The days before the mission were a blur of genius-level science, backstabbing spy games, and Harry trying not to get too distracted by the mountains of magical textbooks he was buried under. Honestly, it felt like a chaotic rollercoaster of tech, espionage, and ancient spells—and not the good kind that had you flying over magical castles.
Tony and Bruce were practically living in the lab, their brains buzzing faster than Tony's ego on a good day. The lab looked less like a science haven and more like a mad scientist's workshop after a Red Bull bender. Tony was tinkering with tech, cracking jokes about needing a "more stylish" suit for Bruce's next Hulk-out, while Bruce was quietly muttering to himself about how magic and science didn't mix. He said it like it was a bad joke no one got. Harry, on the other hand, was in a corner, looking like he had just raided the library at Hogwarts. Seriously, who needed that many ancient books on dark magic? Apparently, Harry did. He flipped through pages with the kind of speed that would've given Hermione Granger a run for her money.
Meanwhile, Clint and Natasha were having a blast. Well, Clint looked like he was having fun. Natasha, as usual, was the picture of stoic professionalism, but Clint? Clint was in his element. "I'm telling you, Natasha, nothing says 'we're serious' like a sleek black jumpsuit and a pair of sweet spy glasses," Clint said, adjusting his shades in the most spy way possible. Natasha, ever the skeptic, gave him an unamused look. "If you say so, Clint."
"Don't knock it till you try it," he winked, as if he was some kind of secret agent—despite the fact they were preparing for a full-blown war with a crazy evil organization.
Of course, Steve Rogers was busy making sure everyone was mentally prepared for the mission. His speeches were the kind that made you want to go and do a thousand push-ups for fun. Not that Harry was going to do that, but still. Steve's leadership was a well-oiled machine of self-assurance and quiet authority. "Everyone has a part to play," Steve's voice rang over the comms. "We stick together, and we stop this."
And then, because this was the Avengers, Tony had to make everything sound cool. "Alright, Cap, but can we make the bad guys scream like they've been hit by an Asgardian lightning bolt? I need that dramatic effect."
Harry muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, "You're the reason I drink." Clint snorted, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. Natasha just shot Harry a look that said, I get it, but can we focus on saving the world for once?
Finally, the day arrived. The Quinjet was roaring through the clouds like a caffeinated bird of prey. Steve gave his usual 'we got this' speech over the comms, sounding like a pep talk from a high school sports movie. But Harry wasn't fooled. He could feel the tension in the air, like a storm was about to break.
The Quinjet landed with a thud on the snow-covered ground of the Swiss Alps. If it wasn't for the fact that they were charging headfirst into danger, Harry would've appreciated the view. There was something majestic about the place, even if it was currently a base of operations for a bunch of magic-obsessed maniacs.
"Okay, Avengers," Steve's voice crackled in their ears. "This is it. HYDRA's going down today. Let's make sure they don't have a chance to put their evil plans into action." He paused, giving them all a moment to gear up. "Avengers, move out."
And with that, they were off. Clint was the first one out, of course. He didn't need a moment to prepare; Clint Barton just went. He was already on the move, scanning the area, darting from cover to cover, like a highly trained raccoon on caffeine.
Natasha followed closely behind, all stealth and quiet grace. "Keep your heads down and stay sharp," she murmured to Harry, her eyes scanning the snowy horizon. "We need to get past their defenses without getting noticed."
Tony was next, flexing his fingers in the air as if preparing for a grand performance. "Time to shine, people. Or, y'know, at least make sure we don't get blown up into tiny, unidentifiable bits." He gave a thumbs-up as his suit powered up, and for a moment, Harry could've sworn Tony was about to launch into one of his "I'm a genius" monologues. But then, Tony's AI, JARVIS, interrupted with one of his calm, British tones. "Sir, the magical wards are stronger than anticipated. I suggest a more... measured approach."
"Right, right," Tony grumbled. "No need to ruin my fun." He waved a dismissive hand, then added, "Just give me a minute to make sure we don't get fried by dark magic."
