Loki, being Loki, decided subtlety was for peasants. One moment, there was one of him. The next, there were twelve, each looking just as annoyingly smug as the original.
Harry sighed. "Really? The classic evil twin routine? That's what we're going with?"
The Lokis grinned in eerie unison. "Why fix what isn't broken?"
Then they attacked, all at once, a swirling chaos of illusions, daggers, and green energy blasts.
Unfortunately for Loki, Harry had long since upgraded from "easily bamboozled schoolboy" to "battle-hardened magical juggernaut." He activated his Mage Sight, a handy little spell that let him see through illusions like they were cheap knock-offs. The fake Lokis flickered like bad holograms. The real Loki? Oh, he stood out like a neon sign screaming, "Hit me!"
Harry didn't waste time. He vanished in a burst of speed, reappearing right in front of the real Loki before the god even had time to blink.
"Hi," Harry said cheerfully, before grabbing Loki by the collar and slamming him into the ground with the kind of force usually reserved for meteor impacts.
The shockwave cracked the pavement, sent cars skidding, and rattled nearby windows. Somewhere, an old man peered out of his shop, shook his head, and muttered about "damn kids these days."
Loki groaned from his brand-new crater. "You do realize," he wheezed, "that I am a god, correct?"
Harry tilted his head. "And yet, here you are, lying in a Loki-shaped hole."
Loki scowled, teleporting a few feet away to regain some dignity. "You hit like a frost giant," he muttered, dusting off his green and gold armor. "It's rather unseemly for a mortal."
Harry smirked. "You keep using that word, and yet I don't think it means what you think it means."
Loki's eyes narrowed. "Cute."
And just like that, he fired a barrage of magic—crackling green energy bolts, each one sizzling with divine power.
Harry flicked his wand, and the first few bolts deflected harmlessly into the sky. The next set, he casually dodged, sidestepping like a Quidditch Seeker playing against toddlers.
Loki snarled. "Hold still and be smited!"
"Smited? Really? That's what we're going with?" Harry countered, rolling under another blast. "I mean, you're supposed to be a word guy, Loki. 'Struck down'? 'Blasted into oblivion'? Anything but smited."
Loki's left eye twitched. "You insufferable—"
Before he could finish, Harry shot forward and blasted Loki point-blank with a concussive wave of raw magic. The god of mischief barely managed to conjure a shield in time, skidding backward as the force sent cracks spiderwebbing across the pavement.
Loki's mind was racing. This was not how things were supposed to go. Harry was fast. Too fast. And his magic? Not the frail, delicate kind Loki associated with Midgardian sorcerers. This was raw, unrelenting power.
Harry stretched his shoulders. "I gotta say, for a so-called god, you're really bad at this whole 'winning' thing."
Loki clenched his fists, green magic crackling at his fingertips. "And you, dear boy, are more trouble than you're worth."
"Flattered," Harry shot back. "Now, do you want to do this the easy way or the dramatic way?"
Loki arched a brow. "There's an easy way?"
"Yeah. You surrender, I tie you up, and you spend the rest of the day reflecting on your life choices."
Loki chuckled darkly. "And the dramatic way?"
Harry's wand glowed. "I keep kicking your ass until you make better choices."
Loki considered this for a fraction of a second—then hurled another attack.
Harry grinned. "Dramatic way it is."
And with that, the battle raged on, two forces of magic colliding in the middle of New York City—one a trickster god, the other a wizard who refused to lose. The air crackled with energy, and somewhere, Tony Stark was definitely placing bets on how long it would take before a building got blown up.
—
Loki, Prince of Asgard, rightful heir of Jotunheim, and the galaxy's number one menace to good decision-making, had officially had enough. His illusions had failed. His spells had failed. His grand, universe-bending mischief had failed.
And now, Harry freaking Potter was standing in front of him, looking way too smug for someone who wasn't technically a god.
Fine. If magic wasn't working, he'd go the old-fashioned route—brute force.
Loki lunged, the Staff of Ultimate Intimidation (not its official name, but it should have been) raised high, ready to smite his irritating opponent. But as he swung down with all the might of an Asgardian prince—nothing happened.
The staff stopped mid-air. Completely frozen, like it had just remembered it left the oven on.
Loki blinked. Harry blinked.
"Well, that's awkward," Harry mused.
