Strange Potter

As Harry stepped into the Great Hall the next morning, the low murmur of conversation halted for a brief second before picking up again, louder this time. Whispers filled the space, students turning to steal glances at him.

Before he could react, Hermione slammed into him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"You absolute idiot," she muttered against his shoulder. "You scared me."

Harry let out a breath and hugged her back. "I'm fine, Hermione."

She pulled back just enough to glare at him. "We'll see about that."

Neville stepped up beside them, smirking as he tapped the small axe pendant hanging from his neck. "You missed the chaos. Since no one actually saw what happened, the rumors are insane. Some say you summoned a dragon."

Harry groaned. "Strange really went all out with the cover story, huh?"

"Obviously," Blaise drawled, stepping up with Susan. His arms were crossed, but there was no real irritation in his tone. "But hey, at least we’re all in the loop now."

Susan nodded. "And don’t worry, we’re keeping our mouths shut. The way people are talking, it's better they think it's just another crazy Harry Potter story than the truth."

Harry gave them both a grateful look. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Blaise smirked. "Well, you did save my life. Keeping my mouth shut is the least I can do."

As his fingers twitched, a dull throb ran through his left hand. He flexed it once, the illusion holding firm, masking the blackened skin beneath.

As breakfast continued, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, drawing everyone's attention. Dumbledore and McGonagall walked in, their expressions calm but watchful, followed closely by Draco Malfoy and George Weasley. The two boys looked disoriented, but otherwise unharmed.

Whispers broke out across the hall.

“They were at St. Mungo’s, right?”
“Are they okay?”
“What even happened to them?”

Draco’s sharp eyes flicked across the hall, scanning the tables, but there was no usual arrogance in his expression—just confusion. He looked slightly pale, his mother having only just left him at the gates of Hogwarts. George, on the other hand, looked less guarded but just as lost, his twin Fred keeping close beside him.

Then the doors opened again, and more familiar figures stepped in.

Hagrid entered, his usual towering presence reassuring, but his face carried a frown of uncertainty. Several other villagers from Hogsmeade followed behind, all of them once infected by Karl’s magic, now completely back to normal.

The Great Hall fell into silence as they all took their seats.

Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him, and Neville’s hand subconsciously brushed the pendant that held his axe. Blaise and Susan exchanged a quick glance, while Harry kept his face neutral.

“They don’t remember anything,” Hermione whispered.

Harry nodded slightly. "I know."

Dumbledore stepped forward, addressing the hall. “I know many of you have questions regarding recent events, but rest assured, those who were affected by the attack in Hogsmeade have fully recovered. Thanks to the swift actions of those who fought against the threat, we can all rest easy once more.”

Murmurs of relief spread through the students.

Harry felt a weight settle in his chest. None of them knew. None of them remembered.

Dumbledore's eyes swept the hall, lingering on Harry for just a second longer than necessary.

Strange had made sure the truth was buried.

As the headmaster continued speaking, Harry flexed his fingers under the table, feeling the unnatural tightness of his left hand. The illusion still held.

As the morning owls delivered copies of The Daily Prophet, excited whispers filled the Great Hall. Hermione caught one as it landed on the table and unfolded it, her eyes quickly scanning the front page before she groaned.

“Oh, no.”

Neville, Blaise, and Susan leaned in as she read aloud:

"HOGSMEADE SAVED! DARK SORCERER DEFEATED IN EPIC BATTLE!"

By Rita Skeeter

Harry sighed. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

Hermione cleared her throat.

"In a shocking turn of events, the peaceful village of Hogsmeade became a battlefield as the dark sorcerer Karl Mordo unleashed his terrifying magic upon unsuspecting citizens. The attack, which left many unconscious and the village in ruins, was thwarted by none other than Hogwarts student Harry Potter—alongside the powerful Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “At least she got Wanda’s name right.”

