Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry James Potter-Black; savior of the wizarding world, the chosen one, the boy-who-lived, the-man-who-conquered, The youngest Head Auror ever appointed, the Lord of two prominent household—Father to murdered children, Husband to a murdered wife, The leader and the general of the magicals to another war but not against the late Voldemort or any Dark Lords but—against the muggles.

10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts. The Statue of Secrecy broke. Muggles with their advanced weapons, mercilessly slaughtered every magical kind they ever crossed off. Woman, Man, Old, and the children. He knows Voldemort must be laughing at him but he also knows that he’s raginglike he feels the extension of his anger even if in death. Children were caught to be enslaved, to turn into lab rats. Women are caught to be used and discarded after; they do not want–a devil spawn to be created. They hunted them down and forced some wizards and witches to hide but few who remained in the war retaliated at the muggles. Operation to save the children from slave camps, taking any refugee, helping them. A war that is much more cruel than before. Another war that has taken everything he loved. A war that is still led by Him–Harry Potter. The once beacon of light and hope, faded as the time went by. He’s the last one. The last of his kind. Due to the destruction of the muggles with their nuclear bomb, air raids that were filled with poisons, and pollution. Incurable diseases spread throughout the world. They think it's Mother Magic's last help to her children who suffered–– and what’s more that can lead them to peace? It's not winning the war nor finding a cure for it but—Death; a warmth embrace of death as he lulled them to sleep like how we used to fall asleep at our couches at home and how our parents would take us to bed and tucked us in. Death seemed to be our blanket as we crossed the oblivion towards the so-called light. But it seems to Harry, death seems like a luxury to him he can’t afford.

Numb–Numb–Numb.

That's all he can feel as he sat at the edge of the rooftop watching the beautiful sunset. Tired, and battered clothes adjourning with blood is what seems his state right now. The beautiful green jem eyes before now dimmed as it reflected his soulless being—empty. He hummed what's supposed to be a joyful song that his wife used to sing to his children. His beautiful Ginevra, wears the red as if it was hers and she was beautiful in it. Flaming red hair that seems to reflect the sun as its rages as she protects her children at an ambush. Like a phoenix she was outstandingly gorgeous and unique but alas unlike the phoenix she didn’t rise from ash when they burned her.

“Ginny!!” He screamed wanting to get away from the one who’s holding him back from slaughtering them. He wailed and cried to the brutal death of his wife. “Why?!Why!?” he shouted hysterically, clawing his hands to his face. The anger, the grief, the pain, the sadness all in one took a hold of his magic and—he let go.

106 muggles died in the magical burst he released. Did he regret it? No, he just wished he was conscious and did it by his hands.

The war has taken everything from him and it took too much. His sanity is on the edge. His emotions are buried since the death of his last child that was alive. He’s now hollow. A human that has a vessel with no soul yet can he still be called human? when what it takes of being a human is his mortality? The beauty of life and death that’s what all they call it. Now looking back he still could recall Dumbledore saying ‘Death is just another great adventure’ but Harry disagrees because he can’t die. He tried. He fucking tried. He just can’t die. Is death that too much of a mercy to him? that they forsaken him to be with his family? that he has no purpose anymore? that he was done? but he knows They are not done playing with his life. He still clearly remembered the first time it happened.

“Wh–what?” Harry said as he woke up from a pool of blood after getting caught by hunters as he tried to save the child and take it to safety. With a pained grunt he propped up his elbow and tried to stand. “What? How am I alive?” he murmured, confused at this happening. Just as he tried to stand up again, a figure that seemed to be dancing in the wind along the tree–swayed. Harry looked at the figure with horror and threw up. The disgust and hatred for himself is strong. A figure which seemed to be a child danced with the wind–with a rope hanging around its neck.

The second time comes…

“Harry! They killed Hermione! Mum and Dad!” shouted Ron, eyes filled with rage as it seeps through the room. “I will kill them all!” Ron vowed.

“Ron! What if it’s a trap! No! Wait”

He was caught in an explosion but Ron didn’t make it. Ron bombed a public place and tooked 248 muggles with the explosion. Ron was dead but—Harry breathed again.

6th

“They killed them all, Harry. A public execution. They burned them alive.” Kingsley informed Harry sadly. Harry looked from the map that was laid out in the war room. “Is there any that was burned, one of us?” Harry asked with a steel voice but with a layer of fear. Praying to any gods there is now. “Yes, Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy”

Harry died wanting to get revenge on the 15 magicals they killed. Cause: Loss of blood.

16th

He could just see red. They killed his son. His son. His lovely Albus, dismembered like a pig. How dare they? he seethed. Why are they laughing? celebrating? because of the death of my child? No, I don’t care anymore. They will all pay. I will make them pay. At the 16th time Harry died from magic overflow but–breathed again.

31st

“We caught the leader of the magicks!” a triumphant cheer echoed through the mic. A tortured Harry is seen kneeled, waiting for his execution. They didn’t know his heart had already stopped before they got to the podium. They didn’t know. They are all fools. Naive and fools. On July 30, 2023– a day before his birthday Harry died by burning at the stake.

11:58 pm

11:59 pm

12:00 am

Harry breathed again.

He remembered everything and would not forget as he watched the last destruction of the world. Harry didn’t owe anything to the world. The world owed everything to him. This is it. This is his last. He felt free. He closed his eyes and spread his arms.

“I’m tired, just take me away” he whispered melancholy as he awaits his death ahead. “I want to see my family, take me to them.”

The world burned and took everything in it. On December 13, 2035—the world ended.

Harry woke up and breathed again.

Chapter Text

The chimes and soft voices chanting lulled him here. It was a gentle and calming presence that he felt he could trust. The words they chanted were in a language he didn't understand, but they sounded beautiful nonetheless. He felt himself relax and lean into the rhythm of their words. He felt in—peace. Free from the shackles he was chained in. From the responsibilities he was given as a child who just wanted a place to call home, to the lies and manipulation, grief for his godfather and to have a chance of having someone to call family, from the pain of losing everyone he loved, his friends, wife, and children. But now he could be with them. It’s over.

The chanting somehow slowly lowered and a voice–a couple of voices called him out.

