New York City was having a day. The kind of day that makes you want to grab a drink (or twenty) and crawl into bed for the next week. Buildings were collapsing, Chitauri were falling from the sky like alien confetti, and, oh yeah, Iron Man was doing his best to save the world—again. Just another Tuesday, folks.
Tony Stark zipped through the chaos, blasting alien ships left and right, trying to keep the skyline from looking like a warzone—well, more of a warzone than it already was. But even in the middle of all the laser blasts, explosions, and the distinct smell of burning rubber, something was off. And no, it wasn't his fault this time.
"Cap, we've got a situation," Tony said over the comms, his voice dripping with curiosity and just a hint of annoyance. Because when wasn't there a situation?
Captain America's voice crackled through the static, surprisingly calm considering he was probably getting mobbed by aliens at that very moment. "What is it, Stark? We're kind of in the middle of something here."
Tony wasn't one to ignore an opportunity for drama, so he zoomed in on the source of the disturbance—a massive, glowing vortex of swirling energy in the heart of downtown. The thing looked like someone had cranked the dial on "weird" up to eleven. "There's something strange going on downtown," he reported, already rerouting his flight path toward it. "I'm gonna check it out. You know, just to make sure this day doesn't end with another alien invasion… or multiverse disaster. But hey, what's the worst that could happen?"
There was a pause on the other end, probably as Cap tried to figure out how best to respond. "Be careful, Stark," Steve finally said, his voice all business. "We don't need any more surprises. And definitely not another one of your 'let's make it worse' situations."
Tony couldn't help but roll his eyes, even though he knew Cap couldn't see it. "When am I ever not careful?" he muttered, and if you believe that, I've got a bridge to sell you.
"JARVIS, what are we dealing with here?" he asked, eyes locked on the swirling energy field as it expanded, threatening to suck up anything in its path.
"Sir," JARVIS replied, his ever-polished, British accent oozing both sophistication and mild concern, "I'm detecting an individual at the center of the disturbance. His energy signature is... unconventional."
Tony shot a quick glance at the holographic readout JARVIS projected on his visor. "Unconventional? JARVIS, we're in the middle of an alien invasion. Can we get something a little more specific? Like, maybe 'slightly evil' or 'probably another universe disaster waiting to happen'?"
"I'm afraid not, sir," JARVIS said with a touch of amusement. "Though I must admit, 'unusual' would be an understatement. The signature doesn't quite match any known readings."
"Perfect," Tony muttered. "Just perfect. I love a good mystery—especially when the fate of the city is hanging in the balance." He couldn't resist adding, "And hey, maybe I'll even get to show off a little. It's been too long."
As he rocketed toward the epicenter of the anomaly, the vortex seemed to pulse like some sort of neon tornado—so of course Tony Stark was going straight for it. It wasn't like he had a ton of other options. What was it Steve always said? 'No one else is going to do it, so we have to.' (Or something like that. Tony wasn't listening too closely.)
The closer he got, the more the air around him seemed to crackle with weird energy. Fascinating. In the world of Tony Stark, strange phenomena were like catnip—he had to poke at them, especially if they came with the potential for disaster.
"Cap," Tony said, his voice now dead serious, "I'm going in. You might want to tell the team I'm about to make everything more... complicated."
"I'll prepare for the worst," Steve replied, tone flat and all too familiar. "Just don't do anything too crazy, Stark."
"Too late for that," Tony shot back, winking into the void ahead. "But, you know, I'll try to keep it under 'world-ending' levels of crazy. Promise."
And just like that, he flew straight into the swirling mess of energy, leaving behind the chaos of the city and the ridiculousness of an alien invasion. Because why not add a little extra weird to the mix? And besides, Tony Stark never backed down from a challenge.
Well, most of the time.
—
Tony Stark landed with a grace that only someone who's been flying through chaos for over a decade could achieve. His suit's sensors were on overdrive, pinging with all kinds of bizarre readings. But amidst the mayhem—the alien invasion, the collapsing buildings, the whole "New York is literally on fire" thing—there was one thing that was way more confusing than all of it combined: this guy.
The figure standing at the center of the vortex was like something straight out of a bad fantasy movie. Black leather, draconic accents that screamed "I'm way too cool for this world", a mask that looked like it had been made in the back of some medieval costume shop, and glowing golden eyes that made Tony's suit's diagnostics go a little haywire. Oh, and don't forget the cape—because why wear a cape if it doesn't scream "I'm about to either save or destroy the world, and I look fantastic doing it"?
Tony hovered for a second, taking in the scene. The guy's chest was glowing with golden energy, and Tony swore he could feel the heat from here. Yeah, this was officially weird. Like, weirder than the time Thor dropped a hammer on his foot weird.
