Mystique Soldier Ch.27 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 27- The Beginning of a Future

AN: Beta'd by Kaladin, Basilisk, and Deathwish. Hope you enjoy!

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For Harry, the days of waking up cold and alone like an abandoned puppy were quickly becoming an ancient nightmare, long dead and buried in his past. And, as he yet again found himself wrapped within the gentle hold of a soft, comforting arm, he knew he wouldn't have it any other way.

Merely a month ago, his first reaction would've been to stiffen up in caution, preparing the best way to eliminate the poor soul who'd decided to throw their life away...

Now he was more blinded by the sight of two beautifully curved jugs of pale flesh flashing him right in the eyes—barely inches from his face—covered only by a lacy white nightdress that bared a delicious amount of cleavage, doing little to hold back their sheer enormity.

It took him a moment to fully register the situation; feeling the softness of a bed underneath him, the cool winter chill pressing against his skin, and the muted chirping of birds outside, all the while his eyes cluelessly feasted upon two magnificent perks of femininity. His brain quickly cataloged the wave of vibrant red hair tickling his nose under Lily’s name, further cleared by the desperately tight hold upon him that he’d come to associate with his mother.

Once the confusion of waking subdued, awe couldn't begin to describe the feelings bubbling in his chest. He was forced to once more bestow the title of the Greatest pair of Breasts on the planet back to its original holder, reluctantly seizing it away from Widow. Natasha's may be beautifully shaped and all, but they just couldn't hope to match these giant jugs of absolute perfection.

Then again, he hadn't seen them from this close up; maybe if both sets of funballs were presented to his eyes at the same time, side by side, he may judge them more accurately. From the limited info that he currently possessed, Lily's pair simply outshined everyone else's.

Sighing contentedly, Harry leaned into them further, closing his eyes to hear the whistling howls of the December wind outside, whilst the warmth of Lily's body spread through him like a blanket of comfort. The clashing of heat and cold reminded him of the same strange feeling of novel romance that Midget’s body had; yet where the Midget's heat felt like that of a defenseless pup clinging to him desperately, Lily's felt like a protective mama bear hiding him underneath her possessive grasp, willing to maul any threat that approaches…

Harry breathed out slowly. 'I will never get used to this.’

Then again, neither did he particularly wish to; it was too rewarding an experience to be normalized.

He could hear the beats of her heart as he slowly laid his ears against the fullness of her breasts; the slow, rhythmic assurance lulling him into a net of safety. He breathed in her scent, finding himself quickly enamored by the musky sweetness of her flawless, jade skin that disarmed him in every way possible, leaving him more relaxed than a full night of sleep.

How he came across such a heavenly setting made him take a walk down memory lane, the events of the previous night quick to reintroduce themselves; with Natasha by his back, and a Nimbus between his legs, Harry had left the earth-shaking boom of the exploding Hydra Castle behind, toiling through the Russian clouds for quite some time before the rescue finally found them.

Sadly, it had just been a regular, old Heavy jet this time. Though it did provide a wider seating; so once inside, he’d let the Widows out of his suitcase.

They had breached the skies of New York amidst the welcome of early-Christmas firecrackers and beautiful light shows that lit up the star-strewn sky. Natasha was quick to inform that it was nothing but a prelude to the real deal, and that still didn't come close to matching the hubbub created on the 4th of July. Harry believed her; after all, he’d spent the last one running around in shock when the night-skies turned red and white out of nowhere.

He had been tired upon arrival—not physically of course, but it had been a long while since he last completed a multi-day mission, especially something that could affect his emotions to such a degree—and so had readily submitted himself to the fussing and fretting of his mother the moment they reached the S.H.I.E.L.D hangar; how she entered the restricted area was a mystery he never got the time to solve. He couldn’t quite remember exactly when he surrendered to the summons of Morpheus, but considering his current predicament, it must’ve been right in her arms.

…Of course, she could’ve also just stolen him away from his room, but you wouldn’t hear him complaining.

It was a shocking thing indeed, to realize he hadn't yet had the chance to properly digest the quest rewards. The journey back to American soil had passed in a haze of self-reflection as he confronted the gaping void of fear and paranoia that Hydra had once occupied. Not to mention the wave of mundane introductions that Natasha forced him to accept from the platoon of Widows—though he didn’t mind their gratitude and adulation one bit.

He'd let the lonely Winter out of his Trunk-prison as well, when Natasha had had the brilliant idea of letting him sniff some of the Red stuff from a leaking Dust tube, hoping to remove any remaining mental-fuckeries.

It seemed to have worked, if the mutterings of his slowly recovering memories was any sign.

But now, wrapped in Lily's loving arms, his head resting on her soft, pillowy heavens, he had all the time in the world to finally assess his gains.

Quest [A Gang of Widows] in Progress!