Hermione continued reading:

"Eyewitnesses report that Karl Mordo wielded ancient, corrupted magic, the likes of which have never been seen before. Though many fought bravely against him, it was Harry Potter who ultimately stood against the dark sorcerer, facing him in a battle of unimaginable intensity. Through sheer determination and skill, Potter delivered the final blow, ensuring the safety of Hogsmeade and all within it."

Harry groaned. “Oh, come on! She makes it sound like I did everything!”

Susan frowned. “She left out Strange entirely.”

Hermione scanned further. “She didn’t mention how you fought Karl, thoug. No details—just that you ‘stood your ground in the face of overwhelming odds.’"

Neville smirked. “I mean, you did.”

Fred, who had been eavesdropping, let out a whistle. “An Order of Merlin, First Class? Not bad, Harry.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

Hermione flipped the page and read:

"In light of these heroic actions, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge is reportedly considering granting Harry Potter an Order of Merlin, First Class for his bravery and quick thinking. Many in the Wizengamot are expected to support the nomination, citing Potter’s role in ending this terrifying threat."

George, just arriving, grabbed a paper and skimmed it. “Wait… you fought the guy who did all this?”

Harry sighed. “I fought him, but it wasn’t just me.”

Blaise leaned back, smirking. “Doesn’t matter what actually happened. This is the story now.”

Fred nudged him. “Should we start bowing when you enter the room?”

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

Hermione folded the paper, watching him closely. “At least they don’t know everything. But we’ll have to be careful—especially with Fudge offering the award.”

Harry exhaled, glancing down at his left hand under the table. The blackened fingers hidden by his magic itched at the mention of his ‘bravery.’

Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table, gripping his goblet tightly as he scowled across the Great Hall. His memory of the attack was fragmented, like trying to grasp smoke, but one thing burned in his mind with irritating clarity—Granger had beaten him.

The idea alone was infuriating. He didn’t remember how, but he knew it had happened. He could almost feel the impact of her shield slamming against him, knocking his wand away. The humiliation of it made his blood boil. He wasn't about to let it go.

From the Gryffindor table, Hermione sat with Neville, Harry, Blaise, and Susan, chatting casually as if nothing had happened. She must have noticed Draco’s glare because she turned slightly, raised an eyebrow, and—Merlin help him—smirked.

Draco bristled.

Pansy Parkinson nudged him. “Draco, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, eyes locked on Hermione. He would find a way to settle this. Granger beating him? That wasn’t going to stand. I was saving that spell for Potter but you'll do Mudblood.

The buzz from the Daily Prophet hadn’t died down, and Hermione could see how much it was weighing on Harry. Whispers followed him through the corridors, and though he acted like it didn’t bother him, she knew better.

She caught him slipping away from the Great Hall before breakfast was finished and quickly followed, finding him standing in a quiet corner of the castle near a large window. He was gazing out at the sky, lost in thought.

“Harry,” she called softly as she approached.

He turned, smiling at her, but there was something tired in his eyes. “You’re missing breakfast.”

“So are you,” she countered. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Hermione.” His voice was light, but she could hear the effort behind it.

She crossed her arms. “You know you don’t have to pretend with me.”

“I’m not pretending,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I just… It’s a lot. The Prophet, the award, everyone talking. It feels… weird.”

Hermione softened. “I know. But you deserve recognition for what you did. Even if Strange smoothed over the details, it doesn’t change the fact that you saved lives.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Feels odd hearing that. I didn’t do it for recognition.”

“I know,” she said, stepping closer. “That’s why you deserve it.”

Harry gave her a small smile, and she took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze—only to feel him flinch ever so slightly.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. “Harry?”

He quickly masked it, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Harry—”

Before she could press further, he leaned in and kissed her. It was soft, a quiet reassurance, but she knew it was also a distraction. When he pulled back, she sighed.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation forever,” she warned.

Harry smirked. "You give up? Never."