Before Loki could respond—probably with some long-winded monologue about how he was burdened with glorious purpose—Harry reached out and plucked the staff from his grasp like a parent confiscating a child's toy.
"Thanks for this," Harry said, giving it a test spin like he was auditioning for a role in a drumline. "It looks important. Does it do tricks?"
Loki's mouth opened, presumably to yell something about how mortals should fear him, but before he could get a word out—
SMACK.
Harry's hand came up and delivered a slap that could have knocked the crown off the Queen of England.
The sound echoed. The city went silent. Even Thor, halfway across the battlefield, winced.
Loki stumbled back, clutching his cheek in absolute disbelief. "You—did you just—?"
Harry didn't even let him finish. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent Loki flying through the air like a particularly dramatic frisbee.
Unfortunately for Loki, his aerial adventure ended in the worst possible way: right into the waiting hands of the Hulk.
"Oh, come on!" Loki groaned.
The Hulk, who had been eyeing Loki like a particularly annoying fly buzzing around his head all day, gave the Asgardian a grin that was deeply unsettling. Then, with all the enthusiasm of a toddler discovering a new toy, he grabbed Loki by the ankle and slammed him into the ground.
And then again. And again.
It was like watching a mop get thoroughly acquainted with a floor.
Tony Stark's voice crackled over the comms, filled with more joy than was probably appropriate. "Did Loki just—wait, is that—hold up, is he peeing himself?"
Clint, from his rooftop perch, snorted. "Oh yeah. That's happening."
Steve Rogers, ever the professional, sighed. "Can we focus, please?"
"I am focused," Tony shot back. "I'm focused on the fact that the literal god of mischief just lost a fight to gravity. And possibly bladder control."
Meanwhile, Loki, now a crumpled heap of regret and shame, groaned from his spot in the rubble. He weakly lifted a hand in surrender. "I yield," he rasped.
The Hulk loomed over him, cracking his knuckles for good measure. He leaned in close, his voice low and gravelly.
"Puny god."
The team comms erupted.
Thor, still swinging Mjolnir around like a madman, actually barked out a laugh. "Brother, I do believe Midgard has humbled you."
Natasha Romanoff, ever the voice of cool, dry amusement, deadpanned, "You really have a way with people, Loki."
Tony, never one to miss a golden opportunity, chimed in again. "JARVIS, please tell me you recorded that."
JARVIS, ever the perfect AI, responded smoothly, "Of course, sir. Would you like me to set it as your morning alarm?"
"Oh, absolutely."
And just like that, the legend of Loki's Most Humiliating Defeat was born—a story that would be told at Avengers HQ for years to come.
—
As Tony Stark landed beside Harry, his signature cocky grin was already in place. "Nice one, Potter," he said, nodding toward Loki, who was still twitching on the ground, nursing his bruised pride. "You really know how to make a god wet his pants."
Harry didn't even blink, though the corner of his mouth quirked up. "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 fire off another zinger, but Harry wasn't interested in a back-and-forth about Norse mythology. His eyes had already locked on the giant, swirling portal in the distance. His mood shifted, becoming more serious. "The energy from that portal is the same as the staff's," Harry said, cutting through the usual banter like a knife through butter. "We might be able to use the staff to close it."
The Avengers paused. Tony froze mid-smirk, Steve stopped flexing his shield, and Natasha's posture tightened. For a moment, they all looked at Harry like he was a puzzle piece that finally snapped into place.
Tony was the first to break the silence, his eyes lighting up like he'd just discovered a new piece of technology. "That might actually work," he said, as if Harry had just invented a new kind of pizza. "Great thinking, Potter."
Captain America didn't waste any time, slapping his shield against his arm and turning toward the team. "Then let's not waste a second," he ordered. "We need to close that portal before it brings more of these things into our world."
"I'm on it," Black Widow's voice crackled through the comms. "I'll head for the portal and see what I can do."
Tony turned back to Harry, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Looks like we've got a plan, Potter. Let's go close that portal and end this madness."
Harry handed the staff to Tony, his gaze steady. "I'll handle the big flying whales in the meantime," he said, completely nonchalant about fighting alien death-beasts. "I'm guessing you've got the whole 'closing portals' thing covered?"
Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "You sure about that? Those things aren't exactly what I'd call 'easy to deal with,'" he said, half-smirking. "And by 'those things,' I mean anything with tentacles."
