Chapter 2: Chapter 1
Loki, being the sneaky trickster he was, decided to go full-on illusion mode. In an instant, there were about a dozen Lokis swarming around Harry, each one looking just as smug and punchable as the next. They attacked from all angles, a whirlwind of chaotic magic designed to overwhelm and confuse.
But Harry had seen enough of Loki's tricks to know better. He activated his Mage Sight—a handy little skill that let him see through magical deceptions like they were made of glass. The fake Lokis flickered, their forms wavering like bad TV reception, but the real Loki? He stood out like a sore thumb.
Without missing a beat, Harry zeroed in on the real Loki, his emerald eyes locking onto the god with laser-like precision. He didn't even bother with the fakes. In one swift, fluid motion, Harry closed the gap between them, his hand shooting out and wrapping around Loki's throat like a steel vice.
And then, with all the force of a freight train, Harry slammed Loki to the ground. The impact was so intense it sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, causing the ground to shake like it was having a bad day. For a split second, everything went still. Even the city itself seemed to hold its breath as Loki lay sprawled on the ground, blinking up at Harry in utter shock.
Loki's eyes were wide as saucers, his usual smug grin wiped clean off his face. This was not how things were supposed to go. He tried to shake off the daze, but the surprise of getting manhandled by a supposed mortal had definitely thrown him off his game.
Harry loomed over him, his expression calm and composed, but his eyes? They were blazing with determination. It was the look of someone who wasn't just there to win a fight—he was there to make sure Loki knew exactly who he was dealing with.
Of course, Loki wasn't one to take a beating lying down (literally), so with a grunt of effort, he scrambled back to his feet, putting some much-needed distance between himself and Harry. He quickly cooked up a new plan, hurling a barrage of magical spells from afar, each one more deadly than the last.
But here's the thing—Harry wasn't about to be outdone. With a flick of his wrist and a muttered incantation, he started firing back, his own spells zooming through the air with the speed and precision of a Quidditch Seeker on Firebolt. The air between them crackled and sparked as magic clashed against magic, each spell countered with another in a dazzling display of light and energy.
Loki watched in growing disbelief as Harry matched him spell for spell, the young wizard's hands moving like lightning as he deflected each attack with ease. This was not how things were supposed to go. Mortal, his brain kept insisting, but every instinct screamed otherwise.
With every exchange, Harry's confidence seemed to skyrocket. His grin—just a little bit cocky now—grew wider as he met each of Loki's attacks head-on. Loki, on the other hand, was starting to sweat. The god of mischief was used to dealing with heroes, but this was something else. He'd underestimated Harry Potter, and now he was paying the price.
The magical duel escalated in intensity, each spell more powerful, each counterattack more desperate. The city around them seemed to shudder under the strain, the air thick with the smell of ozone and the crackle of raw energy. This wasn't just a battle anymore—it was a full-blown storm, with Harry and Loki at its center, each trying to outdo the other.
And with every spell cast, the stakes rose higher. The fate of New York City—and possibly the world—hung in the balance as Harry and Loki clashed with everything they had. Neither one was willing to back down, and both knew that this battle could only end one way.
—
Loki, in a moment of utter frustration—because who wouldn't be frustrated when their best tricks were getting them nowhere—decided to ditch the fancy spells and get up close and personal. He closed the distance between himself and Harry, the Staff of All-Things-Terrifying clutched in his hand, ready to finally gain the upper hand. But as he tried to bring it down on Harry, the Staff did… nothing. It was like it had hit an invisible wall, and not the fun kind you can walk through at train stations.
Harry just stood there, calm as ever, with that infuriating look of mild amusement on his face. Seeing his chance, he reached out and plucked the Staff right out of Loki's grasp as if it were nothing more than a stick you'd find lying around in the park. Loki's jaw dropped, his usual smugness turning into wide-eyed shock.
"Thanks for this!" Harry said with a wry grin, twirling the Staff like it was a baton at a parade. "It looks important!"
Before Loki could even process what just happened, Harry's hand came out of nowhere, delivering a slap that resounded like a firecracker. The slap wasn't just a regular smack—it was the kind of slap that echoed, reverberating across the battlefield and leaving Loki seeing stars. He didn't even get a chance to complain because, in the next second, he was airborne, sailing through the air like a misfired spell.
Loki's flight was abruptly cut short by none other than the Hulk, who had been having a pretty rough day and was in no mood for flying gods. With a roar that could've rattled the heavens, the Hulk grabbed Loki mid-air, his massive green hand wrapping around the Asgardian like a vice. What happened next was like watching someone try to teach a cat to swim—lots of flailing, lots of noise, and it was very clear who was in charge.