"Alright, buddy," Tony called out, keeping his repulsors primed and ready just in case. "Who are you, and why are you glowing? You got some sort of radioactive thing going on, or is this just an early Halloween costume?"
The figure slowly turned to face him, as if he wasn't too concerned about the giant metal suit that was hovering in front of him. The golden eyes locked onto Tony's, and the guy—who was definitely not a normal guy—answered like it was no big deal.
"I'm Harry," he said, his voice cool, calm, and about as unconcerned as you could be when surrounded by a battlefield full of aliens. "Harry Potter. And I have no idea how I ended up here."
Tony blinked. "Uh, okay. First of all, you're seriously going with 'Harry Potter' as your name? Second, you're telling me you just showed up in the middle of an alien invasion, and you don't know how?"
Harry shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the world, which made Tony wonder if maybe he was the one losing his mind. "Yeah, pretty much. But I'm not here to fight you. I'm just as confused as you are."
Tony studied him for a second, scanning Harry with every sensor his suit had. The energy readings were off the charts, but Harry didn't seem like a threat. Just some guy in black leather who was a little too chill about the whole "mass alien invasion" thing.
Great, Tony thought. First, aliens. Now, random dudes with dragon-themed outfits. How's this day going to get weirder?
But hey, with aliens dropping from the sky like they were at some sort of space convention, Tony didn't have time for 20 Questions. So he made a snap decision. He was good at those.
"Alright, Potter," Tony said, lowering his repulsors just slightly. "Here's the deal. You and me? We're gonna team up, take out some bad guys, and we'll figure out who you are and how you got here after we save the city. Cool?"
Harry's golden eyes seemed to light up, which Tony took as a yes. "Sounds like a plan," Harry said, his voice a bit relieved.
"Great," Tony said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's go kick some alien butt. After all, somebody has to clean up this mess." He turned to face the incoming wave of Chitauri, already heading toward them with their usual lack of tact and personal hygiene.
JARVIS' voice chimed in, smooth and ever-reliable. "Sir, I'm detecting a significant number of hostiles inbound. Are we—"
"Yeah, yeah, JARVIS, I got it," Tony interrupted, switching on his repulsors with a satisfying hum. "Let's get to work. Potter, I don't know what kind of magic you're packing, but if it's anything like your energy signature, I'm in for a wild ride."
Harry grinned, and Tony noticed that his hands were now crackling with golden energy, kind of like he was ready to launch fireworks straight into the faces of the Chitauri.
"You ready?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because it's about to get real ugly, real fast."
"Ready," Harry said, stepping forward, his eyes gleaming with determination.
"Good," Tony said with a grin that was about 70% cocky and 30% 'I've definitely got no idea what I'm doing but I'll make it look like I do.' "Let's do this."
And just like that, the two of them—one guy in a flying suit of metal and the other glowing with magic that Tony couldn't even begin to understand—charged straight into the heart of the battle. Aliens didn't know what hit them. Actually, scratch that. They probably did—it was just really fast and painful.
Between Tony's repulsor blasts and Harry's magic—whatever that was—they were the definition of an unlikely duo. But one thing was for sure: the Chitauri were about to find out that messing with New York, and its residents, was a bad idea.
And if they survived this, Tony might just have to get some answers from this Harry Potter guy.
—
The comms crackled to life, and Tony Stark's voice rang out, full of that signature cockiness. "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, everything seemed to freeze. Thor, perched on a rooftop like a thunder god who'd decided to have a little chat with gravity, blinked in confusion. "Harry Potter? What manner of warrior is this? The name sounds like... well, like a name a young boy would shout before his broomstick goes wild."
Natasha Romanoff, elbows-deep in Chitauri guts, turned her head to Clint Barton. "Did Stark just say Harry Potter? I mean, that sounds like a bad joke someone would tell in the middle of a battle to lighten the mood."
Clint's grin was sharp enough to cut glass. "Let's just hope this guy's got more going for him than a fancy name and a wand."
From somewhere off-screen, Captain America's voice cut through the comms like a hot knife through butter. "Alright, Avengers. Let's give our new ally a fighting chance. We need all hands on deck, especially if he's as powerful as Tony says."
Steve Rogers' calm, no-nonsense tone was the sort of thing you could always count on, even in the midst of an alien invasion. But hey, Steve had been there, done that—he'd fought Nazis in the 40s, and now he was fighting space invaders. The guy could handle pretty much anything, including someone named Harry Potter.
Tony took in the situation, his eyes darting between the incoming Chitauri and his new "teammate." Harry was out there, glowing like a human lightbulb and throwing off so much energy that Tony was half-expecting a small sun to appear. The guy was basically a walking magic bomb.