"I've got it covered," Harry replied, his voice filled with confidence. "You do the tech thing, I'll do the… dragon thing."
Tony eyed him, suspicion flickering in his gaze, but after a beat, he shrugged. "Alright, Potter," he said, though there was a subtle shift in his tone, like he'd come to respect the guy's crazy unpredictability. "Just don't do anything too reckless. You're kind of the 'team wildcard,' you know?"
"Reckless? Who, me?" Harry grinned back, giving Tony a playful wink. "No promises."
With that, Harry leapt from the rooftop, and the world seemed to stop for a moment. As he fell, Harry's body started to change—his limbs stretching, his skin turning a deep, shimmering black. A flash of gold. His body began to elongate into something magnificent, something monstrous. Within seconds, Harry had transformed into a massive black and gold dragon, wings unfurling in a mighty whoosh.
The Avengers stared at the screen in complete silence, watching the impossible unfold.
Tony's voice crackled through the comms, full of that trademark amusement. "Okay, yeah. Didn't see that coming," he quipped, clearly delighted by the spectacle. "Potter's got a few tricks up his sleeve."
"Did he just turn into a dragon?" Clint's voice came through, disbelief and awe in equal measure.
"Yeah, he did," Tony replied, sounding half-proud, half-exhausted. "And that's not even the weirdest thing I've seen today."
Natasha's calm voice cut through the chaos. "Well, this just got interesting."
With a roar that shook the very ground beneath them, Harry—now a towering dragon—soared into the sky, his flames erupting like a fiery furnace. The Chitauri Leviathans, those massive alien beasts that had been wreaking havoc for hours, suddenly had a new problem to contend with. Harry let loose torrents of fire, the flames so hot they practically liquefied the very air around them.
The Leviathans tried to regroup, their massive forms thrashing in the air, but it was no use. Harry's flames consumed them, reducing the beasts to nothing but smoldering piles of ash, their former terrifying presence now a distant memory.
Thor, who had been gleefully swinging his hammer at any Chitauri unlucky enough to cross his path, looked up, blinking in surprise. "By Odin's beard, what is that?" he asked, his jaw hanging open for a split second. "Is that Potter?"
"Well, that's one way to make an entrance," Tony muttered, leaning back against the nearest pillar. "I should've known. The kid's got style."
Steve, though, remained laser-focused. "Stay on mission," he said, still leading the charge. "We have to stop that portal."
"Right," Tony said, his grin spreading wider as he looked back at Harry's dragon form. "But first, I'm going to enjoy watching this."
The rest of the team quickly fell in line, and despite the chaos of the battle, the Avengers felt a strange sense of confidence. Harry Potter, it seemed, was full of surprises.
And as the battle raged on, it became clear: this wasn't just Harry's war. It was their war. And if they had any chance of stopping this invasion, they would have to work together. But at least with Harry on their side, it was going to be one heck of a ride.
—
The scene was pure chaos. Harry, still in his awe-inspiring dragon form, was basically on a mission to rewrite the laws of physics, one fiery Leviathan at a time. He was a big, golden, badass dragon with black scales like something out of a heavy metal album cover, swooping down and torching Chitauri monsters like they were made of paper. And honestly? It was so epic that even Tony Stark, who had definitely seen it all by now, was too stunned to make a smart comment for, like, five whole seconds.
And when Tony did finally speak? It was more like a nervous breakdown in disguise.
"HOLY... did you SEE that?" His voice crackled through the comms, dripping with equal parts awe and sarcasm, like he wasn't entirely sure if this was the best day of his life or the beginning of the end of the world.
"JARVIS," Tony continued, voice way too calm for someone witnessing what was basically a fire-breathing wizard-dragon, "am I having a stroke, or is there really a dragon in New York?"
JARVIS, ever the perfect, sarcastic butler, didn't miss a beat. "Sir, it appears there is indeed a dragon in New York. A very large and very terrifying dragon, at that."
"Great," Tony sighed. "Just when I thought I could go back to having a normal midlife crisis."
Meanwhile, Natasha's voice came through the comms—cool as ice and practically bored, like this was just another Tuesday for her. "Nice dragon. Let's focus on the portal."
"Right, yeah, portal," Steve chimed in, eyes scanning the skyline like a dad who just realized he left his keys in the car. His jaw tightened as he watched Harry, dragon wings flapping like the world's most epic, fire-breathing kite, destroy the last of the Leviathans. "I'll go close the portal."