She gave him a look but didn’t push further. Not yet. Instead, she laced their fingers together, choosing to enjoy the moment before the madness of the ceremony. Even if she knew something was wrong, she’d give him this moment.

For now.

In Dumbledore’s office, the air was heavy with unspoken thoughts. The ancient wizard sat behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him, while Severus Snape stood rigidly before him, his arms crossed. The dim candlelight flickered against the shelves of ancient tomes, casting long shadows across the room.

Snape was the first to speak. “Potter is at the center of this. Again.” His voice was sharp, edged with something between irritation and distain.

Dumbledore sighed, his expression unreadable. “Harry has a tendency to find himself in extraordinary circumstances, but this time… he may have stepped into something far more dangerous than he realizes.”

Snape’s gaze darkened. “Strange was careful with his words during the assembly. He left out many details. But even with the half-truths, it’s clear Potter was the one to defeat Karl.”

Dumbledore’s fingers tapped the desk absently. “And yet, there is much we do not know. I have no memory of my time under the spell, nor does anyone else who was affected. A most unsettling thought.”

Snape exhaled sharply. “You don’t believe Strange’s version of events.”

“I believe Strange has his own motives,” Dumbledore admitted. “He is a guardian of magic, but his secrecy rivals my own. There is something he is not telling us.”

Snape frowned. “And Potter?”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled, but the usual warmth behind them was absent. “Harry is growing into his power faster than I anticipated. I had hoped to guide him in due time, but it appears others have already taken that role.”

“Strange,” Snape said bitterly. “And Maximoff.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes. Their influence is undeniable. And perhaps… necessary.”

Snape’s lips curled in distaste. “You’re trusting them to keep him from the darkness?”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “It is not about trust, Severus. It is about recognizing that, for now, Harry is beyond my reach.”

"And of Fudge?" Snape asked.

"What of the Minister?"

Snape arched a brow, arms crossed. “Fudge has always been a self-serving fool. This sudden willingness to acknowledge Potter’s actions is nothing more than an attempt to stay in public favor.”

Dumbledore hummed in thought. “Perhaps. But his demeanor during our conversation was… unusual. More decisive. Less hesitant than I recall.”

Snape scoffed. “Are you suggesting he’s suddenly competent?”

Dumbledore’s lips twitched slightly. “That would be a first.” His expression, however, remained contemplative. “It is not just his behavior. There is a certain… presence about him. A confidence that was not there before. I cannot quite place it, but something has changed.”

Snape frowned. “You think he’s being influenced?”

“It would not be the first time,” Dumbledore admitted. “Though I cannot say by whom or what.”

Snape exhaled sharply. “Keep watching him. If something is amiss, it will reveal itself soon enough.”

Dumbledore nodded, though the flicker of unease in his eyes did not fade. "It could be without Lucius and now Umbridge that he is no longer under a negative influence. I will keep him close to be sure."

As Harry and his friends walked through the corridors, they couldn’t help but overhear students excitedly chattering about the Avengers’ presence in Hogsmeade.

“I swear, I saw Iron Man blast one of those creatures right out of the air!” a younger Hufflepuff gushed to his friend.

“And Captain America took on three at once with just his shield!” another added, eyes wide with admiration.

Even some of the more traditional pureblood students, usually dismissive of Muggle affairs, begrudgingly admitted their awe. “That thunder god—Thor,” a Slytherin muttered. “I’d never thought I’d say this, but… he might be as strong as a wizard.”

“I bet he could take down a troll without a wand,” another student agreed.

"I heard he took out four at once!"

Colin Creevey, standing near Harry, looked positively heartbroken. “I can’t believe I missed it! Thor was actually here, and I wasn’t!” He groaned, throwing his hands up. “I would’ve gotten the best picture of him with his hammer!”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Next time, Colin.”

Colin perked up instantly. “Wait—you think there’ll be a next time? Do you know something?”

Hermione sighed, pulling Harry away before Colin could bombard him with more questions. “Honestly, Harry, you have enough people chasing you down.”