Bruce and Harry were the last to exit, both silently acknowledging the importance of their individual contributions. Bruce had to keep the tech working while Harry, well, Harry was the magic expert here. "I'll take care of the magical stuff," Harry said, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckles. "It's what I'm good at."
"Sure you will," Clint teased, "Just don't turn anyone into a toad, alright? We don't need another mutant frog running around."
Harry shot him a look, a grin tugging at his lips. "What, you don't want to be magically transformed into a stunning amphibian? It's an upgrade."
Tony snickered from the back of the group. "Now that would be a sight. Clint Barton, the world's first toad assassin. You'd sell so many action figures."
Steve, ever the good captain, motioned for them all to move forward. "Focus, everyone. Darkhold. Whitehall. Let's make sure it doesn't end in 'goodbye, world.'"
And with that, the Avengers made their way toward the HYDRA base, their steps echoing in the snow. But Harry couldn't help but feel the tension tightening in his chest. Sure, he had magical expertise, and yeah, he could handle a few evil books—but this was the Darkhold. If it was as bad as everyone said, then this was going to be a lot more dangerous than any of them realized.
Still, as Harry cast one last glance at the team, he gave himself a mental pep talk. Let's go save the world, because apparently, that's my job now.
—
The Quinjet touched down on a ridge so hidden, it practically winked at the surrounding rocks. If you've ever seen a chameleon at a masquerade, you know what I'm talking about—totally undetectable unless you're looking for it. Of course, if you had a team of Avengers with you, that made sneaking around look easy.
Harry led the charge, as usual. A muttered incantation under his breath, and the first layer of HYDRA's magical defenses fell faster than you could say, "This feels like a video game." Honestly, it was like watching a guy rip through a sheet of paper. If the paper was a heavily fortified secret base and the ink was dark magic.
"First layer down," Harry reported into his comms like it was no big deal. "Moving to the second." His voice had that casual triumph tone, as if he had just completed an epic feat—like finding the last donut in a box full of empty boxes. (He's had practice.)
Meanwhile, back at the Quinjet, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner were in full "science nerd" mode, setting up their toys like they were preparing for some high-stakes dinner party. Tony was working on an EMP—his repulsors were humming with contentment, as if he'd just had his morning coffee. Bruce? Well, Bruce was the calm in the storm, keeping an eye on everything like a guy who's just a couple of seconds away from creating a small black hole.
"EMP ready in three, two, one—" Tony's voice was so calm, you'd think he was talking about his upcoming vacation. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the EMP surged to life, sending a silent wave through the base's electronic systems. It was like watching a kid swat a fly with a baseball bat—smooth, fast, and absolutely devastating.
"Systems are down," Bruce confirmed with a nod, almost like a doctor giving you the all clear after a particularly invasive procedure. "You're clear to proceed."
And proceed they did. Clint and Natasha were on the move next. I don't know how they do it, but the two of them practically dissolved into the shadows like someone had hit the 'stealth mode' button. Clint was out front, releasing arrows with the kind of accuracy that made Legolas look like an amateur, while Natasha was... well, Natasha. She was out there taking down HYDRA soldiers with grace that could only be described as a deadly ballet—except, you know, without the tutu.
"You think we should leave them a 'Sorry we killed you' card?" Clint whispered as he nailed a guy in the back of the head with an arrow.
"Only if it's handwritten," Natasha replied, barely breaking a sweat as she incapacitated another guard with her Widow's Bite. "Preferably in blood."
"I'll get the pens," Clint muttered, casually firing off another arrow. If anyone else was around, they might have questioned how he was able to juggle banter and deadly precision at the same time. But with Clint, it was just another Tuesday.
They were moving fast—really fast—because time wasn't exactly on their side. They had one shot at this. One. The Avengers were now deep inside the base, their steps echoing in the cold concrete halls. The closer they got to the Darkhold, the more tense it felt, like one of those moments in a superhero movie where everything goes quiet right before the epic final showdown.
"You know, Cap," Tony said over the comms, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm starting to feel like we're in one of those old-school spy movies. The ones where someone inevitably gets caught and we all have to break out in some dramatic escape scene. I vote Clint's the guy who gets caught, for obvious reasons."