"Do you want some help with that, Cap?" Clint asked, his voice low and steady. From his position on the ground, he could probably spot any incoming threats before they even reached the team.
Steve just shook his head. "We've got it covered. But we need to keep our eyes on the bigger picture."
And as if to punctuate his point, a distant, ominous whine filled the air.
Tony stiffened. "Uh, guys, about that nuke…"
"Did you say nuke?" Natasha's voice went hard, like a blade suddenly unsheathed. "Where?"
Tony winced. "Well, it's not exactly the kind of thing you bring up at dinner parties. But Fury just told me there's a nuke coming our way. And I know just where to put it."
There was a collective pause. Everyone realized they were already fighting an alien invasion, already up to their eyeballs in dragon-level chaos, and now they were about to add nuclear disaster to the list of things they had to deal with. Just another Tuesday for the Avengers, right?
Harry, who had been busy incinerating the last of the Chitauri scum, turned back toward the group with an almost mischievous glint in his dragon eyes. It was like he was bored, like he was the one who was about to turn the tables on Tony Stark's "crazy plan" with something even more insane.
Without warning, Harry shot toward the incoming nuke with all the grace of a missile himself. His wings beat so powerfully the air around him distorted. Everyone watched, frozen for a split second, as Harry caught the missile in one massive claw like it was a stray frisbee.
"Uh, Harry?" Tony shouted through the comms, his voice half an order, half a panicked suggestion. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Harry didn't respond, because, well, when you're a giant dragon holding a nuclear missile, sometimes the most dramatic thing you can do is shut up and act cool.
With all the grace of someone who could probably eat Tony's favorite suit for breakfast, Harry rocketed straight toward the portal, the nuke tucked snugly under one claw.
"Is he seriously going in there?" Clint asked, the disbelief in his voice almost palpable.
"Yup," Tony replied, voice trembling between awe and utter panic. "And if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you, Rogers."
But Harry was already gone, his massive dragon form vanishing into the portal with a final flap of his wings. He disappeared into the swirling vortex as if he were some cosmic hero straight out of a comic book, leaving the rest of the Avengers staring at the spot where he had just been.
"Did... did he just...?" Steve started.
"Yup," Tony said again, staring at the spot where Harry had disappeared.
A beat of silence passed. Then, the sound of the portal slamming shut echoed through the city. And in the instant that followed, the Avengers—every last one of them—held their breath.
And then—BOOM.
The portal exploded, a shockwave of energy rippling out, but the nuke was gone. And with it, Harry's massive dragon form. He'd closed the portal.
It took a few moments for the dust to settle. For a few seconds, there was nothing but the quiet hum of JARVIS, who, unsurprisingly, had his usual deadpan delivery.
"Sir, it appears that the nuke has been… dealt with. And the portal has been closed. No further threats detected at this time."
Tony let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Okay, yeah, I'm gonna need a drink. Anyone else?"
But before anyone could respond, Steve spoke up, his voice unusually soft for the Captain America everyone was used to.
"He saved us. He saved all of us."
And for once, the banter, the jokes, the constant quips stopped. Everyone just nodded. Because Harry Potter, in whatever form he took, had just saved their world—and their butts—and maybe, just maybe, he was the reason they were all going to survive this mess.
The moment stretched on for a beat too long.
And then Tony Stark, breaking the silence with all the elegance of a wrecking ball, deadpanned, "You think he's gonna get a statue or something? I mean, it's only fair, right?"
And the moment was over.
—
The moment the portal snapped shut—bang—it was like the universe itself was giving a dramatic exit, and the Avengers were left staring, blinking into the sudden silence. The air was still thick with the smell of charred alien and burnt technology, and they were all just standing there, mouths agape, trying to process what had just happened. And then, in the most Harry Potter-esque move possible (because, let's face it, he was practically auditioning for Hogwarts' Drama Club with that performance), Harry just appeared.
One second, nothing. The next, bam, he's back. And looking entirely too smug for someone who just literally dove into a cosmic horror show to save them all.
His dragon armor melted away like butter on a hot day, and out came the high collar. The kind of collar that screams, "I'm here to save the world, but I look ridiculously cool doing it." His mask retracted with a snap, revealing a face that looked like it belonged on a secret agent poster. He flashed a grin—one of those smug, "I'm cooler than you, but I'll let you catch up" smiles—and immediately opened his mouth like he'd just returned from a three-week vacation in the Bahamas instead of nearly getting them all nuked.