Harry smirked. “Guess I’m just popular.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Neville grinned. “Well, if the Avengers keep showing up, you might have competition for the spotlight.”

"They can have it." He said. "I'll stick to being a show off here."

Neville laughed. “Oh, sure. Because you’re not already the biggest show-off at Hogwarts.”

Harry smirked. “Hey, I can’t help it if I’m naturally talented.”

Hermione scoffed but couldn’t hide her smile. “Naturally insufferable, more like.”

Harry shrugged. “Either way, they can have the spotlight. I’ll stick to being a show-off here. It's funnier."

“Good plan,” Neville said with a grin. “Otherwise, you’d have Tony trying to outdo you again."

Harry groaned. “Merlin, no. Two Starks is bad enough. Remember we got Morgan to deal with too."

Colin, still lingering nearby, jumped in again. “But do you think Thor would visit again? Maybe next time I can get a picture!”

Harry laughed. “If he does, you’ll be the first to know.”

The usual hum of chatter in the classroom quieted the moment Professor McGonagall stepped inside.

McGonagall set her books down on her desk and adjusted her glasses as she surveyed the class. Her gaze settled briefly on Harry, and while her face remained neutral, there was something softer in her expression.

“I believe some congratulations are in order, Mr. Potter,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Your actions in Hogsmeade were nothing short of remarkable, and I would be remiss not to acknowledge them.”

A few students whispered among themselves. Harry shifted uncomfortably under the attention but nodded in acknowledgment.

“However,” McGonagall continued, her voice sharp, “while bravery is admirable, recklessness is not. I understand the circumstances were dire, but I strongly advise more caution in the future. Hogwarts has lost too many students to heroics gone awry.”

Hermione shot Harry a look that clearly said, Told you so.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry replied.

McGonagall nodded approvingly, then clapped her hands. “Now that we have addressed that, let us return to our studies. Open your textbooks to page 147. Today, we will be covering human transfiguration, a subject that requires just as much precision and control as any battle.”

With that, class began as if nothing had changed, though Harry could feel McGonagall’s watchful eye on him every now and then.

When he glanced up, he caught her looking. Instead of the usual stern expression she reserved for students caught not paying attention, there was something else—pride. A small, almost imperceptible smile crossed her lips before she turned back to the blackboard.

It wasn’t much, but coming from McGonagall, it spoke volumes.

Harry straightened a little in his seat, feeling a warmth in his chest. He wasn’t used to praise outside of his close circle, and especially not from someone like McGonagall.

Hermione nudged him with her elbow, giving him a pay attention look.

Still, as he turned back to his notes, he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter.

The Astronomy Tower was quiet, save for the distant hooting of an owl. Harry sat cross-legged on the stone floor, Susan and Blaise across from him. Hermione and Neville stood close by, arms crossed, their expressions serious. They had already known the truth, but this was the first time Harry was telling it to Susan and Blaise.

"You already know what I did in Hogsmeade," Harry began, voice low.

Susan nodded. "Yeah. We saw you use Sorcerer Magic."

"But what we don’t know is how you have it," Blaise said, his eyes narrowing. "Wizards shouldn’t be able to wield it. It kills people like us, doesn’t it?"

Harry exhaled. "Normally, yeah. It should have killed me too." He glanced at Hermione and Neville. "They already know this story, but you two deserve to hear it too."

Blaise and Susan exchanged glances as Harry continued.

"You know how my parents died. How Voldemort tried to kill me and failed. But what nobody knows is what happened after." He clenched his fists. "Dumbledore left me on the Dursleys' doorstep that night. Just… left me there, a baby, all alone."

Susan gasped. "Wait—he just left you there?!"

Harry nodded grimly. "Yeah. And I wouldn’t have survived if Strange hadn’t found me. He sensed something was wrong—some kind of magical disturbance—so he followed it and found me there, bleeding, barely alive." He hesitated. "And he did what any good man would do."

