Chapter 5: Know Your Enemy

Wanda stifled a yawn as she hobbled into the Avengers Kitchen, finally on her own two legs.

Well, mostly on her own legs. Two days ago, she had woken up to a little present leaned up against her nightstand — a pair of short, red elbow crutches. They were probably from Vision, who had annoyingly glued himself to Wanda's hip since her return from Hell.

Though, rather than look at the gift horse in the mouth, she and Clint had been practicing to use them over the weekend. All leading up to today.

Her first day of school.

Little did the rest of the Avengers know, Wanda hadn't been to school since she was ten. So the thought of being thrown into a public high school in New York filled her with dread. That's not including the fact that Wanda's name and face were very recognizable, thanks to the shitty news outlets that covered Lagos.

The smell of fresh eggs yanked Wanda out of her thoughts. Her stomach howled, and her mouth flooded with saliva. She rounded the corner to find Clint over the stove wearing a goofy pink apron with frills on end. Truly a good look for him. He scraped scrambled eggs from the pan to a plate, and for a second, Wanda prayed that it was meant for her.

He caught her eye and smiled. "Morning! Your bowl's on the counter."

Wanda's shoulders sagged as she pulled herself onto the raised chair and glared at her soup. She waved to get Clint's attention and signed, Can I eat real food, please?

Clint sat in front of Wanda, no doubt going to give her the same speech she's heard for the last two days. "You have to get heavier before you can eat eggs, but it shouldn't be long," he said, signing while he talked.

A little eggs? Wanda signed, giving him her biggest puppy dog eyes.

Clint sighed and got up. He came back with the smallest plate he could find and pushed a sad excuse for a helping of eggs in front of her before ruffling her auburn hair. Wanda knew better than to complain and thanked him before devouring her breakfast. Wanda thought the taste of scrambled eggs was unbearably bland before she was arrested, but now they were the best thing she's ever tasted. At this point, anything was better than chicken broth.

"So," Clint said, grinning from ear to ear. "It's your first day of school."

Wanda rolled her eyes. So excited , she signed.

"C'mon, look on the bright side," he said, "you get to go to basketball games, join musicals, sing songs in the cafeteria about keeping the status quo-"

"Exactly what school did you go to, Barton?" Sam said as he and Scott walked into the kitchen.

Clint's ears turned pink. "I may have dropped out and joined the circus."

" The Circus ?" Sam snorted.

He and Scott snickered as Clint punched Sam in the arm.

Wanda couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Clinton Barton chilling with the elephants and the trapeze artists.

"Anyway," Sam said, wiping a tear from his eye. He turned to Wanda and plopped a hand on her shoulder. "Disregarding anything Circus Boy told you, high school's nothing like whatever Disney Channel will have you believe."

Scott nodded. "Listen, Wanda. High school is a lot like prison — assert dominance quickly and stab the biggest guy in the room."

" Scott !" Sam and Clint shouted in unison.

"I lived in Florida !"

"Well-"

Wanda jumped, nearly falling off her chair if Scott hadn't caught her, as Vision phased through the floor behind her. She whirled around at Vision to glare at him, and Vision winced apologetically.

"I took the liberty to look into which school Ms. Maximoff would be attending," he went on, "and Newcomers High School seems to be a very accommodating academy. They specialize in students who have recently come to the United States."

As the kitchen filled with more people, Wanda started getting annoyed. It felt like everyone was pressing closer and closer to her, and the fact that they were talking about her as if she wasn't even in the room annoyed her the most.

She quickly drank the rest of her soup and slipped out of the kitchen before anyone could notice.

Wanda settled on the couch for the rest of the morning, or at least until her UN escort came to take her to the city.

She shouldered her new black backpack and started making her way to the door when Tony stopped her. He mentioned something about Wanda having a tutor after school, but frankly, she wasn't listening. She just pushed past him to the door, where Clint was waiting for a goodbye hug.

Wanda gave him a quick hug, but Vision stopped her while clutching something tightly to his chest before she could get out the door.

"I found this," he said as he revealed a smartphone with a pair of headphones wound around it.

A warm smile crept across Wanda's face as she took the phone in her hands. Nat had bought it for her a few weeks after she came to the compound and filled it with hundreds of songs that she thought Wanda would like. It was one of the nicest gifts Wanda had ever gotten.

