Thor clapped Harry on the shoulder so hard it nearly dislocated something. Pretty standard Thor affection. "Well done, my friend."
Harry, brushing soot off his shoulders and trying to pretend his ribs weren't currently vibrating like a tuning fork, gave a half-grin. "Team effort, Thor. You know, just your average Tuesday. Save the world, get a coffee, maybe flirt with danger and half my harem."
"Copy that," Steve's voice crackled over the comms. "Nice work, everyone. Now let's clean up the mess we made. And by 'we,' I mean Banner. Turning into the Hulk after we said we were done was a bold choice."
"I sneezed," Bruce muttered sheepishly. "I was stressed."
Sokovia was, in medical terms, a mess. Rubble everywhere. Fires flickering ominously. It looked like someone dropped a Transformer from orbit.
Enter Hermione Granger—equal parts disaster response and magical control freak. Her wand snapped through the air like she was conducting a magical symphony. "Reparo!" Glass reassembled. Bricks jumped back into place like loyal soldiers.
Hermione, with her hair pulled back in a bun that screamed business, barked out orders. "Harry, Fleur—get the power infrastructure stable. Tonks, Luna, go with Susan. Focus on transport routes and water lines. We need flow back before breakfast."
Harry didn't even blink. Hermione in battlefield-mode was equal parts terrifying and impressive. Like if Emma Watson's version of Hermione had eaten caffeine and swallowed a lightning bolt.
"You've got this," he told her, watching her command the city like it was a giant, broken library.
Hermione smirked. "Please. I optimized the repair flow based on a hybrid model of magical elasticity and Mug—muggle engineering. It's practically relaxing."
Meanwhile, Fleur strode across the rubble like a goddess on a Vogue shoot. Civilians paused mid-trauma just to gawk. The wind somehow always caught her hair just right.
"Zis place… it is comme un cauchemar," she muttered, flicking her wand and releasing a jet of water onto a burning building. "Why do ze evil robots never destroy something useless, like... a DMV?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Ultron takes requests now? Next time, I'll ask him to target spam call centers."
Fleur shot him a grin so flirtatious it could've melted titanium. "You 'ave zis sarcastic charm. I do not know why I like it so much."
"Probably the abs," Harry said casually.
Susan Bones, redhead extraordinaire and Hermione's occasional debate rival, was working silently beside a cracked power terminal. Her wand hand trembled slightly.
"Power grid's fried worse than a British breakfast," she said.
"You mean delicious and unnecessarily heavy?" Harry quipped.
Susan snorted, but her cheeks were pink. She looked down at her work, muttering, "Didn't think I'd be doing this in a city full of Avengers."
"You're more powerful than half of them," Harry said. "Also way hotter than Vision, but don't tell him. He's sensitive."
Susan bit her lip, trying not to smile. "You're terrible."
"I'm charming. There's a difference. And if you keep being that cute while fixing electrical lines, I will distract you."
Tonks, hair now a vibrant pink to match her attitude, crashed into the moment with a yell. "Wotcher, lovebirds! Anyone seen my dignity? I think I tripped over it five blocks ago."
Harry looked up. "Tonks, did you just moonwalk over a crater?"
"Maybe. Depends. Did I look cool?"
"You looked like a disco Pikachu having a seizure."
She brandished her wand, wobbled dramatically, then pointed it at a collapsed building. "Let's put Humpty Dumpty back together again, shall we? Wingardium Leviosa!"
"Steady…" Harry warned.
"I'M ALWAYS STEADY—whoops!"
The building lurched.
"Tonks!" Hermione shouted, eyes wide.
"Fixed it! Totally meant to do that!" Tonks grinned, brushing dust off her jeans.
Then came Luna. Gliding—not walking—through the rubble, eyes wide like she was seeing something the rest couldn't. Which, knowing her, she probably was.
"The Nargles are in mourning," she murmured.
Harry blinked. "Did they lose someone in the explosion?"
