Chapter 1: Prologue
New York City was having a day. Buildings were falling apart, aliens were dropping out of the sky like it was a B-list sci-fi movie, and Tony Stark was doing his best to save the world—again. Just your average Tuesday in the life of Iron Man. But as he zipped through the city, blasting Chitauri left and right, his sensors started going haywire. Something weird was happening, and for once, it wasn't his fault.
"Cap, we've got a situation," Tony said, not bothering to hide the mix of curiosity and annoyance in his voice.
Captain America's response crackled over the comms, as calm as ever, even though he was probably swamped with alien hordes. "What is it, Stark? We're kind of busy here."
Tony honed in on the source of the anomaly—a swirling vortex of energy smack in the middle of the chaos. "There's something strange going on downtown. I'm gonna check it out," he replied, already changing course. Because why not throw a little more insanity into the mix?
Cap's voice came back, all serious. "Be careful, Stark. We don't need any more surprises."
Tony rolled his eyes, though no one could see it. "When am I not careful?" he muttered to himself. (Spoiler: Never.) But he wasn't about to back down now. JARVIS, ever the loyal AI, chimed in.
"Sir, I'm detecting an individual at the center of the disturbance. His energy signature is… unusual."
"Unusual? JARVIS, we're in the middle of an alien invasion. Define unusual," Tony said, curiosity piqued. But if there was one thing Tony Stark couldn't resist, it was a mystery. And, okay, maybe the chance to show off a little.
Tony landed near the vortex, his suit's sensors on full alert. At the center stood a figure decked out in black leather with golden draconic accents—because subtlety is overrated. The guy had a hood with horn-like protrusions, a cape that looked straight out of a fantasy novel, and a glowing amulet around his neck. Tony was pretty sure he'd seen weirder things, but this was definitely up there.
"Alright, buddy," Tony called out, keeping his repulsors ready just in case. "Who are you, and why are you glowing?"
The figure turned to face him, revealing a pair of golden eyes behind a mask that would've made a Renaissance fair attendee jealous. "I'm Harry," the guy said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Harry Potter. And I have no idea how I ended up here."
Tony decided to file that away for later. For now, he focused on the fact that this guy—whoever he was—was radiating enough energy to light up a small city. "Okay, Harry," Tony said, his voice dripping with skepticism. "You're telling me you just popped into the middle of an alien invasion with no clue how you got here?"
"Pretty much," Harry said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "But I'm not here to fight you. I'm just as confused as you are."
Tony hesitated, his mind racing. The energy readings were off the charts, but Harry didn't seem hostile. In fact, he looked as lost as Tony felt. And with aliens raining down from the sky, Tony didn't have time to play 20 Questions.
"Alright, Potter," Tony said, deciding to take a chance. "Let's team up, take out the bad guys, and figure out the rest later."
Harry nodded, looking relieved. "Sounds like a plan."
With that, Tony turned to face the incoming Chitauri. His repulsors powered up, glowing with energy. Harry's hands, meanwhile, crackled with some kind of magic that Tony couldn't even begin to understand.
"You ready?" Tony asked, glancing over at his new ally.
"Ready," Harry said, his golden eyes gleaming with determination.
And with that, the two of them charged into the fray, an unlikely duo ready to kick some alien butt and—hopefully—survive to tell the tale.
—
Tony Stark's comms flared to life amidst the din of battle. "Hey team, Iron Man here. We've got a new player on the field. His name's Harry Potter, and from what I'm seeing, this guy's got enough raw power to make a Chitauri quake in its boots."
For a split second, the Avengers paused their fights to absorb Tony's latest news. Thor, balancing on a precarious rooftop, looked like someone had just told him the sky was falling. *Harry Potter?* That name didn't ring any bells, but it certainly sounded intriguing.
Natasha Romanoff, elbow-deep in Chitauri, exchanged a glance with Clint Barton. "Did Stark just say Harry Potter? The name sounds like a bad joke."
Clint's smirk was almost as deadly as his arrows. "Let's hope this guy's got more to offer than a fancy name."
Captain America's voice cut through the comms with his usual no-nonsense tone. "Alright, Avengers. Let's give our new ally a fighting chance. We need all hands on deck, especially if they're as powerful as Tony says."
With that, the Avengers adjusted their tactics, buoyed by the prospect of having a new—and apparently very powerful—ally. If Tony Stark was excited, they had to be intrigued. After all, a mysterious newcomer with magical abilities could be just what they needed.
Meanwhile, Harry Potter was having one of those days where "normal" took a vacation. Dropped into a New York City under siege by aliens, he had quickly adapted. Who needed a wand when you had raw magical energy? With a decisive wave of his hand, Harry unleashed a torrent of energy that sent Chitauri flying like ragdolls.
The Avengers were impressed. Natasha, perched on the edge of a shattered building, watched as Harry's magic cleared out the enemy ranks with impressive efficiency. "Not bad for someone who seems to be making it up as he goes," she commented with a wry smile.
Thor, standing tall on his rooftop, watched with a nod of respect. "He fights with the might of a true warrior," he observed, clearly taken by Harry's abilities.
As the battle continued, Harry's spells made a noticeable difference. The Avengers, now fighting alongside him, found their spirits lifted. If Tony's words were anything to go by, this Harry Potter was not just a fluke but a legitimate game-changer.
