The Quinjet was slicing through the clouds at a speed that made even Tony Stark look up from his gadgetry and raise an eyebrow in approval. Sokovia was coming into view, and things were about to get real.
Inside, the Avengers were huddled around Tony's shiny, over-the-top holographic display like it was some kind of futuristic pizza menu. The thing was so intricate, it might as well have come with a warning label: "For Professional Superheroes Only."
"Alright, listen up, people," Tony said, leaning against the side with his usual cocky grin plastered on his face. "Here's the plan: We're going to storm this HYDRA facility like a bunch of kids crashing a cake shop at 3 a.m. They won't know what hit them." He tapped a few buttons, and suddenly a 3D map of Sokovia appeared in mid-air, complete with flashing red dots where the enemy was. "This is our target. Baron Strucker's up to something twisted in there, and we're going to ruin his whole day."
"That's great, but let's not forget the whole saving people part of the mission," Steve added with that steady, Captain America voice. "We're not just here for the fight. We're here for the prisoners too. Let's keep that in mind."
"Right, Steve, saving people," Tony muttered, rolling his eyes. "As if this isn't a walk in the park already."
"Not for you, Stark," Clint quipped from his spot in the back, arms crossed, his ever-present smirk in place. "You get to hide behind all your gadgets and let us do the hard work."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Tony said with mock indignation. "Would you like me to make a bunch of delightful arrows for you while I'm at it?"
Clint raised an eyebrow. "That would be useful."
Natasha, who was seated next to Clint, smirked without looking up from her tablet. "I think Clint's getting soft. Maybe we should leave him in the back with Bruce so they can have their own special science club while we handle the real action."
Bruce, sitting off to the side, sighed and adjusted his glasses. "I don't have a science club, Natasha. And I'm still a little concerned about Hulk-sized... interruptions."
Tony shot a look at Bruce. "Come on, Bruce. We all know you're the one who can't wait to get big and green. It's your favorite hobby."
Bruce gave him a flat look. "I'm not interested in smashing today. I just want to make sure we don't destroy anything unnecessarily."
"You are a buzzkill," Tony quipped, grinning ear to ear. "But fine. No Hulk action. Yet."
"Can we get back to the plan?" Steve interjected, clearly trying to keep everything on track.
Harry, who had been mostly quiet up until then, leaned forward with a raised eyebrow. "You guys know, if we're going in guns blazing, we could always make it a little more... fun. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, just saying."
"Do tell, Potter," Clint said, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "What have you got for us?"
Harry grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "Well, there's this little thing I like to call 'tactical surprise.' Nothing says 'we're here to wreck your day' like a well-timed explosion and some cool magic. I could—"
"Save it for the bad guys," Tony cut in. "We're not here to impress each other. Well, I am, but that's beside the point. The plan is simple: We'll storm the facility, kick some HYDRA ass, rescue the prisoners, and leave Strucker wishing he'd stayed in whatever dark hole he crawled out of."
"Right, but how are we getting in?" Natasha asked, already thinking ahead, her eyes scanning the map.
Tony tapped a few more buttons, and a plan laid out like a superhero's treasure map. "JARVIS has got the perimeter covered. We've got stealth entry, surprise backup, and a getaway car ready to roll when we're done. You guys won't even break a sweat."
"Except for Clint," Steve said with a dry smile. "He'll sweat through his arrows."
Clint let out a dramatic groan. "I knew I'd get heat for the arrow thing. You know, I'm practically a one-man army with these."
"I know, Clint," Tony said, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. "But I think the rest of us might be a little more... effective at taking down a whole facility."
"Shots fired," Clint muttered, shaking his head.
"We're in position for entry," JARVIS's voice cut through the banter with calm precision. "All systems are ready. You'll be landing in approximately ten minutes."
"That's our cue, then," Steve said, standing and walking toward the exit. "Everyone get ready. We're about to bring the fight to Strucker."
As the Quinjet descended toward Sokovia, the team started gearing up. Tony fiddled with his suit, Bruce double-checked his gear (with a little muttering to himself), Clint adjusted his arrows like they were his prized possessions, and Natasha gave Harry a glance.
"So, Potter," she said, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her lips, "what's this 'magic' you keep bragging about?"
Harry's smile was the kind that said I'm about to ruin your world. "Just wait, Natasha. You'll see."
And with that, the Quinjet touched down. The mission was about to begin. With a bang.