The Hulk swung Loki around like a ragdoll, each toss making the ground beneath them tremble. Loki's protests were lost in the wind, drowned out by the Hulk's roars as he flung the god across the battlefield, leaving Loki crumpled in a heap, his pride shattered along with everything else. And to add insult to injury—or maybe just because the universe has a twisted sense of humor—a puddle of urine began to form beneath the defeated trickster.
As Loki lay there, thoroughly humiliated and wondering what in the Nine Realms had just happened, the Hulk loomed over him, looking mighty pleased with himself. He leaned in close, his voice low but carrying across the field like the words of an ancient prophecy.
"Puny god," the Hulk growled, his tone dripping with satisfaction.
Meanwhile, over the comms, Tony's voice crackled through, filled with the kind of glee only Tony Stark could muster. "Uh, did Loki just… relieve himself?" he asked, barely containing his laughter.
"Yep," Hawkeye confirmed, sounding way too pleased with himself for a guy with a bow and arrow. "He definitely did."
Captain America, ever the professional, chimed in with the kind of exasperation usually reserved for dealing with unruly kindergarteners. "Why are we even talking about this?" he asked, his tone a perfect mix of disbelief and disappointment.
Black Widow, as cool and composed as ever, summed it up in her usual no-nonsense style. "Boys will be boys," she said, her voice laced with just the right amount of sarcasm.
And with that, the battle continued, but not without leaving everyone with a story that would definitely get retold at Avengers HQ for years to come.
—
As Tony Stark landed beside Harry, he couldn't resist throwing in one of his signature quips. "Nice one, Potter," he said with a smirk. "You really know how to make a god wet his pants."
Harry rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Well, you know what they say, Stark," he shot back. "It's not every day you get to bitch-slap a god."
Tony opened his mouth, probably to deliver another zinger, but Harry's attention shifted to the giant swirling portal in the distance. His playful demeanor faded, replaced by a focused intensity. "The energy from that portal is the same as the staff's," Harry said, cutting through the Avengers' chatter. "So, we might be able to use the staff to close it."
A brief silence fell over the group as they processed his suggestion. Tony's eyes lit up like he'd just figured out how to hack into something he wasn't supposed to. "That just might work," he said, his grin returning. "Great thinking, Potter."
Captain America gave a serious nod, all business. "Then let's not waste any time," he commanded. "We need to close that portal before it's too late."
Black Widow's voice crackled over the comms, cool and collected. "I'm on my way to help with that," she reported, already moving into position.
Tony nodded in approval, turning back to Harry. "Looks like we've got a plan," he said, his voice tinged with anticipation. "Let's close that portal and end this madness."
Harry handed the staff to Tony, his gaze steady. "I guess I'll take care of the big flying whales in the meantime," he offered, sounding as if dealing with alien death-beasts was just another Tuesday.
Tony raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into his voice. "You sure about that? Those things are pretty tough to handle."
Harry's resolve didn't waver. "I've got this," he said with confidence. "You focus on the portal. I'll handle the rest."
Tony hesitated, clearly weighing the odds, before nodding. "Alright, Potter," he agreed, a hint of begrudging respect in his tone. "Just don't do anything reckless."
Harry grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "No promises," he replied, giving Tony a playful wink before leaping off the building.
As he fell, Harry's form began to shift and elongate, his body transforming into a magnificent black and gold dragon. The Avengers watched in stunned silence over their comms as Harry completed the transformation, a sight both awe-inspiring and downright unbelievable.
Tony's voice crackled through the comms, full of amusement. "Looks like Potter's got a few tricks up his sleeve," he quipped, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Hawkeye's voice chimed in, pure incredulity lacing his words. "Did he just turn into a dragon?" he exclaimed, struggling to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.
Black Widow, ever the professional, offered a more measured response, though there was a trace of admiration in her tone. "Well, this just got interesting," she remarked, watching as Harry's dragon form soared into the sky.
With a deafening roar that sent shivers down the spines of everyone within earshot, Harry unleashed torrents of searing flames upon the Chitauri Leviathans. The massive creatures, once seemingly unstoppable, were reduced to smoldering ashes in the wake of Harry's fiery onslaught.
And as the battle raged on, one thing was clear: Harry Potter was full of surprises, and this war was about to get a whole lot more interesting.
—
The Avengers stood rooted to the spot, jaws dropping as Harry made short work of the Chitauri Leviathans. He was like a one-man (or rather, one-dragon) wrecking crew, wiping out the alien monsters with casual ease. Tony's voice crackled over the comms, barely masking his disbelief.
"Holy… did you see that?" Tony exclaimed, his voice a mix of awe and the usual Stark swagger.