"No," she said softly. "They're sad because we forgot the ritual of the iron tea kettle. It wards off seismic aftershocks."
"…Right."
Luna spun, her dress twirling like a dandelion in the wind. "But don't worry, Daddy. The Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are pleased. They like you. Especially your thighs."
"…I don't know how to respond to that," Harry said, half-terrified, half-flattered.
"Oh, you will. Later."
And then she winked. Goddess help him.
Sersi, his maybe-not-girlfriend, strolled in with all the grace of a queen who knew exactly how much chaos she could command if she wanted to.
"You're bleeding," she said.
Harry looked down at the gash on his arm. "Huh. Missed that. I thought it was just spicy air."
Sersi rolled her eyes and pressed her fingers against the wound, weaving golden magic into it. "Honestly, I don't know whether I want to kiss you or slap you sometimes."
Harry smiled. "Why not both? It worked for Nat."
"Still does," Natasha called, walking past, smirking.
Thor, Steve, Clint, and the rest of the Avengers were pitching in. Wanda hovered, flicking rubble with telekinesis. Pietro zipped by, creating a mini tornado of organized tools. Tony was yelling at F.R.I.D.A.Y. for the fourth time. Vision was helping Hermione optimize with logic and gentle head tilts. Sprite was just floating mid-air eating popcorn.
"I like the chaos," Sprite said. "Very you."
Harry grinned. "Flattered."
By the time dawn broke, Sokovia was starting to look like a city again. Barely.
Harry stretched, shirt torn, magic crackling faintly along his fingers. "Another job done. World not exploded. Anyone else starving?"
Luna nodded seriously. "Yes. We should eat before the Snorkacks come. They tend to gnaw on toes when hungry."
"Noted," Steve muttered. "I'll make a note: Snorkack-toe-gnawing = bad."
"You'd be surprised how often that comes up," Harry said.
Everyone laughed. Exhausted. Alive. Together.
And Harry? He looked at the women who loved him, the team that trusted him, and the broken city they'd helped heal—and smiled.
It wasn't perfect. But it was his crazy, beautiful, absurd, magical life.
Also, he was totally claiming credit for the parking meters fixing themselves. That had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with being Harry freaking Potter.
—
As usual, the Avengers were stuck cleaning up someone else's mess—because if there was one universal truth, it was that apocalyptic robot battles never ended with a neat, tidy bow. The ruins of Sokovia still smoked, civilians were being helped out of rubble, and Iron Man was giving sarcastic commentary about OSHA violations. All was as normal as it could be when you're saving the world for the tenth time that month.
Then came the rumble of military vehicles. Because obviously, nothing says "we appreciate your help" like a convoy of tanks and soldiers crashing the party.
Cue General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross making an entrance like he was walking into a prom he wasn't invited to but somehow thought he should be crowned king of. His armored SUV hissed to a stop and out stepped the man himself, looking like a thundercloud in a bad mood. He scanned the area like he was mentally writing citations for everyone.
His eyes landed on Bruce Banner, who was still in full Hulk-mode and gently moving rubble off a family. Ross's jaw clenched. You could practically hear the PTSD flashback: one Hulk smash, coming right up.
"Banner," Ross barked, in the same tone you'd use for a dog who just peed on your couch.
Bruce rolled his massive green eyes and sighed. With the grace of someone deflating a bounce house, he shrank down into his human self. Shirtless and exhausted, he gave Ross a tired nod. "General. Always a pleasure."
Spoiler: It wasn't.
Ross didn't reply. He was too busy marching across the debris like he owned it, a squad of very serious-looking soldiers fanning out behind him. Someone's been practicing his dramatic walk.
"I'm here to secure the remains of Ultron's device," he announced, in that tone that made you want to roll your eyes and throw a shoe at him. "This tech is a threat to national security."