“Dad!” a chorus of children seemed to stand out and it followed a voice of a woman frantically shouting for him “Harry!”

He turned around, swiveled his head in any direction wishing to get a glimpse of the voice he just heard. His mouth released a heavy exhale and slowly chuckled and responded to them, “I’m here! Ginny?! Albus! Lily?James?!” He looked around but still couldn’t see them.

“We’re here! Dad!” voices on his left made him run to that direction. He ran and ran and tears poured down his eyes as he caught them, all of them waving and waiting for him. His children are waving at him, his wife teary-eyed but with a sad smile, his parents smiling at him–James and Lily looking as still as ever before, and padfoot and uncle moony—everyone. He picked up his strides wanting to hold them in their arms, he laughed and smiled for the first time in his god forsaken time, he felt happy—but it looks like even this would be taken away from him.

Not yet, Master. It’s still not your time. Forgive us.

The lowered volume of choirs chanting suddenly escalated, all at once they screamed, sang, grieved. Harry who was running stopped at his tracks watching everyone he loved disappeared one by one by a mist. He stared at them and ran, he caught up and reached for them but all it did was pass through his hands, he couldn't touch them. Harry kneeled and tried to gather them in his arms while shouting and now crying at this unfairness “No NO NO NO, Why?! Give them back! No, please take me with you. I’m begging you please don’t leave me alone.” How cruel of this but yet still beautiful as his agony to be with his family seems to resonate to the chants of angelic voice of choirs that seems to be getting louder second by second.

Why?

Why have you forsaken the chosen one? This purest of soul now tainted but still unsoiled not like the others

Is it his Fate? Destiny?

Oh how cruel of you, Life.
and how selfish of you, Death.

Harry covered his ears and screamed. Screamed until he lost his voice. He cursed the gods who’s punishing him for living in this hell. He screamed and screamed letting it all out. Haven’t I done everything? What more could they possibly want? Is this too much to ask for? Was it? Answer me!

I deeply express my sincerest apologies to you, Harry James Potter-Black. But it’s not yet the fateful day you would be welcome to Elysium with open arms. I do regret doing this–reaping you from your loved ones but you’re still needed. I am ashamed of doing this to you who deserve to rest and be in peace but even I couldn't do anything given that reason I will also cease to exist once it starts to happen. Your fate is still weaving and soon it will get entangled with the others until then, son of cosmos. I wish you everything. A saddened and regretful tone of a woman answered him. Harry wanted to shout at her but he couldn't, he already spent all his strength on grieving from being taken away to his family, again. Why should he be the one to do that? Wasn't once enough? What more could they possibly want? Do they want him to burn the world? Is that what they want? Why him? Why me? Why? Harry released a pained whimper, he felt like a 6 year old lying alone cold in the cupboard crying for his mother to take him away and embrace him. Little Harry who wished for everything to be alright. Harry who still wished for it. A sudden overwhelming surge of fear consumes his entire being—he can’t be with them. His heart races like a hummingbird's wings and his chest tightens like a vice grip, breath becomes shallow and rapid, as if he’s struggling for air. His mind races with irrational thoughts and as his body trembles with adrenaline. He feels as if he’s trapped in a coffin that he can't escape from, and the only way out is to ride it out until it passes.

The chanting now turns into soft whispers like how a mother lulled her child to sleep and Harry who could just feel his heavy breathing feels himself getting sleepy. A bony cold hand structure petted his head taking in some strands of his hair as he massaged his head.

I hope one day you would find in your goodness to forgive us from doing this to you, my beloved master. My heart aches seeing you suffering and only I wish for your smiles to paint your face again–a full smile with no hesitance, more than your smile when you’re at peace. I know Life has been unfair to you but where you will go would bring you more than you deserve. Tu lucem invenias et salutarem, Unicus mortis dominus. whispered the deity while he look at Harry regretful and fond also.

Harry James Potter Black, slept and now being carried away through the lines of the world to another to experience his fate that is yet to come. At the same time, a surge of power and disturbance shook everyone. They all felt the same thing, cold runs up their spine and they all shivered. The Avengers who were watching a movie at the theater room shuddered while some stood up and became alert.

“Guys, What was that? Is someone haunting us?!” said Peter, many scoffs at that. “I told you not to play that Bloody Mary game now look at what happened.” Nat said while returning the gun to her thigh holster she grabbed. At that everyone started to bicker about who's fault and who first played that game. At the corner a man who wears fine silk green pajamas seemed to tremble and with wide eyes he started to calm himself down before he worried his mates.

'It can’t be him, can he? He’s still busy conquering other wo– I, Oh gods What can I do?' He panicked and thought of many scenarios but he snapped out of his trance when one of his mates put their hands on his shoulder and asked.

“Are you okay, Bambi? Are you still cold” said Tony, who is worried for his mate. Loki shook his head and placed his hand on top of his and said “No, I just felt that more than everyone but I assure you I am fine” Tony looked unconvinced but shrugged it off, “Okay if you say so, Bambi.”

Loki knows one thing for sure—The voice of the world is telling a warning. Something is coming this way and it’s powerful.

Chapter Text

The world seemed to be carrying on as usual, with people hurrying about their business and going about their daily routines—a normal day. As the sun rose over New York City, the Avengers Tower stood tall and proud in the heart of the bustling city. Inside, the day began like any other, with each Avenger going about their daily routine. It was just another day in the Avengers Tower. Clint was running around the common area, dodging and weaving as Nat chased after him.

Natasha called out, "Get back here, Barton!"

Clint laughed, "You'll have to catch me first!"

Meanwhile, Bucky was grumbling as he picked up pieces of popcorn from his hair. "Why did you have to throw that on my hair?!Sam?"

Sam smirked, "It's all in good fun, man."

Peter chimed in, "Yeah, lighten up, Bucky!"

Thor was sitting on the couch, engrossed in an episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. "This family intrigues me," he muttered to himself.

Tony was lounging in his favorite armchair, a glass of scotch in hand. "I love days like this," he said contentedly.

Steve Rogers was sitting in a nearby armchair, reading the newspaper. He looked up and smiled at the chaos around him. "It's good to see everyone having fun," he said.