• Accompany Romanoff and Barton to Budapest (X)
• Help them return alive (X)
• Help them avoid capture (X)
• Save all the Widows (X)
• Free Winter Soldier and Taskmaster from Mind Control (X)

Rewards:

• 1500 XP
• 2500 Xp
• 2500 Xp
• 3000 Xp
• 2 Emerald Sigils, Increased Affection with Taskmaster, Increased Affection with Black Widows

Harry quirked his brows. ‘That’s a first.’

He wondered if his system was breathing new Affection into them, or if it was simply the natural consequence of saving their lives.

‘Unless…’ Harry frowned. ‘..their gratitude and adulation on the plane were a result of the rewards.’

They had been a tad bit too enthusiastic in showing their appreciation, especially considering the lion’s share of work in freeing them was done by Natasha.

Whatever the case, it absolutely wasn’t unwelcome. More affection meant more susceptibility to his mutation, and there were quite a few pretty faces amongst the bunch that he would like to try his luck on, especially after his bitter failure with Daisy the ‘Skye’ Johnson…

The thought of his mutation shifted his focus back to the sleeping form of Lily. If there was a prime time to ensnare her in his web, this would be it; he doubted even the absolute master of Occlumency could keep their minds shielded whilst asleep.

Yet, for some reason, the urge to use his mutation on her now came with a certain…reluctance.

Oh, there was no doubt in his mind that his thirst for her divine form would never be sated by anyone else; if Katie and Cho were the crumbs from his Daily Quests, she was undoubtedly the ultimate reward for his main quest in life. Sure, his girl-friends were still necessary for his growth, and he would ‘complete’ them every chance he got, but it didn’t carry the same desire, the same thirst and hunger within him that Lily did.

And yet, as he lay wrapped in her semi-naked embrace, basking in the sweetness of her radiance—so close to the said reward—he felt a great hesitance in using his mutation for the final step.

It was as if claiming her with his ability would lower her value somehow, demote her to the level of Katie and Cho; make her a mere Girl-friend.

In this brief a time in his life, he’d realized Lily, just like Rose—and Natasha—had managed to carve a special position within his heart. A position higher than any Girl-friend could hope to reach. Using his mutation to manipulate their feelings threatened to undo that—something he was simply averse to.

‘I must pursue them without its aid.’ He concluded reluctantly, before leaning back to eye Lily’s giant globes of perfection sadly. ‘I’m afraid you must wait a little while longer, my big, beautiful friends.’

He’d just have to bide his time until his body grew up a little. Considering the only issue Skye had with him was his age, he had no doubt his charms would be able to carry him through the rest.

‘Eventually.’ He gave a stoic nod, before quickly turning his attention back to the rewards as the continued sight of Lily’s tempting form started sending tingles down his morning wood.

Quest [Cutting the roots] in Progress!

• Eliminate Alexander Pierce (X)
• Save the Winter Soldier (X)
• Destroy the Hydra Base (X)

Rewards:

• 2000 Xp
• 3000 Xp
• 2 Emerald Sigils, Increased Affections with Ares, Increased Affections with Winter Soldier

Harry grunted. This batch of affections wasn’t as valued in his eyes, but he was sure he could find some use for it.

Plus, the Sigils washed away any sense of resentment at the relatively lower value of rewards; he now had 10 of those Emerald coins awaiting in his Inventory. They’d already shown their value, so he wasn’t annoyed by their current uselessness.

‘Now, if only I can land one of those busted Reality Manipulation ones…'

Sadly, he’d have to wait for his level to hit a century before he could access the System Store again—something he hoped would be possible by the end of his first Hogwarts year.

‘Status’

Harry Potter

Age: 11

Race: Wizard

Level: 70 (690/7100)

Mana: 1540/1540

Health: 870/870

Stamina: 820/820

Stats

Strength: 71 (15)

Speed: 111 (15)

Dexterity: 73 (15)

Vitality: 72 (15)

Endurance: 67 (15)

Intelligence: 139 (15)

Wisdom: 133 (15)

Points: 33

His chest echoed a hum of satisfaction. Two levels for a single mission was more than decent enough, especially at this point of his Gamer’s journey. Every level now should be grounds for a minor celebration.

He was also delighted that his sparing of Winter had borne some sweet fruits; It had been a difficult decision at the time, but the rewards certainly spoke for themselves, lessening his reasons for regret.

Though he did have to wonder about the Taskmaster objective; he hadn’t personally completed the requirement, and yet there were no signs that any reward was being withheld from him as penalty. Perhaps his system counted Natasha as his Gamer companion for the mission, or perhaps it simply didn’t care about the ‘Who’ of the matter as long as it was completed…

Whatever the case, Harry was only too glad to lap up those XPs.

