Revelations
Harry and Hermione had barely been back in New York for a day, and already he felt a sense of unease. Settling into the home Hermione had picked and decorated, Harry lounged around, trying to shake the lingering awkwardness that still clung to him. As much as he wanted to believe he was over everything, thoughts of Peter and Wade kept creeping in. He cared about them deeply, but embarrassment gnawed at him, making him question whether he should even stay. How had he convinced himself that they liked him, too?
He was stretched out on the couch, lost in thought, when the sound of a siren wailing past caught his attention. His body tensed instinctively, itching to act. Hermione, noticing his reaction, glanced over with a smile.
"Go on," she urged. "Save the day. Just come back safe, yeah?"
Harry couldn't help but smile, her support warming his heart. He leaned down, kissed her on the forehead, and swiftly suited up. Grabbing his invisible broom, he flew out the window, chasing the police car below that was in hot pursuit of something. It wasn't long before Harry caught up, landing in front of the car they were after. With a flick of his wand, the engine died, and the car screeched to a halt.
The driver bolted out, running for his life, while the passenger pulled a gun and aimed it at Harry. Without flinching, Harry deflected the bullets with a quick shield charm. He was about to chase after the fleeing driver when, out of nowhere, webs shot past him, wrapping around the runner and yanking him to the ground.
"Got that one, Harry!" Peter shouted from above. "You handle the other!"
Harry gave a brief nod and turned his attention to the passenger, who was still waving the gun around. Before Harry could act, Wade joined the chase, running at full speed.
Ignoring Wade, Harry focused on the shooter. When the gun went off again, Harry deflected the bullets, ensuring no civilians got hurt. Wade threw something—probably one of his knives—tripping the man and sending him tumbling to the ground. With a quick binding spell, Harry immobilized the criminal.
"Great teamwork!" Wade grinned, clearly pleased.
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, I guess."
Peter swung down beside them, his mask pulled halfway up, flashing his familiar smile. "You're back! We missed ya!"
Harry shrugged again, trying to act unaffected. "Eh, you guys had each other's backs. I'm sure it was all good."
Wade immediately shook his head. "Nah, it wasn't the same without you."
The awkwardness lingered between them. Peter, ever hopeful, broke the silence. "Dinner? Tacos?"
"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed, though his heart wasn’t in it.
They found themselves on a rooftop not long after, each with tacos in hand, the familiar sight of the city skyline around them. But the atmosphere was heavy, the usual banter absent. They ate quietly, the silence stretching uncomfortably.
After finishing his taco, Harry decided to break the tension. "Listen, guys, about the other night..." He hesitated, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I got too drunk and acted dumb."
Wade shook his head. "It's okay, but... we should talk about what happened that night."
Peter nodded. "Yeah, we really should talk."
But Harry quickly waved them off, his voice firm. "No, we really don’t have to. It was dumb. I..." He hesitated again, the lie already forming in his mind. "I only said that shit because I was drunk." He lied, his heart sinking as the words left his mouth. "You guys are my best friends, and I... I was just too drunk and said some things I didn’t mean. I’m sorry."
Peter and Wade froze, the words hitting them harder than they expected. They exchanged a brief look, unsure of what to say. The weight of disappointment settled over them.
Harry, noticing their pause, continued quickly, trying to push through the discomfort. "And I know you guys like each other. You should... you know, get together. You look good together. I’m glad we can still be friends. I probably won’t be around as often, though. I got a job at the Ministry here in America, and I bought a few companies, so... yeah." He shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I’ll still suit up when I have the time, and we’ll see each other around."
Wade frowned, his voice soft. "You sure? If this is about us rejecting you—"
Harry interrupted, forcing a smile. "No, I’m glad you shut it down. Now no one did anything they’ll regret."
Peter’s voice was gentle, his brow furrowed. "We wouldn’t have regretted anything, Harry."
Harry’s smile faltered, the hurt bubbling up despite his attempts to push it down. "Then why did you stop me?" He asked, his voice quieter now, but with a bitter bite. But before they could answer, he shook his head. "It doesn’t matter. You two like each other, and I don’t like either of you. So everything worked out.”
He took a step back, the emotional wall rising between them. "I’m glad we talked. Now... I have to go."
And before either of them could say another word, Harry disappeared with a crack, leaving Peter and Wade standing on the rooftop, the weight of everything left unsaid heavy in the night air.
Wade’s fists clenched tighter as his anger flared, unable to contain the hurt bubbling inside him. “So he didn’t mean it? None of it? It was all just a drunken mistake?”
Peter sighed, trying to find the right words, but even he felt lost. “Hermione said we broke his heart. Maybe he’s just saying that because he’s still upset, Wade. He’s trying to push us away because he’s hurt.”
Wade shook his head furiously, pacing back and forth on the rooftop. “Or maybe it was just one big joke to him! We barely know the guy, Pete! He kissed me, made me think he cared, then says he doesn’t like me like that?!” His voice cracked, the anger barely masking the pain. “Well, fuck him!”
“Wade, come on, calm down,” Peter said, stepping forward cautiously. “Harry’s hurting too. We hurt his feelings. He just needs—”
“Well, he hurt mine!” Wade interrupted, his voice trembling with rage. “And fuck you too, Pete for defending him!”
Peter flinched at the venom in Wade’s voice, feeling the sting of the words, but tried to keep his cool. “Wade, don’t do this. We’re all hurt, okay? But you can’t take this out on me.”
Wade turned on him, eyes blazing with betrayal. “Why the hell not?! You convinced me he cared about us! You convinced me he was falling for us just like we were falling for him! Now look where we are! It’s all a joke to him!”
Peter’s frustration boiled over, his voice rising. “I didn’t make him kiss you, Wade! I didn’t make him walk away! We were trying to figure it out! You can’t pin this all on me!”