"He healed you," Susan guessed.

Harry nodded. "He used his magic to try and stabilize me. To fix whatever magic had been left behind by the Killing Curse. But… something went wrong."

Blaise stiffened. "Wrong how?"

Harry hesitated. "The Chaos Magic latched onto me. Instead of killing me like it should’ve, it bonded to me. Merged with my magic."

Susan’s eyes widened. "That’s… impossible."

Hermione shook her head. "We thought so too, but it happened. Strange spent years trying to understand it. Any other wizard would have died instantly, but somehow, Harry adapted."

Neville sighed. "That’s why Strange has been training him. Making sure he can control it."

Susan swallowed. "So you’re telling me… you’re the only wizard alive who can wield Chaos Magic without dying?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "And that’s exactly why I can’t afford to let anyone find out."

Blaise let out a low whistle. "Well, that explains why Strange is so protective of you."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "He’s been making sure I don’t lose control. But I need you both to promise—you can’t tell anyone."

"You don’t even need to ask," Neville said firmly.

Susan nodded. "Of course, Harry."

Hermione reached out, squeezing his hand in reassurance. "We’re with you. No matter what."

Harry winced slightly at the contact but masked it quickly. Hermione frowned but didn’t say anything.

Blaise smirked. "Just don’t expect us to start calling you ‘Chaos Lord Potter’ or something ridiculous."

Harry chuckled. "Merlin, no."

Neville grinned. "Still, mate… with everything going on, I think the world’s going to start calling you something soon."

Harry exhaled and looked out over the castle. "Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

Neville grinned, crossing his arms. "How about the Scarlet Wizard?"

Harry groaned. "Absolutely not."

Neville chuckled. "Well, too bad, because I think it’s gonna stick."

Harry groaned again. "You know I dont like that." But smirked.

Blaise raised an eyebrow as Harry suddenly waved his hand, and his school robes shimmered before shifting into a sleek, deep red battle-leather armor, complete with intricate runes stitched into the material. A matching flowing cape settled behind him.

Susan's eyes widened. "Okay, that’s actually really cool."

Harry smirked. "Tony and Wanda made this from the Basilisk."

Neville gave an exaggerated sigh. "And he says he doesn’t like being called the Scarlet Wizard."

Harry groaned. "I swear, Neville—"

Hermione bit back a smile. "You're not exactly helping your case, Harry."

Blaise chuckled. "Yeah, mate. You practically are the Scarlet Wizard at this point."

Harry huffed, crossing his arms, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. "Fine. But if anyone actually starts calling me that, I blame you lot."

Regulus led Morgan into the sitting room where Lyall and Pietro were waiting. His best friend had been impatient ever since she heard about the twins aging up. Morgan had met them as babies, and now, they were the same age as her and Regulus.

Morgan’s eyes widened when she saw them. “No way. You guys were tiny last time I saw you.”

Pietro smirked. “And you used to poke our cheeks like we were dolls.”

Morgan gasped. “You remember that?”

Lyall nodded. “Pietro gave us memories of growing up. So yeah, I remember you calling me ‘puppy boy’ and carrying me around like a stuffed animal.”

Morgan’s face turned red. “Okay, in my defense, you were adorable—you still kinda are, just… bigger.”

Regulus snickered. “Told you she’d react like this.”

Pietro grinned. “It’s nice to see you again, Morgan.”

She folded her arms. “You too. Even if I feel a little betrayed that you guys caught up to us in age.”

“We didn’t skip anything,” Lyall said. “We just aged up fast, but we still experienced everything, thanks to Pietro’s magic.”

Morgan’s expression softened. “So… you guys remember all the times I visited?”

Pietro nodded. “Yeah. You and Regulus used to sneak into our nursery and play with us.”

Lyall smirked. “You also tried to teach us how to build a robot out of our toys.”

Morgan laughed. “Wow. I guess that means we’ve been friends for way longer than I thought.”