—
Harry moved through the jungle like a ghost, or more accurately, like someone who had paid good money for an invisibility cloak and wasn't going to waste it. The cloak, now permanently fused with his soul (which, yeah, sounded kind of mystical and heavy, but whatever), worked its usual brand of magic, turning Harry into one with the shadows. Seriously, if someone had walked by and blinked, they'd miss him entirely.
The jungle was a maze of thick vines and trees that looked like they'd been on a juice cleanse for centuries. But Harry wasn't worried about getting lost. He wasn't even worried about making a sound. He could practically hear his footsteps whispering into the air like they were trying not to wake up the trees.
Not a single guard, not a single surveillance camera, stood a chance against his sneaky magic. He'd slipped past patrols and ducked under cameras like he was auditioning for a role in Mission: Impossible—Jungle Edition. Honestly, at this point, even James Bond would have been jealous.
Meanwhile, up ahead, Harry could hear the Avengers doing their thing. A full-on spectacle of explosions, gunfire, and—if he had to guess—Tony Stark's very enthusiastic commentary. The sound of chaos was comforting in a twisted way. They were drawing all the attention to themselves, giving Harry the perfect distraction. It was like his own personal red carpet of mayhem leading straight to the HYDRA base.
"Yeah, that's right," Tony's voice crackled in Harry's earpiece, like some sort of high-tech personal cheerleader. "Let me handle the loud stuff. You get the sneaky stuff. You know, the cool stuff. I'm not saying I'm the brains of the operation, but I'm definitely the muscle."
"Please, Stark. You couldn't sneak past a sleeping owl if you tried," Harry muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "I'm the one who's getting us through this without tripping over every damn twig."
"Yeah, yeah, we get it, Potter. You're the real hero here," Tony's voice responded with sarcasm thick enough to slice through. "Just keep your invisibility on and get us something we can use. The Avengers are very capable, but they're not exactly great at the whole subtle thing."
"No kidding," Harry muttered, dodging another overzealous plant that seemed determined to grab him. "It's like they're setting off fireworks every five minutes."
His senses were dialed to eleven, scanning the area like a radar on steroids. Every crackle of a branch or rustle of leaves was a possible threat. But nothing got past him. Not even the faintest sound from a guard in the distance could escape his heightened awareness.
The base loomed ahead now, humming with the cold, metallic energy of a well-oiled villainous machine. It wasn't just a base; it was like a high-security bee hive, and he was about to bust in like a fly in a very bad mood. The only problem was that the closer he got, the more the tension started to build.
It was a feeling Harry couldn't shake—a weird pressure in his chest. It wasn't fear, not exactly. It was just... anticipation. It's not every day you get to take down a bunch of freakin' HYDRA agents.
Up ahead, he heard shouting—guards arguing about something, probably their favorite snack or, more likely, the fact that they were about to get ambushed by one of the world's most overpowered superheroes.
Harry crouched low, eyes scanning the facility's entrance. Everything about this mission screamed danger. But danger was kind of his thing, wasn't it?
A burst of gunfire echoed in the distance, signaling that the Avengers were doing what they did best: causing absolute chaos. Nice distraction. Harry's cue.
He darted through the narrow alleyway between two buildings, silent as a cat (well, maybe a really stealthy cat). He could hear the gunfire outside the base, but he was focused, narrowing in on Strucker's hideout like it was a video game boss he had to beat before lunch.
Every now and then, the air would crackle with static as Tony's voice floated in, "You're good to go, Potter. Just keep it up."
"Not a single thanks for the fact that I'm saving your skin here," Harry muttered under his breath. "No appreciation. Just wow, Potter, you're awesome."
The thing about sneaking into enemy bases was that it wasn't glamorous. It was like being in a bad dream where nothing quite made sense, and every turn you took felt like it was the wrong one. But Harry was in the zone, channeling his inner ninja. Or... okay, let's be real—he was more like a magical version of Jackie Chan. No, not the stunt guy. More like the guy who'd take down ten dudes in one fight while cracking jokes.
"Can't get too cocky," Harry murmured to himself as he slipped through another security checkpoint. "But hey, I do have invisibility and the fate of the world riding on me. I'm basically a walking legend."
A deep voice interrupted his internal monologue. "Potter, do not get cocky," Steve Rogers' voice echoed in his earpiece. "We still have a lot of ground to cover."
Harry rolled his eyes, the sound of Steve's voice reminding him that real heroes didn't get distracted by their own awesomeness. Which was fine, but c'mon, Steve. It wasn't every day Harry got to be a one-man army with a cloak, magic, and a lot of rage against HYDRA.