The elevator ding, Loki in all his glory groggily rubbed his eyes as he stumbled out of the elevator in Avengers Tower. He was still wearing his green and gold outfit from the night before, which was now wrinkled and stained with what appeared to be pizza sauce.

As he made his way into the living room, he saw the rest of the Avengers already up and about, going about their daily routines–wrecking havoc at this god's forsaken morning.

"Morning, Loki!" His mate called out from his spot on the couch, where he was lounging with a scotch in hand.

"Good morning,Tony" Loki grumbled, still trying to shake off the sleep from his eyes. "Why didn't anyone bother to wake me up?"

Clint, who was in the middle of being chased around the room by Nat, turned to Loki with a smirk. "We tried, but you were dead to the world. And besides, it's not like you're on any sort of schedule."

Sam and Peter, who were in the midst of putting the finishing touches on a prank they had planned for Bucky–again, both grinned at Loki.

"Yeah, we figured you needed the beauty sleep," Bucky said with a chuckle.

Loki scowled at the group and to his other mate, but couldn't help but feel a small sense of belonging. He had been hesitant to join the Avengers at first, but after months of living with them and because of his mates he was starting to feel like he had a place in their little family.

"Fine," he muttered, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "But don't make a habit of it."

Suddenly they felt a jolt, as if the entire building was shaking. The lights flickered and several objects fell off the shelves.

"What the hell was that?" Tony exclaimed, looking around in confusion.

"It felt like an earthquake," Steve said, looking out the window.

"But there's no seismic activity reported in the area," Bruce added, checking his computer.

Just then, a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by another one, and then another one. The thunder was deafening, and the building shook again.

"Is that thunder?" Sam asked, looking up at the ceiling.
“Mister Thor! Was it you?” Peter asked.

"It's too loud for thunder," Thor said, looking excited. "It must be something else!"

Just then, the ground shook again, and this time it was even stronger. The Avengers stumbled and fell to the ground, and the building creaked under the pressure.

"What is happening?" Natasha yelled, holding onto the couch for dear life.

"I don't know, but we need to find out," Steve said, getting up.

As they made their way towards the door, they heard a loud boom outside, and the tower shook again, almost knocking them off their feet.

"This is no earthquake," Bruce said, his eyes widening. "Something is entering the atmosphere."

S.H.I.E.L.D HQ

Nick Fury swiftly stood up from his chair, his eyes glued to the monitor that showed the recent burst of power slowly falling from the sky. He frowned as he studied the data, his mind already racing with possibilities.

"Get me a team that is nearest," he barked to the agent beside him. "We need to investigate this immediately."

The agent quickly moved to comply, sending out a message to the Agents who were stationed near in their communication system. Within minutes, he reported to Fury that the team had assembled in motion, looking alert and ready for action.

"North Pole," Fury announced, his voice grave. "We have a potential threat that we need to investigate. The power surge indicates that it might be something otherworldly."

North Pole
Earlier

The sky above began to glow with an intense light, and a powerful energy surged through the air. The power pulsated as the being landed with a deafening boom, shaking the ground and causing the air to ripple with energy. The universe was momentarily stunned, unsure of what to do in the face of such power.

They watched, and the entity began to emit a blinding light. When the light subsided, the being had revealed a human figure. A man wearing a coat with somewhat of a long hair splayed upon his face, he lay down there in cold snow with no indication of waking up.

Harry

Harry…Wake up

Dad! Come on, Open your eyes!

Harry breathed.

In his disoriented state he tried to propped up his elbow to stand but after a few tries he decided against it. He rolled his body to lay down in the snow and looked up at the sky with a tired expression. At first, he thought it's different– The sky was the same shade of blue, and the land was a vibrant shade of white that he had seen before, it was a snow covered land. He tried to make sense of it all, but his confusion quickly turned to anger.

As he realized what they did to him—what they have done to him, Harry’s rage intensified.

He cursed this new world and everything in it. His magic destroys all that was near, taking out his frustration on anything he could find. He was overwhelmed with a wave of emotions that hit him all at once. Pain, grief, anger, and loneliness all seemed to come crashing down on him with a force that was almost too much to bear.

The pain he felt was a physical ache deep within his chest, as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and left a gaping hole. It was the pain of losing everyone he had ever loved, from his parents to his closest friends to his wife and children. The pain of all the battles he had fought and the lives he had taken in the name of saving the wizarding world.

Grief weighed heavily on him, a crushing weight that threatened to suffocate him. He grieved for all those he had lost, for the childhood he had never really had, and for the future he had been denied. He grieved for the part of himself that had died with each person he had loved and lost.

Anger burned hot within him, a seething rage that threatened to consume him. He was angry at the injustice of it all, at the senseless violence and death that had marked his life. He was angry at those who had taken so much from him and left him with so little.

And then there was the loneliness, a deep sense of isolation that had followed him his entire life. He had always felt like an outsider, never truly belonging anywhere. Even among his closest friends, he had felt a sense of disconnect, as if he were watching from the outside looking in.

All of these emotions swirled together, a tempest of pain and grief and anger and loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him.

As he lay down all of his emotions turned to despair. He just lays in the ground staring emotionless at the sky. He wanted to die, to be with them in whatever afterlife awaited him yet even that last piece of mercy, they took away from him.

“Aren’t they afraid I will condemn this whole world to damnation? Aren’t they worried that I would destroy this world like I did in mine?? Why aren’t you answering me? Tell me!” he weaved in a heavy breath after a silence knowing that they won't answer him and with just the cold breeze of the air that he’s breathing is all what he can see, he exhaled and the once pained expression turned into a blank, cold, closed-off expression and in a whisper he said,

“I have lost my faith in man—they fear a God…” he stood up and fixed himself looking around at the place he destroyed as soon as he got here and walked towards what will be his new hell.

"I am another.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Always an Angel, Never a God

“Once an angel, grace adorned my soul's facade,

Yet now, a god in apathy, I stand,

Humanity's creation, once I laud,

But now aloof, I spurn their outstretched hand.”