Tony Stark, never one to let someone else steal the spotlight, landed beside Bruce in a flare of repulsor-powered snark. His helmet retracted. "Hey, Thunderbolt, good to see you. Still rocking the tin dictator vibe, huh?"
"This isn't your call, Stark."
"Oh, I know. But you came late to the party. We already cleaned up most of the mess. The device is more of a glorified lava lamp now."
Captain America stepped in next, radiating moral authority like it was cologne. "General, our priority is saving lives. Civilians still need help."
Ross crossed his arms so tightly you could hear his muscles complaining. "My orders are to secure that device. No exceptions."
Behind them, Natasha casually rested her hand on a baton. Clint tilted his bow just enough to be subtle but threatening. Wanda and Pietro watched like cats who expected someone to knock over a vase.
Thor strode forward, Mjolnir casually slung over one shoulder. He looked like a walking shampoo commercial. "The threat has passed. Your interference is unnecessary."
Ross didn't even blink at the literal god. Bold move.
And that's when Harry stepped forward.
Six-foot-something, black dragohide armor that shimmered faintly with magic, a golden Draconic rune pulsing on his chest like a heartbeat. His cloak billowed in the breeze because of course it did, and his emerald green eyes were fixed on Ross with the intensity of someone who'd seen too many idiots in charge.
His cowl had retracted, so Ross could see his face—not that it helped the General feel any braver.
Harry didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"And what exactly do you plan to do, General," he asked, each word calm and sharp enough to cut steel, "if we say no?"
Ross faltered. Just a fraction. "You don't understand the stakes here, son."
Harry smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of a predator who'd just been told the gazelle wanted to talk about taxes.
"No," he said, stepping closer, "you don't understand. We've fought this battle. We've bled, lost, saved. You're here for paperwork."
Hermione stepped beside him, arms crossed, her eyes as sharp as her intellect. "Also, General," she added, "Ultron's device is made of vibranium-infused alloy with a molecular encryption layer. Even if you took it, your people wouldn't get past the protective enchantments Harry put on it."
"Or the hex I added," Susan chimed in, her voice sweet but laced with steel. "It bites. Literally."
"I made it explode!" Tonks grinned, then paused. "No, wait. That was something else. This one just turns unauthorized users into very confused pigeons."
Fleur glided up next, her accent as thick as honey and twice as sweet. "You are making a mistake, mon général. One you may regret, non?"
Sersi finally joined Harry's side, her elegance a perfect contrast to the intensity of the moment. She laid a hand on his arm, her touch gentle, her eyes amused. "Do you always let testosterone dictate military decisions, or is that a special today?"
Harry smirked. "I vote special."
Luna, who'd been talking to a half-crushed garden gnome, wandered over, her blonde hair swaying like a dream. "The Nargles say you're very stressed, General Ross. That explains the aura of impending doom around you. Also, don't touch the device. It's humming the theme from Jaws."
Ross blinked. Everyone stared at Luna. Then back at the device.
"You know what," Tony said, tapping his chin, "she might not be wrong."
Ross looked around. Everyone was standing with Harry. And Harry? He looked like he was one poorly-worded sentence away from unleashing something way scarier than Hulk.
The tension crackled. Soldiers tightened their grips. Wands were subtly drawn. Energy sparked at fingertips.
—
Just as the standoff between Ross and the Avengers hit peak "Who's got the bigger stick?" levels, the low hum of helicopters sliced through the air like the world's most ominous mosquito swarm. Every hero on the field tensed—except Thor, who just looked mildly annoyed that he couldn't smash the noise with Mjolnir. Banner winced. Wanda's fingers lit up with red energy. And Harry?
Harry raised a hand like he was the world's most chill traffic cop. "Relax. It's just our favorite leather-clad pirate and company."
Two black SHIELD helicopters descended like action movie extras on a coffee break, blades whipping debris across the ruined city block. The dust hadn't even settled when the doors opened, and out strode Nick Fury and Maria Hill like it was prom night and they were here to make a statement.