"Roger that, Cap," Harry replied, grinning. "I'm on it."
—
Harry slipped into the dimly lit room, his footsteps so light it was like he was walking on a cloud. The cloak—well, his soul cloak—was still doing its thing, making him practically invisible. He didn't need it for long though. What he saw when he finally spotted the two teenagers made him wish he could have gone back to the part of the mission where he was just blowing stuff up with the Avengers.
The twins were huddled against the cold, concrete wall, their faces pale and drawn like they'd been put through some kind of horror movie marathon—only the worst part was it wasn't fake. The boy had hair so white it could've doubled as a snowstorm, and the girl's auburn locks looked like they'd been singed by a firestorm. Not exactly the perfect picture of someone who'd just had a fun spa day.
They were barely hanging on, physically and mentally, but something in Harry's gut twisted. These kids had been through hell. And who exactly was to blame? Spoiler alert: It was Baron Strucker. Guy probably had an award for "Most Villainous Villain Ever" on his shelf.
But no time to dwell on that. Not when there were lives at stake.
With a flick of his wrist, Harry made his cloak vanish, and there he was—out in the open like a very, very flawed superhero. "Hey, it's okay," he said, trying to sound soothing, though seriously, he couldn't imagine how terrifying it was to be stuck in a HYDRA cell one moment and face to face with a guy who could literally stop time. "You're safe now. I'm here to help."
The twins didn't exactly share his enthusiasm. In fact, they looked at him like he was an illusion, some weird mirage they weren't quite sure was real. The kind of look that told Harry they had every reason to be way more cautious about him than they should be.
The boy, his white hair sticking up like he'd just been electrocuted (which, yeah, was probably an actual concern for him), looked at Harry like he was sizing him up. But when Harry mentioned the other test subjects, the kid's voice was flat—like he'd heard it all before and wasn't remotely surprised.
"They're dead," the boy said, his tone so heavy it could've made a grown man weep.
There was something in his voice, though, that made Harry's senses tingle. Maybe it was the sharp edge of resentment, or the flicker of something darker. Whatever it was, Harry wasn't about to just nod and walk away. No, this kid had secrets, and Harry had way too much curiosity for his own good.
So, without asking for permission, Harry dove into the kid's head. You know, Legilimency-style. The kind of dive that felt like jumping into a freezing cold lake in the middle of a thunderstorm. The images hit him like a train: pain, screams, experiments gone wrong, lives snuffed out like candles in a windstorm.
And then there was something else—something flickering in the wreckage. A spark of defiance. A stubborn little ember that refused to be crushed.
Harry was caught in it, swimming through the mess of trauma and rage when suddenly, everything went south.
Wanda, the girl with the firestorm hair, glowed like she was about to launch her own personal fireworks show. Harry barely had a second to think before he reacted. He wasn't about to get zapped into oblivion. With a swish of his wrist, Harry cast a stunning spell, and Wanda dropped like a ragdoll, her magic fizzling out as fast as it had flared up.
The boy's eyes went wide, and before Harry could even blink, he was charging at him like a caffeinated squirrel hopped up on espresso. Seriously, these kids had some speed—it was like he was staring down the world's fastest track runner, only this guy was angrier.
But Harry had his own tricks up his sleeve. With a quick, well-practiced flick, another stunning spell shot out. The boy dropped faster than a bad joke, his momentum completely nullified by Harry's magic.
Now, with both twins out cold, Harry couldn't help but smirk to himself. Yeah, he was good at this. Really good.
"Okay," he muttered, looking over the twins. "That went better than expected."
"Not exactly 'saving the day,' is it?" a voice piped up in his earpiece. It was Tony Stark, obviously.
"I'm saving the day here, Stark. You're just busy playing with your toys." Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't make me come over there and pull your—"
"Just make sure they are secured, Potter," Tony interrupted, not missing a beat. "We've got the fireworks going, but we need you to finish the show."
"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Stark, I'm on it." Harry checked on the twins again. They were still unconscious, their bodies slumped in a way that looked suspiciously like he'd just taken a nap after running a marathon. Which, honestly, wasn't a bad idea. But no time for napping, not when HYDRA was up to no good.
As Harry carefully restrained them—making sure they weren't going to wake up too mad—he felt the weight of the mission start to settle on his shoulders. The Avengers had the distraction covered, but this? This was his moment. The twins were going to be the key to taking Strucker down.