North Pole 

[Present] 7 am

The jet descended from the sky, its engines roaring against the frigid winds of the North Pole. The sleek black exterior of the aircraft glistened in the pale sunlight, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. the emblem emblazoned on the side shone like a beacon.

As the jet touched down on the charred snow, the rear gateway began to open. A figure emerged, stepping confidently onto the frozen landscape. He was dressed in black tactical gear and cold protector suit, Agent Coulson commanded and led his men down. Behind him, several other figures emerged from the jet. They were all similarly dressed in tactical gear but their faces obscured by masks.

As they walked down the ramp, they scanned the perimeter, their eyes searching for any signs of danger. The frozen landscape was eerily quiet, the only sounds the soft hiss of the wind and the distant roar of the jet's engines.

Coulson raised his hand, signaling for the others to follow him. They moved in unison, their movements swift and precise. As they approached the charred snow, the other agent paused, his eyes scanning the area. "This is where it happened," he said, his voice low and commanding. Coulson examined the destroyed part of what was supposed to be a white covered land but now a huge crater with frizzes of thunderstruck shapes ridges, he signaled the others to look at them too, staring at the massive crater before them. The snow around the area was charred and blackened, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of burned earth.

Nodding with serious determination, they understood the unprecedented threat they faced. Their resolve was unwavering, and they were ready to take any necessary action. Moving forward in unison, their weapons at the ready, they braved the howling wind that tugged at their clothing and hair. Their focus remained resolute as they approached the edge of the charred snow. Pausing there, their vigilant eyes scanned the horizon, knowing danger could be lurking anywhere, fully prepared to confront it head-on.

Agent Coulsonn signaled to the others, and they moved forward as one, their eyes peeled for any sign of movement. They knew that the fate of the world rested on their shoulders, and they were ready to face whatever came their way.

"Whatever did this was powerful," Coulson said, his voice echoing across the desolate landscape. "We need to find out what it was and neutralize the threat."

"Agreed," Agent Jones said, her eyes scanning the perimeter. "But what could have caused this much destruction?"

"That's what we're here to find out," Coulson said, his eyes narrowing. "Raine, Amon, any readings on what could have caused this?"

Raine and Amon, twins and a level 8 agent, trusted and excellent at whatever they do were hunched over a set of advanced scientific equipment, their fingers flying over the buttons and switches.

"There are traces of an unknown energy signature in the area," Raine said, frowning at the readout. "It's unlike anything we've ever seen before."

"And there's a trail leading off into the distance," Amon added, pointing to a set of footprints leading away from the crater.

Coulson nodded. "Alright team, let's follow that trail and see where it leads us."

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents pressed on, following the trail that led them to a dead end. The charred snow remained as the sole evidence of the event, with no further clues about the elusive force responsible for the destruction. It was as though they had vanished like ghosts. Coulson knew it but hesitated to admit it—the trail had gone cold. Identifying this mysterious figure became crucial to determine if they should be captured or neutralized.

Frustrated and exhausted, they reported their findings to Fury, who listened intently, his expression grim. "The trail has gone cold," he muttered, his voice low and menacing.

Coulson nodded in agreement. "Yes sir. But we're not giving up yet. We'll continue to investigate."

Fury leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Be careful," he said finally. "Whatever this is, it's powerful. And it's still out there. We are not taking any chances, hear that, team?"

Coulson and his team nodded in unison and a chorus of yes sirs could be heard, their minds racing with possibilities. As they made their way back to their jet, Fury's words echoed in their minds. They knew that they needed to be prepared for anything, no matter how dangerous or unpredictable. 

Meanwhile, Fury had turned to Hill, his expression serious. "Be prepared," he said. "We don't know what's out there, but we need to be ready for anything."

Hill nodded, her eyes focused and determined. She knew that the world was counting on them to keep it safe, and she was ready to do whatever it took to fulfill that duty.

Fury paused for a moment before continuing. "Contact the Avengers," he said finally. "We may need their help on this one."

Hill nodded again and quickly got to work, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she sent out a message to the Avengers. They needed to be prepared for whatever was coming, no matter how dangerous or unpredictable it may be.

Avengers Tower

3:45 pm

A certain sorcerer’s mind is racing with worry as he considers the possibility of what or who might be responsible for the situation it leads to . His thoughts were so consumed that he didn't notice his magic buzzing, a sign of his growing unease.

Steve, however, was quick to notice Loki's unease. He gently placed a hand on top of his, soothing the knuckles and palm of his soulmate, catching his attention. "Hey, you alright?" Steve asked, his voice filled with concern.

Loki hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I'm...fine," he admitted. "It must be the nerves as the Peter child would always say"

Steve gave him a reassuring smile and gently raised up their intertwined hands to kiss it gently. "Then if you feel anything or just whatever, you can say it to us, Loki," he said. "And if you need to talk about anything, I'm here for you."

Loki’s ears turned red but appreciated Steve's offer of support. It was a gesture he didn't expect, considering their past conflicts. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Just then, Jarvis's voice filled the room, all activity in the room ceased as everyone turned their attention to the voice.

"Director Fury is informing a meeting later that you all need to attend. He seems agitated, it must be the recent spike of energy levels yesterday. He insists for all of you to not be late," Jarvis reported. "That’s all for now, Avengers."

Tony, who had been in his workspace preparing his welding gear, stopped what he was doing and joined the others in the meeting room. "So not San Andreas, huh?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Others looked at him weirdly. Tony scoffed and lowly muttered while shaking his head, “We’re certainly going to watch that movie”

"Analysis of the situation is ongoing, but it looks like or it suggests that something or someone may have crashed through on Earth."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Another alien? Again " she asked.

Jarvis hesitated before responding, "That is one possibility we must consider."

The room fell silent as the Avengers absorbed the gravity of the situation. They had faced many threats before. Surely this one would be the same as the others, wouldn't it?

Loki's mind was still racing with concern, but he also felt a growing sense of determination. He knew he couldn't let his past or his fears hold him back. Together with the Avengers, he had a chance to protect Earth and its people. Especially now that he had found happiness with his soulmates and still wanted to meet their last piece, he wouldn’t let this unknown creature destroy what was his. He would obliterate them before they could touch his family. He’d make sure of it.