"Of course it's them," Tony muttered to Clint. "They never miss a chance for dramatic entrances."
"Hey, can't blame 'em," Clint replied, squinting at Fury's coat. "If I had that jacket, I'd walk like I owned the place too."
Ross straightened up like someone had shoved a very uncomfortable broomstick up his—well, you get the picture. "Fury," he grunted, voice like gravel chewing on more gravel. "I'm here to secure Ultron's tech."
Fury didn't break stride. "And I'm here to make sure you don't turn this mess into a geopolitical pissing contest. Again."
Hill smirked as she stepped up beside him. "SHIELD's authorized under UN Directive 49A. Stand down, Ross."
Ross looked like he wanted to chew a tank. "I answer to the President."
"And I answer to logic," Fury snapped. "You brought a full military escort to a field full of exhausted superheroes and tech that could birth the next AI apocalypse. You wanna explain that math to me?"
Harry stepped in then, all midnight-black dragonhide armor and golden energy pulsing from the sigil of a winged serpent coiled on his chest. He looked like a god who moonlighted as a myth.
"Ross," he said, casually adjusting his cloak. "You're starting to sound like someone who wants to get hexed into next week."
"Son—"
"I'm older than you. By several reincarnations. Don't 'son' me unless you want to spend the next week coughing up garden gnomes."
Ross sputtered. Banner coughed into his hand to hide a snort. Wanda didn't bother hiding her smirk.
Behind Harry, Luna twirled a long blonde lock around her finger and looked up at the sky. "Those helicopters weren't supposed to arrive for another five minutes. The wrackspurts must've gotten confused again."
Susan, leaning against a broken wall like a queen surveying her court, raised an eyebrow. "You predicted this, didn't you?"
"I told the moon this morning," Luna replied cheerfully. "It blinked twice."
Hermione looked like she was caught between curiosity and concern. "Luna, the moon doesn't blink."
"That's what it wants you to think."
Tonks, hair cycling from electric pink to stormy blue, grinned. "I say we weaponize Luna's weirdness. It's already making Ross nervous."
"More than nervous," Fleur added, stepping up beside Harry and slipping an elegant arm through his. Her accent dripped off her lips like warm syrup. "Ze general looks like 'e just ate a lemon... and discovered it was sentient."
Ross looked like he'd swallowed an entire French bakery—and none of it agreed with him. He opened his mouth again, but Sersi slid in next to Harry before he could speak.
"Director Fury, shall we proceed with the containment?" she asked smoothly, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder. The subtle touch didn't go unnoticed. Her gaze flicked down to his arm, her smile teasing. "You're running hot again, Harry."
"Only when you're this close," he quipped without missing a beat.
"Gross," Pietro muttered.
"I ship it," Sprite added with a shrug.
Fury clapped his hands once. "Alright, people. Let's secure the tech before Ross has an aneurysm."
Rhodey leaned toward Steve. "Think we can get through a cleanup without someone threatening to nuke us?"
Steve sighed. "One day. Maybe."
As the Avengers moved out, Luna skipped ahead, humming to herself. "There's going to be a lovely explosion in exactly thirteen minutes. Nothing catastrophic. Just a pop."
Harry blinked. "Should I be worried?"
"Only if you're allergic to glitter."
Vision floated past, already scanning the remnants of the Ultron tech. "I am curious what constitutes a 'glitter-based detonation.'"
"Don't encourage her," Natasha muttered.
As the dust settled, Harry stood with his wives around him—Hermione analyzing the containment field, Fleur whispering a French lullaby under her breath as a calming charm, Susan watching the perimeter, Tonks grinning like she was about to prank a world leader, and Luna pointing at clouds.
Sersi slid in beside him again, lips close to his ear. "Still want to come with me tonight?"
Harry smirked. "Only if you promise to make it weird."
"Oh, darling," she said, brushing his collarbone, "I'm an Eternal. Weird is my love language."
