Marvel's Omniversal Magic Sovereign

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Over the weekend, George spent most of his time practicing newly learned spells. Occasionally, he would also take time to visit Hagrid to learn about magical creatures and communicate telepathically with the magical beasts Hagrid kept.

During this time, he didn't see Harry or Ron. Reportedly, it was because they were serving punishment for driving the car and crashing into the Whomping Willow.

Entering the second week, he continued to frantically earn House points while also diligently absorbing magical knowledge, learning, and practicing new spells.

Meanwhile, in the Marvel world, after more than ten days of reconnaissance, he was slowly starting to get some leads.

That evening, George rode his modified motorcycle from the mutant school in the suburbs towards the Bronx, which was closer to the city center.

Along the way, when he encountered a checkpoint, he showed his high-priced fake ID to bluff his way through.

During these past ten-odd days of reconnaissance, besides roughly figuring out the situation of dozens of large and small families in the Bronx, he had also paid a high price to a local fake ID vendor to get himself a false identity.

Of course, this fake identity could only fool ordinary police officers. If he encountered the CIA, S.H.I.E.L.D., or the National Investigation Bureau, it definitely wouldn't work.

Not to mention using this identity to open an account, deposit the money he acquired, and then use it to buy Stark shares.

So, he never intended to buy Stark shares himself. His current body was a product of the lab and had no proper identification whatsoever. A fake ID wouldn't pass muster.

He needed to find a proxy, but he couldn't just pick anyone.

Firstly, this person needed to have a certain status or standing. Otherwise, helping him buy Stark shares might raise suspicion and attract the attention of various organizations.

He actually felt that even if he robbed all the gangs in the Bronx and used all the cash to buy shares in Stark Industries, it would still be a drop in the ocean for a behemoth like Stark Industries.

After all, he could only rob cash, and at most coerce the gang leaders to withdraw their liquid funds from their accounts. He couldn't take all the gang's assets.

Perhaps this cash, for the poorest and most chaotic Bronx, was already an astronomical sum, but for Stark Industries, it might not even compare to the value of the art in Tony Stark's mansion.

The money of truly rich people was unimaginable to the poor.

A single painting in Tony Stark's room might be worth hundreds of millions. But for him, several hundreds of millions was actually more than enough for him to secure a stable life for himself and the mutant children.

He didn't need to cause a major incident right now, nor did he need to confront major organizations. He just needed a stable life to properly research magic and improve his strength.

If he weren't worried about the Chitauri invasion a few years later, and the possibility of the Avengers failing and the entire Earth falling, he wouldn't even stay near New York.

Secondly, this proxy had to have ties to the Bronx and couldn't leave. Otherwise, with so much money under their management, what if they simply took the money and ran? Where would he find them?

People die for wealth, and birds die for food. He didn't believe that after just a few months of acquaintance, someone would be completely loyal to him. He didn't have that kind of charismatic presence.

Fortunately, these past ten-plus days hadn't been wasted. He had gradually identified a potentially viable target.

Today was the perfect day to watch a good show. If all went well, his proxy would be decided.

He parked his motorcycle, found an empty alley, put on a black robe to cover his body, donned a common mask easily bought on the street, and fully activated his ability.

His specially made shoes with embedded iron plates immediately lifted him, slowly floating him into the air above the alley.

After this period of development, especially influenced by his wizarding blood, his control over magnetism had improved considerably. He could now barely manage to manipulate objects weighing over a hundred pounds.

This already exceeded the experimental base's earlier assessment of his potential limit.

If he were to encounter X-24 now, he could easily toy with him using his abilities. Over a hundred pounds of force would make X-24, despite his adamantium, completely unstable on his feet.

So, with full activation, he could barely manage to make his specialized, iron-plated shoes carry him into flight.

Of course, his speed... well, it was slower than walking. In combat, it would make him a definite sitting duck.

But in certain specific situations, it was still very useful.

For example, now, he could easily get onto rooftops, moving across them to avoid various surveillance and sightlines. This allowed him to infiltrate tightly sealed areas very easily and made him difficult to track.

On the rooftop of a strip club controlled by the Cheever family, a seventy-something-year-old man sat in a wheelchair, looking at the half-dead middle-aged man before him. He said with a hint of regret:

"Leon, you're truly excellent. I really thought highly of you and always treated you like a godson.

Unfortunately, today, you must die here."

"Mr. Cheever, I truly didn't betray you. I've been framed. I always treated you like a father. How could I betray you? You have to believe me!"

The middle-aged man, his face covered in blood, struggled to get up, desperately trying to prove his loyalty.

He was the child of an addict. His mother had secretly left him when he was young, unable to bear the hopeless life.

When he was thirteen, he accidentally saved Mr. Cheever, who was being hunted by a rival family. From then on, Mr. Cheever took a liking to him, and he joined the Cheever family's influence, living the life he had dreamed of.

For thirty years, with his intelligence and dedication, he helped the Cheever family grow from a small family into one of the Bronx's thirteen prominent families.

Yet, because of a mere assassination attempt, he was being executed as the mastermind behind an attempt to seize control of the Cheever family. He was truly unwilling to accept this.

He had a beautiful wife who loved him, many brothers with whom he had faced life and death, and a lovely newborn daughter. He had dedicated most of his life to this family.

"I know you didn't betray me. That assassination was a play I orchestrated myself. Otherwise, with your current position and prestige in the family, I wouldn't have been able to execute you like this."

Cheever sighed, his eyes somewhat complex. He was not without affection for Leon, but no matter how capable Leon was, and no matter how mediocre his own son, he could never allow Leon the possibility of replacing his son.

"You're worried I'll replace your son, but you should know my loyalty to you. I would never do such a thing!"

Leon slumped to the ground, as if all strength had drained from his body.

Cheever pushed his wheelchair forward and shook his head:

"Leon, I trust your character, but I don't trust your subordinates.

My position, sometimes, isn't something you can simply choose not to take. Your subordinates would push you into it."

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