Regulus grinned. “Guess so.”

Morgan studied them again, her teasing demeanor shifting to something more thoughtful. “Well… welcome to the ten-year-old club, I guess.” She held out a hand. “No more cheek-poking. Just friends.”

Pietro and Lyall exchanged a look before shaking her hand in turn.

“Friends,” Pietro said.

“Just don’t expect me to forget the ‘puppy boy’ thing,” Lyall added with a smirk.

Morgan groaned. “Great. I’m never living that down.”

Morgan’s curiosity got the better of her as she studied Lyall and Pietro. “So, do you guys have powers like your mom?”

Pietro smirked. “Oh, we’ve got a few tricks.” He lifted his hand, and a swirling red mist curled around his fingers before forming into glowing, floating shapes—first a tiny wolf, then a bird, then a star. The images shimmered before dissolving into sparkles.

Morgan’s eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s so cool.”

Lyall grinned. “That’s nothing.” He held up his hand, and with a sharp snikt, bone claws extended from his knuckles. “Check these out.”

Morgan gasped. “No way.” She reached forward but hesitated. “Can I touch them?”

Lyall nodded, and she carefully tapped one of the claws. “They’re real.”

“Of course they are,” Lyall said proudly, retracting them with ease. “And I’ve got super healing too.”

Morgan’s jaw dropped. “Okay, you guys are officially the coolest ten-year-olds I’ve ever met.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Morgan smirked at him. “You don’t have claws or magic.”

Regulus huffed. “I have other talents.”

Morgan grinned. “Like collecting rare chocolate frog cards?”

Regulus crossed his arms. “It’s a very serious hobby.”

Morgan giggled, but then she looked at Pietro and Lyall again with genuine excitement. “Seriously, though, you guys are amazing. We’re totally gonna have the best adventures.”

Pietro smirked. “Just try to keep up.”

Lyall flashed his sharp teeth in a playful grin. “Yeah, puppy boy is faster than you think.”

Morgan groaned, realizing she really was never living that down.

Morgan grinned as Motto appeared on Regulus’ shoulder, his big, silvery eyes blinking at the twins. “Motto!” she cheered, reaching out to scratch the Demiguise behind the ear. “I missed you, little guy.”

Motto cooed and leaned into her touch, his long fingers curling around the fabric of Regulus’ sleeve.

Pietro and Lyall both tilted their heads. “Who’s this?” Pietro asked curiously.

Regulus smirked. “This is Motto, my Demiguise. He’s been with me since he was little."

Lyall sniffed the air, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t even notice him at first… He smells like ink and—” His nose twitched. “Chocolate?”

Regulus sighed. “Okay, why does everyone comment on that?”

Morgan giggled. “Because you always have chocolate in your pockets.”

“But what is he?" Peitro asked.

Regulus looked at him like he’d just asked if the sky was blue. “It’s a Demiguise.”

Lyall crossed his arms. “Okay… what’s a Demiguise?”

Morgan gasped, her hands on her hips. “You don’t know what a Demiguise is?”

Pietro shrugged. “Should we?”

Regulus sighed and shook his head. “A Demiguise is a magical creature that can turn invisible at will. They can also see the immediate future, which makes them really hard to catch.”

Lyall’s ears twitched. “Wait… it can see the future?”

Regulus nodded. “Sort of. Not far ahead, just a few moments.”

Pietro squinted at Motto. “And you just… have one as a pet?”

Motto let out a soft chuff, then suddenly shimmered out of sight.

Lyall jumped back, eyes widening. “What the—where did it go?” He sniffed the air. “He’s still here!”

Morgan giggled. “That’s what Demiguises do! They go invisible when they feel like it.”

Pietro waved his hand in the empty space where Motto had been. “That’s… kinda cool.” He turned to Regulus. “Can you still see him?”

Regulus smirked. “Not always. But he likes me, so he sticks close.”