Khibiny Mountains

600 to 700 miles from North Pole

8:07 pm

Secret Hydra Base

Concealed beneath the desolate mountains, a labyrinthine network of tunnels and chambers housed a hidden underground Hydra Base. As the long night wore on, the soft snores of one guard could be heard while the other, diligently monitoring security cameras, noticed a dark figure on the 14th camera by Gate 02. He rubbed his eyes, and the figure vanished. With a sigh of relief, the guard refocused, only for a warning to flash on the 16th monitor. There, a man in all-black appeared, an eerie presence that felt like a specter from the shadows.

Lev nudged Ivan, who was dozing off against the cold, metal wall. " Иван, посмотри туда, " Lev whispered, his voice quivering. [Ivan, look there,]

Ivan, half-awake and groggy, rubbed his eyes and squinted down the corridor. "О чем ты говоришь, Лев? Я ничего не вижу.” [What are you talking about, Lev? I don't see anything.]

But as Ivan's eyes adjusted to the low light, the mysterious figure was no longer there. Lev’s words were met with a skeptical glance from his partner.

“Ты видишь вещи, мой друг,” Ivan scoffed.[You're seeing things, my friend,]

Just as Ivan was about to dismiss the incident, an eerie sensation gripped Lev’s heart. A pair of piercing, otherworldly green eyes materialized in the darkness, glowing with an unsettling intensity.

Lev gasped, taking a step back, his breath quickening. “ — Иван, клянусь, я видел! Глаза... вот тут!” [Ivan, I swear, I saw it! The eyes... right there!]

Ivan's skepticism wavered as the glow of those haunting eyes seared into his mind. He stammered, " Что... что это?" [ What...what is that?]

The shadowy figure, face hidden in darkness, raised his hand, and the cameras malfunctioned, sending a shiver down Lev's spine. Panic surged within him, and he urgently hit the emergency alarm. The klaxons blared through the base, putting the guards on high alert. They stood in tense formation, guns aimed at gate 02, surrounded by the blaring alarm, their tension palpable.

It felt like an eternity passed before the gate suddenly erupted with a large explosion in a gust of debris and shrapnel, leaving a gaping hole in its place.

From the swirling dust and chaos, the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed. The head guard motioned for his team to stand by, their eyes locked onto the mysterious figure who had just appeared.

The man who emerged was nothing short of powerful and enigmatic. He was tall, dressed in impeccable black attire, and an aura of authority exuded from him. His eerie presence was only heightened by the pale glow of his green eyes. He looked at the guards with an expression that was, oddly, both curious and amused.

With a soft and well-mannered British accent, he spoke, "Well, hello there. I think I'm quite lost. Would you mind telling me where this is?"

The head guard hesitated for a moment, trying to make sense of the surreal situation before answering, "This is a private facility. You have no business here. If you further make unnecessary movements, we will exterminate you."

The intruder merely chuckled, his demeanor unsettlingly calm. "Oh my apologies, how rude of me," the man's eyes then glowed and after a while, “If you would just give me the information that I want, I'll leave your facility. Viktor” The Head guard stiffened at hearing his name. The man then chuckled, “Oh, I do love your name, reminds me of a friend back home,” 

The man then walked forward and locked eyes with the man behind the head guard and he smiled slowly, “Oh, Nikolai, that is some heavy secret you got…hmm ... really? with your wife’s best friend?” he said mockingly. The head guard, Viktor, turned to look at Nikolai.

Nikolai, the man he mentioned quivered in anger and shouted, “Shut up! Let’s kill him!”

The man then clasp his hand behind his back, ”Oh Viktor~, the child your wife is carrying isn– ”

BANG 

A gunfire interrupted him. The man falls down as Nikolai fires multiple bullets from his gun. Nikolai exclaimed, ”He’s dead! Sir! The intruder is down! I repeat the intruder is down” 

Two hands suddenly gripped his collar, and punched him square in the face as Viktor stood tall to him and angrily said, ”You–you! I trusted you! I'm going to kill you”

“ Now that was just disrespectful.” 

Everybody stiffened at that voice, as they looked at the man who’s now standing in perfect condition with blazing green eyes like how the river of styx.

“I was being patient and respectful to you, muggles.” the man said in disdained, green flames erupted out from his body.

“I apologized, I asked nicely, I even talked in your language, I advised, and you just really need to test my patience. Now, I’m not gonna ask, I”ll just get what I want from you, whether you’ll be dead or if luck favors you, alive.”

The air seemed to exude heavy air as the green flames spread further, as the guards prepared this fight, the comms ordered, “Kill him.” 

The man gestured with his one hand and whispered while looking at them coldly,

“ Fiendfyre ”

All hell breaks loose, it all happens in a blink but he made sure they all felt his anger, slowly they died, One by one, the guards fell, their bodies crumpling to the ground. As the man walked forward, the last guard knelt trembling before him. The guard's pants were wet like a toddler's, and he wet himself further as the man slowly bent and took his chin.

 ‘Ah, This is death’ The guard's life withered away as he saw his demise in the man's eyes. How lucky must he be, for he gazed upon the eyes of the Master of Death.

The man released the guard's chin and continued to walk forward, leaving carnage behind. As he walked, he waved his hands and his robes were cleansed of blood.

" How disgusting," the man said. "These bloody pigs."

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

A Sinner or a Saint

Emerald pools, reflecting skies of ash,

His soul, a garden where roses wilt and clash.

He offers hands, but lets them idly fall,

Is he a sinner, deaf to duty's call,

Or saint, who sees the world beyond the veil,

And finds no solace where the shadows fail?

6 Months Later

Paris, France

The sun splashed across the Parisian skyline, its golden embrace bathing the Eiffel Tower in a warm glow. Like ripples on a lake, laughter and chatter danced on the gentle breeze, weaving through the throngs of picnickers sprawled beneath the tower's shadow.  Children, their faces aglow with excitement, chased pigeons along the Champs-de-Mars, their joyous shrieks weaving into the melody of street music carried on the air. A leisurely bike race snaked through the throngs, their colorful jerseys flashes of life against the emerald expanse of the lawn.