And as SHIELD agents moved in, the Avengers regrouped, and Ross finally retreated in a cloud of grumbling and paperwork, Harry glanced around and knew one thing for certain:
This wasn't over. It never was.
Because when you're the guy with the power of the Soul Stone in your veins, a polyamorous love life that could give Greek gods a run for their money, and a snark level over 9000, peace and quiet was just a myth.
But hey—at least it wasn't boring.
—
When the Avengers, Sersi, and Harry's wives finally dragged themselves into Avengers Tower, they looked like the opening act of a zombie apocalypse cosplay convention. Torn suits, soot-covered faces, one of Thor's eyebrows was singed off (he didn't even notice), and Harry was still radiating "Just Fought a Murderous AI" energy like a walking magical reactor.
And waiting for them? The real Big Bad. No, not Ultron. Not Thanos. Not even Loki on a caffeine high. It was Pepper Potts. Arms crossed. Eyes narrowed. The terrifying calm before the Tony-flavored storm.
Tony had barely taken off his Iron Man helmet when she hit him with a verbal Kamehameha.
"Tony Stark. We. Need. To. Talk."
Every Avenger froze. Bruce stopped mid-step like a deer caught in the headlights of an emotional freight train. Pietro tripped over his own feet. Even Wanda paused her magic mid-wave like she sensed a multiverse collapsing. Harry, of course, leaned back against a wall with the smugness of a cat who just pushed a glass off the counter.
Tony blinked. Twice. "Hey, Pep. You look radiant. Slightly murdery. But radiant."
Pepper's voice was low. Calm. Dangerous. "Harry told me everything."
Tony whipped his head toward Harry, who offered a charming grin that could make a Dementor blush. "She asked why you looked like a toaster exploded on your face. I thought she deserved the full playlist."
"You told her everything?"
"Well, not everything," Harry said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I left out the part where you wanted to name Ultron 'Iron Lad 2.0.'"
Tony groaned. "You're lucky you're pretty."
Fleur sauntered up behind Harry, pressing into his side with a wicked little smile. "'E iz very pretty, non? But zat does not excuse you, Tony."
Pepper turned the full force of her ire back onto her billionaire boyfriend. "You created a homicidal robot, Tony."
"Correction," Tony tried, lifting a finger. "I created a mildly misunderstood AI with performance issues."
"That tried to drop a meteor the size of New York on the planet," Hermione interjected, arms crossed, voice very Hermione-ish, which meant she was already five steps ahead and three lectures deep. "Let me guess, you skipped the ethical review process in favor of a high-speed neural net integration without calculating the psychological stability of an artificial personality matrix."
Bruce blinked. "That's… exactly what happened."
Hermione rolled her eyes like it was Tuesday and she was grading Tony's homework. "You really should let me proofread your science next time."
"Okay, wow," Tony muttered. "That was hot and terrifying."
Susan stepped up next, her voice soft but sharp, like a whisper made of daggers. "You could've asked for help. You had us."
"We're supposed to be a team," Sersi added, brushing soot from her pristine outfit with a flick that screamed elegance even after battling robot hordes. Her eyes met Harry's, and the tension between them crackled like static. Harry winked. She rolled her eyes. Then smiled.
Natasha, leaning casually against the wall, chimed in. "I told you this was a bad idea. You said, and I quote, 'What's the worst that could happen?'"
"And look where we are now," Clint added. "The worst did happen."
Luna drifted past them all, barefoot for some reason, her hair tangled like she fought a tornado (which, technically, she had). She stopped beside Harry, looking serenely at Pepper. "The wrackspurts around his head are particularly aggressive today. That means he wasn't thinking at all. Probably explains the robot uprising."
Everyone blinked.
"Thanks, Luna," Harry said, kissing her temple.
"You're welcome, love. Also, I had a dream last night about a unicorn vomiting stardust. I think it means we'll be attacked by aliens next Tuesday."
"Noted."
Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tony. This is your last chance. No more secret projects. No more solo plans. We decide things together."
Tony looked genuinely contrite. "You're right. I messed up. Again. I promise, no more Ultron-level screw-ups."
"Or Vision-level clones," Pietro added.
Vision raised an eyebrow. "I am standing right here."
"You were also born yesterday," Harry quipped.
Vision tilted his head. "That is factually correct."
Thor, having mostly stayed silent, finally boomed, "I, too, have learned the perils of acting without counsel. Such as when I brought Loki back to Asgard for the twelfth time."
"We remember," Steve said dryly.
As the tension ebbed, the group started to relax. Harry turned to Tony and clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, look on the bright side. At least now you know playing God is above your paygrade."
Tony sighed. "Yeah, well, from now on, I'll stick to playing billionaire genius playboy philanthropist."
"That job's already taken," Harry said with a grin. Behind him, his five wives and his girlfriend glowed with affection, menace, and varying degrees of magical chaos.
Tony groaned. "Of course it is."
As the Avengers headed toward the common room, hoping for showers, snacks, and possibly therapy, Harry leaned in toward Hermione, sliding an arm around her waist. She leaned into him.
"Well," he whispered, "think they'll finally let me name the next AI?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Only if you want me to hex your bits off."
"Kinky."
"Harry."
"Stopping now."
Tonks popped in beside them, morphing her nose into a pig snout. "You guys wanna sneak into the showers first before Thor breaks the plumbing again?"
"Dibs on Harry," Susan added with a wicked grin.
Fleur just smirked. "I get 'im tonight."
"We'll negotiate," Sersi said silkily.
Luna blinked at them all. "The unicorn also said we need more bubble bath."
Harry grinned, clearly not worried about killer robots anymore. "Right. Team meeting in the bathroom. Avengers... disrobe."
Tony groaned from the hallway. "I am never leaving you alone with Pepper again."
Harry called after him, "Next time, let me build the AI. I promise it'll only try to take over a small country."
"That's not funny."
"It kinda is."
And with that, the Tower was full of laughter, love, and just a hint of magic-induced chaos. So, basically, Tuesday.
—
After the whole killer-robot apocalypse thing (a.k.a. "Ultron throws a tantrum"), the Avengers and friends were understandably ready for some R&R. Clean, dry, and no longer in immediate danger of being vaporized, they sprawled across the couches in Stark Tower's common area, nursing drinks, snacks, and a collective case of the post-battle munchies.
Well, most of them. Pepper Potts, dressed in what Harry could only assume was a $3,000 power-casual blouse, stood with her arms crossed, her eyes narrowing in on Harry like he was a particularly confusing spreadsheet.
"So," she said, voice casual but edged with the sharpness of someone used to boardrooms and billionaires. "Who are these lovely ladies you've collected, Harry?"
Harry—who had stared down Voldemort, Death, and the unholy horror of British plumbing at Hogwarts—suddenly looked like someone had asked him to explain quantum physics in Klingon. He scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish.
"Uh… well, this is Hermione, Fleur, Susan, Tonks, and Luna. And they're, uh... my wives."
Dead silence.
Pepper blinked. Once. Twice. The way people do when they're trying to process something that absolutely should not compute.
"Wives? As in plural?"
Before Harry could reply with something truly cringe-worthy (like he had in Sokovia last week when asked to explain horcruxes), Tony Stark sauntered in like he'd just won the lottery and then bought the company printing the tickets.
"Oh, you're gonna love this one," he said, plopping down next to Bruce with popcorn. "Magic, British law, the whole wizarding soap opera."
Clint, munching on a granola bar, smirked. "Yeah, our boy Potter here has himself a magical harem."
Hermione—looking every bit the Emma-Watson-level of elegant fury—fixed Clint with a gaze that could turn lesser men into frogs. "Technically, we're in a magically binding union, built on trust, equality, and ancient magical tradition. 'Harem' implies subjugation and hierarchy. This isn't that."