Wade’s face contorted with pain and fury, his voice laced with bitterness. “Maybe we never should’ve tried! Maybe this was all a mistake from the start!”
Peter’s eyes flared with disbelief, his own hurt bubbling up now. “Don’t you dare say that! We—”
But Wade wasn’t listening. His anger had reached a breaking point, and before Peter could say another word, Wade spun on his heel and stormed off, heading for the edge of the rooftop.
“Wade, wait!” Peter called out, his voice cracking with desperation. But Wade didn’t turn around, didn’t slow down. He vaulted over the edge of the building and disappeared into the night.
Peter stood there, breathing heavily, the empty space where Wade had been only moments before now a hollow ache in his chest. He felt the weight of everything crash down on him, the shattered pieces of what could have been with Harry and Wade now scattered and broken.
He was alone.
Harry landed with a soft pop, appearing in the familiar hallway of the town home he shared with Hermione. He was exhausted, his mind still buzzing from the conversation, but he was also unsettled by the lies he’d told. The guilt weighed on him like a heavy cloak.
As he closed the door behind him, he saw Hermione sitting on the couch, arms crossed, her eyes scanning him closely. She didn’t have to say anything—Harry knew what was coming.
“Well?” she asked, her voice stern but concerned.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the memory of the lies he’d told. “We saved New York,” he said, attempting to sidestep her question.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, not fooled for a second. “That’s not what I meant, Harry James Potter.”
Harry winced, feeling the full weight of her disappointment. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but he had to come clean. “I spoke to them,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“And?” Hermione prompted, her gaze never leaving him.
“I lied,” Harry confessed, his throat tight. “I told them I didn’t like them. I was just drunk,” he whispered. “Then I told them they should be together, and I ran.” His shoulders sagged as the words hung in the air.
Hermione’s expression shifted from concern to quiet disappointment. She didn’t say anything right away, but the hurt in her eyes was enough to make Harry feel even worse. “Harry…” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“Please, Hermione, I don’t want to talk about it tonight,” he said, his voice breaking. He felt like he had already done enough damage, and the last thing he wanted was a lecture on top of it all.
For a moment, Hermione just looked at him, her disappointment clear. But then, with a heavy sigh, she softened. She opened her arms to him, and Harry didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room quickly and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a long, comforting hug. He buried his face in her hair, letting the warmth of her presence soothe him, even if only for a moment.
“It’s going to be okay,” Hermione murmured, her voice gentle as she stroked his back. “You’ll figure it out, Harry.”
“Thank you,” Harry whispered, clinging to her for a moment longer.
She pulled back slightly, looking at him with a faint smile. “Alright, let’s cook dinner, yeah?”
He nodded, grateful for her understanding, and they moved to the kitchen together. As they prepared dinner, they put on a record—a classic one that Harry always seemed to gravitate toward. The soft crackle of the vinyl filled the air as they chopped vegetables, seasoned the food, and moved around each other in a comfortable rhythm.
At one point, as they sautéed onions, Harry spun Hermione, making her laugh. The sound of her giggle lifted his spirits a little, a reminder of the bond they shared despite the rough patch they were going through. He smiled and spun her again, the music flowing around them as they cooked together, their movements easy and natural.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for that moment. They worked in silence, save for the occasional hum or soft words exchanged as they prepared their meal. Finally, dinner was ready, and they sat down to eat, the warmth of the food matching the warmth of their quiet evening together.
---
The next few days, though, were harder. Harry found himself sulking around the apartment, unable to shake off the feeling that he had made a mess of things. Hermione, ever practical, returned to work, leaving Harry with too much time on his hands. He knew he couldn’t continue this way; he couldn’t just wallow in regret.
He needed a purpose, something to focus on. So, after a few moments of thought, Harry decided to take action. He had in fact lied to Peter and Wade about a job in the ministry, but that didn't mean it was a bad idea.
He glanced at the mirror and cast a glamour, changing his appearance to make himself look around twenty-nine or so. He dressed in an expensive suit—one he had never worn before, but which felt like the right choice for the occasion. He wanted to be taken seriously. He wanted to look like someone who had his life together, even if it felt like the opposite.
Harry took one last look at himself in the mirror, straightened his tie, and nodded to his reflection. He could do this. He had to do this.
With that, he stepped out of the apartment and into the world, ready to face whatever came next.
As soon as he stepped inside the bustling ministry building, whispers followed him. Wizards and witches turned their heads, eyes wide, recognizing him instantly. Apparently, the fame of Harry Potter had traveled far beyond Britain. Harry had expected some recognition, but nothing like the attention he was receiving.
A tall, stern-looking wizard with glasses and a badge marked "Security" approached him swiftly. "Mr. Potter, right? The president has been expecting you."
Harry blinked in surprise. "The president?"
"Yes, Samuel G. Quahog. If you'll follow me."
Caught off guard but intrigued, Harry followed the security guard through the building until they reached an expansive office. The man knocked once before opening the door and ushering Harry in.
Behind the large mahogany desk sat President Samuel G. Quahog, a middle-aged wizard with a neatly trimmed beard and an air of authority about him. He stood as Harry entered, a broad smile spreading across his face.
"Harry Potter! The man who saved wizardkind," Quahog said, extending his hand warmly. "It's an honor to finally meet you."
Harry shook his hand, still a bit flustered. "Thank you, sir. I, uh, didn't realize you knew I was coming."
Quahog chuckled. "We keep tabs on the important figures in our world, Mr. Potter. And, of course, you’re at the top of that list. Have a seat." He gestured toward a chair opposite the desk.
Harry sat down, feeling a bit out of place but curious about where this was headed.