And Harry was just the guy to make sure that happened.
—
Harry snapped open his communication device with the kind of flair that only a guy like him could manage. It was smooth, effortless, like something straight out of a spy movie. Honestly, it should've had some dramatic sound effects—cue James Bond music.
"Cap, this is Seidr," Harry said, his voice as casual as if he were chatting about the weather, though inside he was still riding high from taking down two superpowered teens in under ten minutes. "I've got two test subjects here, twins. Apparently, HYDRA thought it would be a great idea to turn them into lab rats. They're not exactly friendly, but they're down for now. I'd suggest Iron Man steer clear of them like they're radioactive pizza. Over."
There was a brief, static-filled pause before Steve Rogers' voice came through, clear and commanding. "Got it, Seidr. We've breached the base. I'm heading your way to secure the twins, while Iron Man handles the data dump. Keep your eyes open for Strucker. Over."
Harry couldn't help but grin. Steve Rogers. The guy who could face down armies of aliens, Nazis, and a hundred different kinds of supervillains and still sound like he was giving someone a firm handshake.
"Roger that, Cap," Harry replied, trying his best not to sound like he was about to face a horde of mutant werewolves. "I'll hang out here and play detective. Don't worry about Strucker—he's not getting away. Over and out."
The line went silent, but Harry could practically hear the click of Steve's boots on the floor, moving with that steady, no-nonsense rhythm. That was Captain America for you—always the guy who charged into the battle without a second thought, ready to clean up the mess left behind.
"Alright," Harry muttered to himself, looking at the twins sprawled out like ragdolls, still out cold. He waved his wand, making sure their restraints were secure. He wasn't really sure what they'd do if they woke up. They were fast. And angry. Not exactly his idea of a great time, especially when you considered the fact that they both had enough power to level a city block in the wrong mood. But hey, he was Harry Potter, and nothing scared him. Except maybe a bad haircut.
The base was eerily quiet. It was like Strucker was playing a game of Where's Waldo? but with way more danger and less of the whimsical red-and-white-striped hat. Every shadow seemed to shift and stretch, and Harry's fingers twitched toward his wand.
"This is gonna be fun," Harry muttered under his breath. "Just me, the twins, and the Hydra-boss who thinks he can play god."
Before he could finish that thought, a voice crackled through the comms again. Tony Stark, being Tony Stark, of course. "Seidr, do I have to worry about any more surprise parties? Because I'm kind of busy here doing actual work—again—and I'd rather not get ambushed by a bunch of angry super-powered teens with emotional baggage."
Harry snorted. "I'd tell you to be careful, Stark, but you probably already have an army of drones following you around, so I think you're fine." He gave the unconscious twins another glance. "But, yeah, they're super fun, so you might wanna pass on the hugs when you get here. Oh, and if you need me to fetch a coffee or do your taxes, let me know."
Tony's voice sounded oddly smug on the other end. "I'll let you know when I'm desperate enough for tax help. Just don't get killed, okay? And maybe try not to blow anything up."
"Sure thing," Harry replied, "I'll save the explosions for later. Don't want to ruin your dramatic entrance."
As Harry looked around, feeling the tension build, he couldn't help but think—this was just another day in the life of Harry Potter. Whether he was blasting through a wizard's lair or going toe-to-toe with HYDRA, it was always the same. Dangerous? Check. Ridiculous? Double-check. But one thing was for sure: he was always up for the challenge.
So, with a final look at the twins (who still looked more like they were about to audition for a horror movie than anything else), Harry took a deep breath and prepared for what was next. Strucker was out there. And Harry wasn't going to let him get away this time.
He was ready.
"Time to hunt the big fish," Harry said with a grin, cracking his knuckles. "Let's hope Strucker's got a good hiding spot."
—
Harry flicked his wrist, his magic flaring to life like a supercharged GPS. His senses ignited, illuminating a map of the base in his mind, with every hallway and secret room now laid out in glowing detail. He locked onto Strucker's position, the HYDRA villain practically glowing with bad guy energy. The jerk was holed up near where Hawkeye and Black Widow were, which made it seem like he had a flair for picking the most inconvenient places to hide.
"Cap, I'm handing off the twins to you," Harry said, his voice smooth but carrying the urgency of a guy who was about to step into a showdown. "Strucker's chilling near Clint and Nat. Tell them to put their 'danger is coming' face on."
There was a slight delay, then the familiar sound of Steve Rogers' voice. "Got it, Seidr. We'll be ready. Stay safe, over."