Harry didn't need a wand. Hell, who needs a wand when you can shoot golden lightning from your palms like you're auditioning for a role in Thor 5: Electric Boogaloo? With a wave of his hand, Harry sent a few Chitauri flying through the air like they were nothing more than cardboard cutouts in a windstorm. They crashed into buildings with enough force to make Tony briefly worry that they were about to collapse. But nope—Harry was just getting started.
"Okay, that's new," Tony muttered to himself, already debating whether to upgrade his suit to match this guy's energy levels. "JARVIS, what's the damage?"
"Sir," JARVIS replied, his usual calm, British voice cutting through the chaos, "the energy readings from Mr. Potter are... unparalleled. I've never seen anything quite like it. If he continues at this rate, he may actually cause a temporal distortion."
"Fantastic," Tony grumbled, rolling his eyes as he charged into the fray. "So I'm fighting time now. Just another Tuesday, right?"
Meanwhile, the Avengers had begun to adapt to the situation. Natasha, standing like a spider perched on a shattered building, shot an incredulous look at Clint as Harry obliterated yet another wave of Chitauri. "Not bad for someone who's clearly making it up as he goes."
Clint, never one to miss an opportunity for a wisecrack, grinned. "Hey, if he's as good at saving the world as he is at blowing up aliens, I'm all for it." He loosed another arrow, sending one Chitauri flying in a spectacular burst of smoke and glitter. It was like the world's deadliest game of pin the tail on the alien.
Thor, ever the Viking with a soft spot for warriors, raised his hammer in approval. "I must admit, he fights with the ferocity of a god!" Thor said, though he looked more than a little envious of Harry's golden aura. "This Potter wields a power that rivals even my own."
"You're welcome," Tony called over his shoulder, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rocketed past, blasting another Chitauri out of the sky. "Don't feel too bad, Thor. You're still the only one with the whole god of thunder thing going for you."
Steve Rogers wasn't one for theatrics, but even he couldn't deny that Harry's magic was giving the Chitauri more of a headache than they'd planned on. "Keep it up, Potter!" Steve shouted over the chaos, swinging his shield in a clean arc to take down two Chitauri in one go. "We've got your back!"
Harry's golden eyes lit up with determination. He wasn't here to make friends—or to answer questions about his backstory—he was here to end the fight. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent a shockwave of energy rippling across the battlefield, sending Chitauri flying in all directions.
"You're not bad yourself," Harry said to Steve with a grin, his voice dripping with that cocky ease only someone who knew they were winning could manage.
"That's the understatement of the year," Tony muttered as he spun around in mid-air, taking out another wave of enemies. "Potter, you're making my job look way too easy."
Natasha, who had managed to drop down to ground level, flashed a grin. "At least he's got more style than Clint," she teased, watching as Clint carefully lined up another shot.
"Hey, I don't need style," Clint replied, releasing an arrow that punctured a Chitauri ship with precision. "I just need to hit something."
As the battle raged on, it became clear: this was no longer just a fight against the Chitauri. With Harry Potter's power lighting up the streets of New York, the Avengers had a new ally—and for once, they were actually excited about it.
The tide of the battle shifted. It wasn't just about survival anymore. With Harry's magic and their combined might, the Avengers were winning.
"Avengers," Steve called over the comms, his voice filled with that rare, unmistakable hope. "Let's finish this."
And with that, the city's defenders fought side by side with their unexpected, magical ally, their confidence renewed. They were no longer just surviving—they were thriving, and with Harry Potter in their corner, the fight was far from over.
—
Harry Potter dodged a Chitauri spear like he was stepping around a puddle. He didn't even look up, just flicked a hand and sent the alien soldier hurtling through the air like an unfortunate participant in an anti-gravity experiment gone wrong.
"Tony," he called over the definitely-not-chaotic sounds of battle, "I don't mind playing intergalactic pest control, but maybe a little context? Who are these guys, why do they hate New York, and—oh yeah—how do we make them stop?"
A familiar voice crackled into his ear. "Oh, good. You do requests," Tony Stark quipped. The Iron Man suit zipped overhead, blasting a Chitauri off what was left of a taxi. "Alright, Magic Boy, here's the abridged version: Big Bad Loki—yes, the actual Norse god, not a D&D character—decided to open a very illegal portal and let in an entire army of cosmic cockroaches. Any other questions, or can we get back to not dying?"
Harry arched an eyebrow. "So, Loki, actual Loki, thought, 'Hey, you know what'd be fun? Ruining Manhattan.' That about sum it up?"
"Pretty much," Tony confirmed. "And right now, our main problem is that he's somewhere pulling the strings, and we don't know where."
Harry let that sink in. He was new to the team—if 'getting magically dropped into an alien invasion' counted as joining a team—but he didn't need years of Avenger experience to know that "we don't know" was code for "we're all in deep trouble."