"I vote you stop talking," Steve's voice cut through the banter, calm but firm as ever. "Focus, Tony."
"Focus?" Tony said, the kind of disbelief in his voice that only Tony Stark could pull off. "Cap, focus is my middle name. Actually, it's 'Robert,' but we'll call it 'Focus' for the sake of this mission."
"Noted," Steve replied, clearly not impressed. But even through his tone, you could tell Steve was the kind of leader who took everything in stride. He'd seen it all before. Probably faced down worse odds than this, too. But that didn't stop him from keeping everyone else in line.
At that point, Harry didn't say anything over the comms, but he could feel the weight of the mission settling in his gut. They were getting closer—too close to the Darkhold. A book filled with dark magic that had the potential to mess up the entire world if it fell into the wrong hands. It was like one of those moments when you walk into a room, and everything feels a little... off. He had a feeling things were about to get really intense.
"Almost there," Harry said finally, his voice low and steady. "Just keep it together, team. We're about to find out what kind of monster we're dealing with."
And just like that, the Avengers were on the edge of something big. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. No turning back. They were about to find out what kind of chaos the Darkhold could unleash, and whether or not they could stop it in time.
Which, of course, no pressure.
—
Inside the base, Harry was going full-on magical powerhouse, slicing through wards with the same casual ease as someone dismantling a Jenga tower. If Jenga involved dark energy, ancient protection spells, and the fate of the world hanging in the balance, that is. Each layer of protection was more complicated than the last, but thanks to his training with the Ancient One (yes, Harry was that cool), he felt like he could solve a magical Rubik's Cube blindfolded—while riding a bike. While dodging traffic. You get the idea.
"Second layer down," Harry muttered into the comms, tapping his wand against the air like it was a drumstick on an invisible snare. His face twisted in concentration, but you'd never know it from the casual tone. "Feels like I'm playing chess with someone who's been using dark magic for centuries. Guess who's winning?"
"Better you than me, kid," Tony's voice crackled in Harry's earpiece. "It's a good thing I didn't sign up for this 'magical mystery tour.'"
"Yeah, well," Harry shot back, "some of us aren't afraid of magic. Also, I think the Darkhold's about to send me a friendship card—one of those, 'Thanks for playing, now here's a curse to ruin your day' types."
"Noted," Steve's steady voice cut through the banter, the guy never needing to waste energy on sarcasm, unlike Tony. "Keep pushing. We're right behind you."
And right behind him they were, as things got a lot more interesting. The deeper the Avengers went into the base, the harder the place pushed back. HYDRA soldiers started popping up like they were on a timed conveyor belt, and things turned from "creepy-crawly base with magic vibes" to "all-out battle royale" faster than you could say "superhero showdown."
Steve was the first to charge ahead, his shield in hand, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think the guy was auditioning for some kind of "superhero dodgeball" tournament. He deflected bullets and energy blasts with the kind of precision that made you wonder if he had a sixth sense for this kind of thing—or maybe he was just that good. Whatever it was, it was impressive.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Tony shouted over the comms as he fired up his repulsors, which lit up the corridor like a bonus level in a video game. "Dance, my metallic friend!" He shouted to his suit, as if it could hear him and respond with some heroic head bobbing. You know, classic Tony.
"I think it's more of a 'laser tag' kind of vibe," Bruce added, his voice slightly muffled through the Hulkbuster suit's speaker. He wasn't wrong—the suit was wrecking shop, dishing out punches and blasts like a walking tank that didn't know the meaning of "taking it easy."
Meanwhile, Clint and Natasha were playing their version of the world's most lethal game of tag. Clint's arrows were practically flying themselves at this point, and if there was a scoreboard, they'd be winning by a mile. He managed to take out one guy with a perfectly timed shot to the head while hanging upside down from a ventilation shaft.
"Hey, I was aiming for the ankle," Clint said, voice full of mock disappointment as he reloaded another arrow. "But this works too."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Natasha said from the other end of the corridor, her voice smooth and deadly. She took out another guard with her Widow's Bite and added, "Just don't mess up my kill count, Barton. I'm winning this round."