"Yeah, sure," Harry muttered, though there was no real concern. He didn't plan on being anywhere near unsafe. Not when he was on a mission. "I'm just trying to make sure your friends don't get into trouble, Cap."
Before he could hear Steve's inevitable sarcastic comeback, Harry switched focus, kicking into high gear. He was already moving, gliding through the base with the kind of finesse that made you think he was a wizard in a stealth movie—minus the melodramatic music and unnecessary slow-mo. The floor beneath him practically hummed as his magic kept him light on his feet, dodging lasers and guards with all the grace of a gymnast and all the intensity of a caffeinated cat.
His thoughts flickered to Tony, and he couldn't help but imagine the guy having a panic attack over a latte, or maybe complaining about his suit malfunctioning—again. That was a very Tony Stark thing to do.
"Hey, JARVIS," Harry called out through the comms, his tone casual, like he was asking for directions. "Think you can keep the enemy distracted for me? You know, send some fancy holograms or sarcastic quips?"
"Master Seidr, I do believe that is exactly what I am here for," came JARVIS's voice, cool and refined, but with a hint of amusement. "Shall I deploy the invisible drones or the definitely not invisible ones?"
"Whichever makes it look like you've got more flair," Harry said, ducking into a hallway and seamlessly conjuring up a shield to deflect a stray bullet. "And for the record, I'm expecting a massive explosion on my way out."
JARVIS responded, tone deadpan as usual. "I will ensure it is appropriately massive."
Just when Harry thought he couldn't be more on top of his game, Clint Barton's voice came over the comms with that signature snark. "Hey, Seidr, I hope you're not sending me more uninvited guests. I'm kind of busy not being shot at right now."
"You're welcome," Harry deadpanned. "You'll thank me later when Strucker's on the floor and I don't have to save your life. Again."
Clint's chuckle was faint, but it was there. "I don't know, I like the way I look in a hospital gown."
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you in a clown suit, but we can't all be classy."
It was the usual banter between them—Clint, snarky with just the right amount of grimness, and Harry, always ready to throw out a savage burn with a grin.
"Anyway, focus, guys," Natasha's voice cut through, sounding as cool and deadly as ever. "We've got company, and we don't need any more distractions." Her words were sharp, like she'd been born with a switch for 'no-nonsense' mode.
"Don't worry, Nat," Harry responded, weaving his way through another hallway. "I'm on Strucker's tail like a cat with a laser pointer."
"Please don't make that comparison," Clint muttered. "You know I have PTSD from cats. Also, laser pointers. It's a whole thing."
Harry shot Clint a mental grin, but kept his focus on Strucker. The bastard was close, and Harry could practically smell the villainous perfume wafting in the air. It was an odd mix of desperation and old cologne.
As he rounded another corner, the thrill of the chase hit him full force. This was what he lived for. Confrontation. Danger. Saving the day. It was like being in a high-stakes video game, but with far more collateral damage and far less chance of respawning.
And as he drew closer, Harry couldn't help but think, You know what's better than a villain being captured? A villain being caught in the most humiliating way possible. It was his favorite kind of success.
"Cap, Strucker's a few hallways down," Harry called through the comms, voice still light but with an undertone of a guy who was about to make the magic happen. "Tell the team to get ready for a showdown."
"You're giving the orders now, Seidr?" Steve's voice had that amused edge, like he was just waiting for Harry to do something heroic and a little over-the-top. "You are getting cocky."
"I prefer to call it confidence, Cap," Harry shot back, already grinning at the mental picture of Strucker's imminent defeat. "But if I were a betting man, I'd say you're about to watch a very interesting finale."
And with that, Harry moved in, fully aware that the next few minutes were going to be the kind of epic you'd want to replay in slow motion.
—
As Harry sprinted toward the fray, the sound of battle hit him like a punch to the gut—a symphony of chaos. Gunfire cracked and popped like an angry drum solo, and the sizzling buzz of high-tech energy weapons hummed in the air, each shot a little too close for comfort. Hawkeye and Black Widow were huddled together behind a decaying wall, fighting off a horde of HYDRA goons with that perfect mix of grace, precision, and utter nope that only comes from years of experience. It was like watching a high-speed game of whack-a-mole, only with a lot more death and a lot fewer prizes.