"Miss me?" Harry asked, his voice smooth like melted chocolate. His tone suggested that he hadn't just risked his life to stop the apocalypse, but was instead coming back from the kitchen with some snacks.
Tony Stark, being Tony Stark, immediately raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, giving Harry a look like he'd just discovered a new phone model with 10,000 more features than his current one. "Not gonna lie, thought you were a goner there, buddy."
The man had never met a situation he couldn't make into a one-liner, and this one was no different. Tony, ever the gadget-nerd, gave Harry a once-over, probably running some sort of diagnostic in his head about how cool Harry's gear was and where he could steal the design for his own suit.
Natasha, ever the professional spy (you know, the one who could kill you with a spoon and still make it look like a fashion statement), said nothing. Nothing, except the occasional flick of her eyes toward Harry's face—totally casual, but her mind? Running at full speed, trying to map out what this new development meant for the team, the world, and whether she'd need to take extra notes in her spy journal.
Thor, being Thor (and therefore absolutely unfazed by the sheer awesomeness of the situation), threw Harry a massive grin and slapped him on the back with the force of a small car crash. "A brave warrior indeed," Thor boomed, his voice rumbling like a thunderstorm on speed. "Your courage matches that of the finest in Asgard!"
Harry gave Thor a half-shrug, trying not to look too pleased with himself. But let's be real, the guy was wearing a cape, had dragon wings, and just saved the world. The man could hardly help himself.
And then, Captain America, Mr. Straightforward, All-American Idealism himself, extended a hand, looking so earnest you could practically hear the soft patriotic music playing in the background. "It's good to have you with us, Harry," he said, like they'd just met at a PTA meeting instead of in the middle of a massive battle for the planet.
"Yeah, well, you know," Harry said with a grin, shaking Steve's hand and giving him a shrug that might've looked casual to anyone else but was clearly 100% expertly practiced for moments like this. "Someone had to keep the place from going up in smoke, right?"
Before anyone could answer (probably to argue about who actually kept the place from going up in smoke), the ground shook with a deafening thud.
Clint Barton—the only guy who always looked like he had a few too many cups of coffee—peered up and quirked a brow. "Tell me I didn't just feel the Hulk land," he muttered, gripping his bow.
"You did," Tony deadpanned, even as he took a step back. "And now we wait for the impending giant green rage."
Sure enough, Hulk—looking like someone who had spent too much time sitting in traffic and now wanted to smash something—stepped into view. His massive feet left craters as he approached, but his eyes weren't full of fury. No, this was a different look. He was giving Harry the nod.
And when the Hulk gives you a nod? That's like getting a gold medal, a high five from a best friend, and a compliment from your mom, all rolled into one.
"Not bad," Hulk rumbled, his voice so low it could've been mistaken for an earthquake. "Hulk not smash you."
The team froze. Was that a compliment from Hulk? A rare endorsement from the guy who literally only knew two modes—smash and angry sleep mode?
"Did Hulk just… did Hulk just…?" Clint asked, squinting. He seemed too shocked for a guy who shot arrows at gods for a living.
Steve turned to Harry, looking like he was trying to keep his face as serious as possible, but the corners of his mouth twitched. "You've got the Hulk's stamp of approval. Not an easy thing to earn."
"Yeah," Tony added, crossing his arms and leaning back, clearly looking like he was mentally composing a press release about this. "I guess that makes you official, huh?"
Harry chuckled, ruffling his hair—because, seriously, why not? It had been a long, weird day. "Guess that makes me an Avenger now. Not bad for a guy who just learned how to fly yesterday."
"Better than me," Tony muttered, eyeing Harry's effortless flight and imaginary hair flip with some jealousy. "I still need repulsors."
And just like that, Harry was officially one of them. A real Avenger, no longer just some mysterious guy who could possibly be making this all up for fun. They were going to have to keep up. But if anyone could handle it, it was Harry. And probably the Hulk, too.
This was going to be one heck of a ride.
—
It was one of those moments when you could practically feel the collective sigh of relief. The alien invasion was over, the bad guy was down, and, just like that, it was time for Tony Stark to do what he did best—make things about him.