Together, the Avengers and their unexpected magical ally faced the Chitauri onslaught. As they fought side by side, the city's defenders felt a renewed sense of hope. With Harry Potter's help, it seemed that even in the darkest of times, the fight was far from over.
—
Amidst the whirlwind of battle, Harry Potter shot Tony Stark a determined look—one that said, I'm not just here to look pretty, Stark. He sidestepped a Chitauri warrior with casual ease, the kind of move that said this wasn't his first rodeo.
"Tony," Harry called out, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling around them, "I don't mind playing whack-a-Chitauri all day, but I'm gonna need some details here. Where did these guys crawl out from, why are they so keen on redecorating the city, and, more importantly, how do we make them stop?"
Tony Stark, usually the king of cool under pressure, actually looked a bit more serious than usual. He hovered over to Harry, repulsors humming with energy, and let out a sigh that told Harry things were about to get a whole lot messier.
"Bad news, kid," Tony started, his tone leaving no room for jokes (which was a bad sign if there ever was one). "This whole invasion? Loki's behind it."
Harry blinked, his brain doing that quick calculation where it tried to figure out if Stark meant what he thought he meant. "You mean, Loki? Norse God, mischievous dude with a thing for helmets that scream 'I have issues'?"
Tony nodded grimly. "That's the one. And from what we've gathered, he's got big plans for Earth. Right now, New York City's the epicenter of his little stunt."
Harry took that in, and for a moment, his face was a perfect mask of calm—a really deceptive mask, because underneath it, he was boiling like a cauldron ready to explode. "Where's Loki now?" he asked, the question coming out so calm it was almost scarier than if he'd shouted it.
Tony hesitated, and Harry caught it—a flicker of uncertainty, or maybe concern. "We don't know exactly," Tony admitted, clearly not thrilled about it. "But you can bet wherever he is, he's pulling the strings on this whole thing."
Harry didn't waste another second. His eyes glowed, literally, as he activated Mage Sight, a handy little trick that let him see the magical currents weaving through the battlefield like an invisible web. And, just like that, Loki's trail lit up like the world's worst neon sign.
With a burst of raw magical energy, Harry launched himself into the sky, leaving a trail of shimmering light in his wake. He had a fix on Loki, and nothing—not an army of Chitauri, not even Stark's snarky remarks—was going to stop him from finding the trickster.
The Avengers, who had seen a lot of strange things in their time, could only stare as Harry zoomed off, practically radiating determination. There was a mutual, unspoken understanding: wherever Harry was headed, Loki was in for the shock of his immortal life.
—
Harry Potter landed in front of Loki with all the grace of a ballerina—if ballerinas could cause minor earthquakes when they touched down. The force of his arrival sent a shockwave through the ground, and Loki, in all his Asgardian glory, went down like a sack of enchanted potatoes.
For a second, Loki just sat there, staring up at Harry like he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. The smirk that usually adorned the trickster's face slipped as he took in the sight of the newcomer.
But, of course, Loki being Loki, his surprise didn't last long. In a heartbeat, his expression twisted into one of pure, unadulterated rage.
"How dare you, mortal?" Loki hissed, his voice so full of venom it was a wonder he didn't start spewing snakes. "Who are you to challenge a god?"
Halfway through his dramatic tirade, though, Loki's rant came to a screeching halt. He felt something—a surge of magical energy so potent it made even him, a literal god, think twice. His eyes widened, the anger momentarily overshadowed by something that looked suspiciously like curiosity.
"Who… what are you?" Loki asked, his voice faltering as he tried to wrap his mind around the sheer power radiating from Harry.
Harry didn't even blink. His eyes practically glowed with a confidence that said, I've faced worse than you, buddy. "I'm Harry Potter," he said, as if that explained everything. And to be fair, it kind of did. "And I'm here to put an end to your madness."
The air between them practically sizzled with tension. Loki's expression shifted, flickering between disbelief and something that looked an awful lot like respect—begrudging, of course, but respect nonetheless. He'd faced countless foes over the centuries, but none quite like this scrawny kid with too much magic and not enough sense to be afraid of him.
Loki's lips curled into a sneer as he spat out a word that sounded almost dirty in his mouth. "You're a Seidr," he said, lacing the term with all the contempt he could muster.
Harry's eyes narrowed, the glow in them intensifying. "Not a Seidr," he corrected, his tone sharp enough to cut through Loki's arrogance. "I'm the Seidr."
Loki blinked, caught off guard for maybe the second time in a century. He quickly recovered, though, masking his surprise with his usual sneer. "Bold words for a mere mortal," he scoffed, his voice dripping with condescension.
Harry's response was calm, but it carried the kind of quiet intensity that made Loki's bravado falter. "I may not be what you expect, Loki," Harry said, his tone as steady as the magic that pulsed through him. "But I assure you, I'm no mere mortal."
Loki's gaze flickered over Harry, searching for some clue to what he was really dealing with. "What are you, then?" he demanded, sounding just the tiniest bit uncertain.
Harry didn't offer much in the way of explanation—because where was the fun in that? He simply met Loki's gaze with a look that was part mystery, part challenge. "You'll find out soon enough," he said, his voice carrying just a hint of a smile, as if he knew something Loki didn't (which, to be fair, he probably did).
And just like that, the stage was set. Harry and Loki, wizard and god, stood ready to face off in a showdown that would determine the fate of New York City—and, as these things tend to go, probably the entire world.
---
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