She grinned at Vision, signing him a thank you before hobbling into the SUV.

Wanda didn't even pay attention to the car ride into the city as she flipped through the photo album on her phone. All of the pictures and videos were of the year she spent being trained by Nat and Steve.

She came to a video of herself sitting on an examination table with Steve sitting next to her and smiled. They had gone on an arms bust together in France, and Wanda inevitably had to get stitches. No one, not even Wanda, expected how much of a wimp she was over four stitches, but Nat had videotaped Wanda sobbing over a little needle. Not only was she a piteously blubbering mess, but she repeatedly denied the fact she was crying in some sad hope to keep her dignity.

It may not have been funny to Wanda at the time, but now, a year later, Wanda couldn't help but cackle at Steve, who was also close to tears as he stitched her up. He was such a dad about it that he even promised her ice cream after they were done.

She absentmindedly scratched at the bandages around her neck. The electrical burns finally started to scab over, but they never stopped itching!

Wanda leaned against the car door, blasting Green Day through her headphones as the car finally crossed the East River. By the time they had pulled up to a red brick building that read Newcomers High School on the front, Wanda's stomach had dropped.

She took a deep breath, mentally scolding herself to suck it up. She lived in a warzone, spent years as a government experiment, and went to prison. High school was not going to be what killed her.

Whatever sick, twisted TV show taught children that high school was fun needs to be shot.

Wanda had a death grip on her crutches as people shoved past her in the overcrowded halls. She held her schedule in a ball in one hand, trying to find her American History Class with Ms. Sosa. However, since Wanda couldn't even see the hallway's cinder block walls, she had no idea how she would find her class.

As she pushed past students, their thoughts bombarded her mind. No matter what she did, she couldn't shut them out. Even with Green Day screaming in her ears, Wanda couldn't escape.

The worst part was that it seemed like all of them were about her.

One boy stared at her like she was a bug on the bottom of his shoe. Isn't she supposed to be in prison? He thought.

Another girl overtly glared at her. Are they seriously letting mass murderers into this school now?

Why does she smell like chicken broth? One boy thought.

Wanda was going to kill Clint when she got home.

By some miracle, she finally shoved her way into her history class. Her head now spinning, Wanda sat at the very back of the class. She set her crutches down against her desk and then plopped her head into her arms. There used to be a time where Wanda would have to try her hardest to read just one person's mind. Since when did she have to shut people out?

Now that Wanda was out of the crowd, it wasn't as noisy as before. At least she could hear her music. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to rid herself of an oncoming migraine when the bell blared above her, announcing that class had begun.

"Take your seats, everyone," a woman said.

Wanda peeled her face off the desk to watch students settle into their seats, and a woman in a white blouse and pencil skirt paced at the front of the room. It must've been Ms. Sosa.

"We have a new student today, as you all know," she said.

Wanda silently pleaded that this lady wouldn't force the attention of the class on her.

"Miss Wanda Maximoff."

Thanks.

Wanda dropped her head in her hands.

Everyone turned around to look at her. Their faces mixed with anger, confusion, and fear.

All except one. An olive-skinned boy sat two seats across from her. His face was blank and expressionless, but his dark eyes scanned her with an uncomfortable intensity. Wanda took a deep breath as she tried to reach into his mind, but the only thing she could find was something like radio static. A sharp pain stabbed behind her eyes, forcing her out of his mind. Her migraine set in from all the screaming thoughts in the hallway.

"If you've seen the news recently," Ms. Sosa went on, pulling everyone's attention back, "you'll know that our wonderfully competent government pardoned Miss Maximoff of her crimes and brought her here as an attempt to reintegrate into society."

Ms. Sosa never broke eye contact with Wanda, and Wanda didn't even need to look into this woman's mind to know those words were laced with venomous spite.

Wanda wanted to say something. She couldn't tell if she wanted to yell at Ms. Sosa to leave her alone or if it was to apologize for all the trouble she caused, but the words bubbled up in Wanda's throat, and she had no choice but to swallow them. Her throat ached from the burns and the tight wrappings, and she gripped her seat so hard her hands were trembling.

Finally, Wanda's eyes fell back to her desk, and Ms. Sosa didn't say anything else to Wanda for the rest of the day.