"Well, look at that," Tony said, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "We saved the day." He leaned back, hands clasped behind his head like he'd just casually defeated the forces of evil on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
"Maybe it's time we took a well-deserved day off," he continued, waggling his eyebrows dramatically. "Who's up for some shawarma?" Because, clearly, a world-ending alien invasion was nothing compared to the importance of some good, post-battle kebab.
Clint immediately raised an eyebrow, clearly contemplating it. "I'm not saying no to shawarma."
"Seriously? We're not even gonna discuss how we literally just saved the world? We're gonna go right into 'food priorities?'" Steve's voice cut through like a sword through butter—straight to the heart of the issue.
Tony, momentarily put off, rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. But we're definitely getting shawarma after. No questions."
"You heard the man." Clint threw up his hands. "You've got about ten minutes of rest before I'm demanding food."
"Right, and now back to business," Steve cut in, hands on his hips, face set into that signature Captain America seriousness. "We've still got Loki to deal with."
Tony pouted like a kid whose favorite toy was just taken away. "Cap, you're really killing my vibe. Can't we just drag him back to Asgard after a snack break?"
"I'll go ahead and be the responsible one, thank you," Steve replied, sounding like he was born with the innate knowledge of how to lead a team through thick and thin.
"Always the buzzkill," Tony muttered, crossing his arms like a kid who didn't get his way.
"Focus," Natasha interjected, her gaze shifting over to where Loki lay—still unconscious from the last round of Avengers chaos. "We've got work to do."
Loki, of course, was being Loki. The second he stirred, looking like he'd just taken a nap and not, you know, been defeated by an entire team of Avengers, he smirked like the world was his stage. "Ah, how the mighty have fallen," he began, his voice dripping with smug superiority.
But Harry, being Harry, had other plans. He took one step forward, all the nonchalant attitude in the world, and with a flick of his wrist, sent Loki back to dreamland with a spell that was so casual, you could almost mistake it for a magic trick at a children's birthday party.
"Don't even think about it, Reindeer Games," Harry muttered, stepping over Loki's unconscious form with a flick of his hand that neatly tied him up in ropes as if he was an over-caffeinated Christmas present.
The Avengers blinked.
"Well," Tony started, raising an eyebrow. "That was... efficient."
"I could get used to that," Clint added, grinning like a man who had just witnessed the best magic show ever.
Loki didn't even stir, probably still unconscious and nursing a bruised ego.
"I have to admit," Tony said, as he began scanning the area for possible snacks (because priorities), "I don't think we've ever had an Avenger with such a flair for handling business." He turned to Harry with a grin that was a little too playful for comfort. "Next time, let's just send you in first. Saves us all the trouble."
"Glad to be of service," Harry replied with a wink that could only be described as "cooler-than-thou." If he had a leather jacket on, he would've casually flipped it over his shoulder just to make a point.
"Well, now that we're all set," Steve said, looking down at Loki's tied-up form. "Let's get this guy back to Asgard, and maybe—just maybe—get that shawarma Tony promised."
"Finally!" Tony crowed, rubbing his hands together in triumph. "Now we're talking! To the shawarma!"
As they started moving, Harry turned to the still-tied-up Loki, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here. "Sweet dreams, Reindeer Games," Harry added, voice low enough for only the Avengers to hear, but loud enough to carry that little bit of snark.
And the team, for once, agreed—Loki was definitely going to have some interesting nightmares. Hopefully involving the Hulk and the kind of rage only a green monster could bring.
—
As the dust settled and SHIELD agents were on their way to pick up Loki, Harry took a moment to survey the aftermath. The room looked like a tornado had decided to throw a tantrum, leaving broken furniture, shattered glass, and a general sense of "well, that wasn't exactly a spa day."
But, as he'd learned from dealing with chaos since, well, forever, he wasn't one to leave a mess behind.
With a casual flick of his wrist, Harry muttered a quick incantation—something that sounded a little like "Accio IKEA instruction manual" but was, in fact, far more useful. Magic, after all, didn't always come with an "easy-to-follow guide." He made a small gesture, and the magic swirled around him like a gust of wind, the air crackling with energy as he set about cleaning up the battlefield.
Shattered glass floated back into its frame, furniture righted itself, and the walls practically gleamed with the kind of cleanliness you only got after three hours of an obsessive-compulsive cleaning binge and an endless supply of Windex. The place practically squeaked with tidiness as if it had never known the horrors of alien invasion.