Smiling, he put a hand beneath his head, shifting a little to adjust his position as the winds outside released a particularly mean howl.

'Hmm…' He rubbed his chin, eyes falling on the last bar. 'Should I?...'

He had just enough points to push one more stat over the century line and earn that sweet, sweet stat-perk; the question was, out of Str, Dex, Vit, and End, which stat needed a major boost the most currently?

Surprisingly, for perhaps the first time in a long while, Harry found himself with a lack of answer.

He'd always upgraded himself in the most optimal way possible, taking his current fighting prowess and immediate needs into consideration. Now, however, he didn’t have anything particularly insightful to go off on.

The fault, he felt, lied solely on the last bit of action he'd received, denying him any conclusive reports; he'd manhandled two super-human opponents like children, and took down an army of trained super-assassins with almost careless indulgence.

What exactly did he need now to become even better?

Perhaps he shouldn’t focus on his physique at all. Maybe magic was the way to go now, what with the upcoming Senior Dueling Tournament on the horizon. The system would surely reward him with more Dueling quests, so this might prove to be an excellent investment.

But as his eyes fell on those four physical stats, he couldn’t help but wince. Should he really give up a Perk for some potential long-term advantage that might not even play out right?

He needed a decent challenge to make up his mind. A solid fight that he couldn’t end in a matter of seconds should he go all out; to judge exactly where he was lacking, and what needed to be improved.

Sadly, that was easier said than done. The stronger he grew, the lesser the competition. He no longer had the luxury of finding strong opponents simply by roaming around the Shield facilities. Maybe a suited-up Ares would do the job. Or a combo of Taskmaster, Winter, Natasha, and the remaining Widows. Unless…

‘A wizard maybe?’ Harry rubbed his chin. He did have an entire unit of magical beings sitting uselessly in a hotel. Perhaps it was time he found out how he matched against an adult Wizard should he stop limiting himself now. After all, the last bout had ended in an embarrassingly casual defeat.

While the Minister was too much of a behemoth for Harry to feel bitter, even Snape had managed to stall him with little to no issues. Plus, according to the man, he had been holding back a ton. And from the results of their daily duels, Harry absolutely believed him.

It would be interesting to see where they fell now. Maybe a bout with James or Sirius would clear things up; they were trained magical law enforcers, and would undoubtedly pose a higher threat than most wizards, perhaps even including Snape.

‘Hmm…’ That bore some further thinking.

Deciding to ponder upon the issue later, he shelved the topic to the back of his mind as he felt Lily stir beside him.

A stark sense of loss washed over him when the arm clutching his body suddenly let go, stretching overhead as the redheaded goddess beside him released a cute yawn.

Harry found himself drinking the sight in with great zeal, trying to capture her every movement; from the way her delicate lips parted, to the gentle arch of her eyebrows, from the way she thrust her chest out, insinuating the curves of her ample bosom in highlighted vividity, to her bared neck trailing a single line of sweat that spoke more to him of sex than all the sessions with his girl-friends combined.

The entire sight was like a minor adventure that ended too soon, doing things to his heart that he hadn’t even thought possible.

Her eyes were the last to open, brilliant green pupils dilating under the sun's muted rays as they slowly graced the world with their deific presence, scrunching shut straight after under the sudden brightness.

Almost instinctively, he pushed himself higher on the bed, raising a hand to block the line of light falling on her face. With the shadow of his palm protecting her, Lily hesitantly opened her eyes again, and whilst the green in them didn’t shine so bright under his darkness, they were still deep enough for Harry to get lost within.

She registered his presence almost instantly, sluggishly stretching her head to peer above. He could visibly see the gears shifting in her head; the incomprehension turning to realization, as she blinked at his hand, and then at his face, before her eyes widened into large saucers, finally accepting the reality. "...Harry?"

He slowly lowered his hand, and then lowered himself to bed, feeling strangely abashed. "Good morning, Lily."

Then a smile wider than the widest river, brighter than the brightest sun, spread across her lips, her arm coming straight back down to re-establish their clutching prowess over him. "Good morning, love."

She wiggled around on the bed, until her head was resting on his chest, her breasts were squashed tight against his stomach, and the arm clutching at him previously was once again wrapped around his waist with a desperation only Lily could show.

With his heart hammering against her head, Harry surrendered to the natural order of Life and let his arms settle on her back.

'Observe'

Lily Potter

Age: 31

Level: 66

Reputation: Exalted

Affection: 95

Harry raised his brows. Her affection had grown again, as it seemed to do once every couple of months. And without any quest delivering artificial points either.

He smirked at the blinking text.

Merlin, he might actually discover what love truly was through this woman one day.

Though he couldn’t help but wonder how powerful the Affection stat was exactly. What was the difference between two people at the peak of Exaltation and the peak of Love respectively? Was one simply more devoted to him than the other? More willing to do things for him? Would they worship the ground he walked? Accept his every command? It was an interesting bonus ability from his system that he’d never paid too much attention to.