Black Widow, ever the cool one in the room (or on the comms), responded with just a hint of respect in her voice. "Impressive," she remarked, sounding almost like she'd just watched someone pull off a particularly tricky ballet move instead of incinerating space whales.
Captain America let out a tired sigh, surveying the battlefield like a dad who just found out the kids broke the neighbor's window… again. Ash from the barbecued Leviathans floated down over the city like some weird, apocalyptic snowstorm. Cap's shoulders sagged as he considered the epic cleanup job waiting for them. The city was a mess, and it was going to take more than a few superpowers to put it back together. But as he glanced at his teammates—scratched up but still standing—he knew they were ready to tackle whatever came next.
Natasha's voice sliced through the comms like one of her widow's bites. "I can close the portal immediately," she said, sounding like she was just checking off another box on her to-do list.
Cap didn't hesitate. "Do it," he commanded, his tone all business.
But before Natasha could make her move, Tony jumped in, his voice suddenly urgent. "Wait," he barked, and everyone could hear that 'I've-got-a-plan-and-it's-a-crazy-one' tone he got when things were about to get really interesting. "Fury just told me there's a nuke heading our way, and I know just where to put it."
Cue the collective intake of breath as the Avengers realized just how bad things were. Alien invasion? Check. Giant monsters? Check. And now, a freaking nuke? This day just kept getting better and better.
Tony's plan might've been their last shot, but Harry had other ideas. He wasn't about to let Stark steal the show. Before anyone could react, Dragon Harry swooped down from the sky, moving so fast it was like he was playing Quidditch on turbo mode. He caught the missile with one claw, his massive form cutting an epic figure against the chaos of the battlefield.
Tony's heart leapt into his throat as he saw what Harry was doing. "Harry!" he yelled, trying to get the dragon-wizard's attention, but Harry was already gone, locked onto his target like a heat-seeking missile of his own.
Harry didn't slow down as he neared the portal, his emerald eyes fixed on the swirling vortex of doom. The power radiating from the portal was intense, like sticking your hand in a live wire, but Harry didn't flinch. With a final, decisive flap of his wings, he plunged into the heart of the portal, the nuclear missile clutched firmly in his claw.
The Avengers held their breath, watching as Harry and the missile disappeared into the swirling abyss. The portal snapped shut behind him with a sound like the universe slamming a door, leaving the team in stunned silence. For a moment, nobody moved. They all knew what had just happened: the dragon-wizard with a penchant for snappy comebacks, had made the ultimate sacrifice to save them all.
And just like that, the battle was over—but the story, well, that was far from finished.
—
As the portal slammed shut with the kind of finality that could make even a Hulk wince, the Avengers barely had time to catch their breath before Harry reappeared in a flash of magical energy. One second, he was off saving the universe; the next, he was standing right next to them, looking like he'd just popped in for a quick chat.
His hood and cape retracted with a theatrical flourish, revealing a high collar that screamed "mysterious and possibly too cool for school." With a smirk that suggested he was very aware of his dramatic entrance, Harry glanced around at his wide-eyed teammates. "Miss me?" he quipped, his tone as casual as if he'd just returned from a coffee run instead of a brush with interdimensional annihilation.
Tony Stark, who had never been one to miss an opportunity for a good one-liner, raised his eyebrows so high they practically disappeared into his helmet. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, giving Harry the once-over like he was a particularly intriguing new gadget.
Natasha Romanoff, ever the professional, kept her face as neutral as a spy at a poker game, but her eyes flicked over Harry's unmasked face, filing away every detail for future reference. You could practically hear the gears turning in her head, already analyzing what this new development meant.
Thor, because Thor, took it all in stride with a nod of approval. "A brave warrior indeed," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying that note of admiration he usually reserved for people who'd just proven themselves in battle—or, you know, people who could pull off a cape as well as he could.
Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, stepped forward with that earnest, all-American smile that made you want to stand up a little straighter. He offered his hand like the perfect gentleman he was. "It's good to have you with us, Harry," he said, his tone as genuine as the red, white, and blue shield on his arm.
Just then, the Hulk landed with a seismic thud that shook the ground and made everyone's teeth rattle. The team turned as one to look up at their green giant of a teammate, whose expression was, as always, a bit hard to read. Hulk's eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on Harry, and for a second, everyone held their breath. Was this going to be a "Hulk smash" moment or…?
And then, to everyone's surprise (and let's face it, relief), Hulk gave Harry a nod. Not just any nod—a Hulk nod, which, in the world of giant green rage monsters, was practically a standing ovation.
"Not bad," Hulk grumbled, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that somehow managed to convey both approval and the faintest hint of respect.