The Avengers and SHIELD agents watched, mouths agape, as Harry turned chaos into calm, like it was nothing. Honestly, he wasn't even breaking a sweat—well, maybe a little, but that was mostly because he was mentally planning what snack he'd order once this whole debacle was over.
Maria Hill looked like she'd just witnessed a magic show, only without the top hat. "I—I mean… I've never seen anything like that." Her words trailed off as she took in the pristine, unscarred room. "That's—impressive."
Harry gave her a half-smile, shaking off his wand. "Thanks. It's just a little bit of cleaning magic. A special kind of spell, you know? Takes years of practice, or, in my case, years of dealing with my house after parties." He shot a cheeky glance at Tony, who was already grinning like he'd just seen the world's greatest magic trick.
Tony raised an eyebrow, looking from the freshly repaired room to Harry, then back at the bar like he was seriously considering his options. "Nice job, Potter," he said, voice thick with that signature mix of admiration and cheek. "If you ever get tired of saving the world, I'm always in need of a good housekeeper at Stark Tower. Bonus points for cleaning up after the Hulk."
Harry smirked. "I'll keep that in mind, Stark. I mean, you've already got Jarvis to clean up your messes, right? I'm just an extra set of hands." He glanced over at the rest of the team. "Plus, you really don't want me coming over after a pizza night. Trust me."
"Fair point," Tony replied, a snort escaping him. "JARVIS, don't let Potter anywhere near my kitchen after a Super Bowl party." He turned to walk over to the bar like he owned the place, which, let's be honest, he probably did. The rest of the Avengers just exchanged amused looks.
"Appreciate the cleanup, Potter," Steve added, standing with his arms crossed, nodding to him in silent approval. "That was something else. You've got some skill."
"Oh, you know, just a little something I picked up after cleaning up the wizarding world's messes. No big deal." Harry grinned, playing it off, but inside, he was definitely thinking finally—someone appreciates the art of spellcraft.
Clint, from across the room, shot a thumbs up and mumbled, "Seriously though, I'll take you over a vacuum cleaner any day."
"Agreed," Natasha chimed in, tossing him a look. "Just—please don't make a habit of cleaning up all the time. There's only so much perfection I can stand in one day."
"Hey, I'm all about giving the universe some balance," Harry replied smoothly. "For example, Loki's over there taking a nap, and the room? Well, that's basically the opposite of what it looked like ten minutes ago. Balance."
Maria Hill crossed her arms, staring at the now-buried Loki, who was still bound like a Christmas ham. "Well, that's certainly a change of pace. I'll give you that."
Loki, of course, was not having the best day. He had just been knocked out by a kid with a magic wand and was now tied up in what appeared to be an impromptu magical straitjacket. His eyes fluttered open for a second, only to meet Harry's cool gaze.
"Ah, Potter," Loki muttered, his voice groggy, though still dripping with arrogance. "Such a charming display of power. How about you release me, and we call it a day? Perhaps I'll give you a chance to worship me later."
Harry crouched down next to him with a smirk. "You're lucky I didn't turn you into a ferret again. Just be quiet, will you?"
Loki, realizing he wasn't going to get much sympathy here, just sighed. "The indignity."
"Yeah, tell me about it. I've been there." Harry straightened up, winking at the Avengers. "I'm sure you're all dying to interrogate him, but I'm betting that'll take forever. I mean, who wants to listen to a god babble about how brilliant they are for, like, hours?"
Thor, who had been standing by the window and looking a little... Thorish, let out a hearty laugh. "Indeed! A true god of mischief, who is never boring. It is his own voice that tires the ears."
"Thank you, Thor," Harry said, grinning at the Asgardian. "Finally, someone who gets it."
Tony, now holding a glass of something definitely alcoholic, raised an eyebrow. "Well, with this team, anything can happen. One minute we're fighting aliens, the next, we're cleaning up after them like it's a Sunday afternoon. Let's get Loki to SHIELD, then… shawarma?"
"Absolutely." Steve's tone had a smile hidden behind it.
And just like that, they all got back to business. Loki was dragged off to a SHIELD containment van like the defeated bad guy he was, while Harry gave one last glance at the pristine room.
"Not bad," he muttered to himself. "Not bad at all."
---
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