"So, returning to our lesson about Salem in 1862," Ms. Sosa started, turning back to the chalkboard. "The Puritan town had a particular infestation of witches, though whether or not there were actual witches in Salem is still debated to this day."

Some girl in the front row's hand shot up. "Weren't the people in Salem just tripping out over some moldy LSD bread?" she asked.

"That's one theory, yes."

"But it's fake. Magic isn't real."

"Remember who's sitting in your class, and then tell me some things aren't possible."

Before the girl could even turn around to look at her, Wanda's eyes darted to the floor to avoid her judgemental gaze.

The class continued their discussion about women being needlessly drowned or burned at the stake, but Wanda wasn't listening. She was too busy kneading the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to ward away her migraine. By the time the pain finally started to subside, the bell shrieked again, cutting right through Wanda's eardrums and rattling her brain.

I don't think that's ever not going to be annoying, Wanda thought as she gathered her things to leave.

No, the bell was still annoying.

Wanda had to listen to that goddamn air raid alarm eight times before lunch, and every time it went off, Wanda wanted to put her head through a wall. As she shuffled around the lunchroom in the attempt to find an empty table, she blasted her music again in hopes of drowning out all the thoughts of her classmates.

Now that she had spent a good few hours at Newcomers, the thoughts weren't as loud, but the topic on everyone's mind was still about her. Rather than listen to the other kids stew over her presence, Wanda decided that it was best to ignore them as she seated herself at the end of an empty table closest to the door.

Wanda could remember the primary school in Sokovia. The lunchroom here wasn't all that different. There was still a long line of kids snaked along the furthest wall that led to a buffet-style window, and long tables divided the room. Kids sectioned themselves off by groups and mostly kept to themselves, but the room itself hummed with conversation.

Wanda didn't mind being left alone. After all, she didn't see herself as one to make friends at Newcomers. She was only there to fulfill her requirements. So Wanda contently sipped from her thermos of chicken broth, started scrolling through her photo albums, and kept to herself.

This is gonna be easy, a thought that wasn't her own intruded.

Wanda's head popped up to find a guy strut towards her with two of his friends in tow. She's seriously doubted they were going to start singing about keeping the status quo. Wanda tightened her grip around her thermos, not even looking at the boy as he came closer.

She wasn't scared. After everything Wanda has seen in life, school bullies were nothing. Yet Gyrich gave her a very long lecture the day before about Wanda using her powers at school.

According to him, going to this school wasn't just a requirement for Wanda to regain her freedom, but it was also a privilege. So basically, if Wanda were to use her powers to harm another kid, she'd get a one-way ticket back to Hell.

The boy stood a little too close to her for comfort, trying to get into Wanda's line of sight. "You're the Avenger, right?" he asked.

Wanda didn't answer.

"C'mon, don't be like that," he said. His friends were trying their best to stifle their snickering. "You're a celebrity here! I follow you on the news, and I gotta say your escape act from R.A.F.T. was almost as good as your stunt in Lagos-"

Wanda immediately went for her crutches so she could leave, but he took hold of her wrist to stop her. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes flashed red.

The boy's two friends took a step back, but he was either unphased or just plain stupid.

He rolled his eyes at her, twirling one of her crutches in his hand. "Exactly what do you think you're going to do?" he mocked. "If you need these things, then I doubt you're even the bit ready to start anything."

Wanda tried to wrench her hand free of his grip, but he pulled her forward, knocking her thermos over in the process. Hot broth spilled all over Wanda's hoodie and ripped jeans. She yelped as the hot soup burned her skin and immediately regretted it as her throat panged with sharp pain.

The boys reeled back and erupted into laughter.

The kids sitting around her also began to giggle at Wanda's sorry appearance.

Wanda was shaking with rage and grabbed her second crutch that was leaned against the end of the table and slammed the metal rod against the side of the boy's leg.

His knee buckled, and Wanda, not giving him time to think, smacked him across the face with the cuff of her crutch. His head collided with the table, not hard enough to knock him out but definitely enough to stun him.

His two friends immediately moved to go after Wanda, but she glared at them with scarlet eyes, and her hands swirled with power.

Try me, she said in their minds.

They were frozen where they stood, unsure of what to do.

Dark spots danced across her eyes as she shuffled along. Her body felt like lead, and her head spun. Did that little display of power take so much out of her?

