When Harry rejoined the Avengers, the room buzzed with the usual mix of high-tech gadgets, tense energy, and Tony Stark's never-ending supply of sarcasm. It was a vibe. A very stressful vibe. But Harry had bigger things to worry about than Tony's latest invention (which, judging by the faint smoke coming from the corner, was either a prototype or already trying to kill them).
"HYDRA's dabbling in dark magic," Harry announced, deciding there was no point in easing them into it. "And not the 'ooh, mysterious wizard' kind. More like 'summoning eldritch horrors and turning people into magic-powered super soldiers' kind. They're weaponizing it, and we need to be ready for whatever insane nonsense they throw at us."
Tony, of course, reacted first. Because of course he did.
"Fantastic," he said, spinning dramatically in his chair. "Just what we needed—evil wizards on top of everything else. I knew I should've invested in anti-magic armor. JARVIS, remind me to develop anti-magic armor."
"Noted, sir," JARVIS responded smoothly. "Though I must point out that magic is, by definition, not science, and therefore rather difficult to counteract with standard technological means."
"Blasphemy," Tony declared. "I'll science the hell out of magic."
Bruce, who had been reading over some notes, pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not how it works, Tony."
"Not yet," Tony shot back. "Give me a week."
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. "Right. So, as much as I'd love to watch you try to slap magic in the face with physics, we have an actual problem. HYDRA's been gathering ancient magical artifacts, probably trying to make their own version of Voldemort. And we really don't need a Voldemort 2.0 running around."
"Yeah, one was bad enough," Clint chimed in, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers. "Please tell me we don't have to fight some snakey-looking guy with a bad skincare routine."
"Nope," Harry said. "This time, it's a bunch of dudes in way too much leather trying to play sorcerer."
"Great," Clint said. "A cult and Nazis. Just what I wanted."
Steve, who had been absorbing all of this with his usual thoughtful frown, finally spoke. "We've faced worse, and we've adapted before. We'll do it again. Harry, we're going to need your knowledge of magic more than ever."
Harry nodded, already feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. "Don't worry. If HYDRA thinks they can play with forces they don't understand, they've got another thing coming. I'll make sure of it."
Natasha, who had been leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, smirked. "You sound confident."
Harry shrugged. "Confidence is just fear in a really good disguise."
Rhodey snorted. "That's the most magical nonsense I've heard all day."
"Give it an hour," Bruce muttered. "It'll get worse."
As the team started strategizing, the room filled with the usual mixture of determination, exasperation, and an unreasonable number of jokes about wands. (Clint had already asked Harry if he had to shout Expelliarmus every time he fought. Harry had responded by levitating his coffee away. Accio this, Legolas.)
But beneath all the banter, the tension was real. This was just the beginning. HYDRA's ambitions stretched far beyond what any of them had imagined. If they had dark magic on their side, the fight ahead would push the Avengers to their limits.
As Harry watched his teammates—his friends—prepare for the storm, he made a silent vow. He'd protect this world from the darkness, no matter the cost. And if he had to roast HYDRA into the ground while doing it? Well, that was just a bonus.
After all, what's a world-saving mission without a little fun along the way?
—
Harry stepped out of the swirling portal and onto the familiar cobblestones of London. The city greeted him with its usual mix of fog, honking horns, and people moving at a pace that suggested they were either running late for a life-or-death meeting or just had a deeply ingrained hatred for standing still. Honestly, how did anyone survive here without a Time-Turner or at least an enchanted umbrella for crowd control?
But today, he wasn't here to muse about London's chaotic charm or practice his newly acquired mystical arts. Nope. Today was about someone else entirely.
Sersi.
Navigating the bustling streets with the ease of someone who had definitely used Apparition as a cheat code one too many times, he arrived at their usual meeting spot—a tiny, blink-and-you'll-miss-it tea shop tucked between two far more modern-looking buildings. The place smelled like fresh pastries, old books, and just the right amount of magic. A perfect hideaway for secret rendezvous. Or, in his case, for barely contained flirtation disguised as strategy meetings.