Amidst this symphony of life, a lone figure emerged from the shadows of the tower's legs. His steps were measured, each one punctuated by the soft rasp of worn leather against cobblestone. He reached a weathered bench bathed in the afternoon sun, its paint peeling like the pages of a well-worn book.

With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand stories, he lowered himself onto the bench, his posture a study in quiet contemplation. His eyes, the color of moss clinging to ancient ruins, surveyed the scene before him. He watched the carefree laughter of children, the whispered secrets shared between lovers, the vibrant tapestry of humanity unfurling beneath the watchful gaze of the Iron Lady.

"How peaceful," he murmured with a bitter chuckle as his gaze roamed around the place. He watched in silence, but his mind was filled with disdain for the people here. But then, his gaze drifted from the sun-dappled faces picnicking below, his mind slipping through a crack in time. The vibrant greens of the Champs-de-Mars morphed into a desolate wasteland, the laughter of children replaced by the hollow moans of the damned.

The Iron Lady, once a proud symbol of progress, now mocked the Parisian skyline with her rusted ribs jutting against a blood-red sky. Skeletons of his kind, stripped bare by them, dangled from her highest girders, their silhouettes dancing like marionettes against the crimson canvas.

Rosewater stench rotted into the cloying miasma of decay, the joyous chirps of sparrows strangled by the rasping croaks of crows. Where children once chased butterflies in sun-drenched fields, now skeletal hands clawed at the earth, dragging lifeless forms towards gallows sculpted from twisted iron. Its shadow, a gaping maw, drank the crimson twilight like a starving beast.

"Help us," echoed the desperate cries. "Save us, Savior," they pleaded, voices blending into a chorus of anguish.

‘HELP ME’

‘HELP US’

‘HELP ME’

‘PLEASE!’

‘PLEASE!’

‘Free us from this hell’

‘FREE US FROM THIS HELL! SAVIOR!’

Each rasping breath sounded like a rusty blade scraping bone. The cobblestones, slick with spilled magic, glistened like broken teeth under the dying sun. And above it all, the Iron Lady, a twisted crown of bone and iron, gleamed with the macabre amusement of a fallen god.

Then, a scream. A child’s scream, piercing the darkness, ripping through the fabric of his nightmare. It clawed at him, pulling him back from the abyss, anchoring him to the sun-drenched reality of the Parisian park.

The macabre visions dissipated like smoke, replaced by the familiar melody of Parisian life. Laughter danced on the breeze, the sun painting the Champs-de-Mars with golden brushstrokes. But Harry's gaze remained haunted, drawn to a fallen soldier on the gravel path – a little girl with scraped knees and tears that stained her face like raindrops on a rose.

As her parents rushed to soothe her, a shadow slipped beside Harry, a small hand holding out a vibrant blue flower.

"Hi! Here is a flower for you, mister," the boy announced, his voice chirping like a sparrow. He was no older than eight, his eyes wide and innocent, holding an ancient wisdom beyond his years. Harry took a longer moment to look at him properly. He looked like his son, but with a different hair color. But those eyes, those were the very same eyes his Albus used to have.

After a long moment, Harry took the flower, its color a stark contrast to the lingering gray in his heart. "Thank you, little one," he said, surprise softening his voice. "But surely your parents taught you not to talk to strangers, did they?"

The boy, unfazed, bobbed his head. "Yes, they did. But Grandma also said if I saw someone looking sad, a blue flower might do the trick."

Harry chuckled, the sound hollow even to his own ears. "I assure you, I'm not sad." He crouched down, meeting the boy's gaze, a pool of endless curiosity that pierced through the shadows clinging to Harry's soul.

"Oh! Then, are you angry, mister?" the boy asked, his voice filled with childish certainty.

The question snagged at Harry, unexpected and raw. Anger? Not exactly. But a storm of emotions churned within him, the echoes of his nightmare still clinging to the edges of his mind. He chuckled again, but this time, the sound cracked like a broken mirror.

"Me? Angry? No, little one," he said, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "Just a bit lost in thought, that's all."

The boy continued to stare, his gaze unwavering. "You're angry," he declared, his voice small but firm. It wasn't an accusation, but a simple observation, and for some reason, it struck Harry hard.

He laughed again, but this time, the sound died in his throat. "Has anyone ever told you," he rasped, a newfound respect tinged with weariness, "you're a bit too wise for your own good?"

The boy grinned, a gap-toothed sunbeam lighting up his face. "Grandma always said I have her eyes," he confided, pushing a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. "She said they see straight through things."

Harry looked at the blue flower in his hand, its fragile beauty echoing the delicate hope the boy offered. ‘If I am who I was before…’ he thought.

"Lost?" The boy tilted his head, mimicking a curious puppy. "Is that why you're sitting alone? My grandma, who went to the sky, always said that sitting alone is like eating cake without frosting – something missing, you know?"

Harry slightly smiled at the child and said, "Your grandma sounds like a wise woman."

"She was!" the boy declared, his chest puffing out with pride. "She said that when you feel lost, you just follow the laughter. And I heard yours from over there."

“But I did not laugh, child”

“E-Eh, w-well, Let’s just say I heard you laugh!”

"So, why are you here, little adventurer?" Harry asked, gently teasing.

"Because you looked alone, mister," the boy said, his voice serious now. "And because grandma also said that loneliness is a big, hungry wolf, and it doesn't like company. So I came to keep it away!"

Harry's heart ached at the child's innocent wisdom. He was just a boy, yet he understood the weight of loneliness, the hunger of shadows.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, "You're a brave knight, chasing away wolves."

The boy grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I am! And I'm called Leo, like the strongest lion!"

Their conversation flowed easily, like a gentle stream meandering through a sunlit meadow. Leo, with his boundless curiosity, peppered Harry with questions. His next question, though innocent, hit a nerve.

"Do you believe in God, mister? My mama said he’s up there in the sky with grandma!" Leo asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

A bitter taste flooded Harry's mouth. He clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening uncomfortably. For years, this question had been a thorn in his side, a festering wound he couldn't heal. The memories of loss, of unanswered prayers, of an indifferent sky mocked him every time it surfaced.