“I’ve heard about your situation back in Britain,” Quahog began, leaning forward. “The way they treated you—disgusting, truly. To think, after everything you’ve done for them. You should know, here in America we believe in innocence until proven guilty! And we honor what you did to protect wizardkind.”
Harry felt a lump form in his throat. He’d tried not to dwell on it, but hearing someone else acknowledge it made the pain feel fresh again.
“Thank you so much sir. I didn’t come here to dwell on that,” Harry said quietly. “I just wanted to start over. Find something new.”
“Well, that’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you,” Quahog replied, his eyes gleaming. “You see, we’ve been lacking in the law enforcement department here in America. Our program has always been second to Britain’s, we don't have an active auror program currently. But with someone like you—someone with your experience, your expertise—we could build something better. Something stronger.”
Harry blinked in surprise. “You want me to help start an Auror program here?”
“Not just help,” Quahog said, leaning back in his chair. “I want you to lead it. We’ve been keeping an eye on things across the pond, and we know the unfortunate incident with your friend, Ron Weasley. We know you’ve seen the worst of what can happen when things go wrong. But here, with you at the helm, we could create a program that’s better than anything Britain’s ever seen. What do you say?”
Harry sat there, momentarily speechless. He hadn’t expected this at all. The idea of starting over, creating something from the ground up, sounded like the fresh start he desperately needed.
“I... I’d love to,” Harry finally said, a genuine smile breaking through the uncertainty he’d been feeling
Quahog smiled. “But there's more, you see, I know more than you might think. I know you’re not just Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World.” He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “I know you’re the Hallow Man.”
Harry tensed, but Quahog raised a hand to calm him.
“Relax,” the president said, “your secret is safe with me. In fact, I think it’s wonderful. I’ve been wanting to bridge the gap between our wizarding community and the superhero world for years, but never had an ‘in,’ so to speak. You could be that bridge, Harry.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “You want me to be a liaison? Between wizards and… the Avengers?”
“Exactly,” Quahog said, clearly excited. “Think about it! With your dual experience—both as a wizard and a superhero—you could help both worlds work together. Imagine what we could accomplish with the Aurors and the Avengers working side by side.”
Harry hesitated. The idea was overwhelming, to say the least. He hadn’t expected this, but it was an intriguing thought.
“I don’t know,” Harry said slowly. “That’s a lot to take on.”
Quahog nodded. “I understand. But I believe you’re the only one who can do this. You’ve already proven yourself capable of bridging different worlds—what’s one more? And in return, you’d have the full backing of the American Ministry and all our resources for your Auror program.”
Harry sat in silence for a moment, considering the offer. It was a huge responsibility, but also an incredible opportunity. Finally, he nodded.
“All right. I’ll do it.”
Quahog’s face lit up. “Brilliant! Let me introduce you to your new team.”
He pressed a button on his desk, and moments later, a group of young witches and wizards entered the room. They looked to be in their mid-twenties to early thirties, all dressed sharply and radiating eagerness. Quahog gestured toward them.
“These are some of our brightest graduates from Ilvermorny. They’ve all expressed an interest in law enforcement, and they’re excited to be a part of the new Auror program under your leadership.”
One of the witches, a sharp-eyed young woman with dark hair and a confident posture, stepped forward. “It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter,” she said, her voice clear and self-assured. “I’m Alexandra Crowe, Head Girl of my graduating class at Ilvermorny. We’ve all heard stories of your work in Britain, and we’re ready to learn from the best.”
The others nodded in agreement, their eyes fixed on Harry with a mixture of awe and excitement. Harry glanced around the room, taking in their youthful energy and determination. It reminded him of himself, once upon a time—eager to prove himself, ready to take on the world. He felt the weight of their expectations settle on his shoulders.
Harry surveyed the room, nodding at each of the new recruits as Quahog introduced them one by one. In addition to Alexandra Crowe, there was Jonah Rivera, a tall, muscular wizard with short-cropped hair and a quiet intensity in his eyes; Marty Flynn, a redheaded, sharp-tongued wizard whose quick wit made the others laugh; and Elise Moore, a petite witch with a quiet but fierce determination. Each of them had excelled in their studies at Ilvermorny and were eager to join the new Auror program.
Harry felt a sense of pride as he shook their hands. These were no ordinary recruits. They were the best of their generation, and he could see their potential. But he also knew the dangers they’d face. Leading them would be no small task.
After the introductions, Harry started making rounds, speaking to each recruit individually.
“Jonah,” Harry said, shaking the young man’s hand. “What made you want to be an Auror?”
Jonah smiled shyly. “My family’s Muggle-born. I’ve always wanted to protect them, and the idea of working with both Muggles and wizards—it feels like the right place for me. Plus, I’ve always looked up to you, sir. What you did during the war... it was inspiring.”
Harry nodded, humbled. “I appreciate that. But remember, being an Auror means protecting everyone. Wizards, Muggles, whoever needs it.”
Jonah nodded earnestly, his respect for Harry clear in his expression.
Moving on, Harry found himself in conversation with Marty Flynn, who flashed a mischievous grin as Harry approached.
“So, the famous Harry Potter,” Marty said with a chuckle. “You know, I heard you were a bit of a troublemaker at Hogwarts. Something about sneaking into restricted areas?”
Harry chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. “I had my moments, but it was always for the right reasons.”
Marty winked. “That’s the kind of trouble I can get behind.”
Finally, Harry stopped by Elise, who was sitting quietly, observing her new team with a thoughtful expression. She looked up as Harry approached.
“Elise, right?” Harry asked.
She smiled softly. “Yes, sir. I’ve always wanted to be an Auror. I... lost someone in the war. I wasn’t old enough to fight, but I swore that when I could, I’d protect others. It’s what they would have wanted.”