He pushed open the door, and there she was. Sersi. Even sitting in a cozy little corner with a delicate teacup in hand, she radiated an effortless kind of grace that made Harry feel like an unwashed Quidditch player in comparison. Which, to be fair, he sometimes was.
"You're late," she said, glancing up at him with a smirk that could probably start a war.
Harry slid into the seat across from her, casually—read: barely—avoiding knocking over the sugar bowl. "Yeah, well, I had to take the scenic route. Plus, I figured if I was going to risk my life crossing London traffic, I might as well make an entrance."
Sersi hummed in amusement, stirring her tea with an elegance that was just unfair. "And here I thought you were off saving the world again."
Harry leaned back in his chair, mirroring her smirk. "Oh, you know, the usual. Rescuing kittens, thwarting dark wizards, setting Wong's robes on fire by accident—though, in my defense, the man wears an unreasonable amount of flammable fabric."
She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that did things to his insides he wasn't ready to analyze. "You're impossible."
"Only on Mondays," he shot back. "And Thursdays. And occasionally Sundays, but only before I've had tea."
Their tea arrived, and Harry took the opportunity to watch her as she sipped her drink, her emerald eyes assessing him in that way that made him feel simultaneously like a subject under examination and the most interesting thing in the room. Which was saying something, considering the tea shop was currently hosting what looked like a very intense knitting club meeting in the corner.
"So," he said, swirling his spoon in his tea. "What's new in the world of ancient immortals? Any secret alien invasions I should know about? Or are you still dodging Tony's recruitment attempts?"
Sersi rolled her eyes, setting down her cup. "Tony doesn't take no for an answer very well."
"Yeah, I figured that out the first time he tried to put me on an Avengers lunch schedule." Harry shuddered. "It was like dealing with a very persistent, very rich owl."
She chuckled, but there was something thoughtful in her expression now. "He's not entirely wrong, though. You and I—we do belong in this fight. Magic and immortality aside, we understand what's at stake in a way most people don't."
Harry let out a breath, tapping his fingers against his teacup. "Yeah, well, understanding what's at stake doesn't make it any less exhausting."
A pause. Then, softer, she said, "And yet, you never walk away."
He glanced up, meeting her gaze, and suddenly the tea shop felt a little too small, the air a little too thick with something unspoken. The way she was looking at him—like he was more than just the wizard who had a knack for getting himself into ridiculous situations—made his pulse do a stupid, unnecessary flip.
He should say something witty. Something to break the tension before he did something reckless, like actually acknowledging it.
Instead, all he managed was a half-smile. "Yeah, well. Hero complex. Comes with the Gryffindor package."
Her lips curved, but her eyes were still serious. "Maybe. Or maybe you just care more than most."
Harry swallowed, suddenly very interested in his tea. "You know, you're not exactly great at the whole 'keeping things light' thing."
She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. "Oh? And here I thought you liked a little depth in your conversations."
Damn it. She had him there.
Before he could come up with a clever comeback, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "You're different, Harry. Not just because of magic, or heroics, or whatever else people think defines you. You... see the world differently. And I like that."
If his heart hadn't already been attempting to break a world record for unnecessary acrobatics, it definitely was now.
He cleared his throat, leaning back with what he hoped was an air of nonchalance. "Careful, Sersi. Keep saying things like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe I do."
And just like that, Harry Potter—survivor of Voldemort, master of sarcasm, accidental fire hazard—was officially at a loss for words.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting a golden hue over the shop, Harry decided that whatever this thing between them was—flirtation, friendship, or something far more dangerous—it was worth the risk. Because in a life filled with magic, chaos, and the occasional near-death experience, moments like these? They were rare.
And he wasn't about to let this one slip away.
—
Back at Avengers Tower, the usual brand of organized chaos was in full swing. Stark tech hummed, holograms flickered, and somewhere in the distance, an espresso machine made a very concerning noise. It was the kind of day where you either saved the world or accidentally blew up a lab—sometimes both.
In the lab, Tony and Bruce were hunched over a floating projection of magical runes, looking like two kids who had just discovered a cheat code for reality. Tony waved a hand through a glowing sigil, eyes narrowed. "Okay, so magic and science are officially dating now. But do we know if it's a healthy relationship or one of those toxic, will-they-won't-they sitcom disasters?"