"I think it's adorable when you try," Clint called back, popping another arrow into his bow, clearly unfazed by his teammate's deadly accuracy. "You'll have plenty of chances to catch up once we've finished saving the world."
Harry couldn't help but laugh at the banter coming through the comms, but even so, the tension in the air was real. They were so close to the Darkhold now that it almost felt like it was calling to him. Harry's skin crawled, and not from the fight. No, it was that dark energy—the kind that made you feel like someone was breathing down your neck, waiting to strike.
"We're getting close," Harry said, trying to sound calm, but it was hard to mask the sense of unease creeping up on him. "I can feel it. The Darkhold's magic—it's like—like a shadow in the pit of my stomach."
"Stay focused," Steve's voice came back, somehow still steady even as they fought their way through a literal army. "We're with you."
"We're with you!" Tony repeated with gusto. "Except not literally, because, you know, we've all got our own thing going on here. Like not getting shot. But, still, we're with you."
"Thanks, Tony," Harry replied dryly. "Very comforting."
It was a full-blown Avengers spectacle by the time they reached the inner sanctum. Clint had an arrow in mid-flight, Natasha was flipping through the air like she was auditioning for a martial arts movie, Steve was using his shield like it was his second best friend, and Bruce's Hulkbuster was creating chaos wherever it stomped. Every step brought them closer to the Darkhold, but also closer to the fight of their lives.
But the closer they got, the more intense the resistance became. HYDRA wasn't going to let them just waltz in and grab the thing. And Harry? Harry was just starting to feel that weird pull, like something was waiting for him to mess up. Something ancient. Something evil.
And suddenly, he wasn't sure if he was ready for the storm he was about to unleash.
"Let's make this count," Harry muttered, a grin tugging at his lips. "We don't get many opportunities to save the world... but I'll take the trophy when we do."
—
They finally reached the inner sanctum—because of course they did. The room looked like it had been designed by someone with an obsession for Gothic horror and a flair for melodrama. The walls were covered in strange symbols, flickering candles casting long shadows, and the air felt thick, like it had been marinating in doom for centuries. And then there was Daniel Whitehall, standing by the Darkhold, looking like he was one dramatic monologue away from becoming the star of a bad action movie.
"Ah, you've arrived," Whitehall sneered, his voice smooth and unsettling. "And just in time for the grand finale."
If you were a supervillain, and you had to make an entrance, you couldn't have scripted it better. He raised his hands like he was about to conduct an orchestra of evil, and suddenly, the room felt like it was being sucked into a vortex of dark energy. It was like the magical equivalent of a bad breakup. Lots of screaming, things falling apart, and a general sense of impending doom.
Now, in case you're wondering, yes, Harry Potter did feel a twinge of unease. But, being the trained, hardened wizard he was (and slightly overconfident, if we're being honest), he decided this was the perfect moment to look calm. Not that it was easy, especially when dark magic was literally sizzling through the air.
"Hold on," Harry said, doing that thing where he spoke like everything was totally under control, even though nothing about this situation screamed 'calm.' He flicked his wrist, and a pulse of light shot toward Whitehall's incantation. "Not today, buddy."
Whitehall paused mid-gargling-rocks-incantation, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "You think you can stop me, boy?"
Harry grinned. "Boy? Who are you calling boy? I'm Harry Potter, and I've got way more style than you."
Whitehall didn't have time to respond because boom, the Avengers stormed in like they were auditioning for a team-based superhero film. Steve Rogers, looking as perfect as a human-shaped superhero sculpture, threw his shield at a couple of incoming HYDRA grunts with deadly precision.
"On your left!" Steve shouted, like a battle cry that could've been part of a motivational speech for underdogs everywhere.
"Jeez, Steve," Tony Stark quipped, repulsors blasting. "Could you not make this look like some Captain America origin story?"
"Sorry, Tony," Steve called over his shoulder. "I'm just trying to make the moment more heroic."