Harry’s heart tightened at her words. He understood loss all too well. “I’m sorry. But I’m glad you’re here. You’ll make a great Auror.”
She nodded, her eyes determined. “I won’t let you down, sir.”
Harry took a deep breath and stepped to the center of the room, facing all the recruits. They gathered around him, eager for his words.
“I know you’ve all been through a lot to get here,” Harry began, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve worked hard, and you’ve shown you’re the best of the best. But the work ahead of us—it’s not easy. Being an Auror means protecting people from the worst of our world, and sometimes the worst of other worlds too. You’ll face dark magic, difficult decisions, and you’ll see things that will test you in ways you never imagined. But if you’re here, it means you’re ready.”
The room was silent, every recruit hanging on Harry’s words.
“I’m not going to pretend I have all the answers,” Harry continued. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve lost people. But I’m still standing because I learned to rely on my friends and my team. We’ll do the same here. We’ll look out for each other, we’ll trust each other, and together, we’ll build something that matters. This isn’t just about being Aurors. This is about making the world a safer place.”
As Harry finished, the recruits exchanged glances of admiration and respect. They had all heard the stories, but now they were standing in front of the man who had lived them. And he was telling them they could do the same.
The president, Samuel Quahog, who had been standing by the door, began to clap, a wide smile on his face. “Well said, Harry. Well said.”
He walked over and gestured for Harry to follow him. “Come on, let me show you the space we’ve set aside for the Auror program.”
Quahog led Harry down the hallway and opened the door to a large office. It was spacious, with windows overlooking the magical skyline of New York City. There were multiple desks, shelves full of magical books, and a map on the wall showing the major magical areas in the country.
“This will be your command center,” Quahog said, gesturing around. “It’s all yours. Whatever you need, you just ask. We’re here to support you, Harry. The future of this program depends on your leadership.”
Harry walked around the room, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on him once more. But for the first time in a long time, it was a weight he was willing to carry. He turned to Quahog and nodded.
“I’ll make this work,” Harry said, determination clear in his voice. “And I’ll do my best to bridge the gap between our world and the superheroes.”
Quahog clapped him on the back again, clearly pleased. “I knew I made the right choice.”
As Harry looked out the window, the skyline of New York twinkling in the distance, he had a job in the ministry again.
Harry sat down heavily beside Hermione on the couch, letting the exhaustion of the day finally settle in. She shifted her potions aside to give him more room, her eyes soft with concern as she looked at him.
"Where have you been all day?" she asked gently, tilting her head as he leaned in to kiss her on the forehead.
Harry exhaled deeply. "Working out everything for the new Auror program. Training schedules, uniforms, protocols—the whole nine yards. I’m building it from scratch. It's... exciting, actually."
Hermione smiled, her eyes lighting up. "That sounds amazing, Harry. I'm so thrilled for you."
Harry smiled weakly, running a hand through his hair. "It feels good. It's exhausting, but in a good way. You should’ve seen the recruits—they’re sharp, and I think we’ll have something special. Quahog’s been very supportive."
She nodded thoughtfully, but then her expression darkened a little. “I wish there was a position for me in America. My job in Britain... it’s getting more hopeless by the day. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep doing it.”
"Why don’t you come talk to the president?" Harry suggested. "Quahog seems like a decent bloke, and I’m sure there’s something here for you. You’re one of the best witches of our time, Hermione. They’d be lucky to have you."
She considered it for a moment and then smiled. "Maybe I will... I’ll think about it." Her gaze softened before she asked, "Have you spoken to Peter and Wade yet?"
Harry stiffened slightly, and Hermione immediately noticed, giving him a knowing look.
“No,” he admitted, leaning back against the couch. “Let’s just call that a lost cause, yeah?”
Hermione frowned. “Harry, I’ve been thinking about the cave. It brought you to them and me to Steve. Maybe there was a reason.”
Harry sighed. “Or maybe it was just to bring us to America. And to the Avengers. It got me to Tony, and I’m going to need him for this new Auror program.”
“Then why didn’t it just drop us in Stark Tower? Why in different places? Different people?”
Harry shrugged, though he had wondered the same thing himself. “Who knows?”
Hermione paused for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve been doing some digging. Did you know the Deathly Hallows have never had a true master before? No one has ever held all three at once.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, I assumed as much.”
Hermione leaned forward, her voice more serious now. “You stopped aging at seventeen, Harry. I stopped at twenty-four. And we’ve stopped living. We still have the same nightmares we had then. You still act like you're seventeen most days, while I’m stuck at 24, being a new wife and mother. It’s like we froze at those moments.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“So,” Hermione continued, her tone taking on an edge of urgency, “I found the original text, the very first telling of the Deathly Hallows. It's in Latin, and I translated it word for word. It says, ‘Any who master all three become the Master of Death itself, a curse and a gift. Only when love is worth more than life and the gift is given back to death, can you begin to live again.’”
Harry stared at her, processing her words. “We figured it was a curse, but what does that mean? Given back?”
“I think it means we need to fall in love and somehow... give up being masters of death. Only then can we live fully again,” Hermione explained.
Harry blinked, taken aback. “Great. So, we fall in love and lose immortality? And how would we even do that? As far as we can tell, we can’t give the Hallows away. We can’t be disarmed, or killed, and giving the wand to someone else just means it returns to us. I had to die to share it with you…and that was…let's not talk about it. But how would we even do that?”
Hermione sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that part out. But... I wouldn’t do it without you. I’d never leave you with the curse alone. You know I'm grateful for everything you did. After I found out I was dying…I was terrified. I had no hope left until you saved me.”
Harry leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I saved you and cursed you. The gift of life and the curse of no death…”
“Exactly, it’s both,” Hermione said softly. “We can’t die, but we don’t really live either.”