Harry, who had finally recovered enough brain cells to form a sentence, nodded. "Yeah. It's not a harem. It's more of a… love pentagon with side quests."
Fleur, all sultry confidence and French sass, leaned in close to Harry and brushed a strand of platinum hair behind his ear. "Mon amour, zat sounds more complicated zan it is. We love 'im. 'E loves us. C'est tout."
Susan—sweet, sharp-eyed Susan with her deceptively innocent freckles—grinned. "Besides, he's got enough stamina for all five of us."
Cue Tony nearly choking on his popcorn.
Luna, who'd been gazing at the ceiling like she could see through dimensions, piped up dreamily, "It's true. He glows like a Nargle when he's happy. Especially after—"
"—Luna!" Hermione interjected, going scarlet.
"—tea," Luna finished, clearly lying, clearly not caring. "Earl Grey. Very stimulating."
Pepper rubbed her temple. "You know what? I don't even want to know."
"Wise choice," Natasha muttered from her corner, sipping wine and watching the chaos unfold like she was judging a reality show.
Just then, Thor stood up, all rippling muscles and Shakespearean drama. His cape swooshed like it had its own sound effects. "I must return to Asgard. The Convergence approaches."
Hermione, eyes sparkling, immediately went into academic mode. "What's the Convergence?"
Thor's face lit up like a kid finally asked to explain his obscure D&D character. "The Convergence is when the Nine Realms align, weakening the barriers between them. It brings danger… and great power."
Luna gasped, clutching Harry's arm. "That's when the Arithmantus appears! They feed on unstable ley lines and shed feathers made of starlight. Maybe we'll see one."
"That's… not a real thing," Bruce whispered to Wanda.
Wanda, eyes wide, whispered back, "Are we sure though? This is Harry's life."
Harry shrugged. "Honestly, wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've seen. Or slept with."
Sersi, who had been lounging like a goddess disguised as a Vogue model, arched a perfectly groomed brow. "Is that your way of calling me weird, darling?"
Harry smirked. "Nope. That's my way of calling you exotic, mysterious, and slightly terrifying in the best way."
Sersi rolled her eyes, but her lips curved. "Flatterer."
"Sorcerer," Harry corrected, then winked.
Clint leaned over to Bucky. "Tell me again how this guy bagged six super-powered women?"
Bucky sipped his drink, eyes never leaving Harry. "He's funny, powerful, emotionally available, and takes on killer robots before breakfast. Guy's a unicorn."
"Also, he cooks," Tonks added, flicking her pink-tipped hair as she slung an arm over Harry's shoulders. "Seriously, you haven't lived until you've had his shepherd's pie."
Fleur purred, "Or his fingers."
Susan smacked her arm. "Fleur!"
Luna smiled serenely. "It's true. He has good fingers. For massage. And other things."
Pepper looked like she was seriously reconsidering every life choice that brought her to this conversation.
Tony grinned like a kid at Christmas. "We taking a field trip to Asgard or what?"
"You're not invited," Harry said without missing a beat. "You nearly set off a god-tier war on Earth because you made a joke about Loki's hair."
"It was greasy," Tony protested.
Hermione sighed. "Just let me pack the books."
Sersi smiled. "And I'll pack the dresses."
Luna nodded. "And I'll bring the soul crystals."
"We don't know what those are," Susan whispered.
"Exactly," Luna said, beaming.
With the promise of realms colliding and more interdimensional weirdness on the horizon, the team settled in for the night. There would be planning. There would be flirting. There would be books and soul crystals and Thor explaining things with big hand gestures. But one thing was certain:
Harry Potter's life was never boring. Not even on his day off.
—
General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross sat hunched at his desk like a man who'd just realized his favorite war movie had been remade into a romantic comedy. His office, lit by a single overhead lamp and the glow of ten different monitors, looked more like a war bunker than anything in the Pentagon. On the screens, Avengers did what Avengers did—leapt, flew, blasted, punched, and smiled for the camera while they saved the day. Again.
