soft pop, the night air thick with the faint scent of blood and magic. He stretched his shoulders, surveying the pristine streets, the glow of enchanted lanterns flickering along cobblestone paths.

" Even without the Boy-Who-Lived title, Potter and Granger got together and find trouble." He smirked to himself. Fate's a clingy little thing.

When he gathered information, he got to know that Hermione and Harry are best friends. In fact, they are the most studious gryffindor's, even more than Ravenclaw's. Which was a little surprise to Nova, as Harry and studying? Ha..

But anyway, in this world, without the burden of the prophecy and without meddling of some old man, Harry truly shined in studies.

Harry and Hermione became fast friends during first year, the person didn't know much about how or when they become first friends.

He along with Hermione, regularly comes first in end year exams.

Also Harry....

Suddenly Nova got pulled out of his thoughts, when a feral howl ripped through the night. Nova's head snapped toward the sound — magic crackled nearby, mingled with screams and snarling.

Without hesitation, he stalked toward the chaos like a predator drawn to a bleeding lamb.

And what he found made him raised his eyebrows.

Werewolves, not one, not four, not five. But Seven. A total of seven fully-transformed werewolves deep in London city, especially in an area where high-society Muggles lived — the kind of place lined with private security patrols, CCTV cameras, and expensive homes behind wrought iron gates.

A neighborhood where even a stray dog would get reported within minutes, let alone a pack of man-eating beasts under a full moon.

Malfoy sure works fast and meticulously, huh?

Even with the fight happening, the neighbours are not disturbed or shouting. He can feel temporary wards around the Granger's house.

Surely those mindless werewolves couldn't have set those wards, right?

x------x

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