coveted magics, 21
<<Osborn Mansion, Eleven Years Ago>>
Scroll after scroll laid out in front of him, thirteen year old Harry Osborn grinned. He’d finally done it. It had taken some convincing to get his dads to agree to let him spend some of the family’s considerable wealth on his arcane research project, but it captured his interest and motivation in a way that no school project ever could. It was really hard to keep this all secret from his best friend Gwen Stacy, because he usually told her everything. But she didn’t know that he had magic yet, and he didn’t know how to tell her.
In all of the resources and research he’d managed to acquire, Harry had learned of an incredibly interesting spell. It was also incredibly reassuring to know about it, after everything he’d been through with his mother before she finally left. It was a blood ward spell, so obscure that it didn’t even have a name. The spell was made up by seven witches who were known in some of the scrolls as ‘the Salem Seven’. They too had been hurt by Harry’s mom, a long long time ago. And together, they had devised a way to make sure that none of them could do to each other what Agatha had done to their mothers.
Well, they’d still be able to kill each other, but they’d never be able to steal one another’s magic. By performing the intricate ritual that used some blood from each of them, a binding ward was placed on all of them that could never be removed. No matter what kind of madness or hurt came upon them from one another, the worst they could do was hurt or kill each other. None of them would ever become like Agatha, rampaging across communities of witches and amassing power for selfish intentions.
And Harry could perform this spell too. He had all the directions, and more importantly, he had Agatha Harkness’s blood running through his veins.
<<Harvard Bridge, Present Time>>
Harry was terrified. Agatha was back, and she’d come too soon. He had this whole plan to traverse the Witches’ Road. His coven was formed, ready to come and embark on the quest in only a few days. And he needed this power, if there was any hope of him standing up to his mother. What made it worse? Wanda and Daisy, the only two people here who had a hope of standing up to Agatha Harkness, had been led on a wild goose chase far, far away.
Last time he’d encountered her, Harry had completely frozen, unable to respond or do anything until Gwen managed to snap him out of it. The trauma he had endured under her parentage for the first ten years of his life? It was just too much. Had he been able to complete the Road, Harry would have known that he could stand up to her. Maybe then he wouldn’t be paralysed by nothing more than his own fear.
So, he could only stand and watch, as Riri issued orders for everyone to do their part in protecting the twins. He could only stand and watch as Peter hurtled into the air to try and bring the fight to Agatha. He could only stand and watch as Peter was frozen mid-movement, falling to the ground with enough force to crack concrete. He vaguely processed the sound of Billy and Tommy screaming - the former in fear and the latter with relentless fury.
And then the sounds stopped, as tendrils of shadowy Chthonic power wrapped around the twins’ mouths, and around the bodies of every single person on the bridge. Even the cars that hadn’t managed to clear the area were trapped in place. Nobody could move, and Agatha would get her way.
But… something was off. No, off wasn’t the right word. To Harry, ‘off’ implied that something was wrong in a bad way. He’d first noticed when his knees buckled from the fear itself. His knees buckled, and he dropped a little. He shouldn’t have been able to move at all. That wrongness was enough to snap Harry back to his senses. Feeling for his magic, Harry pushed outwards, and… practically melted straight through Agatha’s bindings.
And so Harry smiled an angry, twisted smile.
<<Author’s Note: Hit play on the song listed in the chapter notes now.>>
“Oh Agatha, don’t you know I’m the one you should fear?” The words slipped easily from Harry’s mouth; laced with all the hatred he knew was lying so damn close to the surface. Ever since finding out that his supposed mother was coming after his family, since he’d quickly gone over the shock that stilled him the first time around, the truth was that he knew how this would go down, fear aside. Sure, he’d planned on travelling the Road first, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen anymore. Besides, now he knew he could already beat her; he never even needed the Road for anything other than his own fear.
And then Agatha looked through him. As if he wasn’t even worth noticing, as if the ease with which he’d melted through her chthonic bindings wasn’t even worthy of a single meaningful glance. No, all Agatha had eyes for was the murder of two children. She just wanted the power. That was always how it was with her, and Harry had known that since he was thirteen and he’d used Oscorp’s abundant resources to gather some of the rather esoteric recorded histories of the Salem Witch, Agatha Harkness, his mother who’d left him in the dust.
“You’re not welcome around here,” Harry continued, because if she wouldn’t listen to him, he’d make her listen. He stepped forward, lifting himself off the ground and up towards her with ease. “I’m kind of a pacifist compared to these guys, you know? But I won’t think twice if you hurt my family.”
Finally, her eyes landed properly on him. Agatha Harkness sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Out of my way, child. Perhaps if you let me take what I’ve come for, I won’t kill the rest of you.”
Harry snorted, and gathered power in his hands. “I can’t believe you used to scare me, or that I used to wonder when you’d come back. This is your last warning, Agatha Harkness. Leave.”
Harry’s so-called mother rolled her eyes once more, and threw a pulsing orb of her dark magic towards him. With a wave of his hand, he batted it way.
“No?” Harry questioned. “Okay.”
Shoving his hands forth through the air, Harry shoved a wide wave of the same dark magics towards Agatha, forcing her to flee up and out of the way. As her face returned to Harry’s line of sight, he felt delight in seeing the shock on her face. Much to his chagrin, however, that shock wasn’t fear.
“How is a nobody like you so powerful? What cheating path have you pursued to utilise witchcraft, when all the covens are dead and gone? I doubt a whelp like you could even handle the Road, so what is this?” Agatha demanded. Something in her demeanor changed; Harry’s best guess was it was the beginnings of recognition. Not of who he was, but that his power was worthy of merit. And knowing his mother, Harry knew what she was going to try next.