Harry rubbed his hands over his face. “Look, I am living. I have you. I don’t need Peter and Wade. They’ve got each other. I have, you have me…it's enough.”
“They don’t know they could have you too!” Hermione countered, her voice tinged with frustration. “Harry, they—”
“They rejected me, Hermione!” Harry snapped, sitting up straight. “They rejected me, then fucked each other. That was pretty damn clear.”
Hermione sighed, her expression softening again. “I just love you so much, and I want you to have what you’ve always wanted. Family. Love. Kids.”
Harry deflated, his shoulders slumping. He knew she meant well, and the truth was, she wasn’t wrong. “I know... maybe it’s just not my fate. Maybe it's not either of ours…”
“Or maybe the cave sent us to our fate,” Hermione suggested gently, “and you’re being stubborn.”
Harry hesitated before he spoke again, quieter this time. “Alright. The truth? I’m scared. I’m scared of being rejected again. It hurt too much the first time. I’d rather let it end now than go through that again and i'm not talking about Ginny….”
Hermione’s expression softened as she opened her arms to him. He leaned into her embrace, letting her warmth soothe his fears for a moment. She hugged him tightly, resting her chin on top of his head.
“I know,” she whispered. “You don't think I'm scared? I watched my babies get sicker and sicker every day until I lost them Harry. Watched my husband turn into a stranger. My own mother in law was drugging me ...love terrifies me. But you deserve more than just getting by. You deserve to live fully. We both do.”
Harry closed his eyes, holding her close. Maybe she was right. Maybe there was more for him, but he wasn’t sure he had the strength to face it again. Not yet.
But for now, this was enough.
The following day, Hermione arrived at the American Ministry, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. She was escorted to the president’s office, where Samuel G. Quahog stood up from behind his desk to greet her with a wide, welcoming smile.
“Hermione Granger,” he said enthusiastically, extending his hand. “It’s an absolute honor to meet you. I’ve heard so much about your work and the difference you made in Britain. You’re exactly the kind of person we need here.”
Hermione shook his hand, a little surprised by his enthusiasm. “Thank you, President Quahog. I’ve been considering a transfer, and I wanted to speak with you about potential opportunities.”
He gestured for her to take a seat. “Absolutely! We’d be thrilled to have you. Our Ministry runs a bit differently than in Britain—our officials are elected, not appointed. I’d say you’re a prime candidate to run for office one day, with your experience and reputation.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. “Run for office?”
“Yes, but before we get into that,” Quahog continued, leaning forward with excitement, “I’d suggest you start by working closely with Harry. He’s doing great things for our new Auror program, and you could be instrumental in shaping it alongside him. Plus, you’ll have the chance to attend events, meet key figures, and make the contacts you’d need for any future ambitions.”
Hermione thought it over, feeling the weight of the possibilities. The idea of running for office had never crossed her mind, but making real change had always been her goal. And working with Harry would be both familiar and rewarding.
She smiled. “It’s an intriguing offer. I’d definitely be interested in working with Harry and seeing where things go from there.”
Quahog beamed. “Fantastic! I can already see great things in your future, Hermione. America is lucky to have you.”
They discussed more about the Ministry’s structure and Hermione’s potential role for the next half hour, before Hermione excused herself to find Harry. She left the president’s office with a sense of excitement about what lay ahead.
Hermione made her way to the training grounds where Harry was already in the middle of a lesson. She found him standing at the front of a group of young witches and wizards, who were hanging on his every word. He was demonstrating how to avoid and deflect dangerous spells, including the Killing Curse.
One of the recruits raised their hand. “How exactly does the Killing Curse work, sir? I mean, why can’t we deflect it like other spells? My professors didn't ever explain.”
Harry paused, unsure how to explain. “It’s...complicated. It kills instantly, but the mechanics are a bit...”
Hermione stepped forward, her voice clear and confident as she cut in. “The Killing Curse targets the magical core of a witch or wizard, which acts like a powersource, and essentially causes the core to drain entirely until it implodes, much like a dying star turning into a black hole. It doesn’t harm the body directly; it attacks the essence of magic within you, and a witch or wizard can not survive without it. When the core dies, we die. Which is why it’s so lethal.”
The recruits turned toward her, captivated by her explanation.
“That’s also why it can’t be deflected in the usual way,” Hermione continued. “A rebounding spell would just be absorbed by the curse’s energy. Every spell has a certain amount of power that is imbued into it, you can overpower a spell…like how Harry likes to use the disarming charm to throw his opponent…but it would still have a finite amount of power or more accurately energy inside it. The curse is designed to destroy all the power of a magical core, so spells are too weak. It would eat through a spell and keep going easily. To stop it, you need to transfigure something strong enough to absorb the curse’s full power—essentially, you force the curse to expend all its energy on that object, rendering it harmless.”
“A shield doesn't work for the same reason,” she continued. “No spell in existence has the magic needed to stop the spell. It would need to use all the power of your core, thus killing you anyway. The words are derived from the Aramaic phrase, Let the thing be destroyed, and it quite literally was designed to destroy the magical core of a witch or wizard. If it hits a muggle it attacks the heart and stops it. It goes after the source of life. Since objects have no source to attack, they take more energy to get through. A 5 inch thick solid stone wall, for example, needs approximately 97 joule of energy to get through. A standard spell when tested has about 4 running through it. The Killing Curse needs to expend more than 75 to render it mute.”
The room was silent for a moment before the recruits broke into applause, clearly impressed by both her knowledge and the fact that Hermione Granger was standing in front of them. She blushed slightly, unused to the attention, but smiled warmly.
Harry grinned at her, relieved she had stepped in. “Thanks for that, Hermione.”
“Glad to help,” she replied, standing beside him. “Mind if I stick around and help with the lesson?”