The Avengers exchanged quick, surprised glances, each of them equally stunned by Hulk's rare show of acknowledgment. It wasn't every day that the big guy handed out compliments, and when he did, they were usually along the lines of "Hulk not smash you today," so this was practically a glowing endorsement.
And just like that, the team knew that Harry was officially one of them—a bonafide Avenger, with a stamp of approval from the toughest critic of them all.
—
With a smirk that practically screamed, "I'm about to say something snarky," Tony Stark couldn't resist chiming in after their victory. "Well, look at that. We saved the day," he announced, his tone as breezy as if they'd just won a friendly game of trivia instead of fending off an alien invasion.
"Maybe it's time we took a well-deserved day off," Tony added, his eyes lighting up with a playful gleam. "Who's up for some shawarma?"
The idea of a post-battle snack was gaining traction when Captain America, ever the voice of responsibility, cut through the chatter like a shield through a Hydra soldier. "We've got one more thing to do," he reminded them, in that no-nonsense tone that made it clear this wasn't up for debate.
Tony's grin morphed into a dramatic pout as if Cap had just told him Christmas was canceled. "Fine," he huffed, rolling his eyes for maximum effect. "But we're definitely getting shawarma after."
With nods all around, the Avengers' resolve kicked back into gear. Their final mission: to apprehend Loki and drag him, kicking and probably screaming, back to Asgardian justice. It wasn't going to be a cakewalk, but if there's one thing the Avengers had in spades, it was grit—and apparently, a pretty solid appetite.
As they made their way over to where Loki lay sprawled out like a diva after a particularly exhausting performance, Hawkeye couldn't resist muttering about his strong desire to put an arrow through Loki's one remaining functional eye. The guy might've saved the world, but that didn't mean he was over the whole "mind control" thing.
Harry and Tony, ever the masters of ill-timed humor, seized the moment like kids grabbing the last slice of pizza. "Easy there, mate," Harry said, his emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. "Not sure if the Asgardian healthcare plan covers arrow-related eye injuries."
Tony snorted, jumping right into the banter. "Yeah, I think Loki's had his fill of your pointy objects for today," he quipped, smirking at Hawkeye like they were in the middle of a stand-up routine instead of a battlefield.
The Avengers, who had been a bundle of tense nerves and adrenaline just moments before, couldn't help but laugh. The tension lifted, replaced by the familiar camaraderie that had gotten them through worse days. With Loki knocked out and their mission officially accomplished, they finally let themselves enjoy a little well-earned banter.
And as they stood there, sharing laughs over the fallen god of mischief, it was clear that whatever came next—whether it was shawarma or another world-ending crisis—they could handle it. Together.
—
As Loki stirred from his dramatic fainting spell—because let's be honest, that's what it was—he blinked open his eyes to find himself surrounded by the Avengers and one very unimpressed Harry Potter, a.k.a. the Seidr. Naturally, Loki's first instinct was to flash that sly grin of his and throw out a witty remark, something along the lines of, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen… for me."
But before he could even get out a syllable, Harry stepped forward, his green eyes locked onto Loki's with the kind of determination that usually preceded someone getting turned into a ferret. With a quick flick of his wand—because apparently, that's how wizards handle smart-mouthed gods—Harry unleashed a stunning spell that sent Loki right back to dreamland.
The sound of Loki's quip died on his lips as he crumpled to the ground in a very undignified heap. Harry didn't even bother to roll his eyes. Instead, he raised his wand again, muttered something in Latin that probably translated to "don't try me," and conjured up magical ropes to bind and gag the now-comatose god.
The Avengers exchanged looks that said, "Well, that was efficient." Tony even raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Where was this guy when we were all getting tossed around like action figures?"
With Loki securely wrapped up like a magical burrito, the Avengers breathed a collective sigh of relief. For now, their mischievous enemy was out of commission, and they could focus on the next steps: delivering Loki to Asgardian justice and maybe—just maybe—getting that long-promised shawarma.
As they prepared to move out, Harry glanced down at Loki with a smirk of his own. "Sweet dreams, Reindeer Games," he muttered, just loud enough for the Avengers to hear. They couldn't help but chuckle as they imagined what kind of nightmares Loki might be having—probably ones involving a certain green rage monster.
And with that, they headed off, their spirits a little lighter and their steps a little quicker, knowing they had one less headache to worry about for now.
—
As they waited for SHIELD agents to arrive and take Loki into custody, Harry decided it was time to do a little magic—and not the kind that involved turning people into toads. With a flick of his wrist and a mumble of an incantation that sounded like a cross between a spell and an IKEA assembly instruction, he set to work.