Clint Barton, of course, was already picking off soldiers from a distance. You couldn't even hear him move; he was basically the human embodiment of a deadly, invisible sniper. Natasha Romanoff, in typical Natasha fashion, was moving like a shadow, taking down enemies with grace and precision. She even tossed Clint a wink as she took out a guard with a well-placed knee.
"You're welcome," Clint muttered, and there was the tiniest grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I got your back, Nat."
Meanwhile, Tony was absolutely loving the chaos. His suit's repulsors lit up the room like a disco on high speed. "Okay, okay, I get it, guys. You're all making me look bad," he said, dodging incoming fire. "But I'll allow it. I'm just here for the light show."
The Hulkbuster suit, courtesy of Bruce Banner, was practically tearing through the room, knocking out enemies like they were bowling pins. "Just... don't... mess with me," Bruce grumbled through the suit's mic, clearly not in the mood for any more drama.
In the middle of all the madness, Harry spotted his opening. Whitehall was so wrapped up in his villain monologue and unleashing dark energy that he didn't even notice the protective shield Harry threw around the Darkhold, yanking it toward him like it was a bad Tinder date he wanted to get rid of.
"Got it," Harry shouted, a flick of his wand pushing the Darkhold into a glowing, shimmering magical bubble. "This is my 'don't mess with me' moment."
Whitehall's expression twisted from smug superiority to full-on panic. "No! You can't—"
His voice was cut off by an earsplitting scream as the Darkhold's magic recoiled from Harry's containment spell. Whitehall's dark energy crumbled like a cheap set in a high-school play. He collapsed to the floor, looking as defeated as a villain at the end of a Netflix binge session.
"Aw, poor guy," Harry said, looking down at Whitehall, who was groaning on the ground. "You tried. You really did. But you're just not that good at this whole villain thing."
As the magical energy settled, the team regrouped, with Clint brushing dust off his jacket like he'd just returned from a walk in the park.
"Nice job, Potty," Clint said, giving Harry a nod. "You've got a real flair for the dramatic."
"Yeah, but I saved all the fun for after the monologue," Harry shot back, grinning. "That's how it's done."
Steve clapped Harry on the back, probably harder than necessary, but it didn't matter because the guy was Captain America. "Good work, Harry. Couldn't have done it without you."
Harry gave him a half-smile. "Well, you know, I'm just here to make everyone look good."
"I think Tony had that covered," Natasha quipped, raising an eyebrow as she gestured to Tony, who was adjusting his suit like it had just been through a warzone.
"Hey, I make the style look good," Tony said, completely ignoring the fact that he was the one getting half the room blown up. "It's a talent."
As they moved to secure the Darkhold in a containment field, Bruce hovered near the group, finally taking off his helmet. "We still need to figure out how to keep it safe," he said. "This thing's got power we don't even understand yet."
"Yeah, but don't worry," Tony added, tossing a cocky grin toward the team. "We've got it. What's the worst that could happen?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "You know that's never the right thing to say, right?"
With Whitehall and his creepy dark book taken care of, the Avengers had, for the moment, won the battle. But as they headed back to the Quinjet, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that this was just one chapter in a much bigger story. HYDRA was still lurking, and the Darkhold was just one piece of the puzzle.
"Keep an eye on that thing," Harry muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "We're only scratching the surface."
And with that ominous thought, they took off, leaving the world slightly safer—at least until the next round of cosmic chaos decided to come knocking.
—
The Quinjet roared through the sky, leaving the Swiss Alps and the wreckage of the HYDRA base behind it. Inside the cabin, the Avengers were still catching their breath, the weight of their victory still settling. Harry cradled the Darkhold in his hands like it was a live grenade, its dark energy squirming against his magical barrier like it was trying to get out and cause chaos. Which, let's be real, was pretty much the vibe of the Darkhold in general.
Harry set the cursed book on the table with a thunk, and the room fell into a tense silence. Everyone knew the stakes, but no one really wanted to be the one to deal with it.
"So," Harry said, breaking the silence with the kind of casual tone you'd use to talk about a sports game, "we need to figure out what to do with this bad boy."