“By all means,” Harry said, clearly happy to have her there.
Together, they finished the training session, with Harry focusing on practical demonstrations while Hermione provided the theoretical background. The recruits were fully engaged, soaking up every bit of knowledge they could from the two legendary figures before them.
As the session ended, one of the young witches approached Hermione, her eyes wide with awe. “It’s such an honor to meet you, Ms. Granger. Your work has been an inspiration to me for years.”
Hermione smiled warmly. “Thank you. It’s wonderful to see all of you so eager to learn. You’re the future of our world, and I’m excited to be a part of it.”
“I think I’m going to take the president up on his offer,” Hermione said as they strolled down the street, her steps lighter than they had been in days.
Harry glanced at her with a smile. “I’m glad to hear that. You seemed pretty excited back there during the training. You’ve always been a natural at this.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know about ‘natural,’ but I do love helping. And the idea of making a real difference here, especially in a new place... it’s actually quite thrilling.”
Harry nodded. After a moment of walking in comfortable silence, he spoke again. “There’s a Ministry event next month. A pretty big one, actually—lots of important people, lots of chances to make good connections. How about I escort you?”
Hermione’s eyes lit up. “You want me to go with you?”
“Yeah, why not? You’re going to need to start rubbing elbows with all the right people, right?” He smirked, teasingly nudging her with his elbow. “Besides, I could use the company.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I’d love to go. Sounds like a perfect opportunity to get started.”
Harry’s smirk softened into a more serious expression. “Eventually, you know, I’ll fund your campaign when you run for office.”
Hermione stopped in her tracks, looking at him with wide eyes. “What? My campaign?”
“Yeah.” Harry’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if the idea were already set in stone. “I’m going to help you run for office, Hermione. I know you. You’d be brilliant at it, and this Ministry could use someone like you.”
Hermione let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “Harry, I don’t know if I could actually win. I’m... I’m new here. I’m not exactly an insider, and I’m not sure they’ll take to a British witch so easily.”
Harry waved off her concerns. “You’ve already made a name for yourself worldwide. People know who you are, and more importantly, what you stand for. That’s going to matter more than anything. And besides, you have me in your corner.”
Hermione smiled, though a hint of doubt lingered. “You’re always so sure about everything, Harry.”
He shrugged. “When it comes to you, I am. You’re unstoppable when you set your mind to something. You’ve got this.”
She looked at him, her heart warming at his confidence in her. “Well, I’ll think about it. One step at a time. I’m just getting started here, after all.”
“Fair enough,” Harry said, offering her a grin. “But just so you know, when you’re ready, I’ll be there. Helping you every step of the way.”
Hermione’s smile grew wider as they continued their walk, the possibilities of the future stretching out before them.
As they walked, Hermione glanced sideways at Harry, biting her lip before asking, “When you go to see Tony... do you mind if I tag along?”
Harry raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You want to see Steve, don’t you?”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink, and she looked away, slightly embarrassed but unable to hide her smile. “Well... yes,” she admitted softly. “I’d like to see him.”
Harry chuckled. “Of course you can come. I’m going on Saturday. I arranged a lunch with Tony.”
Hermione’s eyes brightened, but then she hesitated. “And Peter? Will he be there?”
Harry’s smile faded slightly, his voice more serious as he responded, “I didn’t ask if he’d be there, and I’m not calling him to ask.”
Hermione sighed but didn’t push the matter. She just nodded. “Okay. I understand.”
He gave her a reassuring smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Hermione. We’ll have a nice time. Maybe I’ll even have some good news for Tony about getting the Aurors and the Avengers to work together.”
She smiled back, though there was still a hint of concern in her eyes. “I just want you to be happy, Harry.”
“I know.” Harry squeezed her shoulder gently. “And I will be. I’m trying, at least.”
With that, they continued their walk home, the conversation between them lightening as they looked forward to what lay ahead—even if some parts were still uncertain.
Saturday came quickly, and as expected, Harry dressed in his best, making sure to look sharp for the meeting with Tony. Hermione was just as polished, her outfit carefully chosen for the occasion. Though Harry felt a knot of nerves forming in his stomach, he kept his composure. This meeting wasn’t just about bridging the gap between the wizarding world and the Avengers—it was also his first real test in working with Tony Stark, a man he greatly respected.
When the elevator doors opened to reveal the top floor of the tower, Tony was already there, along with the other Avengers, save for Peter and Wade. Harry shook hands with each Avenger, exchanging pleasantries, though he couldn't help but notice Tony’s unusually reserved demeanor.
After a few moments, Harry discreetly pulled Tony aside, not wanting anything to interfere with their lunch meeting. “Tony, is something wrong?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
Tony crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “What do you think is wrong?” he retorted.
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the sharp tone. “Is Peter angry at me? Look, sir, I didn’t do anything wrong. Peter rejected me, and then he got together with Wade. I stepped back to let them be happy. If he’s upset with me... I’m sorry, but I didn’t do anything malicious.”
Tony let out a long sigh, his eyes softening as he uncrossed his arms. “Mad? He’s been sulking for days. He’s upstairs right now, somewhere between a depressed pit and a pint of ice cream.”
Harry’s heart sank at the news. “What? Why?” he asked, clearly puzzled.
“I don’t know the details,” Tony admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “He showed up here a few nights ago, crying, alone, and he’s been staying ever since. I didn’t have the heart to make him leave. When neither you nor Wade came to check on him, I figured you both dumped him.”
Harry shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. “Sir, we never dated. I liked Peter, I really did. But he rejected me. And then I found him in bed with Wade, so I stepped aside and let them be together. I thought that’s what he wanted.”