"Maximoff!"

The room went deadly silent as Ms. Sosa stormed up to Wanda with a furious expression. "Exactly what do you think you're doing?" she scolded.

Wanda looked around the cafeteria and saw everyone stare at her in terror. Her shoulders sagged as Ms. Sosa pulled her out of her seat and demanded she gather her things.

Wanda quietly gathered her things and followed Ms. Sosa to the principal's office. Her face heated as they walked, and her lip trembled. She wanted to beg Ms. Sosa not to report her, but the words couldn't come out.

One phone call to Gyrich, and she was going back to Hell for sure. Her throat tightened, and tears pricked the back of her eyes at the thought of getting stuffed back in her straitjacket and never getting one moment of sleep between the shocks and drugs.

She'd rather die than go back.

Before Ms. Sosa could open the door to the offices, an old woman with long white hair wearing a vintage violet dress stopped her.

"I'll take it from here," she said in a sweet tone, locking eyes with Ms. Sosa. For a second, Wanda could've sworn that the old lady's eyes flashed dark purple.

Ms. Sosa froze before shaking her head. "Yes, of course, Agatha."

Without saying another word or even sparing one more glance at Wanda, Ms. Sosa just walked away. Wanda watched her go with wide eyes .

What the hell was that about? Wanda thought.

"Now," the old lady said to Wanda, "how about you come to my office instead, Ms. Maximoff."

The old lady led Wanda to a door that couldn't have belonged to the school. It was an old, weathered oak door that was crammed in between the office and bathroom doors. Its dark finish clashed against the white cinderblock walls of the school hallway.

The old lady seemed completely unphased as she pushed open the door and beckoned Wanda to follow.

The inside was impossibly larger than it first appeared. There was a blazing fireplace on the back wall that filled the room with a dim orange glow for the first part. There was old faded violet wallpaper with a floral print lined with wooden paneling rather than the cinder block walls. Even the linoleum tiles were replaced with hardwood floors.

An oversized tassel throw rug covered most of the hardwood floor, and two great, weathered leather chairs sat in front of the fireplace facing towards the door. On the coffee table was an actual kerosine lamp, but the most outlandish part was that next to the light sat a white bunny munching on a lettuce leaf.

Does this school even allow pets?

"No, they don't."

Wanda's head snapped up to the old woman with wide eyes.

"What?" said the old woman. "Do you think you're the only one who can read minds?"

She wasn't even facing Wanda. She was too busy browsing the selection of books in the large bookcase beside the fireplace. Wanda doubted that was a good design choice.

This lady can't be serious .

"Oh, I'm as serious as the plague, and considering I've lived through most of them, that isn't hyperbole," she said, pulling a large text from the shelf. "Also, I'd rather be referred to as Agatha Harkness than 'old lady'."

Wanda's jaw nearly dropped. Can you really hear me?

Agatha Harkness rolled her eyes. "Yes, I think we've been over that. Honestly, you'd think an Avenger would be quicker than that."

So you're an Enhanced Individual too?

Agatha laughed and shook her head as she leafed through her book. "People really do come up with ridiculous names for anything they don't understand. Mutants, aliens, and now Enhanced Individuals . That one has to be the most asinine yet."

She gracefully sat in one of the armchairs by the fire, set her book on the coffee table, and welcomed Wanda to the other chair. Wanda, who had just remembered how exhausted her body was, began shuffling for the second armchair, but before she could sit down, Agatha stopped her.

"Wait," she said, "you most certainly aren't going to get soup all over my 300-year-old furniture."

She whispered something in a language that Wanda didn't understand, and suddenly the now cold soup stains on her clothes began to vanish until her hoodie and jeans were perfectly fine.

"Now you may sit."

Wanda tentatively sat down, her hands still wrapped around her crutches. Just out of curiosity, Wanda took a deep breath and reached out into Agatha's mind. However, there was nothing. Not just static like before, but absolute radio silence.

Agatha let out a condescending laugh with her hand hovering over her mouth. "The little girl thinks she can just jump into anyone's mind."

Wanda's eyes narrowed, but Agatha simply ignored her.

"Wanda," Agatha started, "how did you come across your powers?"

Human Experimentation.

"Wrong."

Wanda blinked.

