I don't own Marvel, Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts, or any of the magical systems or characters that may appear from other fictional worlds. All rights go to their respective creators and studios. This is purely a fan work made out of love for these amazing universes.
The courtyard echoed with laughter and light.
A group of first-years zoomed by on brooms, chasing after a runaway spell ball that blinked in and out of reality. On the other end of the field, two kids tried to cast a levitation charm — one accidentally launched their shoe into the Astronomy Tower window. Oops.
Merlin sat on a high balcony of the castle, legs crossed, robes lightly ruffled by the wind. He looked young — silver hair, sharp eyes, and a calm that came from watching centuries pass like seasons.
A phoenix landed beside him, its warm golden glow casting soft ripples in the stone rail.
"You're late," Merlin said with a smirk.
The phoenix chirped once, ruffled its feathers, and promptly ignored him.
He smiled and leaned back against the railing.
Below, the castle hummed with life — enchanted lanterns floated along walkways, staircases shifted with mild complaints, and spell-scribed banners rippled in the morning breeze.
It was peaceful. Magical. Alive and sometimes he still couldn't believe it all came from him.
Long Ago…
Back when he first arrived in this world — confused, alone, and choking on leftover shawarma — there was nothing magical about it.
No wands. No potions. No magic at all.
Just trees, sky, wind… and a voice.
[The Magic System Activated.]
[Welcome, Founder Candidate.]
[World: Marvel]
[Mission: Build a Magical Civilization.]
He thought he was dreaming. Or dead. Or maybe both.
He wasn't Merlin yet. He was just some random guy who read too much fantasy and now had to figure out how to survive in a world with no spells and no save points.
It started with a flicker.
Lumos. The classic.
A tiny light glowed at his fingertip — barely brighter than a candle flame. But to him, it was everything.
Then came Aguamenti, and a small fountain of water shot him in the face. Not graceful. But it worked.
He couldn't stop smiling.
"I'm really doing this… aren't I?"
Each spell he cast — no matter how small — felt like stepping into the pages of every fantasy story he'd ever loved Lumos wasn't just light. It was a dream. A beginning.
He wasn't just in Marvel.
He was bringing Hogwarts to Marvel. Spells, wands, creatures, magical schools — everything he once wished was real.
Not just from Harry Potter, either. He had access to alchemy, mythical enchantments, spell-forging, even creature summoning from worlds like Fantastic Beasts, Narnia, and other legends he hadn't even tapped yet.
"I get to build that world — in this one."
The thought made his hands shake. Not from fear, but from excitement.
"Let's do this right," he whispered. "Let's build a magical world that actually works.
Over weeks, he slowly unlocked more spells from the system — mostly familiar ones: floating charms, cleaning spells, conjuring fire, basic shields. The Magic System gave access to magic from all the fictional worlds he used to love.
But this wasn't cosplay. This was real.
And real magic had to be built.
He constructed the first sanctuary by hand — stone by stone, rune by rune — guided by the system's blueprints. Hidden beneath a forest hill, it became his base:
A rune-lit chamber for spell research
A meditation hall that pulsed with mana
A library that filled itself with copies of every spell he learned
It wasn't much. But it was the start of something.
And then… others came.
Wanderers. Villagers. Refugees. People who followed strange lights or heard whispers on the wind.
Some could feel the energy in the air. Some just needed hope.
He helped them — healed them, taught them, fed them — and in doing so, the system revealed something new:
Certain people were mana-compatible. Not everyone could use magic. But some could awaken a Magical Core of their own with the help of the system.
The first generation of mages had struggled to awaken their cores — guided by rituals, training, and the system itself.
Not all of them, no. Magic remained rare — a gift, not a guarantee. But soon, families who had once lit candles with wands now had toddlers who accidentally turned toys into frogs or floated off the floor during tantrums.
With the spread of Magic, children from non-magical parents — with no history of spell work — began to show signs of magic in their blood. Unpredictable, spontaneous, and strong.
To help guide them, the system provided something… ancient and incredible:
A Magical Registry Book — bound in stardust-inked leather, glowing faintly with mana.
It sat inside a quiet chamber deep in Merlin's original sanctuary. Whenever a child was born with a magical spark — whether to mage parents or not — the book would write their name on its own.
It didn't say where they came from. It didn't judge their blood. It simply recorded: Magic lives here.
Merlin would often visit that room in silence. Watch the names appear and smile.
Because magic was growing — not just as a power, but as a legacy.
Then the world began to respond.
The system summoned creatures to join the growing magical flow. Others simply… showed up.
Hippogriffs arrived in flocks, proud and untamed.
Phoenixes nested in high cliffs.
Unicorns galloped through untouched groves under moonlight.
Thestrals appeared after the first magical funeral, silent and solemn.
And then came the big ones.
Dragons — real ones — landed in mountain craters, claiming territory but respecting the balance. Merlin worked with them, not over them.
Basilisks slithered beneath sacred stone chambers, protected by runes and loyalty.
Even tiny creatures like Bowtruckles, Nifflers, and Mooncalves began to roam the woods.
Even creatures already known to this world — vampires, werewolves, banshees, and dhampirs — began to take notice. Some came seeking knowledge. Others, refuge. They weren't always trusted at first, but with time, many became part of the magical community — bound by the same laws, protected by the same oaths. They didn't rule from the shadows anymore. They simply belonged.
The world wasn't just becoming magical. It was welcoming magic back.
The goblins were next — drawn to the rune-energy, fascinated by enchanted metals and magical currency. They set up vaults, built with pride and brilliance.
Then came the elves — elegant, ancient, and deeply in tune with nature.
No one ruled them. No one enslaved them.
They came as equals — though still oddly obsessed with cleaning, organizing, and keeping everything spotless. Merlin didn't question it. He simply let them be.
"This world is yours as much as mine," he had said. "Help me build something worth remembering."
And they did.
Over time, magical settlements began to appear across the globe.
Not one kingdom. Not one throne.
But many hidden communities, each with its own traditions, creatures, and magic. Connected through mana pathways, enchanted archways, and ancient oaths.
Eventually, with Merlin's guidance, the first Ministries of Magic were formed across different countries.Magical laws were written, councils established, and the foundations of governance quietly took shape.And when the non-magical world began burning witches and inventing muskets
Together, he and the first magical councils wrote the Statute of Secrecy — not out of fear, but foresight.
A global agreement.
Not to hide in fear — but to survive. To protect everything they had built from being destroyed before it was ready to defend itself.
It had taken centuries. Mistakes. Miracles. But it worked.
Back in the present, a first-year accidentally hexed his own robe, which turned into a stubborn octopus and refused to let go. The other students tried to help — mostly made it worse.
Merlin laughed quietly. "Classic."
He turned to the phoenix beside him and whispered, "Look at them… spells, creatures, flying brooms... and they don't even realize how much it took to get here."
The bird chirped back, bright-eyed and content.
"Not bad," Merlin said, "for a guy who once nearly blew himself up trying to cast Lumos."
He stood, hands behind his back, and looked out over the castle — the trees, the towers, the whispering wind.
The magical world was alive and for Merlin that was enough.