Tony’s expression softened even more, his voice quiet but firm. “Well, whatever you think happened, it didn’t go down like that for Peter. Will you go talk to him? Please? I know we’ve got business to discuss, and we will, but I need you to try to talk to him. He’s like a son to me.”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of the request. “Of course, sir. I’ll talk to him.”
Tony nodded gratefully and pointed toward the stairs. “He’s upstairs, third room on the left.”
Without hesitation, Harry made his way up the stairs, the knot in his stomach tightening with every step. When he reached Peter’s door, he took a deep breath before knocking gently.
“Peter? It’s Harry... Can we talk?” he called through the door, his voice soft but steady.
There was a moment of silence before he heard a muffled reply. “Come in.”
Harry slowly opened the door and stepped inside, finding Peter sitting on the bed, his eyes red from crying. An untouched pint of ice cream sat next to him, melting away. Seeing him like this tugged at Harry’s heart.
“Peter... What’s going on?” Harry asked, his voice filled with concern as he approached the bed.
Peter said nothing for a long moment, staring blankly ahead at the ice cream melting in his bowl. “It’s fine, I’m fine, Harry,” he muttered, his voice distant and tired. “Whatever Tony said... I’ll just tell him we talked. Okay? Just... leave.”
Harry’s chest tightened. This wasn’t Peter. This wasn’t the Peter he knew. Without thinking, he dropped down onto his knees beside the bed, his eyes searching Peter’s face.
“Did Wade hurt you?” Harry asked, his voice sharp with concern. “I swear to God, if he did, I’ll find a way to kill him!”
Peter finally looked at him, his face contorted in frustration. “You both did! You’re both jerks!” His voice cracked, anger and hurt bleeding through. “And I just want to be alone and eat my damn ice cream.”
Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Hey! How the hell was I a jerk? You rejected me, not the other way around!”
Peter’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Sorry for not raping you, Harry! You were fucking wasted! You can’t consent when you’re wasted!”
Harry recoiled slightly, his mind racing. “So it’s fine to reject me when I’m wasted since I can’t consent, but what about Wade? You fucked him! And you were both wasted! So who raped who?!”
Peter’s eyes widened in shock, his voice rising. “What?! Harry, we were sober! That’s why we told you to wait! You were wasted! That’s like, I dunno, rape 101. But we were both fucking sober by the time we left the bar!”
Harry stared at him, dumbfounded, his heart pounding in his chest.
Peter continued, his voice filled with frustration. “We were sober, and we talked about how we wanted to be together. All three of us. And yeah, things escalated, and yeah, we ended up fooling around. So what? How’d you even know?”
Harry swallowed hard, the pieces starting to click into place. “I... I came to make breakfast, to apologize for being drunk and stupid... and you were naked in bed. I figured it out.”
Peter groaned, his hand rubbing his face in disbelief. “That’s why you went to the island? You thought we rejected you to be with each other?”
Harry’s voice was small, unsure. “You didn’t?”
Peter smacked him on the arm, hard enough to sting but not enough to truly hurt. “No, asshole! We didn’t reject you! We just didn’t take advantage of you while you were wasted! We were gonna tell you the next day that we wanted to try being together. But you disappeared and practically told us to fuck off!”
Harry’s mouth opened, then closed again, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He had gotten it all wrong. Every assumption he’d made, every decision to distance himself—it was all based on a misunderstanding. He had run away, thinking they didn’t want him, when in reality, they had been waiting for him to come back.
“I...” Harry started, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry, Peter. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing by stepping aside. I thought I was... letting you and Wade be happy.”
Peter shook his head, exasperated but not as angry anymore. “You weren’t stepping aside. You were running away, Harry. And you left us in the dark, thinking we’d done something wrong.”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of his mistake settle in. “I never meant to hurt you. Either of you.”
Peter sighed, his expression softening. “I know. But we’ve all been hurt. You, me, Wade... this whole thing has been a mess.”
Harry’s brows furrowed in frustration, still processing everything. “But you both drank as much as us! You were just as drunk!”
Peter let out a tired sigh, his voice more resigned than defensive. “We have a high metabolism, Harry. Alcohol burns off faster. We get tipsy, yeah, but we don’t get wasted. And when we saw that you guys were, we stopped drinking to make sure we could keep an eye on you. To look out for all 3 of you.”
Harry was silent for a moment, trying to wrap his head around it. “Okay... So you’re upset with me because I was a dick. Why Wade? What did he do?”
Peter’s eyes shifted, the hurt in them clearer now. “After you told us to fuck off, we fought. He’s mad at the world right now. He doesn’t care easily, but he let his guard down and you made him feel like shit so he was pissed off and he yelled at me and I yelled at him. Now he won’t answer me. And you wouldn’t either. I just felt... alone.” His voice cracked, the weight of his emotions catching up to him.
Harry’s chest tightened at the vulnerability Peter showed, and without thinking, he reached out and pulled Peter into a tight hug. Peter tensed for a moment, but then relaxed into it, his arms slowly winding around Harry’s waist.
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered softly, rubbing Peter’s back as he held him. “I never meant to make you feel alone. I just... I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want to get rejected again I was scared and I ran and I'm sorry.”
Peter didn’t say anything at first, just allowing the hug to envelop him, taking comfort in the warmth. “Everything just happened so fast and I just... I just didn’t know how to fix it.”
“You don’t have to fix everything, Pete,” Harry said, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye. “But we can fix this. All of us. Together.”
Peter’s eyes shimmered with something Harry couldn’t quite read, but there was a flicker of hope there. “You mean it? All three of us?”
“Yeah,” Harry said with a smile, a soft warmth growing in his chest. “We find Wade and I’ll talk to him. We both will.. We’ll make things right.”
Peter gave a small nod, the tension in his body easing just a little. “Thanks, Harry.”