He wanted to snap, to retort with a cynical quip or a dismissive shrug. But looking into the child's hopeful gaze, something within him faltered. Her naivete, her uncorrupted belief in something bigger than herself, was a stark contrast to his own jaded cynicism.

He took a deep breath, forcing the bile down. "Faith," he rasped, his voice rough with suppressed emotion, "is a luxury I can't afford anymore...." He trailed off, unable to articulate the darkness that clung to him like a shroud. He then looked at the child once more and sighs, "I don’t know, but if there is one…." Harry trailed off.

"Then do you fear dying?" the boy asked next, his voice a whisper now.

Harry paused, the question stirring the echoes of his nightmare, he looked at the distance and he seemed far away before he answered. "No, not anymore," he said finally.

Leo pondered his words, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, he looked up, a determined glint in his eyes.

“Well! I’m sure you believe in soulmates, Mister! We all have that! I’ve been waiting for mine! I’m sure they will be awesome! and! and! Mama always said that you would know at the very same moment when you met! Like it would just click! and-” the child continued to blabber words uninterrupted. Harry lets him be. He thought of the term ‘soulmates’ ; this is also one thing this universe has. The absurd thought of having a person who’s only for you, isn't it just a ploy of fate. They fucking tend to meddle with the lives of a mortal and now dictating who will they love? He read that article after he apparated from that hidden base to Italy. He then blinked as the child seemed waiting for his answer.

“No, I do not.” He tells the boy firmly. Straight to its intent and truth leaks into his voice. The child seems to be feeling down, Harry notices, he should’ve just sugar coated his words but he doesn't and that’s it, but then the child springs up again.

"Well then, mister, let's find those sparks together," he declared, holding out a handful of wildflowers. "Maybe they'll chase away the shadows and the wolves!”

And then a sudden tremor of unease ran down Harry's spine before the first bomb detonated. The air crackled, a static hum that prickled the hairs on his neck. He glanced around, a familiar cold clenching his gut. Death , he recognized the scent of it, metallic and acrid, a harbinger of endings.

Then, the world erupted. Harry shoved the boy to the ground, shielding him with his own body as the thunderous booms rolled over them. But then, a new threat emerged from the haze.

White gas, thick and choking, billowed through the shattered streets, obscuring the sun and casting everything in an eerie, milky glow.

"W-what's hap-ppening, Miste-r?" the boy mumbled, his voice thin and lost.

Harry met his eyes. Then he pressed a hand to the boy's forehead, infusing a whisper of magic into his touch, a soothing balm against the terror.

" Sleep ," he said, his voice low and steady, a counterpoint to the surrounding pandemonium. "Close your eyes and rest. You’ll be fine." His dance with death had begun again.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

It’s Time

“Like the fates, now here they stand,

Weaving destinies, hand in hand,

Their threads of life, intricately spun,

In the tapestry of time, their tale begun.”

S.H.I.E.L.D HQ

Earlier

The fluorescent lights of SHIELD HQ hummed monotonously, casting stark shadows on the polished steel surfaces. Six years had passed since the anomaly, who or what trespassed and spat whatever the shit unknown entity into Earth's atmosphere. It vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving behind nothing but gnawing unease and a classified file gathering dust on Fury's desk.

Today, however, wasn't about that gnawing unease. Today, the gnawing was a roaring inferno. A frantic agent burst through the double doors, his face pale and slick with sweat. "Director Fury! Incoming intel! Bio-weapon threat – Paris, Lyon, Marseille, Bordeaux! ETA ten minutes!"

Fury's eyes narrowed to steely slits and whispered, “ Motherfucker ” before asking the Agent seriously, "Source?"

"Anonymous tip, sir. Mentions a French anarchist organization."

Maria Hill, ever the sharp counterpoint to Fury's stoicism, pursed her lips. "Is it that Shadow of Bastille? They’ve been in our radar in the last 3 years, and now they’re making a move?"

Fury shot her a withering look. "No time for caution, Hill. Prep the Avengers. We launch at five."

Avengers Compound

Earlier

"We’re heading to Paris," Captain America said in all his glory as others walked up towards the quinjet.

"What about the other cities?" Clint asked as he went straight towards the cockpit.

"They’ve all been contained on time but Paris. There will be tons of casualties so we need to help as much as we can," Natasha replied as she fixed her gear and proceeded to sit down.

"The twins?" Bucky asked, trailing behind his two soulmates.

"They’ll be staying here just in case and aren’t they grounded for a week?" Steve said. Bucky laughed at that. The twins and Peter made a joke about Nick’s bald head looking like a milk dud.

Other members followed through, all suited up and serious but, of course, Tony Stark had to make a comment.

“French anarchists, huh?" Tony drawled, swaggering in like a peacock king draped in arc reactor bling. "Sounds like someone's decided to spice up their Tuesday with a side dish."

Loki materialized beside him, eyes glinting like emeralds kissed by moonlight. "Do tell, Stark, do these anarchists employ any particularly flamboyant lieutenants? I wouldn't mind adding a touch of dramatic flair to the proceedings. Think Hamlet with a bazooka, perhaps?"

Tony snorted, a sardonic smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, lighten up, Shakespeare. With you here, who needs drama? You're the whole Venetian Senate rolled into one leather jacket, monologuing like nobody's business. Forget Iago, you're the star of this tragedy, baby."

Loki's smirk deepened, a hint of feline delight dancing in his eyes. "Touché, Stark. Though I must say, I find your improvisational wit far more...entertaining than any scripted soliloquy."

Bucky, perched by the hatch watching his soulmates banter, snorted out a laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest like a distant earthquake. "Alright, alright, break it up, Romeo and Juliet. Save the flirty banter for after we save the City of Lights, yeah?"

Steve chuckled, a hint of exasperation tinged with fondness. "Bucky's right. We have a city to save, not a play to rehearse."

Natasha, ever the pragmatist, cut through the playful banter. "Enough chit-chat. Gear up, people. Les-whatever-their-name won't disarm themselves by the power of your witty retorts."

"Spoilsport," Tony grumbled, but even he couldn't help but grin.

“Guys you might as well be prepared, it’s chaos down there,” Clint said from the pilot seat.