Right on cue, Agatha’s hands twisted and curved. A twining cluster of tendrils lanced towards Harry, and he let it strike him. He could feel the way the magic tried to pull at his own, but it found no purchase whatsoever. In a span of seconds, Agatha’s expression had gone from recognition to hunger to disappointment. It felt good, seeing that last look on her face.
And Harry could only laugh at how blind she was to the truth that she should have already known. Another ball of his magical fury gathered up in his hand. “Why, I got this power from you, mother. You didn’t even notice how much of your power passed onto me, because I was a child, too young to form this magic into anything that could meet your expectations. I suppose I should be grateful, because you would have just stolen the power for yourself and killed me years ago. And now? Now you can’t take this from me. My thanks to the Salem Seven for that wonderful spell.”
Her shock turned to understanding, and she licked her lips with twisted glee. “Oh this is wonderful, perhaps those scientists weren’t so useless after all. Maybe I didn’t see it before, but I do now. Why don’t you join me? Together, we’ll be unstoppable. And… well, my power passing on to you hardly explains this sheer strength. I suppose the energy released when the Darkhold was destroyed must have chosen you above all others, yes?”
“Lucky me,” Harry said by way of answering, because he had suspected the same thing; that a larger portion of that energy had gone to him than anyone else. There was truth to it too; he did feel lucky. This power was allowing him to protect his loved ones, and for that he would be forever grateful.
It had been two full minutes since Harry quietly started sending gentle pulses of his power bouncing in and out of his body in every single direction. With it, he could feel every magical disturbance nearby. For example, Harry knew that Billy was slowly unravelling the forces that bound him, and would soon be free of Agatha’s hold. He also knew full well that Agatha’s decision to entertain a stilted conversation with him was an attempt at hiding the control runes she was building around the entire city block.
As if he would let her get away with that. Honestly, smashing the half-formed runes was an easy thing, a single bolt in each direction to demolish each rune. Now, the time for talk was over. Agatha wasn’t going to leave, she was just going to keep clawing her way to power for as long as she had any magic to manipulate or blood in her veins. It was time for her to learn just how powerful her abandoned son had become.
When Harry started firing orbs of condensed magical power at the witch, she was quick to raise her own darkened shield. Not that it held up for more than a few seconds, Harry’s relentless battering assault cracking and then smashing her shield to pieces. One of the orbs scored a strike against her face, knocking the woman back several meters and earning Harry a snarl.
But even as she conjured up all of her power and tried to crash it down on her son from all sides, Harry wouldn’t be stopped. With a twirl of his wrist, a sparking orange portal opened up and he slipped out the other side right behind her.
It wasn’t as though he wanted to kill her. Truly, he knew he’d have to do more to inflict that fate upon his mother. But when the curved blade of darkness formed out of Harry’s forearm and jutted right through Agatha’s torso, he couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t any kind of joy or excitement, no. It was relief. The magic dissipated, and blood gushed in its place. Agatha fell to the ground, and the merciful side of Harry sent out a wave of magic to catch her and cushion her fall.
Down on the ground, Agatha lay gasping in a growing pool of blood. Unattended, she would certainly survive this. She would crawl away and seal the wound up, only to come back later and find a way to win. Harry couldn’t allow that. He spared a moment for a quick glance back towards his friends - his true family - and was pleased to see that Billy had freed not only himself, but everyone else. Well, everyone except for Tommy, which was an excellent decision on Billy’s part. Now, they all watched, recognising that this was a matter for Harry to handle himself.
No, not everyone was still. Peter was running towards Harry and Agatha, holding a hand out. Harry was just about to descend the rest of the way towards where his mother had fell to strike the finishing blow, but something about how Peter approached made him hesitate.
“Witchboy, wait!” Peter called out. Harry didn’t want to wait, but it was hard to ignore a request from Peter of all people.
Harry’s hand stilled, a shimmering darkened dagger held in his closed fist. “Why?”
“Killing isn’t the way,” Peter insisted, coming to a halt a couple metres away. “We can find another solution.”
“I have to,” said Harry, shaking his head. “You don’t know how many people she’s killed, how much more damage she’ll do. This is the only way.”
“Ha- Witchboy, please, don’t let her make you into a killer!” Peter held his hands out in a placating, pleading gesture, and part of Harry’s composure broke. Peter was right. Harry could be better than his mother, he could find another way. The blood ward he’d performed years ago went two ways, which meant that draining all of Agatha’s power away wasn’t an option - unless Wanda did it when she finally returned. Failing that, there were other options. A witch’s magic could be bound, and Harry could perform the required ritual given a couple hours without interference.
He didn’t have to be a killer, he didn’t have to-
“WATCH OUT!” Billy’s voice screamed, and Harry’s head jerked down to where his mother was bleeding out on the concrete below him.
Except… it wasn’t regular, pooling blood that spilled from the wound in her gut. The blood was tracing a shape. Not just any shape, but a pentagram. And below him, Agatha smiled. A moment later, the pentagram burst into flames so violent that Harry instinctively flew towards Peter, grabbed him, and kept going just fast enough to avoid being torn to shreds by the explosive force.
Letting several curses loudly loose, Harry set Peter down on the ground where all the others were waiting, and turned to see what carnage was taking place. A flaming, bloody red pentagram could only mean one thing - Agatha had made a deal with Mephisto.