Lyall huffed, his golden eyes still scanning the air where Motto had been. “I don’t like things sneaking up on me.”

Morgan giggled again. “Don’t worry, Lyall. Motto’s friendly.”

As if to prove her point, the Demiguise reappeared, draping himself lazily over Regulus' shoulder while making a soft, content noise.

Pietro and Lyall exchanged a look.

Lyall grumbled, “Still weird.”

Pietro smirked. “Weird, but kinda awesome.”

The next day.

Harry stood off to the side with his family, away from the growing crowd. The stage was set, and the Ministry officials were preparing for the ceremony, but all he could focus on was the heavy weight in his chest.

Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder. “What’s with the face? You look like you’re heading to the gallows, not getting an award.”

“I don’t need an award,” Harry muttered, shifting on his feet. “I just… did what I had to do.”

“You saved an entire village, Harry,” Natasha reminded him, crossing her arms. “You deserve recognition for that.”

Wanda, standing beside her sons, watched him closely. “You don’t feel like you deserve it,” she said softly, reading him in a way few others could.

Harry exhaled, rubbing his fingers together. “I don’t. I… I had to kill Karl. And I enjoyed it.” His voice dropped lower, so only his family could hear. “What kind of hero does that?”

Silence hung between them for a moment before Lyall spoke up. “The kind that protects people,” he said simply.

Pietro nodded. “Karl would’ve hurt Mom, hurt all of us. You stopped him.”

Sirius crouched down slightly to meet Harry’s eyes. “I get it. Taking a life, even someone like Karl, is never easy. But what matters is that you’re still you.”

“Barely,” Harry mumbled, looking at his hand—at the fingers he kept hidden beneath his magic.

Wanda stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. You are not lost, her voice echoed in his mind. And you are not alone.

Harry swallowed hard, nodding slightly.

Regulus and Morgan stood nearby, watching quietly. Regulus, still holding his Bertie Bott’s Gold Card, finally said, “You know, if you really don’t want the award, I could take it.”

Morgan elbowed him. “Not the time, Reg.”

Harry let out a small chuckle despite himself.

“Like it or not,” Natasha said, “you’re about to be called up there. Just accept it with that charming little smirk you do and get it over with.”

Harry sighed but nodded. “Fine.”

The ceremony was about to begin, and as his name was called, he felt his family’s support behind him. No matter how uneasy he felt, he wasn’t standing alone.

The grand hall of the Ministry of Magic was packed with witches and wizards, the golden banners of the Wizengamot hanging high above as murmurs of excitement filled the air. The event was an unusual one—rarely was an Order of Merlin, First Class, given to someone so young.

At the front of the hall, Cornelius Fudge—Loki in disguise—stood at the podium, flanked by Amelia Bones and several high-ranking officials. Though outwardly composed, his fingers twitched at his side as he scanned the crowd. His discomfort only grew when he spotted a group of distinctively out-of-place individuals entering the hall.

Iron Man, Captain America,  Doctor Strange, Thor, and even Bruce Banner—now calm and human—walked in together, a silent show of support for the young wizard standing among them. Wanda, Sirius, and Natasha stood protectively at Harry’s sides, while Strange observed everything with a knowing gaze.

Fudge—Loki—straightened his robes, forcing a confident smile. He hadn't planned for this.

"Honored witches and wizards," he began, his voice ringing out through the chamber. "Today, we gather to recognize a young man who, through his extraordinary bravery, saved an entire village from destruction. Though still a student, he demonstrated courage and skill beyond his years, vanquishing a terrible threat."

The crowd murmured as Loki turned to Harry, motioning him forward.

"Harry James Potter, for your heroism in the Battle of Hogsmeade, the Ministry of Magic is proud to present you with the Order of Merlin, First Class."

Applause rang out, though some in the crowd looked uneasy—Harry was only thirteen, and some clearly doubted he should receive such an honor. But as Harry stepped forward, standing tall, there was no denying that he looked the part. He had been through war, and it showed.