Bruce sighed, adjusting his glasses. "I'd settle for just understanding how half of this works before it explodes in our faces."
"Pfft, details." Tony tapped his arc reactor, which pulsed faintly in response. "Worst case, I upgrade to Wizard Armor Mark I."
"Worst case, we all get turned into frogs," JARVIS chimed in dryly. "Would you like me to start designing amphibian-friendly suits, sir?"
Tony snapped his fingers. "See? That's why I keep you around, J. Always thinking ahead."
Meanwhile, in the war room, Steve, Natasha, and Clint were gathered around a holographic map, the glowing lines of HYDRA's latest headache casting an ominous blue glow over the room.
Steve frowned, arms crossed. "Anyone heard from Harry lately?"
"London," Natasha said, flipping through a dossier with all the casual grace of someone who could kill you with a stapler. "He's meeting with someone who might be useful."
Clint leaned back in his chair, balancing a throwing knife between two fingers. "Useful like 'hey, here's some intel' or useful like 'watch me turn HYDRA agents into human pretzels'?"
Natasha smirked. "Knowing Potter? Probably both."
Steve sighed, ever the responsible one. "Let's just hope it's someone willing to fight."
"Cap," Clint deadpanned, "the guy's a wizard who survived a world-ending death cult before puberty. I think he can handle himself."
Steve ignored that and focused on the map, where several glowing red dots indicated trouble brewing. "HYDRA's getting bolder. If they're messing with magic, we need to be ready."
"Right, because dealing with super-soldiers, aliens, and killer robots wasn't enough," Clint muttered. "Now we get to add 'dark wizards' to the greatest hits list."
Natasha didn't even look up from her file. "If you complain any harder, I think the room will collapse under the weight of your sarcasm."
Clint made finger guns at her. "That's the dream."
Just then, the lab doors slid open, and Tony strode in, looking far too pleased with himself. "Good news, team. Magic and science are officially a thing, and I'm making it work. Bad news, we might be one wrong rune away from opening a portal to a dimension where everyone is a sentient toaster."
Bruce followed, rubbing his temples. "It's…a work in progress."
Steve sighed again, which was quickly becoming his new default setting. "Tony, we need to focus. HYDRA—"
"—is still a bunch of evil Nazis who refuse to take a hint," Tony finished, waving him off. "Yeah, I got the memo. Look, let's cut to the chase. We need more magical firepower. Enter Exhibit A: Potter."
"Already on it," Natasha said, closing the file. "He's making contact with an Eternal in London."
Tony arched an eyebrow. "Oh, fancy. Which one?"
"Sersi."
For once, even Tony Stark was momentarily speechless. "Well, well. Our boy's got taste."
Bruce looked mildly alarmed. "Aren't Eternals basically gods?"
Tony grinned. "Exactly. And you know what they say: if you can't beat 'em, date 'em."
Clint leaned over to Natasha. "Do we think Harry's actually in this for the magic, or is this a 'flirting with immortal cosmic beings' thing?"
Natasha, ever unreadable, simply smirked. "Why not both?"
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we focus?"
JARVIS, ever helpful, chimed in. "Might I suggest patience, Captain? Mr. Potter has a history of pulling off the impossible."
Tony pointed at the ceiling. "Thank you, JARVIS! Finally, someone appreciates the artistry of our chaos."
Bruce muttered, "This is why I work in the lab."
As the team refocused on the looming threat, the unspoken truth remained: Harry was out there, doing what he did best—rewriting the rules, breaking expectations, and somehow, against all odds, making even magic itself work for the Avengers.
And if he happened to be charming an immortal goddess while doing it? Well, that was just a bonus.
—
As the sun dipped below the London skyline, casting long golden rays over the Thames, Harry leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out beneath the table. Across from him, Sersi cradled her cup of tea like it held the meaning of life, her gaze flickering between him and the view as if debating which was more interesting.
"You know," Harry said, swirling his own half-empty cup, "for someone who's technically immortal, you have a very human habit of picking the most aesthetic places to brood."
Sersi raised an elegant brow. "Who says I'm brooding?"
"Well, you've sighed exactly four times in the last five minutes, and trust me, I know a dramatic sigh when I hear one. I practically have a PhD in them."
She huffed out a laugh. "Maybe I just enjoy the ambiance."
Harry leaned in slightly, his smirk sharpening at the edges. "Oh, definitely. Nothing sets the mood like the faint aroma of questionable fish and the occasional drunk bloke shouting about 'football conspiracies.'"
Sersi shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. "You really have a way of killing a moment, don't you?"
"Hey, it's a gift." He tapped his temple. "Like magic, but more annoying."
The banter came easy, like it always did, but underneath it was a charge—an electric sort of pull that neither of them had quite named yet. Or, in Harry's case, had decided to name but then promptly ignored because acknowledging things like 'feelings' was a slippery slope to 'complications,' and he had enough of those, thanks.
Still, it didn't stop him from noticing the way Sersi's fingers toyed with the rim of her cup, or how her gaze lingered on his lips for just a second too long before snapping back up to his eyes.
"So," she said, tilting her head, "have you come to a decision?"
Harry exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he could physically shake off the weight of whatever was coming next. "Yeah. I'm in."
Her expression didn't change much, but there was a flicker of something—relief, maybe?—in her dark eyes. "You don't even know what I'm asking you to do yet."
Harry grinned. "Does it involve danger, morally questionable choices, and the possibility of punching something in the face?"
"Most likely."
"Then it's just a regular Tuesday for me."
Sersi chuckled, but there was something else in her gaze now—something warm, something intense. "You do realize this is bigger than just you, right?"
"Of course," Harry said, leaning in again, lowering his voice slightly. "But let's be honest, I make 'big things' look easy."
She studied him for a moment, her fingers now resting lightly on the table, so close to his that if either of them so much as breathed wrong, they'd be touching. And Harry, for all his magic and bravado, suddenly found himself hyper-aware of that tiny gap between them.
"Cocky as ever," she murmured.
"Confident," he corrected. "Cocky is what people call you when they're just a little bit jealous."
She smirked, but instead of firing back another quip, she just held his gaze. It was one of those moments—where time stretched thin, where every breath felt just a little heavier than the last. The world outside their little bubble faded, drowned out by the not-so-subtle hum of whatever this thing between them was.
Then, because the universe had a twisted sense of humor, Harry's comm crackled to life. "Harry," JARVIS chimed smoothly. "Apologies for the interruption, but you are needed at Avengers Tower immediately."
Harry closed his eyes briefly, mentally cursing Tony and whatever fresh disaster awaited him. "Of course I am."
Sersi sighed—not a brooding sigh this time, but an amused one. "Duty calls."
He glanced back at her as he stood, watching as she tipped her head in that way that made it impossible to tell what she was thinking. "This conversation isn't over," he told her, letting his fingers ghost over hers just briefly before pulling away.
Her smile was small but knowing. "No, it isn't."
And with that, Harry stepped through a portal, the warmth of her presence still clinging to him like a stubborn ember, refusing to burn out.
—
As soon as Harry stepped back into Avengers Tower, he was hit with a wave of what could only be described as pure, unfiltered chaos—think Black Friday, but with superpowers and slightly fewer shopping carts being weaponized. Alarms blared, people sprinted around like caffeinated squirrels, and the air practically vibrated with the kind of energy that usually meant something was on fire, about to explode, or both.
Before he could even take a breath, Steve Rogers appeared in front of him, all Captain America seriousness. "Harry, we've got a new lead," he said, because of course they did. "HYDRA's making moves, and we need to be ready."
Harry barely had time to shake off the last bit of portal-tingle before rolling his shoulders like he was gearing up for a Quidditch match. "Right, because life was feeling way too peaceful. Let's go."
They hustled into the conference room, where Nick Fury was waiting, arms crossed, looking like someone had just tried to tell him pineapple belonged on pizza. That was never a good sign.
"I've got critical intelligence," Fury announced, which was Fury-speak for 'You're all about to have a very bad day.' "Our sources intercepted chatter about something called the 'Darkhold.' HYDRA's after it."
Harry froze. If his stomach could talk, it would've screamed and thrown itself out the nearest window. Instead, he settled for a very eloquent, "Oh, bollocks."
Steve frowned. "That bad?"
"Steve, the Darkhold isn't just bad," Harry said, rubbing his face. "It's like… imagine Voldemort and Sauron had a baby, and that baby wrote a book on how to destroy reality just for funsies."
Natasha arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "So, light bedtime reading?"
"Oh, totally. If you want to wake up possessed and summoning demons in your sleep."
Tony, who had been sipping a suspiciously alcohol-free drink, set it down with a sigh. "Alright, let's break it down. What's in this evil magic book of doom, and why do the Nazi knockoffs want it?"
Harry took a deep breath. "The Darkhold—also known as the Book of Sins—was written by Chthon, an Elder God who decided regular evil wasn't evil enough. This thing isn't just a spellbook, it's a sentient, malevolent nightmare that warps reality, corrupts minds, and makes you regret every life choice that led you to reading it. If HYDRA gets their hands on even a single page, we're looking at apocalypse-level chaos."
Clint, from his corner of the room, snorted. "So, standard Tuesday?"
Bruce, ever the scientist, adjusted his glasses. "Is there any way to counter it? Neutralize it?"
Harry sighed. "Destroying the Darkhold is like trying to permanently delete that one embarrassing photo your friend refuses to let go. You can try, but it always finds a way back. The best we can do is contain it. Lock it up, keep it out of reach, and throw every magical safeguard we've got at it."
Fury gave Harry a long, unreadable look before speaking. "So, what's the plan?"
Harry glanced around at his teammates—his friends—and felt his resolve solidify like reinforced steel. "Step one: find it before HYDRA does. Step two: make sure the people handling it don't turn into dark magic junkies. Step three: lock it away in a vault so secure even I'd have trouble breaking into it. Step four: pray to whatever higher power listens to people like us."
Tony clapped his hands together. "Great. Love a plan with a solid 'try not to die' clause."
JARVIS, ever the voice of reason, chimed in. "Might I suggest ensuring Mr. Potter is well-rested before engaging in another world-ending battle?"
Harry sighed. "JARVIS, my life is a world-ending battle."
Steve, ever the responsible one, placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Then let's make sure we win this one."
—
Steve Rogers stood in front of the team, looking every bit the Captain America that history—and his super soldier serum—had molded him into. He gave his classic "let's get to work" nod, and the Avengers snapped to attention like they'd been practicing their marching drills for the past century.
"Alright, team," Steve said, pacing like the leader he was. "Tony, Bruce, you two are on tech. I need you to work on ways to track magical signatures and build some heavy-duty defenses against whatever HYDRA's got up its sleeve. Remember: if it blows up, it's on you."
Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, adjusted his glasses with the kind of smug grin that only someone who could build a suit of armor in their sleep could pull off. "Well, it is on me, Cap. But thanks for the reminder. I'll be sure to add a few more missiles just in case."
Bruce Banner, standing to the side, sighed and shook his head. "You know I don't do missiles, right?"
Tony gave him a side-eye. "Oh, right. You're the one who does... what? Turning into a giant green rage monster? Yeah, real helpful. Anyway, I'll handle the bombs, you handle the science. It's a good partnership."
Bruce tried not to roll his eyes, but it was a lost cause.
"Natasha, Clint," Steve continued, turning his gaze to the two master spies at the table, "I need you to work your espionage magic. Dig into HYDRA's network. If there's any info on the Darkhold or anything related to it, I want it. No matter how deep we have to go."
Natasha Romanoff leaned back in her chair, a smirk on her face. "Espionage magic, huh? I guess that means Clint's finally going to show me how to hack into something more complicated than a vending machine."
Clint Barton, sitting with his arms crossed, didn't even bother to look up. "I don't hack anything, Nat. I shoot things. It's my whole deal. But you wanna dig into HYDRA's servers, we can do that. I've got a great reputation for getting in and out without leaving a trace. Trust me, I'm practically a ghost."
"Yeah," Natasha replied, deadpan, "a ghost that's missed half of his shots in the last mission."
Clint's smirk was instantly back. "Hey, you don't hit every target when your eyes are closed, okay?"
The banter was, as always, in full swing. Meanwhile, Harry Potter—who'd been standing in the corner with his arms folded, watching the team with the quiet confidence that only a wizard who could literally fly could possess—decided it was time to add his own flare.
"Alright, I get the espionage part," Harry said, cutting through the noise with his signature dry wit, "but for the magical countermeasures, I'm going to need a bit more than just a little wand flick and a 'pretend-it-doesn't-hurt' potion. We're dealing with the Darkhold. That's a whole different beast."
Fury, who had been standing in the background watching this all go down with the practiced patience of a man who'd survived about a hundred worse situations in his life, finally spoke up. His voice was low, like a predator on the hunt.
"Harry's right. We can't go in half-cocked. HYDRA's got their hands on something dangerous, and if that Darkhold gets loose, it won't just be the Avengers who are at risk. It'll be everyone on this planet."
Steve nodded seriously, but Harry caught the tiniest hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Maybe it was from the fact that, despite being all serious and stoic, Steve's respect for Harry was growing. Or maybe it was because Steve liked hearing someone else throw around the word "dangerous" as much as he did.
"Harry," Steve said, voice soft but firm, "you're in charge of magical countermeasures. Get us something, anything, that can help us keep the Darkhold locked up. And whatever you find... we'll need it fast."
"Fast is my middle name," Harry said with a grin, tossing his bangs out of his face. "Well, not literally. But I can pull an all-nighter and make it look like I've been working for weeks."
"Harry," Tony said, turning his head to look at him. "If you're planning to pull an all-nighter, can you at least not turn the Tower into a burning wreck this time? We all remember the last 'all-nighter.'"
Harry smirked. "That was not my fault. I was just trying to contain the magic. You guys just had a thing about fire safety, apparently."
Steve shot Tony a look. "Fire safety? Seriously, Stark?"
Tony waved it off, clearly not ashamed. "Hey, when you're as brilliant as I am, sometimes you just get creative."
"Anyway," Harry said, pushing away from the table, "I've got this. And, just so you know, I'm definitely not doing it with a charm that makes things explode. You'll get your research, and you'll like it."
The team chuckled, but Steve was serious again, his eyes locking with Harry's. "Thanks for taking this on, Harry. We're counting on you."
Harry met Steve's gaze, his expression suddenly hardening. "You don't have to thank me, Cap. But I will make sure HYDRA doesn't get their hands on this. I don't care if it takes every ounce of magic in me. I've got you, and I've got this. We'll stop them. And if I have to burn a few things to do it, well, that's just part of the job."
With that, Harry turned and walked out, already plotting how he was going to hit the books, throw a few hexes, and probably have a conversation with the ghost of Merlin or someone equally as ancient. Because when the fate of the world—and the safety of his friends—was on the line, Harry Potter didn't just show up. He made sure no one was ever going to forget who'd saved their butts.
And as he left, the others got back to their tasks, knowing that no matter how chaotic things got, Harry was in his element. They were all going to need him. And Harry? Well, he wasn't about to let them down.
—
Harry stood at the front of the Avengers' war room, arms crossed, trying his hardest to act like he belonged. He was pretty sure he'd never imagined himself in a situation like this, surrounded by some of the most powerful humans and demi-gods on the planet. Sure, he'd been in a few scrapes—Voldemort, a basilisk, giant snakes, but those were small potatoes compared to what he was about to face. And let's not even get started on the fact that he was basically the wizard equivalent of an emergency button. Talk about pressure.
"So here's the deal," Harry began, trying to sound like he had a handle on things. It was like reading a spell book out loud with the entire class staring at you, except the class was a bunch of superheroes who could bench press trucks. "The Darkhold, that big book of evil that even Dumbledore wouldn't touch? Last time it was spotted, it was in the hands of Madame Hydra—Viper. But since she's currently chilling in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest cells, it's made its way to someone else."
Tony Stark leaned back in his chair, flicking a finger at the holographic screen that sprang to life in front of him. "Great, another magical evil artifact. Just what I needed today. So, who's the lucky new owner of this hellish book?"
"Daniel Whitehall," Harry said, trying to suppress the shudder. "Real piece of work. PhD in Creepy Artifacts and a minor in World Domination. I'm guessing he probably missed the memo about not letting dark forces get too comfy in his lair."
"Sounds like a charming guy." Tony quipped, leaning forward, fingers steepled. "So where's he keeping this little treasure trove of doom?"
Harry resisted the urge to make a joke about HYDRA agents trying to ski in green jumpsuits. "Swiss Alps. They've got a base up there—fortified like Asgard's vault, except instead of golden treasures, it's dark magic wards that'll make Voldemort's protections look like a toddler's scribbles. We're not walking in there like it's a spa retreat."
Steve Rogers was already shifting into leader mode, scanning the room like he was calculating their next move. "Alright, so we need a two-pronged approach. We hit them fast and hard, but we're also going to need a plan to disable those defenses. Bruce, Tony—think you two can work on neutralizing the magical barriers?"
Bruce Banner—who had been quietly glaring at his tablet like it owed him money—looked up, eyes blinking. "Yeah, I think so. Tony and I can work on a tech solution to mess with their wards. If HYDRA's mixing magic with science, we can disrupt it with a few... tweaks."
Tony smirked. "Love it when the Hulk gets all techy. You know, Bruce, the world's a better place when you're not smashing things."
Bruce let out a breath and leaned back. "Yeah, I'll try not to Hulk out this time. You know, for the team."
"Always a great plan." Clint Barton piped up from across the room, where he was studying a map of the Swiss Alps like it was an ancient puzzle. "I'll work on infiltrating their base. If I can get us in without tripping alarms or having to dodge bullets, we might just get a leg up on Whitehall. You know, like a ninja but with a bow instead of a sword."
"You mean like the most terrifying ninja ever," Natasha Romanoff added with a smirk. "Clint, you're basically the human version of a walking bad decision, but somehow, it works."
Clint grinned and raised his eyebrows. "Hey, someone's gotta keep things interesting."
Steve shifted his weight, looking at each member of the team. "Alright, then. We've got our jobs. We work fast, we work smart, and we don't give HYDRA the chance to pull any magic tricks on us. I know we're all ready for this—so let's make sure we're really ready to move when it's time."
Harry, feeling the weight of it all settle a little heavier on his shoulders, nodded. "I'll focus on the magical side. I'll dig up whatever I can on Whitehall's spellwork and prepare countermeasures. But trust me, one wrong move and we could have a situation bigger than Thanos trying to swipe a date with Lady Death."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Wow, that's a thought I didn't need today. But hey, good point. Let's avoid a Thanos-level catastrophe, yeah?"
"Thanks, Tony," Harry said with a smirk, rolling his eyes. "I'll get on it."
Steve paused for a second, meeting Harry's gaze. His voice softened just enough that Harry could hear the gratitude in it. "You're a part of this, Harry. We're counting on you to make sure this doesn't turn into something we can't stop."
Harry shrugged, trying to make it seem like it didn't matter. "Yeah, well, saving the world is kind of my thing. Besides, no way am I letting some idiot with a PhD in evil magic get away with this. It's either them or us, and frankly, I like us better."
With a quick nod, Steve gestured toward the door. "Alright, team. You know what to do. Let's make sure this doesn't end up as some bad history lesson."
As everyone started moving to their posts, Harry couldn't shake the sense that things were about to get way worse before they got better. Sure, the Avengers were a great team, but the Darkhold wasn't your average villain. It was the kind of evil that liked to stick around and fester.
Still, he was in it. He had to be. Because when the stakes were this high, and the fate of the world was hanging in the balance, Harry wasn't about to back down.
"Well, this is gonna be fun," Harry muttered to himself as he headed for the nearest computer, preparing to dive into an all-nighter.
---
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