Should he ask Lily to strip naked, would she simply accept?

A part of him was certain she would. Though he wouldn’t ask so, of course. No matter how tempted the answer made him, and how tempted the thought of claiming his reward right this instance seemed.

For he knew, even if Lily agreed, she would only do so because he wanted it. Not because she wanted it.

‘Why do I even care though?’ Harry frowned.

He’d never really let another being’s opinions stop him from doing what he wanted. Since when did he start caring for other people’s feelings? Was it those teary, puppy-dog eyes from Midget that softened him such? Was it the unconditional love from his family? The fear of disappointing them after everything they’d done for him? Or those extraordinary gifts from Lily and James that had made his life a lot easier, and were definitely the main culprit behind saving Natasha’s life…

Whatever the case, he knew there was something different this time. For the first conscious moment, he found himself fearing a negative reaction from someone.

A part of the blame laid on Daisy’s shoulders as well, he decided at last. It was her that had made him realize not all women might like his advances, and while he still didn't care about most, it was now clear Lily's feelings did matter. Even if she did as he asked with no hesitation, he wanted her to enjoy it just as much as Katie and Cho did. Preferably, much more than Katie or Cho did.

‘Though without mutation this time.’ Harry firmed his decision.

His attention was quickly diverted when he felt Lily shifting in his arms again; those divine greens peering up with a sleepy smile.

“Did you sleep well?” She murmured sweetly.

It was only through a great personal control that he kept his eyes from getting entrapped by the sight of her lips, managing a noncommittal hum in response.

Still pressed up tight against him, Lily seemed to have no intention of letting go. Though nor did Harry have any desire to vacate the softness of her body.

Of course, it simply had to be that moment for the accursed enemy of all that is holy to present itself again: knocking.

They launched themselves in a pack of three; banging on the wood harshly enough to let him know in no uncertain terms; the enemy was strong willed and will not be ignored.

Lily grumbled beside him, snuggling her face deeper in his neck. "Do you have to?"

Oh, how his heart ached at the thought of leaving. It wasn’t everyday one woke up feeling the warmth of a goddess; who knew when such luck would smile on him again? Perhaps this was the reward for him burying his past life, a onetime event that he wouldn’t experience again. Should he truly abandon it so easily?

Just when the thought of defying the inevitable began brewing in his mind, three more thumps of evil came and shredded his plans to nothingness.

Harry sighed, gently forcing Lily’s grip of doom to unclasp, though with no small amount of personal anguish. "I’m afraid I must. S.H.I.E.L.D agents do not know when to give up."

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Bubbling with justified resentment, Harry marched his way over to the door like a man on a mission, almost wrenching it off its hinges in sheer irritation.

"What!?” He snapped, the fury of a million cock-blocked men fueling him stronger.

That fury trickled off like a wet fart when an unimpressed female face stared back with a raised eyebrow.

Harry faltered. “...Oh."

“Yeah, oh.” Standing in front of him, a pensive mask on her face, was Kara Palamas. "Hello, Harry." She offered no smile.

"Kara." Harry nodded slowly, the anger quickly replaced by something decidedly panicky writhing in his chest. "It is…good to see you again?"

Kara didn't reply, simply staring at him a moment longer, before whirling around in silence. "I’m here to escort you to the Director."

Sighing, Harry closed the door and fell in step with her, all the dreams of rejoining Lily forgotten.

As they left the living quarters in a quick march, a tense shroud of silence enveloped the group of two, and he began wondering if this was all there was to it. Silent treatment with occasional narrow-eyed stares was tame compared to what he’d imagined this meeting to be like. Perhaps he’d simply been overthinking the situation. Perhaps Kara wasn’t that angry after all…

That sentiment was proven untrue a mere second later.

"Not even a letter." She sniffed, giving him an especially piercing stare. "Not even a single letter."

Harry shrugged, a special kind of discomfort rising in his chest, feeling quite akin to the guilt he’d so often observed in other people…before a sudden splash of surprise brought him short. “Wait just a moment…did I not leave you a letter? I distinctly remember foraging through the internet for the correct way to write one…”

“‘I’m leaving, don’t die.’ is not a letter, mister!” Kara exclaimed in exaggerated outrage. “What corner of the Internet did you get that from? Yahoo?”

“So it was a shitty letter,” He conceded. “—but it was still a letter! You cannot judge them with such blatant prejudice! Size shouldn’t matter!”

Her lips perked up, though she maintained her narrow-eyed stare. “Actually, size does matter, though many men seem to want to forget that. I’d thought you better than that, Mr. Potter. Then again, I suppose you did write a letter, so I’ll have to give you a point for that.” She narrowed her eyes even more. “But tell me this, did you even ask if I was alive when you came back, hmmmmm?"