“Then suit up, Avengers,” Steve said while holding his red, blue, and white shield.

‘Prepare for Landing’

Paris, France

Chaos swirled around the glorious Champ de Mars, the once vibrant mood and joyful scenery turned into a death trap, and it seemed as if Chaos herself descended from the pits of hell to walk upon the living. People started running away from the smoke gas as the unfortunate ones started to cry and throw up blood, seemingly wanting to burst and escape from their vessels. Families scattered, crying out to their loved ones who were caught up. Harry, on the side, just watches this occur as he secured and put a protected bubble around the child he’s holding; like an all-knowing god—a spectator .

He knows it well. He’s always been a helper, the giver, the enabler, not because he wants to, but because it’s what others expect of him. It’s what everyone expects him to be because he’s the son of Lily and James Potter, not because he’s Harry Potter. His childhood has always been like that; he’s the spectacle, like an animal displayed in some zoo, like one of the clowns whom everyone expects to make them laugh to live up to their own expectations. Yes, he’s not been Harry Potter for a long time, but this child is bringing out that man—if it were a hundred years before, he would’ve thought of that, but no, he will not allow it, never .

A whirl of engines interrupted his thoughts. Harry looked up and saw a jet stopping just above the chaos, seemingly frozen before its door opened and five figures could be seen dropping from that altitude. One wore an engine-like suit, another had weird horns and materialized to create a shield to protect people from the gas. The one with the metal hand secured three children away from the smoke to a safe area, while the one wearing hideous blue and white stripes ordered the police to help evacuate. Exclamations of relief and surprise flooded from the civilians caught up in this attack. They all whispered the same thing,

“Thank god, they’re here!”

“The Avengers are here!”

“We’re saved?” someone said unsurely as he tried to get his breathing evenly but his lover on the side reassured him so he said loudly, “We’re saved!”

Harry tilted his head as he surveyed each one of them, he knew them. He’d be a laughing stock if he didn’t. As he traveled the world in search of his kind. He found out that in this world, he’s alone again. They fucking throw him here and what? expect a thanks? Sure, I’ll even whisper in their ears as I hold their decapitated heads in my arms. 

The Avengers. That’s what the muggles here call them. The heroes . Their own versions of it. As he read that he laughed out loud garnering the attention of the others in a library. He continued to laugh so hard and felt his magic thrummed with his emotions causing the light to flicker and the ground to shake—Of course the muggles, with their feeble minds, just listed that incident as a normal earthquake. It’s been a long time since he laughed that hard. 

"Oh, how funny, this is funny," Harry said while giggling eerily to the side. He calmed down a bit, but what he read in the article ignited a rage in him. 'How funny they have their own heroes, and there are so many of them—reformed ones, assassins, mass murderers, gods, a monster, and muggles.' His eyes glinted with mischief as he clapped his hands once, like a thought popped out in his mind.

“A whole circus!” Harry said as he smiled crazily and stood up, walking out of the library. But he stopped and turned around. The vibrant glint in his eyes didn’t disappear; it even glowed brighter. People in the library became nervous and tense. Harry watched them like predators watch their prey, hungry and eager to hunt them down one by one. The muggles shuffled in their seats, uneasy under his gaze.

“Ah, ah, ah…You should just sit down,” Harry said while he waved his fingers. He grins and just says as he turns and walks away.

“You will forget the last 3 hours here. It will all be the same before I arrived. You will never remember my face nor my voice. You will live quietly, like the mice that you will always be.”

Their eyes clouded with green glow as they repeated what Harry just said. He also destroyed clips and repaired them to what they were before his arrival. Harry continued to whistled happily while his hands clasped behind his back.

‘Well, that was an amusing event.’ he thought. He then watched as they rescued every muggle alive in the vicinity. Harry stopped, standing, and started to walk towards the ambulance lining up to aid the injured ones for the child he was carrying. But halfway to his destination, a voice called out to him.

“Excuse me, sir, do you need help?” the one with the hideous uniform called out to him.

He was a bit far away from him, but Harry could feel him. He was confused. How could he feel him with every part of his being, the way he stood, talked, or even breathed? He was confused, and he did not like that at all. With his back still facing him and with a decision that would alter his life and the fate of the universe, he answered.

“Thank you for asking, but I think I got it from here.”

At that moment, a hitch of breath could be heard so clear amidst the sounds of ambulances and chatter. The world's balance shifted to its new center. The last cog of destiny fit into its place. The fates now started to weave again. This is the deciding moment of the universe's saving or its end.

‘It’s time.’

Harry froze as if he could sense the change. The one with the hideous uniform also did, as he stared wide-eyed at him. Harry walked away faster than normal, and as soon as the sound of footsteps started to come near after him, Harry walked faster towards the ambulance to drop the kid. The man called out to him, shouted for him to wait for a moment. He did that again and again. As that man’s voice got louder as he got closer to the ambulance, it garnered the attention of the others. And I mean the others, the members of the Avengers too. They all stood together, conversing, 3 men can be seen to have a confused expression on their faces, then one turned into realization.

Harry reached the ambulance, laid down the kid in one of the beds. He looked to the side where the Avengers are, the one with the metal arm seems to realize something as he also walked towards him. He then looked to the other side with their leader slowly walking towards him with emotions in his eyes. He did not like that. He needed to go; it’s time to go. He stared at him for a longer time before he started to walk towards the group of people to blend in and get away. He slips seamlessly into the crowd, wave his hand and willed his magic to obscure his face and whispered,

“Invisique.”

Then with a loud crack, Harry apparate.

Chapter Text

Hi everyone! hope you're all doing okay.

I'm sorry to say this but I decided to stop updating all my stories for the moment, so like its on hiatus. I really can't find any free time to continue this story because I'm now on a Med school taking a nursing course(I got accepted thank God but I also think i'll be seeing Him soon lol).

It's been like 3 weeks, and it felt like it's all hell week, I literally don't know how will I survive nursing lol, but let's see if I could update on term breaks.

But anyway, I would like to thank each and everyone of you who kudos, commented, follow, subscribe, just anything really! Thank you! Thank you!! I will be back guys, and I hope by that time I already get that RN. Thank you again everyone!!