Harry, however, didn't need to be part of the crowd. He was the main character in this blockbuster, and if there was one thing Harry Potter knew how to do, it was make an entrance. With a flick of his wrist, Loki's Staff emerged from his pouch, the dark metal gleaming as ominous as the plot twists in any good thriller. He followed it up with a sword of pure golden energy, glowing so brightly it could've lit up an entire city block. It was the kind of thing that would make even a Sith Lord take a second look, and a perfect setup for a heroic moment.
"Alright, let's do this," Harry muttered to himself, grinning like someone about to get the best seat at a fireworks show.
He rushed forward, his magic pulsing through him like a turbocharged engine. The HYDRA soldiers didn't know what hit them—they were too busy gawking at his display of glowing blades and mystical power to realize they were about to be sliced and diced. With a swing of his golden sword, Harry cut through their ranks like a hot knife through butter, his movements so fast they could've been an Olympic event. Guards were sent flying, weapons disintegrating under the pure force of Harry's magic.
"Impressive," Natasha's voice cut through his triumph, cool and calculating. She wasn't quite impressed enough to stop firing, though. The woman didn't stop working, even in the middle of a fight. "I was expecting maybe a dramatic entrance. You've outdone yourself."
"Hey, all part of the job," Harry said, still grinning. "It's like a live-action fantasy novel, but with way more explosions and less brooding."
"Right. Just don't go all 'chosen one' on us," Clint chimed in, a sarcastic edge to his voice as he loosed a perfectly timed arrow into an advancing soldier's chest. "We've got enough of those in the team already."
"Don't worry, I won't start quoting ancient prophecies just yet," Harry called back, his eyes already scanning the battlefield for Strucker.
But just as he said that, he caught sight of the man—Baron Wolfgang von Strucker, looking way too composed for someone who was about to meet their end. His eyes widened as he saw Harry charging in, his jaw tightening in that way only people who really think they can win would do.
Harry smirked. "Nice try, Strucker. But the hero always wins."
And just like that, Harry was on him. With a movement that could've been mistaken for a blur of magic and muscle, Harry closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Strucker's eyes flickered with panic—good. Harry grabbed him by the collar, yanking him off his feet like he weighed as much as a paperweight.
"You—!" Strucker started, but Harry wasn't in the mood for speeches.
"You are the reason this whole mess is going down, and you're about to get a nice front-row seat to the end of your little experiment," Harry said, his voice cool, his grip tight. He could feel Strucker's heart pounding against his hand, and that was the sound of a villain who knew they were about to be served.
Harry dragged Strucker forward, the HYDRA villain's face a mixture of fear and defiance, though mostly fear. The guy was not going to get away from this one.
"Strucker, your reign of terror ends now. You've been wrecking lives for too long, and there's no magic trick that'll save you."
As Harry spoke, the sounds of battle seemed to die down a bit. Clint's arrows were no longer cutting through the air, Natasha's gunfire paused. It was like everything had slowed for a second, everyone waiting for Harry's big moment. It was almost cinematic. And, being the showman he was, Harry gave them the kind of pause that said yeah, I'm a big deal.
Behind him, Hawkeye finally lowered his bow, a smug grin on his face as he glanced at Natasha. "Called it," he muttered, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm. "He's got that 'leading man' look about him. I bet he even says something dramatic."
"Maybe you should try it sometime," Natasha shot back, clearly unimpressed, but even she couldn't hide the small curve of her lips. "But it's okay, Clint. Some people are born to be heroes, others... well, they just shoot arrows."
Harry gave them both an exaggerated wink, feeling like a rockstar on stage.
"Thanks for the support, guys," Harry said as he spun Strucker around, slamming the man into the cracked concrete wall. "But this is the part where you take a nice long nap."
Strucker sneered, but Harry didn't give him a chance to make any more threats. He lifted the staff with a flick of his wrist, knocking Strucker's weapon out of his hands with a resounding clang that echoed through the wreckage. Strucker looked at Harry with desperation in his eyes, and for the first time, it wasn't the desperation of someone with a plan—it was the panic of someone realizing their plan had just gone down in flames.
"Time to say goodbye, Strucker," Harry said, and in one swift motion, sent Strucker flying into the hands of Clint and Natasha, who were already on their way to make sure the HYDRA man stayed down for the count.
The sound of victory was a familiar one—the sound of silence after the storm. The battlefield had gone from chaos to calm, and it was all thanks to Harry's grand entrance. But even as the team moved to secure the villain, Harry couldn't help but look around and think, Yeah, this was definitely going to make a good story someday.
Maybe a little too good.
---
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