After a quick moment of dawning realization, Harry stared at the ceiling above as if they held all his answers; he’d never noticed but the color of faded steel was quite interesting to look at, especially those small patches of browning rust that ran along the edges of ventilation pipes…

“—You know, seems like something you should inquire about a friend who works in a very risky line of business.” Kara continued goadingly. “Of course, that is considering you even remembered that friend in the first place.”

Harry began whistling, suddenly remembering that beautiful Christmas song in Budapest. He couldn’t quite put together the exact tuning of the chorus but he felt he'd done pretty well for his first time…

Kara sighed. “Please tell me you at least visited our room? You know, the room you spent a year living in?”

“I didn’t get the chance!” Harry defended himself, relieved to hear something he did have an excuse for. “I barely spent a night here since arriving. Which, I must note, you would’ve known had you asked about me to anyone.”

She looked at him blandly, half-lidded eyes peering at his soul. “I did ask about you. The moment I came back from my very life-threatening mission, in fact. Why do you think I’m here to pick you up?”

Harry huffed, folding his hands. As if he didn't have his own 'Life-threatening' mission to look after—which wasn't all that life-threatening at all, but still! The thought counted.

Frowning, she opened her mouth—no doubt with another complaint—though promptly fell quiet when they rounded a corner, walking past a chuckling duo of S.H.I.E.L.D Agents.

“Did you know I blamed myself?” She whispered after a short pause, shooting a glance back to confirm that they were completely alone. For the first time, genuine frustration seemed to fill her eyes and tone. “Thought it was my fault you ran away. My fault…for forcing my mess of a life on your shoulders…"

Harry smiled, more than happy to let her take the blame. “Well—”

“Then I had to find out from Agent Romanoff; Agent Romanoff!—The Black Widow, who creeps the ‘F’ out of everyone—that you left just 'cause your contract expired. So you knew, from the very start, that you’d be leaving soon, and you just…didn’t care? I know I looked like a naive girl back then, gasping in horror at your very colorful tales of murder, but after a year of living together I thought we’d bonded at least a little bit, you know?…Apparently not, ‘cause it took Ares to tell me you’re alive and well, and that too from a letter you sent via an owl. You just…genuinely never cared, did you? You probably don’t even care now. Go on then, say it.” Her hands came up to form levitating commas, voice thickening into a mockingly robotic drawl. “ ‘Your irrational anger is unjustified and unbecoming of an adult, Thirty-three. It is your own fault for misunderstanding our relationship. You are nothing but an unnecessary weight I put up with, 'cause I am the great, unfeeling Mystique Ass, boo-hoo-hoo’.” She spat that last ‘Hoo’ in his face with some real venom.

For a few seconds, Harry simply stared at the woman, feeling thoroughly taken aback. This…was a little more extreme than he’d anticipated.

An awkward silence followed in the wake of the surprisingly long tirade, disturbed only by Kara’s soft gulps of air—who finally broke eye-contact as they slowly marched their way down a short set of stairs, looking straight ahead religiously.

As they passed another bunch of harried agents—a few of whom recognised and greeted him much more pleasantly—his companion finally turned to peer at him from the corner of her eyes, looking almost guilty. “Okay, maybe I went a little off-track there, but I will not be made to feel bad for your faults, damn it!” A soft elbow caught him in the ribs. “So let’s hear it, Mr. Magic assassin. I promise I won’t cry.”

“.....” Harry rubbed his ribs dubiously, glancing at her in silence while his brain finished digesting her rant.

For the first time in a long while, he found himself with a genuine lack of words.

He believed he’d made heads and tails in understanding human emotions, but from his semi-expert analysis, this sudden outburst did seem a little too over-blown. Sure, he had been wrong to leave her uninformed, and maybe a couple angry words were justified…but it wasn't like he left a grenade on her bed as a farewell surprise, did he? The woman was acting as if he'd murdered her puppy or something.

…Alright, perhaps not that extreme—her gun was nowhere near her hand, especially not pointed near his head—but it was still disconcerting.

'Unless…' Harry slowly nodded, an interesting possibility growing in his brain.

“You know…" With newfound understanding, he glanced at Kara again. "I’ve read about women and their mysterious ‘Time of the Month’, but I hadn’t fully understood the emotional side-effects…till now. If that is what this is, I forgive you...”

Her annoyance disappeared behind sheer stupefaction as she gaped at him—all teeth and tongue—appearing almost as bewildered as she looked offended, clueing him in that perhaps he hadn’t hit it right on the nose.

“...But of course, I’m only joking,” He smoothly backtracked. “Considering your lack of laughter however, it seems I must address your heinous accusations with appropriate seriousness.”