The Avengers watched in awe as Harry's magic flowed through the room, sweeping away shattered glass, fixing broken furniture, and turning the chaos into a pristine, battle-free zone. It was like watching a cleaning montage in a movie, only without the cheesy pop music. Maria Hill and her SHIELD team gaped as the room transformed before their eyes, almost as if it was saying, "Don't worry, folks, I'm as good as new!"
When Harry finally stepped back, looking pretty pleased with himself, the Avengers exchanged impressed glances. Tony Stark, never one to miss an opportunity for a quip, couldn't resist. "Nice job, Potter," he said with a smirk that was equal parts admiration and cheekiness. "If you ever decide to take a break from saving the universe, I've got a spot open for a housekeeper at Stark Tower."
Harry chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'll keep that in mind, Stark," he replied, giving Tony's offer the kind of consideration usually reserved for dodgy food at a buffet. As Tony strolled over to the bar to pour himself a drink—probably to celebrate surviving another day of chaos—the Avengers couldn't help but share a laugh, their tension momentarily lifting.
Maria Hill, always the professional, nodded at Harry with a mix of approval and gratitude. "Thanks for the assist," she said, her tone genuine as she gave him a nod.
With the room looking like it had never seen a battle and Loki securely bound and gagged, the Avengers and SHIELD agents prepared to move their prisoner to headquarters for some much-needed interrogation and containment. It was a relief to see things back to normal, or as close to normal as they ever got when dealing with gods, aliens, and wizards.
—
As the Avengers and Harry Potter prepared to hand over Loki to SHIELD custody, a guy in a sharply pressed suit and a name tag that read "Jasper Sitwell" stepped forward like he was auditioning for a role in a spy thriller. "Hello, everyone," he greeted with a nod. "I'm Agent Jasper Sitwell. On behalf of SHIELD, I'm here to officially take custody of both the Staff and the Tesseract."
The Avengers exchanged glances, their faces a mix of reluctance and resigned acceptance. It was clear they didn't want to part with these powerful artifacts, but they knew they needed to keep them safe from anyone with less-than-noble intentions.
Jasper extended his hand toward Harry, who was holding the Staff like it was a prize-winning trophy. Harry, however, was looking at Sitwell with the kind of intensity that suggested he was sizing him up for a duel.
Harry's grip on the Staff tightened, and his emerald eyes flashed with determination. "I don't think so," he said, his tone firm enough to cut through steel.
The Avengers and SHIELD agents exchanged bewildered glances. Even Tony Stark's usually snarky demeanor faltered as he watched the standoff unfold. Sitwell's expression shifted from professional politeness to steely resolve. "Mr. Potter, I understand your concern," Sitwell said, his voice now carrying a serious edge. "But the Staff needs to be secured by SHIELD for the safety of the world."
Harry didn't budge an inch. "I appreciate your concern, Agent Sitwell," he replied, his voice calm but resolute. "And I would have given you the Staff, too. If you were actually working for SHIELD and not, you know, an undercover agent for HYDRA."
The room went silent, the tension so thick you could practically slice it with a wand. Jasper's eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting this revelation. The Avengers braced for whatever was about to come next, knowing full well that things were about to get even more complicated.
—
Harry's accusation dropped like a truth-bomb, sending shockwaves through the room. The Avengers and SHIELD agents looked around, their faces a mix of disbelief and alarm. Sitwell's calm, collected demeanor started to crack, and his face darkened as Harry's words sank in.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sitwell said, but his voice had that telltale waver of someone who'd just been caught red-handed.
Harry wasn't buying it. He locked eyes with Sitwell, his expression as cold as the Arctic. "I've seen into your mind, Sitwell," he declared. "I know the truth."
Sitwell's carefully maintained façade crumbled faster than a sandcastle in a hurricane. His fists clenched, his face contorted into a mask of rage and desperation.
Before Sitwell could stammer out a reply, Maria Hill stepped in, her expression a mix of grim determination and icy professionalism. "Agent Sitwell, you're under arrest for treason," she announced, her voice carrying the weight of judgment.
The SHIELD agents moved in, their faces set with grim resolve as they closed in on Sitwell. He offered no resistance as they led him away, his expression a storm of fury and regret. His betrayal was now out in the open, and his fate was sealed.
As the door closed behind Sitwell, the room fell into a heavy silence. The Avengers and Harry Potter were left to grapple with the unsettling truth: sometimes the fight against evil wasn't just about battling villains, but also about rooting out the enemies within their own ranks. The battle was far from over, and this was a stark reminder that danger could lurk anywhere—even among those who were supposed to be on the same side.
---
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