Chapter 197: Chapter 197: The Gathering Begins

December 23, 2008, Hayes Household

The Hayes home was already buzzing with morning energy when Elena stormed into the living room, cloak half-fastened and hands planted firmly on her hips.

“We are late!” she declared, in the same tone generals used when wars were going poorly. “Everyone is probably waiting for us!”

Arthur didn’t even look up from the couch, completely unbothered. “We still have plenty of time.”

“But Dad,” Elena pressed, “we should already be there. James is going to make fun of me again for being last!”

“Blame your Aunt Ari. We are not going anywhere until she gets here,” Arthur replied.

“But Dad—”

“Elena,” he interrupted, calm as ever, “we leave together. Which means waiting. Patience builds character.”

She folded her arms with dramatic suffering. “I have enough character.”

Tristan tugged on Eileen’s sleeve, his hat sliding over one eye. “Mama, when Ari coming?”

“Soon, love,” Eileen said, gently repositioning the hat. “Your aunt Ariadne always arrives precisely when she means to.”

Pietro stomped into the room, bundled so heavily he looked like he’d lost a fight with a coat rack. “Why do I have to wear so many layers? It’s like the clothes are trying to eat me.”

“Because it’s winter,” Wanda said, adjusting her scarf with quiet patience. “And it will be freezing.”

Pietro gestured helplessly at Arthur. “But—he’s a wizard! He could just put warming charms on us!”

Arthur didn’t even hesitate. “And ruin your natural resistance? Absolutely not. Besides, warming charms are for emergencies, not mild discomfort.”

Pietro muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “This is child cruelty.”

Before Elena could resume her campaign of impatience, a soft pop echoed through the living room.

“Winky is here with Ari!” the elf announced cheerfully.

Elena forgot all her indignation in an instant. “Aunt Ari!” she shouted, racing toward the arrivals.

Ariadne Anderson stood in the living room, her usual severe demeanor softened into genuine warmth as Elena crashed into her legs. She wore elegant but practical winter clothes—a far cry from her tactical gear.

“Hello, little warrior,” Ariadne said, lifting Elena effortlessly. “Have you been keeping your father in line?”

“Always!” Elena declared proudly.

“Good!” Ariadne chuckled, setting Elena down as Tristan toddle-ran toward her. She scooped him up with her other arm. “And how’s my favorite troublemaker?”

“Good!” Tristan announced, then pointed at the blonde woman standing quietly behind Ariadne. “Who?”

“This,” Ariadne said, stepping aside, “is Yelena. She works with me, and I thought it was time she broadened her horizons a bit. I hope it’s not a problem that I brought her along without warning?”

Yelena Belova looked young, though her eyes held the weight of someone much older. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and she wore simple jeans and a leather jacket that didn’t quite hide the tactical vest underneath.

Arthur studied her for a moment. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been grouped with the other trainee widows he and Ariadne had rescued in Belarus, barely fifteen. Now she stood before him as one of Ariadne’s most trusted apparently, judging by her presence here.

“No worries,” Arthur said, standing and offering his hand. “Yelena, welcome to our chaos. Be ready to be amazed.”

She shook it, her grip firm and brief. “Mr. Hayes. It is an honour to finally meet you. Ari speaks highly of you.”

“Only good things, I’m sure,” Arthur replied with a small smile. He tilted his head. “Where’s your sister? Natasha, right?”

Yelena’s expression flickered—surprise, perhaps, that he knew about Natasha.

Ariadne answered smoothly, “Natasha had an important mission. Very secretive. She doesn’t have time for parties.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “She’s spying somewhere?”

“Something like that,” Ariadne said carefully.

“Fury must be losing his edge,” Arthur mused, almost to himself.

Yelena’s eyes widened. “How did you—”

“Wild guess,” Arthur said with a shrug.

Arthur thought silently: fate was magical in its own way. Even after he’d altered so much about Natasha’s path, she still ended up as SHIELD’s Black Widow.

Ariadne rolled her eyes. “Don’t think too much about it, Yelena. Arthur’s always like this—somehow knows things he shouldn’t and then plays all mysterious about it.”

“Hey, don’t ruin my image in front of people,” Arthur protested mildly. “So tell me, how did you sneak her into SHIELD? I’m curious how Fury doesn’t know she works for you.”

Ariadne huffed a quiet laugh. “He doesn’t because no one does. Melina and I made sure the Widows never appear anywhere near me. As far as the world is concerned, the Red Room and its agents are still Russian… and still dangerous.”

Arthur frowned. “Wait—so the world still thinks the Red Room exists? How? Shouldn’t its destruction be common knowledge by now?”