He wasn’t a Sage for nothing, after all. Verbal spats were just another type of attack he needed to deal with.

Beside him, Kara seemed immortalized in her wide-mouthed gaping look of shock.

“First of all,” He raised a finger critically. “That was a horrible imitation. Never attempt that again. Secondly, I do think your current behavior is unbecoming of an adult. An adult surely wouldn’t have judged me on my first attempt at a ‘Farewell’. How can you expect excellence from me in a completely novel experience? The only farewells I’d given before were to my Hydra handlers, and those came with bullets and Killing Curses, as you can personally attest to. I believe I am much better equipped now to tackle it in a friendlier way. So what do you say we both simply…dismiss that one instance as a training run and start over, eh?”

And to wrap up his pitch, he flashed her a brilliant smile that he'd been practicing for a while now—something that had worked wonders on most of the Hogwarts’ female population. Till now.

Kara, however, must’ve had her natural adult-resistance up and running, for her look of gaping only added a slow, disbelieving shake of the head, though this time with a note of hilarity.

“‘Training run’.” She gave a slow snorted. “Right. You’ve been talking so normally, I’d almost forgotten how you actually were.”

Harry frowned. Now they were just devolving into petty insults it seemed. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the way he talked….at least, Lily or Midget never complained about it, nor did any of his friends.

"Still…" Her lips puckered, struggling to wipe off her brewing smile. "that was…actually more than I ever expected from you. Y’know, this might be the longest you’ve ever talked to me. But hey,” She elbow-bumped him again, “at least you aren’t as dead inside anymore, so that’s a win in my book."

Giving a disgruntled huff, Harry swerved past a small stream of exiting agents to join her inside the elevator.

"So what's the secret?" She prompted as the lift dragged upwards. "Good family time? Some hugs and kisses? Your new magical friends?"

Harry shrugged, folding his arms as he leaned against one corner. "Leaving your past behind seems to work well."

"That—" Kara blinked slowly. "...is probably the wisest thing I've heard a twelve-year-old say."

Almost twelve, but who was counting?

"Been around a lot of twelve-year-olds lately?" He snarked back.

She stabbed a finger at him, smirking. "No, I haven’t. And that's a good point, but I just don't expect such nuggets of wisdom from ‘little kids’, you know?"

Harry huffed. "How very ageist of you."

“Shut up.” Kara snorted, taking a couple steps forth as the ding of a halting elevator announced their destination. "That's not even a word."

"What? Of course, it is. Racist, sexist…ageist." It made perfect sense.

She rolled her eyes. "Right, and you knew that because—?"

"I read dictionaries in my free time." Harry lied.

She accepted it without question, muttering something incoherent. Harry lauded his growing verbal manipulation skills.

Still, petty insults or not, Kara became a whole lot easier to talk to after their new deal of mutual-progression past their ‘training-run’ farewell. She described the ups and downs of the last few months in her life; of the missions she’d partaken in, the skills she’d learned, and even the kills she’d registered. She tried to laugh the last one off, though no matter how tough she acted, Harry could instantly see through the cover of callous humor and notice the discomfort within. He let the subject slide, though, for while his understanding of emotions may have grown, he doubted anyone would be itching to gain comfort from him.

He summarized his own life to her briefly; her being already aware of magic meant he didn’t need to censor himself too much, so he went on to describe the humongous castle, the new spells he’d learned, the fables that were Quidditch and Dueling, and even his two ‘Girl-friends’ which, for some reason, she found absolutely hilarious, though promptly refused to explain why. The only thing she seemed certain about was his incoming doom at the hands of Cho, and some kind of lesson he would soon be learning. Apparently, Cho would be very angry if she knew the ‘Truth’, though he couldn’t understand why. Till now, she’d been very enthusiastic in all their kissing lessons.

He put it away as a concept outside his current understanding and moved on. If Cho actually did attack him, she'd book a ticket straight to his Dungeons, alongside Edgecombe and Diggory.

Perhaps Lily’s divine form was still affecting him, but the thought of his Girl-friends quickly turned his attention to the woman who’d given him his first-ever sexual awakening. The memory of that day was still etched in his mind, sharp as a paper’s edge; the tight red dress hugging Kara the lazy, as she slept blissfully unaware stomach-first on her bed, her butt curving in the air like half-moons. Thinking of that moment never failed to give him a stiff limb.

And looking at her behind presently, though with appropriate discretion—Widow’s warning still in the forefront of his mind—he couldn't help but realize that it held true even now. In fact, she seemed to have put on a pound or half of extra cheeks since the last time he saw her. Kara Palamas may not be winning any Bestest-Breasts on the Planet awards yet, but she would certainly give even Widow a run for her money in the buttocks-department. Maybe they were her natural gifts from God, or the purely combative exercises had shaped them into this bundle of perfection, but he soon found himself slowing a step or two behind her to keep them in his vision.