Ross wasn't smiling.
He scratched his salt-and-pepper stubble and muttered, "Saving the world one PR disaster at a time."
Of course, it wasn't just the usual suspects anymore. The Seidr. Five mysterious women who made Scarlet Witch look like a high school illusionist. And Sersi—who, according to some very unverified intel, could rearrange atoms like they were IKEA furniture. No instructions needed. No Allen wrench required.
Ross leaned back with a groan, the leather of his chair squeaking like it was protesting being dragged into another global crisis. "Great. More capes, more problems."
But he wasn't alone. Not really. Somewhere beyond mortal perception—beyond time, space, and definitely beyond Ross's blood pressure medication—stood Destiny. A figure cloaked in shadows, eyes that held galaxies, and the deep, velvety voice of someone who knew how every story ended and still chose to watch it unfold.
Destiny stood on the threshold of reality, watching the General fume. "So, the old soldier sharpens his blade. Again. How many times must he prepare for a war that is not his to fight?"
He paused, then added with a soft, amused hum, "Still… there is poetry in persistence."
If you're wondering what Destiny looks like, don't bother. You can't see him. Not unless he wants you to. And trust me, if he does want you to see him, it probably means something dramatic is about to happen. Like end-of-the-world dramatic.
"I gave him the truth," Destiny continued, his voice a murmur carried by stardust. "Not the whole truth—he is not ready for that—but enough to stir the fire in his bones. Thunderbolt Ross. A man who wears his name like armor."
Back in the office, Ross slammed a folder shut like it had personally insulted him. "We need a damn leash on these people," he growled. "They act like they answer to no one. Like they're gods."
"Oh, the irony," Destiny mused with a half-smile. "For even gods answer to fate."
And then—because the universe can't resist a little drama—Desire appeared. Or rather, she drifted in like perfume on the air, amused, glittering, and impossibly smug. She was the kind of presence that made you second-guess your reflection and wonder if your pants fit right.
"He's cute when he's paranoid," Desire said, circling the space beside Destiny like a shark with great cheekbones. "All that righteous fury. All that bottled-up testosterone. I give it three weeks before he does something reckless and deliciously chaotic."
Destiny didn't look at her. He didn't need to. "You mistake frustration for chaos. His path is not yours to twist."
Desire smirked. "Everything's mine to twist, darling. I just nudge. They jump."
Ross, blissfully unaware of the cosmic peanut gallery, jabbed at his keyboard like it owed him money. "I'm not letting another incident go unchecked. I don't care if it's Stark, a god from space, or the boy wizard and his flying friends. We need leverage. We need insurance."
He paused, then said in a low voice that echoed with the gravity of a man planning war, "We need a team."
Destiny tilted his head, listening not to the words, but the ripple they made in the grand tapestry of fate. "And so, the counterbalance begins to form. A shadow cast beneath the sun. Necessary… but dangerous."
Desire stretched lazily, her grin sharp enough to cut diamonds. "Danger's just another word for fun."
Destiny finally looked at her, and in that look was the weight of eternity. "You play your games, sister. But remember: even mischief has its reckoning."
She winked. "Of course, it does. That's what makes it exciting."
And just like that, she vanished—gone with a giggle and the faint scent of roses and trouble.
Back on Earth, Ross picked up his phone and started dialing. Old contacts. Black-ops types. The kind of people who knew how to disappear and make others do the same.
The world might've been watching the Avengers, but Ross? He was watching them right back. With backup.
From above, Destiny watched the threads converge—heroes, villains, mortals, and myths. The play was unfolding. The pieces were moving.
"Let them believe they choose," Destiny whispered. "For choice… is the most beautiful illusion of all."
And then, with a sigh that echoed through dimensions, he faded back into the fabric of the cosmos—where stories live, die, and wait to be reborn.
---
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