And that? That didn't sit well with him.
His magic flared instinctively, golden sparks dancing around his fingers. His vision shifted as he activated Mage Sight—an ability that let him see magic itself, laid out like a glowing map across reality. And there it was: a shimmering, very-obviously-misleading trail of Asgardian magic, winding through the city like a snake.
"I've got him," Harry announced, his voice edged with certainty.
Tony paused mid-flight. "Wait, what?"
Harry didn't wait. One moment, he was standing on solid ground; the next, he launched into the air, magic coiling around him like a comet trail.
"Whoa, whoa, hold up, Potter! We do things together in this team," Steve Rogers cut in, because of course he did.
"Yeah, sure, Cap," Harry called back. "Just keep up, alright?"
Clint snorted. "I think we just got shown up by a wizard."
Natasha smirked, spinning and kicking a Chitauri soldier off the roof. "Not the weirdest thing that's happened today."
Meanwhile, Thor was watching Harry fly with an expression that could only be described as impressed godly approval. "He soars like a true warrior!"
"Cool," Tony said dryly. "Now we just have to make sure our true warrior doesn't get himself killed before we can yell at him for running off."
J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice, ever-polite and British, chimed in. "Sir, I believe Mr. Potter is heading directly toward a highly concentrated source of alien energy."
"Yeah, no kidding," Tony muttered, already adjusting his trajectory. "Alright, Avengers, new plan—follow the wizard before he gets himself Loki'd."
And just like that, the race was on.
—
Harry Potter landed in front of Loki with all the grace of a dancer—if that dancer was also a small tactical nuke. The force of his arrival sent a shockwave through the rooftop, shattering windows and making Loki, self-proclaimed god and professional drama queen, stumble backward like someone had yanked the stage out from under him.
For a second, Loki just sat there. Processing. Recalculating. Probably regretting some life choices.
Harry cracked his neck and adjusted his grip on his wand, eyeing Loki like a cat sizing up a particularly annoying laser pointer. "So. You're the guy causing all this chaos?"
Loki, ever the performer, dusted himself off with a dramatic flair that suggested he'd chosen to be knocked on his ass. "And who," he sneered, green eyes narrowing, "are you?"
"Oh, me?" Harry asked, as if he hadn't just made a god eat pavement. "I'm Harry Potter. You might've heard of me—saved the world a couple of times, did the whole 'Chosen One' gig, got the T-shirt." He tilted his head. "And right now, I'm really regretting not bringing popcorn, because watching you fail in real-time is hilarious."
Loki's eye twitched. "You dare—"
"Oh, I dare," Harry interrupted, already tired of Loki's 'I'm So Magnificent' monologue. "I double dare. Hell, I triple dog dare."
Loki's lips curled into a sneer. He straightened, once again embodying 'Smug Norse Deity Who Thinks He's Better Than You.' "I am a god, you insolent little—"
"—wizard," Harry finished for him. "I know. You're a god, I'm a wizard, we're both unreasonably attractive—let's skip to the part where I kick your ass."
For a moment, Loki looked personally offended that someone had the audacity to cut short his villain speech. But then his expression shifted—anger melting into something sharper, something thoughtful. His eyes flickered with recognition, and he took a slow step forward, his gaze locking onto Harry like he was suddenly very interested in whatever was standing in front of him.
"Oh," Loki breathed, lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smirk. "You're Seidr."
Harry's magic pulsed in response, golden light crackling at his fingertips. "Not a Seidr," he corrected smoothly. "The Seidr."
Loki's eyes flashed with something unreadable—curiosity? Wariness? Maybe even respect? He tilted his head, studying Harry like one might examine an interesting but potentially dangerous artifact. "You expect me to believe a mere mortal—"
Harry snorted. "Buddy, if I had a Galleon for every time someone called me 'mere,' I'd own my own private planet. Let's cut the posturing and just admit that you're at least a little impressed."
Loki's jaw clenched. "I do not—"
"Uh-huh." Harry gave him a knowing look. "That's why your magic's flaring up like a malfunctioning glow stick right now."
Loki scowled. It was the kind of scowl that suggested he was re-evaluating all his life choices. But then, in true Loki fashion, he smoothed his expression back into one of amused disdain. "Very well," he purred. "You have my attention, wizard. But tell me…" He stepped forward, his voice lowering. "What are you?"
Harry smirked. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know."
The air between them crackled with magic, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife—or, in Harry's case, a particularly well-aimed hex. Loki's fingers twitched, as if itching to summon his daggers. Harry's hand practically hummed with energy.
One thing was clear: this wasn't going to be a conversation.
It was going to be a show.
---
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