Perhaps he may have just found a new target for practicing his mutation after all…

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The office of Ares looked as antique as the man currently pacing its floor—a troubled little frown fixed under his wrinkly, old brow. His unfocused eyes stared down at his feet gravely, the wooden floor squeaking beneath him every time he turned, whilst a small line of steam rose from the mug in his hand, hiding his jaw behind its smokey cover…

It was a testament to the Director's state of mind that it took an annoyed knock from Harry to enlighten him of his presence.

Ares jerked up as if waking from deep sleep, quickly whirling around towards him. The motion was followed by a wide range of curses as black liquid splashed out of the mug, spilling down his pants to pool upon the floor.

Harry folded his arms, utterly unimpressed.

“Harry…” Glancing up, the gray-haired man gave a tired sigh, waving him in as he tip-toed around the coffee patch. "Sorry about that, haven't had a good night's sleep yet. Come in, please, I’ll try to keep this short."

Humming, Harry stepped inside, “I truly hope this is an important enough matter to justify summoning me in such early hours. Mind you, it won’t excuse your horrible timing, but you might gain my forgiveness in due time.” Absently, he let his gaze race through the corners of the room as he took a seat.

He had never visited the Captain in his office before. Most of the time he would find him around the training grounds—grilling young agents—or in the Briefing/Comm room to deliver a specific report.

Then again, it didn’t seem like he was missing much; apart from the fact that it would fit well inside Hogwarts' ancient walls, Ares' office didn't seem to have anything special going for it. There were no cool command panels sticking off of his desk, no secret cameras that spied over the entire country, no futuristic technology to leave would-be intruders trapped and scratching their heads, and no advanced weaponry to put holes into the heads of would-be ‘trapped’ intruders. One would think the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D would at least have a better sitting arrangement than two simple wooden chairs, but nope, old and rustic seemed to be what Ares liked.

In fact, the only source of light—that invited occasionally chilly gusts of winds to randomly assault them—came from a lone window looking out at the open sky; unless Hydra started producing flying Snipers, Harry doubted it would be utilized in an ambush any time soon.

'...Unless they have a more competent set of wizards stashed inside their cupboards.' Harry briefly amused himself with images of broom-riding Snipers that struggled to aim a rifle with one hand whilst clutching onto the waist of their drivers for dear life. Belatedly, he realized that might be a possibility, long though the shot may be—both literally and figuratively.

He summoned his wand, just in case…

The only other thing of note in the room was a set of framed photos neatly lined against the wall. A few discolored ones detailed a massive robotic figure posing comically behind a group of soldiers, though most commonly featured a laughing trio; two men and a woman, with hands around their shoulders. He could recognise the right-most one easily enough; the Winter Soldier, looking a little younger and much less crippled, but certainly the same man who he’d fueled his hatred for so long.

Harry suddenly realized the entire Winter thing might’ve played out differently had Ares just let him step foot inside his office…. Then again, he doubted his younger self would have cared much about who Winter was, as long as he could disfigure him into a ‘What’. Nor did he now, to be honest.

The other two in the picture were less recognisable, though just barely. He could guess who the gorgeous, dark-haired woman—posing with the iconic star-studded shield—was, as well as the sickly little guy standing on her left, looking a single pebble-throw away from having his chest caved in.

"Peggy Carter.” Harry redirected his attention to said sickly boy—now the director of the most powerful defense agency in the world—as he slowly moved towards his desk, placing the coffee mug down with a tired thump. “She was kinder to me than most. Never thought twice before storming the gates of Hydra to save my life.” The old man paused with a troubled look, eyes finding the same framed picture that he’d been observing, “I like to think I’d have done the same, but you never know, do you? Never know, unless you do it. And I didn’t.” He sighed, eyes darting away almost guiltily. “I didn't.”

Harry frowned, observing the Director more closely. The man was out-of-sorts in a way he’d never seen him before; tired of course, but the more ‘sleep-less’ kind, instead of ‘out-of-breath’ kind. And while his earlier comment could explain it away for a normal human, a night of missed sleep shouldn’t affect a Super Soldier—imperfect or not—to this degree.

It confused Harry, honestly. He would've thought the old man would be jumping in joy at their above-and-beyond mission success, yet all he could find in those eyes was fatigue and a sense of…something almost unrecognizable. Anger, perhaps, and loathing…though directed at himself?

‘Interesting.’

Heaving another great sigh, Ares plopped himself down on his simple wooden chair. "So...” He turned to Harry, his genial smile back in place, visibly trying to push his tiredness away.

To Harry’s surprise, he succeeded splendidly. Made him wonder how many times his good-humored front was simply that—a front.