Agatha just smiled, but it was a smile like she was keeping a dark secret from Wanda. "To put it mildly, you're a witch."

Witches aren't real. I was made with needles and radiation and stuff, Wanda thought as she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Oh please, here I thought you were smarter than that," Agatha sighed. "Do you honestly think that the things you've done, the catastrophes you've caused, were done by science? I've kept track of you since Sokovia, and what has astonished me is how fast you've progressed, yet how little you know."

Wanda leaned forward, ready to leave if she needed to.

"From what I understand, you were trained only by regular people," she went on, "scientists, then super soldiers and Russian spies. They cannot even begin to understand all that you're capable of doing. Let me teach you, and I'll help you become the most powerful witch in history. Well, second to me, but powerful nonetheless."

Wanda mulled it over for about four seconds before getting up to leave.

However, Agatha simply turned the open book that sat on the coffee table to Wanda. Wanda expected to see some ancient runes or hieroglyphs, but the yellowing page was completely blank. Agatha said another spell, and ink splattered on the page. It drew a silhouette picture of a feminine figure that Wanda assumed was supposed to be her.

"I've read this book more times than you can count but never knew who this picture was until a year ago," Agatha explained.

The silhouette moved its hands the same way that Wanda did, and red swirls danced around the page. The more it did, the more brilliantly red the paper shone until it finally lit on fire. Wanda jumped back in her seat as Agatha snapped the book shut, smothering the flames.

"I don't have a lot of patience for debate," Agatha said, "so I'm going to make this short and sweet. You can either accept the fact that you're a witch and let me train you, or you can continue to cause catastrophe after catastrophe until your magic finally overloads and destroys at least a continent."

Wanda settled into the red chair, her hands in between her thighs and her head down in thought. Part of her still thought this whole magic thing was bullshit, and after the horrendous day she's been having, it gets topped off with being told once again that she was nothing more than a weapon of mass destruction.

Besides, she couldn't even read Agatha's mind, yet Agatha seemed to have full access to hers. It made the hairs on Wanda's arms stand on end. Exactly what did Agatha want to do while rummaging around Wanda's brain?

Agatha impatiently drummed her fingers on the cover of the book. "As I said, I don't have the patience for you to take all day, so you'd better hurry up and figure it out. I'm not going to baby you and let you take up all my time."

Wanda's eyes narrowed. No, she thought, I think I'm better off on my own.

Dead silence fell between them, only interrupted by the crackling fireplace and the rabbit chewing on its lettuce.

A dark expression fell on Agatha's face, and she slowly stood from her chair.

"I want you to listen very closely," she said. Her voice lost all sense of that sarcastic tone and turned severe. "I am not going to stay around forever. So if you're going to decide to grow up, I suggest you do it sooner rather than later."

Wanda shrunk as Agatha loomed threateningly over her.

I think I ought to leave.

Agatha smiled almost sadistically. "I had the same idea."

To Wanda's absolute shock and awe, Agatha hauled Wanda out of her seat by the sleeve of her hoodie and, while reciting a spell, stretched her hand towards the door. A sharp tug yanked at Wanda's stomach, and the room suddenly rushed away from her, like sand being pulled back by the returning tide. Wanda squeezed her eyes shut, afraid she would lose her breakfast if she kept them open until everything halted to a stop.

She was left staring at a blank cinder block wall in the empty hallway of her school. The door to Agatha's office vanished completely.

Before Wanda could fully process what just happened, the bell blared, and students began filling the halls again. It wasn't until students just started leaving the school that Wanda realized it was 4:00.

She had been in there for four hours and didn't even realize it?

Wanda followed the current of kids out the door, still unable to wrap her head around everything that just happened.

Magic and witches were the least of her problems. Now she had a terrifyingly batshit crazy woman threatening to train her for reasons Wanda couldn't even guess.

As the crowd of kids started to dissipate, Wanda was left completely alone in the school's front.

Well, all except for one boy who was standing on the sidewalk. His head bobbed between his phone and her. He had wavy brown hair and a familiar anxious expression that she couldn't quite place.

"H-hi!" he called out, which was wildly unnecessary considering they were only ten feet away from each other. "Are you Wanda?"

She let out an exasperated sigh and nodded.

"Oh good," he smiled, "I'm Peter Parker, your tutor."