Henry returned to his study, a quiet sanctum brimming with arcane tomes, glowing sigils, and the heavy scent of incense. The chaos from earlier—the Hulk encounter, the awkward public attention, and Polaris's reactions—had all finally died down. Now it was time to return to what he truly valued: study.
He sat down cross-legged on the meditation mat and opened The Book of the Emperor Weishan once more. Though he'd barely used any spells during his scuffle with the Hulk, the battle hadn't been a waste. His opponent lacked magical resistance, so physical force combined with his minimal magic was more than enough. Still, Henry walked away with valuable combat experience—and a slight but noticeable increase in his magical energy capacity.
He took that as a win.
The fight had, if nothing else, clarified how urgent it was to master more advanced techniques. With that thought in mind, Henry closed the Weishan book and opened a new one: Time Compilation.
This was the tome he'd been looking forward to. The mystical guidebook to one of the most elusive and powerful forces in the multiverse: time.
Time Compilation didn't waste words.
Despite the elegant name, the book was dense with knowledge—arcane theories, multiversal equations, paradox warnings, and the observations of Supreme Mages across generations.
While the surface-level chapters discussed time like a concept—what it is, how it flows, and how it branches into infinite possibilities—the core of the book was a dissection of the Time Stone.
In fact, it was less a magical how-to and more a long, reverent study of the artifact itself. Because, as it turned out, even the Supreme Mages of old couldn't fully grasp the Time Stone's power. Most of them couldn't even manipulate time without it.
With the stone, however, all kinds of time magic became possible: acceleration, reversal, future sight, time loops, and even temporal suspension.
The first page of the book contained a warning written in gold ink: "The Time Stone holds infinite potential. No being has yet understood it fully."
Henry stared at the line for a long moment before closing the book and retrieving the Eye of Agamotto.
The Time Stone sat at its heart, glowing faintly with a pulsing green light.
He centered his breathing, focused his mind, and activated the artifact.
Instantly, the green glow intensified. Temporal energy flowed through his hands, shimmering in gentle waves of light.
To test it, Henry looked around the room, then pointed at a nearby chair.
He rotated his hand clockwise.
In response, the chair creaked and aged rapidly—its wood splintering slightly, the polish fading, the fabric becoming more worn.
He reversed the motion.
The chair groaned and then restored itself, returning to its freshly polished, newer state.
It worked.
But Henry wasn't satisfied. His control was clumsy—he could feel the energy slipping past his fingers like sand.
He narrowed his focus and kept at it, trying again and again, adjusting angles, spell rhythms, and mental focus points.
So focused was he on manipulating time, he didn't even hear the knock at his study door.
Outside, Polaris stood with her arms crossed, frowning at the door in mild annoyance. She'd been knocking for over a minute now, and she could definitely hear sounds coming from inside.
"Seriously? He's in there. Why isn't he answering?" she muttered.
Out of curiosity, she gave the doorknob a twist. To her surprise, it was unlocked. The door creaked open.
But the moment she stepped in—everything changed.
A sudden burst of green light washed over her. The Time Stone, mid-activation, flared wildly in Henry's hands.
And then—
Poof.
In Henry's field of vision, Polaris vanished for a split second—then reappeared, but… smaller.
Much smaller.
Standing in front of him now was a tiny, wide-eyed version of Polaris—no older than seven.
Henry blinked.
"Oh no," he muttered.
He'd been too focused, too careless. He hadn't noticed her come in, and now… he'd accidentally reversed her time signature.
She was now a child. A literal child.
Polaris—little Lorna—looked up at him in confusion.
"Big brother?" she asked, tilting her head. "Where are we?"
Henry instantly recalled a passage from Time Compilation: "If time magic reverts a person's physical state, their mental state and memories may also revert to that same time period."
In other words, not only had he turned Polaris into a child—she now had no memory of the present.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Great. I broke the babysitter."
He tried to reverse the spell, waving his hand over her, focusing on the exact moment she'd entered. But nothing happened. His control was still too unstable.
Meanwhile, Lorna watched him with innocent confusion.
"What're you doing?" she asked, giggling slightly. "You look silly."
"…I'm fixing something."
He attempted again. And again. But each time, the spell fizzled out or warped the air without effect. He eventually gave up for the moment.
"Well, this is going to be a problem."
Lorna, now child-version, seemed remarkably obedient compared to her teenage self. Henry knelt down to her level and gently said, "Lorna, this is big brother's room, okay? I need you to go downstairs and play for a while. I'll come join you later."
She nodded brightly. "Okay, big brother!"
Henry sighed with relief as she skipped off downstairs.
Five minutes later…
Thump thump thump!
"Big brother!" Little Lorna called, running back up. "There's a pretty lady downstairs! She says she wants to see you!"
Henry raised an eyebrow and followed her.
Sure enough, sitting on his living room couch was none other than Natasha Romanoff.
The infamous Black Widow. Calm, poised, and extremely dangerous. She looked relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, and in front of her sat a silver metal case—the kind often seen in spy films filled with unmarked bills.
"Ah. I assume that's the 'thank-you' box from Nick Fury?" Henry asked.
Natasha smiled. "Three hundred thousand, just like he promised. Want to count it?"
"No need." Henry nodded at Lorna. "You could've just handed it to her."
"She told me the same thing," Natasha said, grinning. "But I insisted on giving it to you personally. After all… you still owe me a coffee."
Oh. That.
Right.
Henry vaguely remembered her teasing offer. At the time, he thought she was joking. Apparently not.
"I thought you were being sarcastic," he said. "And I didn't exactly agree. I said we'd talk later."
Natasha smirked. "Well, I'm here. So... talk."
Before Henry could reply, she glanced at little Lorna, then back at him. "Didn't know you had a daughter."
"She's not my daughter," Henry said quickly.
"…Then who—?"
"It's a long story," he sighed. "That is Polaris. Or Lorna. Just… de-aged."
Natasha blinked. "Wait, what?!"
"I was practicing time magic. She came in without warning. I wasn't ready. Mistimed the spell and… well." He gestured toward the tiny girl currently poking at the living room plant.
"…You accidentally turned her into a kid?"
"Yes."
Natasha looked at Henry for a long moment. Then at Lorna.
"…You're terrible at babysitting."
Henry got an idea.
"Well, speaking of babysitting… if you're not doing anything important—" he smiled innocently, "—mind watching her for a bit?"
Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Wait. Is this your way of dodging the coffee?"
"No, no," he said quickly. "We'll still have coffee. I just… need to stabilize the spell first. Could take about an hour. Maybe two."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "And you want me to be the nanny?"
"You're a world-class spy. How hard can babysitting be?"
Natasha stared at him, long and hard. Henry kept smiling.
"…Fine," she said at last. "But you owe me that coffee. And if she sets fire to anything—it's on you."
Henry saluted. "Deal."
He vanished back upstairs to resume practice, while Natasha Romanoff, international assassin, sat cross-legged on the carpet teaching Lorna how to fold paper animals.
Hours later…
Henry was still in the study, immersed in streams of temporal energy, finally beginning to grasp the delicate nuances of the Time Stone.
Meanwhile, downstairs…
Natasha Romanoff, killer of spies and saboteurs, stared blankly at a coloring book.
"...I can't believe I've been tricked into being a full-time nanny," she muttered, as Lorna giggled nearby, scribbling outside the lines.
"Are we having coffee yet?" she called toward the ceiling.
No response.
Only faint green light leaking through the cracks of the study door.
Natasha sighed.
"…I'm billing Fury for this."
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