The Scourge

On... Magic?

Frank was going to flip his shit when he saw this.

-August, 1991 (11 Years Old) -

- New York, Sanctum Sanctorum -

Harry had been right. Frank freaked right the fuck out. He thought that he had seen Frank angry before, like when they were interrogating a snitch or taking out someone who was working with the mob or involved in some other criminal activity. But he was wrong. So very, very wrong.

Apparently, no one should even think of messing with Frank Castle’s family. Especially trying to fuck with his son. (Because, even though the papers were forged, Frank considered Harry his son, and nothing in the world would ever change that. It was such a novel idea to Harry to have someone consider him important enough to fight for.)

The first thing they did was leave Kuwait as quickly as possible. (After finishing their mission and blowing up a building or two, much to the enjoyment of Harry.) Heading back to New York, they considered what the letter could mean for the both of them.

“Why would I get a letter (delivered by an owl, no less) from some school for witches and wizards, Frank?” Harry asked in a slight panic.

“No clue, kid. Never heard of the place, and I’ve heard of some pretty freaky ass shit,” Frank replied, rubbing his temple in frustration.

“And how did they know where I was? I mean the letter was addressed exactly to where my sniper nest was located! Exactly!! I mean it didn’t say that I was on the left side of the building behind those palettes, but it was pretty freakin’ spot on! We staked that spot out for days and no one knew we were in the country except for Wade. Wait, do you think that he did this??”

Harry’s panic was beginning to reach epic levels the more he thought about the absurdity of being delivered a letter on top of a building during a classified op. By an OWL!!!

“If he did… I’ll kill him, wait for him to come back to life, let you kill him, and then we can rinse and repeat until we both feel better,” Frank grumbled in frustration while pinching the bridge of his nose.

Harry snickered at the thought of killing Wade over and over. “You always come up with the best plans, sensei. You say, I do, no questions.”

“I should have never let you see that goddamn movie,” Frank grumbled.

Harry giggled and ducked away from Frank's ineffective attempt to cuff him on his head.

It wasn’t Wade who sent the letter.

It wasn’t Red, or anyone else in Hell’s Kitchen.

It wasn’t anyone they knew.

Frank checked with all his sources, leaning on all of his contacts while trying to find out who could have known their location. Or who could have sent a freakin’ letter by owl. Or what the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry even was.

Everything regarding the school came up blank. The magic angle, however… well, Frank did have a couple sources who could help with that.

Finally, it was Professor X who pointed them in the direction of one Dr. Stephen Strange. He was, after all, the Sorcerer Supreme and dealt with all things magical on earth and in the universe. (Or some such bullshit, according to Frank. He really wasn’t a fan of magic all that much. “Give me a gun that I can hold over some magic mumbo jumbo any day, kid.”)