“Interestingly, no,” Ariadne said, accepting a cup of tea from Eileen with a grateful nod. “Melina had people check. Russia buried the entire thing—they’re too embarrassed to admit their premier training program was wiped out, and they still have no idea who was responsible.”

Arthur shook his head. “Of course.”

Ariadne continued, “And because Russia kept it quiet, SHIELD still thinks the Red Room is operational. So when Natasha crossed paths with Agent Barton of SHIELD in Budapest, things… unfolded.”

Arthur thought silently: ah, fate… Budapest strikes again. Then he looked up and said with a chuckle, “So Barton brought her in, huh?”

“He vouches for her personally,” Ariadne said. “SHIELD believes she’s defecting from the Red Room. They think they recruited a Russian asset.” She sipped her tea, unbothered. “And we’re not correcting them.”

“Well done,” Arthur said, genuinely impressed. “Seems like I don’t have much left to teach you. I still clearly remember the days when I had to help you plan everything and have Winky pull you out when things went sideways. Now you handle it all on your own—even better than I could have.” He pressed a hand to his chest with mock solemnity. “Is this what being a proud teacher feels like?”

Ariadne snorted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, please. We were never really teacher and student—you know that. If anything, we were sparring partners. Don’t tell lies in front of everyone.” She gave him a sharp, amused glance. “And let’s be honest—if you were in my shoes now, you wouldn’t need misdirection or careful planning. You’d just snap your fingers and make all your enemies disappear.”

“Snap fingers?” Yelena asked, confused.

“Oh! You know nothing about the lazy-looking guy in front of you,” Ariadne said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “He might look like an ordinary father who lounges and watches TV all day, but he can do all that and more. Even if me and all your sisters teamed up against him, he’d beat us without breaking a sweat.”

“Thanks, but keep the praises for when I’m out of earshot. I feel embarrassed,” Arthur said, flat but amused.

“You should feel embarrassed about your laziness,” Eileen interjected. When’s the last time you did anything around the house without magic? You even play with the kids using magic!”

“That’s called being efficient, not lazy,” Arthur said with a shrug.

“And that’s exactly what all lazy people say!” Pietro called from across the room, ducking just in time as Arthur’s couch pillow flew with deadly precision.

“Besides,” Arthur added, “the kids love it when I use magic to play with them—it makes everything… interactive.”

“Yes! Love magic!” Tristan cheered, clapping his little hands.

Elena giggled at her brother, then glanced up at Yelena. Curiosity sparkling in her eyes, she tugged gently on Yelena’s jacket. “Hey… do you fight bad guys like Aunt Ari?”

Yelena looked down at the child, clearly uncertain how to respond to such blunt curiosity. “I… yes, sometimes.”

“Cool! Can you teach me?”

“Absolutely not,” Eileen and Arthur said in perfect unison.

“When you’re older,” Ariadne added with a wink at Elena, earning herself a reproachful look from both parents.

Wanda approached Yelena with her characteristic quiet grace. “I’m Wanda. This restless guy is my brother Pietro. We’re also a part of this beautiful chaos.”

“The best part,” Elena declared loyally.

Yelena nodded, still clearly processing everything.

“Right then,” Arthur said, standing and brushing imaginary dust from his shirt. “Everyone ready?”

“We need to move! We’re already late,” Elena insisted, tugging at his sleeve.

“Alright then,” Arthur raised his hand, and reality shimmered and split open like a seam in the very air, golden light spilling outward in a mesmerizing display. The portal hummed softly, its edges rippling like liquid sunlight. Through it, they could see the grand entrance of a Castle—stone walls lined with enchanted torches, portraits that moved and whispered, and a massive Christmas tree that seemed to glow with an inner light.

“Whoa,” Yelena breathed, taking an involuntary step back.

Yelena had seen this before, all those years ago, when Arthur had transferred her and the others from the Red Room base to Ariadne’s safe house—but even remembering that, the sheer scale and beauty of it now left her speechless.

“First time seeing magic?” Wanda asked kindly.

“Second time… but still… this level,” Yelena admitted, still trying to process the sight.

“Wait until you meet the centaurs,” Pietro said cheerfully. “Or the talking paintings. Or Uncle Harry and Sirius who can transform into animals.”

“He’s joking,” Yelena looked at Ariadne hopefully.

“He’s really not,” Ariadne said, gently pushing her forward. “Welcome to the wonderful world of magic. Try not to think too hard about any of it.”

As they filed through the portal, Elena grabbed Yelena’s hand. “Don’t worry! Everyone’s really nice.”

Arthur waited until everyone had passed through before following, the portal sealing seamlessly behind him.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep