Amidst the chaos, Steve Rogers felt his phone buzz, a message from Nick Fury that made the fight for Manhattan feel like a practice run. Fury's voice came through the comms like a bucket of cold water to the face. "Cap, we've figured out who's pulling the strings. It's Viper. She's somewhere in Manhattan, playing puppet master."
Steve's jaw tightened like he'd just bitten into a lemon—one of those sour ones that make your whole face scrunch up. "Got it. Time to hunt her down."
Harry, who was always in the loop and a little too eager to flex his magical muscles, spoke up. "I can track her with my magical senses. Let's find her and put an end to this circus."
Steve nodded, but deep down, he knew this wasn't going to be a simple capture-and-go. Viper wasn't just some run-of-the-mill villain; she was HYDRA's queen bee, and judging by the explosion-filled welcome mat Manhattan had rolled out for them, she wasn't going to be easy to catch.
With Harry leading the way like a walking, talking magical GPS, the trio navigated through the chaos of the city streets, ducking under falling debris and dodging rogue drones like they were trying to win an extreme sport. Harry muttered incantations under his breath, eyes glowing faintly with that signature magical focus that screamed this is about to get awesome. It wasn't long before they found it: an abandoned warehouse, the kind that only a supervillain with a flair for the dramatic would pick for a base of operations. The place looked like it had been designed by someone who binge-watched too many Bond films and then decided to make it their own.
Inside was a high-tech lair straight out of a villain's wet dream—holographic displays, ominous tech, and a general vibe that screamed I've seen too many movies where the bad guy monologues and it never ends well for them.
And, of course, there she was: Viper. A vision in emerald green, with eyes that glinted like someone who was about to take the lead in an "evil mastermind" award show. She lounged on a throne made of sleek black metal, surrounded by a cadre of HYDRA goons who looked like they were fresh off the villain assembly line.
"Well, well," Viper said, her voice as sweet and venomous as her name, "The Avengers. How predictable. Did you really think you could topple HYDRA so easily?"
Steve stepped forward, shield raised in a move that looked like it belonged in an action movie montage. His expression was all business, but you could tell he was already mentally prepping for the fight of the year. "We're here to end your little game, Viper. Surrender now, and we can avoid making this more painful than it needs to be."
Viper's laugh was low, almost purring, the kind of laugh that makes you wonder if you've accidentally stepped into the lair of a serial killer. "Surrender? Oh, Cap, you don't get it. HYDRA never surrenders. For every head you cut off, two more will take its place."
And that's when the real fun started.
The ensuing battle was what we like to call "high stakes." Viper's mix of futuristic weaponry and dark magic created a fight that felt like a bad day at the office, but with explosions and laser blasts thrown in for good measure. Steve and Natasha made a beautiful partnership as they dealt with the HYDRA operatives, their teamwork smooth and deadly. Natasha was like a graceful panther, and Steve? Well, Steve was a freight train with a shield.
Clint—who, let's face it, was probably having more fun than he should have been—was perched on a nearby rooftop, picking off bad guys with the precision of a sniper, each arrow whizzing past like a quiet death. "You know, if I had a dollar for every time I saved Steve's butt, I'd have... like... a thousand bucks. Maybe more." He grinned, but his eyes were sharp as he took out another HYDRA agent. "Just don't tell him I said that."
Meanwhile, Harry wasn't wasting any time. He was already on Viper's tail, casting spells with the kind of intensity that made even the hardened Avengers stop and take notice. Spells collided with tech in a chaotic symphony of sparks and magic. Harry's wand was a blur of motion as he sent hexes and charms flying with the kind of precision that made even the most complex spells look like child's play.
"Nice tech you got there, Viper," Harry called out with a smirk, dodging an energy blast. "Too bad it's no match for a good ol' Accio spell." With a flick of his wrist, he summoned Viper's weapon right out of her hand, sending it flying across the room with the ease of someone who had way too much practice.
Viper, unfazed, picked herself up with a venomous glare. "You think this is over, Potter? You've barely scratched the surface." She extended her hand, the air around her crackling with dark energy.
But Harry was already three steps ahead. "Look, Viper. I get it. You think you're the smartest one in the room. But guess what? I'm the guy who went to Hogwarts. And I didn't graduate with a degree in letting bad guys win."
With a final flourish that would've made an action director proud, Harry cast a binding spell that trapped Viper's hands at her sides. The smug expression she had worn just moments before? Gone. Replaced by a look of pure annoyance, like she'd just realized her grand plans had hit a serious roadblock.
"Not if we have anything to say about it," Steve replied, his voice cold and final. He stepped forward, shield still raised. "This ends now."
Viper shot them one last defiant glare, her lips curling into a sneer. "HYDRA will rise again," she spat, her voice full of venom. "You've only delayed the inevitable."
"Oh, we're good at that," Natasha said, smirking as she adjusted her gear. "Delaying the inevitable is basically our specialty."
With that, they made their move, ready for whatever came next. Because if there was one thing Steve Rogers had learned in his many, many years of fighting evil, it was this: HYDRA never really stays down for long. But that wasn't going to stop him—or any of them—from giving it their all.
—
The Avengers, all standing around like they'd just wrapped up a high-stakes game of chess (except the chess pieces were bombs and laser guns), were taking stock of the damage. Manhattan looked like it had been hit with a truck—okay, maybe several trucks—but the damage was starting to look like it could be cleaned up in a couple of weeks. Viper, who was currently in cuffs and looking about as pleased as a cat in a bath, had been carted off by some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who had probably gotten more than they bargained for.
Tony Stark, looking like he'd spent the past hour making peace with his mortality, gave the team a once-over. "Alright, team, we've knocked HYDRA on their butts. But remember, these guys are like cockroaches—minus the charm." He brushed his hands together, then clapped them once for emphasis. "So, no victory parades yet. If I learned anything from today, it's that evil never really dies. It just takes a nap and then comes back with a vengeance."
Harry, who had been looking at the wreckage with the same enthusiasm as someone checking out a badly burned toast, leaned in with a grin. "Hey, Tony, does that mean we're like the Avengers of cockroach extermination? Because I feel like that's a title I could totally rock."
Steve Rogers, standing tall with his shield resting against his arm, looked every bit the good soldier. His usual sunny disposition was in full force. "As long as it means keeping the world safe, I'll take any title we can get. But he's right. HYDRA's not done. We've dealt them a blow, but we'll have to stay sharp."
Clint Barton, who had been tinkering with his bow and grumbling about how it was hard to aim when you couldn't see through all the smoke, shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. But next time, can we take out their evil lair before it turns into a 20-minute long battle sequence? I'm not built for this kind of cardio."
Natasha Romanoff, leaning against the ruined wall with her arms crossed, shot Clint a smirk. "You're not built for anything that doesn't involve shooting from a distance, Clint. Maybe you should get into archery yoga or something."
Clint gave her a look that was equal parts deadpan and resigned. "I'll pass. Maybe after my next very public therapy session."
Bruce Banner, who'd been quietly standing at the edge, rubbing his temples like he was considering whether or not to smash something (thankfully, he was still Bruce), added, "We've got the intel, we've got the tech, but we're gonna need to track down their next move. No more surprises. I'm not sure the world can handle another surprise like that."
"Surprise? No problem," Tony said, smirking as he adjusted his suit. "I'm more than capable of delivering my own. Just wait until I get my hands on the next batch of suits. Can you say, upgrade?"
Rhodey, standing next to Tony, shot him a sideways glance. "You keep talking upgrades like you're gonna build a whole new army of suits. You sure you're not working for HYDRA after all?"
"HYDRA?" Tony scoffed, looking at Rhodey like he'd just suggested a hotdog should be served with ranch dressing. "No. I just have vision, man. And vision always wins."
"Vision," Harry muttered, "Remind me again how many of those visions end in explosions?"
"Hey, explosions are a necessary part of the process," Tony replied. "I'm like a scientific firework."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sure, Tony. Sure. You keep telling yourself that."
Meanwhile, Steve was staring out at the city with a determined look in his eyes. "We'll stay on top of this. We've faced worse. HYDRA's not going anywhere without us giving them one hell of a fight."
Natasha glanced at him, a sly smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "Always so serious, Cap. You ever take a break from being Captain America and just… I don't know, relax? Maybe have a drink?"
Steve shot her a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated. "I'll relax when HYDRA is gone. Until then, I've got a world to save."
Clint, who had been halfway through a bag of pretzels, gave a dramatic sigh. "Man, who knew saving the world would be so much work? Can't we just put out a memo and let everyone else handle it?"
Steve smirked, but it wasn't the usual friendly smirk—it was the kind of smirk that told you he was probably planning on being heroic whether you liked it or not. "Clint, buddy, you can try to relax, but we're not done yet. And we never will be. That's why we're here."
Tony nodded as if everything Steve said was gospel truth. "That's the spirit. Well, if anyone needs me, I'll be in my lab inventing a way to turn off the sun, because that's about how bright the future of HYDRA is looking right now."
Harry, though, was still watching Viper with a smirk, his magic flickering around him like he was very ready to dish out a few more zingers. "You know, Viper, you talk a lot of big game for someone who's about to be stuck in a S.H.I.E.L.D. holding cell for the next decade."
Viper's emerald eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't think this is the end. You haven't seen the last of me, Potter."
Harry shot her a look. "Oh, I'm sure you'll try, but next time—maybe try reading a book on 'How Not To Fail 101.' You might learn a thing or two about not getting caught."
She glared, but there wasn't much she could do. As the team prepped to head out, it was clear that while this battle might be over, the war with HYDRA was just beginning. And they were ready for round two.
"Cap's right," Tony said, his usual cocky grin back in full force. "We don't stop. Ever."
Harry grinned. "Oh, don't worry, Stark. I've got this." And, with that, the team made their exit—because, as usual, the world had no idea how close it had just come to being royally screwed.
—
The dust had finally settled over New York, which was slowly crawling back to its normal chaotic self. The sounds of construction and cleanup filled the air, replacing the craters of destruction with the hum of everyday life. But Harry? Well, his mind was a disaster zone. You'd think that after taking down Viper and her gang of HYDRA goons, Harry would be enjoying the adrenaline rush of victory. But nope. Instead, he felt like someone had dumped a bag of angry Hippogriffs into his head and told them to go wild.
He stood off to the side, hands shoved into his pockets, watching as the Avengers took care of business like it was just another Tuesday. Steve Rogers, the walking embodiment of "no problem is too big if you stand tall," was busy coordinating a team of SHIELD agents, directing traffic like the world's most polite and efficient drill sergeant. Clint was being Clint—meaning he was fiddling with his bow and sarcastically complaining about his life choices. Natasha looked like she was already plotting her next move, no doubt making mental lists of things she could do in her downtime (probably including something violent, as usual). And Tony… well, Tony was being Tony, which meant he was either talking about new tech or thinking up ways to blow something up. It was really hard to tell with him sometimes.
But for Harry, none of that mattered. What mattered was the magic. The real magic that had hit him like a ton of bricks when Viper had started throwing spells around like she was in some kind of evil wizard's showcase. He'd seen a lot of things in his life: Dark Lords, giant snakes, dragons, you name it. But this? This was something else. Magic on this scale—magic like the stuff he grew up with—shouldn't exist in this world. Not here. Not like that.
So, he did what he did best: acted on instinct. With a deep breath, he walked over to Steve, who was as busy as ever, trying to keep the ship sailing smoothly in the midst of an ocean of chaos.
"Cap," Harry said, his voice a little rougher than he'd intended. "I need to check something out. The magic Viper used... it doesn't add up. It's too much like the kind of stuff I deal with back home."
Steve's steely blue eyes flickered with something akin to understanding. "What do you need, Harry?"
"Something that shouldn't exist here. Magic like that shouldn't even be here. I need to talk to someone who knows this kind of thing. Someone who isn't going to look at me like I've lost my mind, which, let's be honest, is a reasonable assumption." Harry paused. "I need to get to Kamar-Taj. The Ancient One might be able to help me figure out what's going on."
Steve didn't even flinch, like it was the most normal request in the world. "Go. We've got things handled here."
Harry threw him a grateful nod, but he didn't stick around to chat. Time was precious, and he didn't plan to waste any of it. Besides, he had a very specific destination in mind, and it wasn't anywhere near the rubble-strewn streets of Manhattan.
Within seconds, Harry was on the move. He didn't bother with a slow approach. He didn't even need to make a dramatic exit. He just needed to get things done, and if that meant taking a shortcut, well, then the shortcut it was.
"Don't take too long," Steve called after him, like he could sense that Harry wasn't one for a long goodbye.
"Yeah, because I really need more small talk right now," Harry muttered under his breath, but his words carried no weight. His mind was already elsewhere—on the mystic city of Kamar-Taj, where answers (or maybe more questions) awaited.
As he prepared the Portkey, he couldn't help but glance back at the Avengers. They were already back in action, doing what they did best. Clint was messing with an arrow that probably had some tech attached to it (because, of course, he couldn't just leave well enough alone). Natasha was eyeing him like he might need a follow-up, and Tony was pacing back and forth, talking to JARVIS in his usual fashion.
"Alright, JARVIS," Tony was saying, "I need a diagnostic on the suits. And by diagnostic, I mean make sure none of them are tracking me or bugging me. I don't trust half of those things anymore."
"Understood, sir. Shall I add 'talking to yourself' to your daily wellness report?" JARVIS's voice was smooth as ever, but with that hint of sarcasm that made you wonder if the AI was, in fact, better at the dry humor than Tony himself.
"Don't test me, JARVIS," Tony muttered, obviously unbothered.
Harry didn't stick around for the full show. He tapped the Portkey with his wand, feeling the familiar surge of magic course through him. There was a jolt, like falling backward off a broomstick, and in the next instant, New York—and all its noise—was gone. In its place, a quiet, bustling corner of the world. The hustle and bustle of Kamar-Taj awaited him.
And somewhere in that quiet, ancient place, answers would be found.
Maybe.
Probably.
Okay, definitely.
But Harry would have to wait to see what came next.
—
Before Harry could blink, the blaring noise of New York's traffic had faded, replaced by the peaceful hum of the wind brushing over snow-capped peaks. The kind of peace that felt suspicious—like when you're sneaking out of detention after hexing Dudley, and you know you're about to be caught. But for now, at least, he could breathe. There were no wrecking balls or enraged supervillains coming for him here. It was just the cold, crisp air of the Himalayas and the distant sound of... well, probably some monks chanting, if he had to guess.
As he trudged into the ancient, quiet halls of Kamar-Taj, Harry couldn't help but think, This place is way too quiet. Maybe I should've brought a book. Or a snack. But before he could continue his self-deprecating thoughts, a voice broke the silence—one that was cheerful, but with a knowing edge, like the person speaking had seen far too many weird things to be phased anymore.
"Harry Potter, good to see you again!" The voice came from a stocky man with a grin that suggested he had a secret—one that was probably a joke that Harry wasn't in on. The guy looked like he could've been the head of a sorcerer's comedy club. "Name's Master Wong," he added, folding his arms with a casualness that suggested he'd seen everything, and nothing surprised him anymore. "The Ancient One has been expecting you."
Harry blinked, not expecting to be greeted with such a familiar face. Wong? Of course. Of course the Ancient One's right-hand guy would be the one who welcomed him. He'd been to Kamar-Taj before, but this was his first time meeting Wong, and something told him the guy was going to be as entertaining as an hour-long potion class with Snape.
"Right," Harry said with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms in return. "I'm flattered. Did she know I was coming, or are you just really good at reading the future? 'Cause I've met people who claimed they could do that, and they were all insufferable."
Wong's grin only widened. "Oh, I'm sure you have. But no, the Ancient One actually knows you're here. She has a gift for those things. Keeps things interesting around here."
"Interesting, huh?" Harry let out a breath, not sure whether that made him more or less uneasy. "Well, I'll take it over 'terrifying' any day. So, what's the deal? Do I need to perform some kind of magic trick to get an audience, or are you going to just let me in?"
Wong chuckled, stepping aside to reveal a doorway behind him, draped in rich red and gold. "Come now, Potter. I'm pretty sure you've already passed whatever mystical test we could throw at you. Besides, you don't need to impress me. But the Ancient One? She might have a few questions for you."
Harry smirked. "Oh, questions. That's a comforting thought. Last time I was here, it was all 'what kind of threats could there possibly be on your world?' and 'oh, you're just from another universe?'" He mimicked the Ancient One's calm, serene voice, but with just a hint of sarcasm. "I'm kind of hoping this time it's more of a 'hey, you're the Chosen One, now let's have tea and figure out how to stop the magical apocalypse.' That sounds a lot more up my alley."
Wong gave him a side-eye. "I'd be careful what you wish for. The Ancient One is patient, but she's still a Sorcerer Supreme. Tea may not be her first choice." He paused for a moment, studying Harry's face. "You've been busy, haven't you?"
Harry wasn't sure if Wong was referring to the fact that he'd just fought off a bunch of HYDRA agents, or if it was more about the whole "wandering through multiple realities and facing god-like threats" thing, but he decided to play it cool. "You could say that. Got a bit of a magical mess on my hands. HYDRA's involved, which, by the way, you guys really need to start taking more seriously."
Wong's eyebrow arched. "HYDRA? Here? That's... concerning."
"Yeah, that's what I said. So, how about you let me talk to the Ancient One, and I'll fill you in on the rest? I'm guessing you've got a comfy chair waiting for me in there. If not, I can always levitate a cushion for myself."
Wong waved his hand dismissively, clearly amused by Harry's casual confidence. "I'll let you do the talking. But if you start levitating things, I will be taking notes. I'm curious to see how much you've picked up since our last meeting."
"Notes? You really are a nerd," Harry teased, shaking his head as he moved toward the door. "Alright, alright, let's get this over with. I'm assuming I don't have to knock or anything, right? She's probably meditating or plotting something world-ending. I'll just… show myself in."
Wong stepped aside, motioning with his hand. "Feel free. But if you somehow end up in another dimension by mistake, I'll just blame it on your impeccable timing."
With a last smirk at Wong, Harry pushed open the door, and before he could step inside, he felt that familiar, unsettling feeling—the kind that only came when someone really powerful was about to get serious with him.
And if he was lucky, that someone would have some answers about the magic that shouldn't even exist here.
Time to see what the Ancient One had to say about that.
—
In the heart of Kamar-Taj, surrounded by ancient stone and an aura of mysticism so thick you could almost taste it, Harry Potter stood before the Ancient One. Now, if you've ever met someone who could make you feel like you were simultaneously insignificant and yet incredibly important, well, that's pretty much the vibe the Ancient One gave off. It was like walking into a room and knowing, in your bones, that she could crush you with a glance or offer you the most profound life advice—and you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the two.
"Harry," she said, her voice smoother than a perfectly brewed cup of tea, but with an edge that could slice through steel. "You seem troubled."
"Gee, what gave it away?" Harry quipped, raising an eyebrow. He was trying to play it cool, but being in the presence of her always made him feel like he was in the middle of some cosmic exam he didn't know he was signed up for. "Ran into someone using dark magic. From HYDRA, of all places. I thought magic was supposed to be rare here—like, the collector's edition of mystical powers. How is that even possible?"
The Ancient One gave him one of those looks that said, Oh, you poor, naïve boy. "Magic, like any force of nature, has a way of showing up in the most unexpected places. While the disciplined practice of magic is indeed rare, there are always those who try to twist it to their own purposes."
"Right, right," Harry nodded. He'd heard that one before—power-hungry jerks abusing magic for evil was practically a genre at this point. But this? This felt different. "But this wasn't some rogue wizard doing their best impression of a bad guy. It was organized. Systematic. HYDRA's out here using magic like it's the newest weapon in their tech arsenal."
The Ancient One's eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. It was the kind of look you give when you've seen a problem coming for years and were just waiting for someone else to notice. "HYDRA's dabbling in the arcane is indeed… concerning," she said, like she was trying to make a salad sound less terrifying by calling it "concerning." "They've found ways to tap into dark energies—using relics and ancient texts best left forgotten. Magic in this world is deeply intertwined with its history, often hidden from most but accessible to those who know where—and how—to look."
A chill ran down Harry's spine. It wasn't the kind of cold that came from the snowy Himalayas, but the kind that reminded him of his first year at Hogwarts when he'd realized there were creatures in the Forbidden Forest that could eat you for dinner and still have room for dessert. "So, basically, HYDRA's playing with the big, dangerous magic. And they could get worse than they already are, right?"
The Ancient One looked at him, her gaze softening just a fraction—if you could even call it "softening." It was more like the difference between being patted on the head by a giant or by a god. "Yes. And that is why you must remain vigilant." She leaned in slightly, like she was letting him in on a secret only the truly enlightened could understand. "Magic demands respect and protection. It should never be exploited. Your unique understanding of magic may very well be crucial in countering this new threat."
Harry almost scoffed, but then realized she wasn't just handing him a compliment. She was handing him a mission. Great. Another day, another crisis of cosmic proportions. "Right, well, no pressure or anything," Harry muttered, mostly to himself, but probably loud enough for the Ancient One to hear. "Just saving the universe again. No big deal."
She raised an eyebrow, though the look in her eyes suggested she was amused by his sarcasm. "You've faced threats before, Harry Potter. This is no different."
No different, he thought. Sure, in theory, that sounded nice. But let's be honest—last time he checked, defeating a dark wizard wasn't the same as taking down a super-secret evil organization that had access to all sorts of forbidden magic. It was like calling a broomstick race a "casual stroll in the park." Not even close.
"So, I need to go back to New York and… what?" Harry asked, not sure how to even start. "Put on my best superhero face, round up the Avengers, and hope for the best?"
The Ancient One's lips twitched into a knowing smile. "You already know the answer. The world will need you, Harry. And you'll need to act quickly. The longer you wait, the stronger their magic grows."
"Great," Harry grumbled. "Because waiting around is exactly what I had planned for this weekend."
With a deep sigh, Harry turned to leave, his cloak swishing behind him like some sort of overly dramatic superhero. As he stepped out into the frigid air of the Himalayas, the weight of his new mission settled on his shoulders like an old friend. Only, this friend wasn't one to make light conversation. HYDRA was using magic. And if they had anything to say about it, that magic was going to get a whole lot darker before anyone could stop them.
The wind bit at his cheeks, but Harry barely noticed. His mind was already racing through a hundred different scenarios—most of them involving him having to deal with Tony Stark's snarky commentary and Steve Rogers' "we need a plan" speech. But even that didn't sound half as bad as facing an organization that could wield dark magic like it was just another Tuesday.
"Guess it's time to call the gang," Harry muttered, his voice swallowed by the wind.
The thought of rounding up the Avengers did not sound like a fun afternoon, but what choice did he have? Magic wasn't going to protect itself, and Harry wasn't about to let some evil, magical tech company take over the world.
At least he had one thing going for him: he wasn't alone in this fight. And that might just make all the difference.
But for now, it was back to New York. Time to figure out how exactly to stop HYDRA before they took over the world. You know, the usual. No pressure, right?
---
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