Fudge held out the medal, hesitating just slightly as he caught Strange’s piercing gaze. Does he suspect? Loki wondered. No. Fudge slipped how much Strange was watching him. So he's not changed. Good.

Harry accepted the medal with a nod, his expression unreadable. As he turned to the crowd, his green eyes swept over the faces—some proud, some skeptical, some wary.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Applause filled the hall once more, but Fudge—Loki—couldn’t shake his unease. The Avengers were watching him too closely.

As the ceremony continued, Fudge—Loki—kept his composure, but inside, his nerves were unraveling. His eyes darted toward Thor, who stood proudly among the Avengers, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching him like a predator eyeing its prey.

Loki forced himself to remain calm. Thor couldn't possibly suspect. Not yet.

As Harry accepted the Order of Merlin, First Class, Fudge clapped along with the rest of the assembly, but his fingers twitched at his sides. Thor was still standing too close, his piercing blue gaze fixed on him.

When the ceremony ended, Thor casually approached, standing mere feet from Fudge. The god of thunder smirked. "You seem nervous, Minister."

Loki stiffened, keeping his expression neutral. "Nonsense," he replied smoothly. "It is simply an honor to stand among such powerful figures."

Thor grinned, clapping him on the back with enough force to make Fudge—Loki—stumble slightly. "Ah, of course! Not every day a mere mortal stands so close to a god."

Fudge forced a strained chuckle. "Quite." Loki couldn't escape fast enough.

Loki, still wearing Fudge’s face, watched with amusement as Sirius approached. The infamous Marauder had a careful look on his face, suspicion laced in his sharp grey eyes.

“Minister,” Sirius greeted curtly.

“Ah, Sirius Black,” Loki responded smoothly. “Always a pleasure.”

Before Sirius could retort, Regulus appeared beside him. “Dad, I—oh, hello, Minister.”

Loki turned his attention to the boy, his gaze lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. It was odd seeing him from this side of things, after spending months as Atreus, pretending to be his friend.

“Regulus Black,” Loki said with a small smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you properly.”

Regulus hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. There was something about the Minister that tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“You know my name?” Regulus asked.

Loki chuckled, shifting his weight as he adopted a casual air. “Of course. You come up in conversation more often than you might think.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “And who exactly is talking about my son?”

Loki smirked, gesturing slightly to the gathered officials and distinguished guests in the room. “Oh, some of your peers here, actually. I understand you speak quite highly of both your sons.”

Sirius blinked, caught off guard. He did brag about them—often and loudly, much to Remus and Natasha’s occasional amusement. He could hardly argue the point without contradicting himself.

Regulus looked up at his father with a knowing smile. “You do talk about me a lot,” he pointed out.

Sirius sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, alright.” He shot a wary glance at Loki. “Still, odd thing for a Minister to keep track of.”

Loki’s smirk never wavered. “A good leader knows the names of those who will shape the future.”

Regulus, intrigued, didn’t notice the way Sirius’ grip on his shoulder subtly tightened.

“Well,” Sirius said, guiding his son away, “enjoy the rest of the ceremony, Minister.”

Loki inclined his head as they left, watching them go with veiled amusement. Sirius Black was perceptive, but even he wouldn’t put the pieces together—at least, not yet.

Loki absently rolled a small piece of candy between his fingers as he watched Sirius and Regulus walk away. The sweet had been nestled in his pocket since earlier that day—a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean. He had taken a liking to them during his time as Atreus, thanks to Regulus’ insistence that he had to try every kind.

It was a ridiculous habit, really. Asgard had its feasts, its indulgences, but nothing like the simple joy of discovering whether a tiny candy would taste like honey or… well, something far worse. It was unpredictable, chaotic in a way he found oddly amusing.

As he popped the candy into his mouth—caramel, thankfully—he allowed himself the smallest smirk.