Disclaimer: I don't own HP or Marvel. Hmph. :-(


Coming out of the Ancient One's portal, I find myself in a wide-berthed corridor that holds elongated, flickering shadows of large iron-chained lanterns that hang from ceiling high above.

Strange stands aside me, his blood-red cloak flapping eagerly, (as if it were just waiting for a fight;) his muscles tensed, each hand holding a glowing, magical procured shield.

The Ancient One stands no more then a couple paces ahead, her body completely still, hands spread wide in an eagle-like fashion and fingertips glowing softly.

I run my gaze down the length of the corridor, looking for signs of enemy. Finding none, my mouth slowly turns into a wide grin.

"They knew that I was coming", I whisper-say to Strange.

He shoots me a quizzical look, his mouth twitching into a skeptical frown.

"How could they have known"?

I let the question linger in the air for a moment, my attention momentarily hijacked by a group of meticulous, almost life-like paintings that line the walls of either side. Portraits of great historical figures. Alexander The Great. Napoleon. Washington. Julius Caesar.

All of whom, however weirdly, almost seem to be trying to send me… warning looks? Or is it just my imagination?

With me who knows…

"Well… they all scampered". I finally answer Strange, still in a hushed tone, though in the stilled silence it sounds as loud as a cannonball exploding in a perfectly silent Snape-taught classroom.

"Very funny". Strange deadpans, shooting a glance over his shoulder. "But I don't like this one bit".

Surprising even myself, I find myself nodding in agreement. "Fine" I relent with a sigh. Because danger doesn't ever run from me. It bloody runs to me. And usually at blinding speeds.

"I'll scout out. Just tap me when the Ancient One finishes meditating".

And before he can comment or protest, (as he surely would,) I close my eyes and extend my magic, letting its pure form flow freely.

Invisible and impossibly fast, I guide it through the length of Sanctum's corridors, snaking through a vast amount of rooms, climbing up and down stairwells, feeling for a living soul. And It doesn't take long before I find it.

One, single soul.

If it's an enemy, or even how alive it is, I cannot tell.

"There's one downstairs", I announce, opening my eyes to a inquisitive looking Dr. Strange.

"What particu—", he starts.

"Alive"? The Ancient One interjects almost too easily, drawing my attention away from Curious-Strange. (Apparently she woke and Strange didn't shake me. So much for reliability.)

"For the moment, but I can't tell what state he's in. Just that he's alive".

The Ancient One nods, waving a hand, almost… in a ways of telling me to lead on!?

"Now that" I say, my eye's flashing in warning, "is a fantastically bad idea that will undoubtedly end up in some sort of catastrophe".

"I suppose you'll settle for a glass of tea then?"

I snort, rolling my eyes behind the darkness of my eyelids, and refocus my magic toward the soul.

Sounds fade to a odd muffled background,and then slowly, the black darkness begins forming edges, slowly gaining vividness.

And when it finally takes on a scene, it is of the setting around me, projecting it in shades of grey, white, and soft, swirling blacks.

The walls, hues of dull greys, taking on darker shades and appearing deeper at portraits and widows. The stone floor, an odd sea of white beneath my feet.

For a moment, I contemplate this newfound setting. Talk about bland. Feels like looking at a bloody black and white photo.

Instead, I turn to my two counterparts, where, for the slightest of moments, my gaze locks onto The Ancient One. Or I should more accurately say: onto her soul. At her oddly tainted soul. The kaleidoscope of colors, whose unparalleled beauty stands marred by hues of purple darkness.

Just when I thought things were getting weird….

And for a short time, which whose duration will remain undisclosed, (As that's the professional way of saying that I don't know how long it was. What did you think? I'd look at a clock and count the seconds?) I

contemplate if I should be trusting a woman whose very soul is shrouded in darkness.

Especially if it's purple darkness. Exquisitely weird darkness if you ask me. (But then again, you didn't. Ask me, that is. But then again, I'm narrating this story, rendering me as the only source of narrative, so I do suppose that I've got the right to express whatever comes to mind.)

(Anyway,)I'd better stop trusting her blindly— at least until I can figure out why her soul is in the state it's in.

Shaking myself out of the thought, (well multitude of them, really,) I suddenly remember that I've got the two mystic-magic peoples expecting me to lead them.

To catastrophe!

Right.

I refocus on the cool, misty tingle (My magic!) that trails all the way to the soul's location, and keeping myself as vigilant as I possibly can in this dulled state of vision, (CONSTANT VIGILANCE!) I trot off toward the soul.


The way is waay longer then I had originally thought. And perhaps more importantly, way too boring! We've gone on for waaay too long. About twenty seven corridors too long to be exact. (Well that's where I got got bored anyways.) All of which are extremely uncreatively decorated in similar fashion. (Or at least that's how it appears to my eighteenth-century vision.)

Stone flooring, limestone paned windows, portraits that I can't see, large iron suspended lanterns, and then the appearance of a doorway here and then.

The journey continues on through several more of the seemingly endless corridors, while we still, eh, keep on high alert, and then finally it ends and we come into a clearing of a sort.

Where we stand is what appears to be something of a balcony that encircles the perimeter of story below. Its entry point stands just a few paces to our left; a grand, lavish staircase. Mahogany railed, which stretches around the balcony, forming a protective barrier.

A glance to either side, revealing that both, ah, souls have followed, and a glance ahead of me at the grandeous staircase, has me memorizing the rest of the way, halting the flow of magic, and opening my eyes.

"Now that" I comment, more to myself then two my two counterparts, (or, if you prefer: sidekicks,) my slightly selective hearing and surprisingly normal vision making its slow return, "Was one of the more boringly interesting experiences out there".

"Good to have you back among the relatively normal", comments Strange to my left, observing the area below.

I shrug, shooting a hopefully not-so-obviously suspicious glance at The Ancient One who keeps a keen eye trained below.

"Introspecting into my magic dulls certain senses". I smirk. "I'm sure you can relate — at least to the last part anyway".

"Says the man who's been zombied for the last twenty minutes".

"Well," I retort following The Ancient One, who has begun descending the staircase, "at least that was temporary not permanent…"

"Fascinating," an animated British accented voice interjects as we reach surface ground. "But I'm sure you can settle your bickering at a later date. We do have a person to find, who might in all likelihood need aid".

With one last winning smirk at Strange, I relent, trekking across the largely empty room (Except for a dozen or so floor-to-ceiling bookcases that surround the room,) to a doorway on the left.

Its sheer bulk immediately stands out to me, made of iron, with hieroglyph-like markings and carvings of serpents and Pharaoh Staffs.

I'm about to cast a 'aholamora' when The Ancient One stops me.

"Wait," she halts me.

I lower my wand, shooting her a questioning look, but she ignores me, stepping forward with glowing hands.

And the moment it comes into contact with the door, a serpent-like hiss sounds and the door encasts in a deep, dark, chaotic purple and black flecked darkness.

"Kaecillius" The Ancient One growls under her breath, as her orange glow slowly spreads around the center of the door. "He's casted the room in shadows of the Dark Dimension".

"Lovely", I say, looking to Strange for farther explanation, but he offers none, so either he's offended at my earlier tease or he's just as much in the dark as I.

In any case, The Ancient One's glow continues spreading until it surrounds the entirety of the door and then the hissing halts, bringing on a momentary silence.

Then without warning, a loud creak sounds, and slowly, the door swings open, revealing a narrow corridor complete darkness.

Great. Here comes the catastrophe part.