Clint, who'd been leaning against the wall with a half-empty water bottle, raised an eyebrow. "Bad boy? Dude, that thing looks like it's got a death wish."
"That's because it does," Harry said, shooting him a grin. "You don't mess with this thing unless you want your soul twisted like a pretzel." He tapped the book lightly with a finger. "HYDRA already got their hands on it once, and look where that got us. We can't just stash it in the basement somewhere and hope for the best. That'd be like giving a toddler a bazooka and saying, 'Just don't point it at anything important.'"
Tony snorted. "Yeah, because 'don't point it at anything important' always works out so well." He turned to Steve. "What do you think, Cap? You've been the guy who keeps things from going south. Got any ideas?"
Steve nodded, but his gaze never left the Darkhold. "You're the magic guy, Harry. What do we do with this thing?"
Harry cracked his knuckles. "Well, in the world of magic, there's this thing called a Fidelius Charm. Think of it as a magical hide-and-seek spell, but without the 'finding' part. Once the spell is cast, only those told by the Secret Keeper can even see the thing you're hiding. It's like putting the world's worst-kept secret in a safe and then locking that safe in a vault."
Clint leaned forward, glancing at the book. "That sounds... fun. So who's gonna hold the keys to this magical hideout?"
Harry paused, casting a side-eye at the group. "Well, it's gotta be someone trustworthy. Someone who won't start making bad decisions after their third glass of wine." He glanced at Tony, who gave him a mock offended look. "Someone who's not likely to be in the middle of a supervillain brawl every other week."
"Yeah, well, that leaves about four of us," Tony said with a chuckle. "Not that I don't trust you, Harry, but the Fidelius thing... that's a big responsibility."
Steve gave a pointed look at Harry. "You've been holding onto it pretty well so far. You think it could work for you?"
Harry winced. "I'd love to be the hero who solves all the problems, but this thing is too much, even for me. And I'm technically immortal, but... this? This could screw me up. I've heard people get messed up just by touching it. No thanks."
Bruce, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation, finally spoke up. "What about Pepper? She's smart, reliable, and not exactly on the front lines every day. Plus, she knows how to handle sensitive things."
Tony's face softened at the mention of Pepper. "Pepper's a good choice. I'd trust her with my life." He paused, then added, "But you're right—she's not out there getting into fistfights with supervillains every week."
Harry nodded. "Exactly. Pepper's level-headed, and she's got enough sense to know what to do with something this dangerous. I'll cast the charm and make sure she knows just how serious it is."
Clint shot Harry a sideways look. "Wait, so you're telling me you trust Pepper more than any of us to keep a book that literally eats souls safe?"
Harry grinned. "Pepper's got a better track record than most of us. Plus, she's way better at keeping things under wraps than some of you." He shot a glance at Tony, who made a show of looking innocent.
"Hey, don't drag me into this," Tony said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I only build half of the world's most dangerous tech, okay?"
Harry just shrugged. "All right, so it's decided. Pepper's our Secret Keeper. And don't worry, I'll make sure the Fidelius charm is airtight. This Darkhold will be more hidden than my secret stash of chocolate."
Bruce cleared his throat. "Just, uh, make sure it works. We don't need another incident."
"Good call, Doc," Clint said with a smirk. "We'd hate to get that 'oops, my bad' call from Pepper."
Tony turned to JARVIS, his ever-present voice of reason. "JARVIS, can you get the containment field ready for the Darkhold when we land?"
"Of course, Mr. Stark," JARVIS replied smoothly. "I will ensure the artifact is secured in the safest possible manner."
As the Quinjet approached Avengers Tower, the team exchanged a few quiet words. Harry sat back in his seat, feeling a bit of relief wash over him. For now, the Darkhold was safe, and that was something. But as he glanced out the window, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the real battle was still ahead. HYDRA wasn't done, and neither were the darker forces that had their eye on the book.
One problem at a time, though. For today, the good guys had won. And maybe, just maybe, the universe would cut them a little slack for once.
But then again, Harry thought with a grin, it is the universe. When has it ever cut anyone a break?
---
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