Harry pulled back from the hug, his heart pounding in his chest. In a soft, unexpected moment of affection, he placed a gentle peck on Peter’s cheek. It was a simple gesture, but it seemed to mean everything.
Peter’s face flushed slightly, and his eyes widened with a mix of surprise and tenderness.
“Come on, let's go find Wade,” Harry said, squeezing his shoulder gently. “I bet Tony can track him down for us.”
The two of them made their way downstairs, where Tony was standing with a smile that seemed to hint at some kind of unspoken approval. Peter’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, but Harry was resolute.
“Didn’t you have some kind of business meeting today?” Peter asked, still unsure about everything that was going on.
“It can wait,” Harry replied with a wave of his hand, his expression serious. “Wade’s more important right now.”
He turned to Tony, who was already giving them a knowing look. “Tony, can you find Wade for us?”
Tony raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into something warmer. “Did you two work it out?” he asked, glancing between them.
Peter looked up at Tony, his eyes a little more hopeful now. “Yes... we did. Please help us?”
Tony’s smile widened, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a manila folder. “Good. He’s at this address. Room 309,” Tony said, handing the folder to Harry. “I already tracked him down and was just waiting for someone to ask.”
Harry smirked, taking the folder and nodding. “Thanks, Tony.”
With a quick glance at Peter, Harry tugged his hand and started toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”
As they walked towards the exit, Hermione, who had been sitting with Steve, looked up at them, brow furrowed. “You need help, Harry?” she asked, concern in her eyes.
Harry glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “It’s okay, Hermione,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I’ve got this. You and Steve enjoy yourselves, yeah?”
Hermione didn’t look completely convinced, but she nodded. “Okay… just be careful.”
Harry winked at her, then walked over to Steve, who was still sitting next to her. He leaned in and said quietly, “My sister really, really likes you. But she’s an old-fashioned girl. You’d better make a move before you lose her. And if you hurt her i'll kill you.”
Hermione’s eyes widened as she turned to glare at Harry, her face flushing with embarrassment. “Harry, I swear…”
But Harry only shrugged with a cheeky grin, not a care in the world. He took Peter’s hand once more, and the two of them exited the building together.
As they walked down the hallway toward the elevator, Peter squeezed Harry’s hand. “Thanks…I didn't know what to do…”
“Anything for you, Pete,” Harry said softly, glancing over at him with a small smile. “Let’s go get Wade.”
Harry and Peter arrived outside a rundown, decrepit hotel. The building was old and sagging, paint peeling off the walls, the windows grimy with neglect. It was the kind of place Harry had expected Wade to end up, but it still made him grimace.
“Are you sure about this?” Peter asked quietly, his voice laced with hesitation as he looked up at the shabby building.
Harry nodded, his eyes scanning the area. “He’s here. Let’s just get him and go.” With a flick of his wand, Harry muttered a spell under his breath, and the door to the room clicked open. The smell hit them first—a rancid, putrid stench that made Harry’s stomach churn.
Inside, the scene was far worse than Harry had imagined. Wade was sprawled out on the bed, surrounded by about twelve naked men and women, their bodies tangled together in a grotesque heap. Blood, guns, drugs, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol littered the floor, as though some twisted party had turned into a bloody, chaotic mess. The room was dark and the air heavy with a stench that made Harry’s stomach turn.
Harry’s jaw tightened in disgust, but he kept his voice steady. “So, I cope by running. You sulk with ice cream, and he does…this.”
Peter winced, his gaze darting from the pile of bodies to the chaotic mess. “He’s really gone off the rails, hasn’t he?”
“Yeah, but we need to grab him and go. We can talk somewhere cleaner.” Harry’s voice was sharp, but his eyes softened as he met Peter’s gaze. He could see Peter wasn’t entirely comfortable with this either.
Peter hesitated, his hand tightening around the folder Tony had given them earlier. “But he’s gonna be pissed. He’ll—”
Harry cut him off with a stern look. “He can be pissed at me all he wants. I deserve it, he can't just drown his sorrows in liquor, drugs, and prostitutes…” He strode toward the bed, walking past the wreckage, and reached for Wade’s arm, pulling it roughly. Wade groaned but didn’t stir—too far gone in his stupor to resist.
“I swear to god, Wade, you better not be in a coma or some shit,” Harry muttered, shaking his arm a little harder. Wade blinked groggily, eyes barely focusing. Harry grabbed Peter’s arm as well. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Peter hesitated again, casting a glance at the chaos around them, but he finally gave a resigned nod. “Okay… but he’s really gonna blow up when he realizes—”
“He can yell at me later,” Harry said firmly. “We’re getting him out of here.”
With a sharp snap of his fingers, Harry muttered an incantation, and the three of them—Wade still unresisting, his body dangling limply—disappeared in a flash of light.
In the blink of an eye, they reappeared in Peter’s living room. The familiar space was a far cry from the disaster they had just left behind. Clean. Safe. Quiet.
Peter staggered back, his breath catching as he saw Wade still out cold in Harry’s grasp. “We should’ve—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry cut him off, setting Wade on the couch with a soft thud. “He’ll wake up, and we’ll talk. But we can’t have him rotting away in that mess.” He glanced over at Peter, his expression softening just a little. “We’ll deal with it, okay?”
Peter nodded, his eyes now brimming with a mixture of relief and worry. He sat on the arm of the couch beside Wade, running a hand through his hair. “Seriously Harry, he’s not going to be happy when he wakes up.”
“I know,” Harry said, his tone gentler now. “But he’ll be pissed at me, not you. I’ll take the heat.”
The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air as Wade began to stir on the couch. Harry and Peter both knew the conversation that awaited them wasn’t going to be easy. But for now, at least they were out of that hellhole.
Now, it was time to face Wade. And whatever came next.