“A messy day yesterday, wasn't it?” He picked up his discarded mug again, blowing gently twice before chancing a sip. “You'll be pleased to know your teammates, including Ms. Belova, are all well. Most suffered only minor injuries, though I've been made aware that wasn't the case originally."

Harry kept quiet. Outside of Natasha, he really didn’t care much for his supposed ‘teammates’. Then again, it probably was a good thing Barton didn’t die; that would’ve been an absolute waste of dittany drops. Belova, on the other hand, could kindly go and suck herself. Or, preferably, him.

‘Perhaps I should give her a visit.’ He mused, leaning back in his chair. She did owe him a good, hard boob-sqeeze.

"You will also be pleased to know all the rescued Widows have been freed from their mental holds,” Ares continued after another long slurp from the mug. “They’re currently in a different S.H.I.E.L.D facility, going through rehabilitation, though I doubt it would be long before they’re cleared." A sly glint entered his tired eyes then, "I've been informed that quite a few have asked after you. It seems you have a habit of making an impression on the dangerous-kind of ladies. On that note, how did things with Ms. Palamas go?"

Harry’s rising smirk turned into a frown. “Apart from the very rocky start? Pleasant enough, I guess.” Folding his arms, he shot the old man a stink-eye of the ages. "Though it would've gone much better had I known she was coming. If only there was someone who could’ve warned me…"

Looking absolutely unapologetic, Steve replied back with mockingly grave importance, only a slight quirk on his lips giving away his amusement.  "I've learnt things like such shouldn't be allowed to fester. Though in my defense, I doubt she would've taken 'No' for an answer."

Harry rolled his eyes, shooting the man a look of pure disgust. “I’m sure you were just hiding behind your chair like a scaredy cat, positively shivering at the thought of defying someone infinitely weaker. Just know I will remember this betrayal for what it is.”

Chuckling, Ares shook his head, checking the watch on his wrist. "We’ll have to wrap this up quick, I’m afraid. I’ll be quite busy with all the drama about to follow once the sun is fully up. Pierce was too big a figure politically for his death to be covered up without any questions rising." Sighing, he took another sip, eyes gazing far through the open window. "Christ, but if that wasn't another shocker. He declined a Nobel Peace Prize, did you know? 'Peace isn't an achievement, it's a responsibility.' Words I would remember for a long time to come."

The tired eyes shifted back to him, frowning. "He hid well, Pierce. Too well, in fact. I shudder to think what he could've done with more time; a worm eating us from within, laying God knows how many more parasites. We were lucky, incredibly lucky, that you nailed him yesterday. But this cannot be a repeat incident. Luck won't always be on our side." Fishing through his desk drawer, he slid out two files; one gray and one faded green. "I doubt it would come as a surprise to you, but I'm rooting through the entire organization. I feel like I've let things go since Howard's death. S.H.I.E.L.D just isn't what it used to be."

Harry shrugged. He neither knew nor cared about Howard, though he was all thumb’s up for erasing any wiggling hint of Hydra.

Glancing down, the tired blue eyes analyzed the two files for a long second, before pushing the gray one forward. "Your payment, triple of our latest agreed amount. Agent Romanoff was debriefed on your mission last night, and I must say, you went far and beyond for something I didn't believe you cared too much about."

Harry picked up the file, raising it in mock salute. "You're paying me well."

Steve's lips quirked up, though not quite in agreement. "You also saved the lives of two of my agents. Another thing I appreciate, but didn't expect you to do."

Harry scoffed, "Clearly, you don’t know me as well as you thought.” Bored with the subject already, he focused on the file’s contents, quickly tugging it open.

"Clearly." He could hear Ares’ smile over the long, mockingly audible slurp.

Ignoring the occasionally-infuriating old man, he scanned through his payment at once.

The seven figures sat as expected, pronouncing him exactly two million richer. Even calculating the numbers from Ares' little comment as he had, it still took him by surprise to witness the sheer number of zeroes before 'Two'. A single million was already 5 times what he was originally promised at Hogwarts, before their last negotiation. Hell, his entire stint as a contracted agent the previous year had earned him 6 times less than this total sum.

It was more money than he'd ever owned. All for a single mission. A mission that took less than two days, and was, in all honesty, quite beneath his current level.

Yet, all he felt at that moment was a vague sense of accomplishment. His priorities seemed to have shifted a little in the past couple of days.

‘Perhaps it really isn’t as hard as I first thought,” He mused, shutting the file with a satisfying click.

“I think I have a better idea now.”

He glanced up at the words to see the Director’s eyes still fixed on him; an evaluating gaze studying him closely.

"You saved one more person yesterday that I didn't expect you to.” The old man added slowly, one hand idly twiddling with the faded green file, “A person I know you reserve a special dislike for. A person I wouldn’t have blamed you for cutting down, should you have had a chance. And you did have a chance, yet he still lives.” Something somber entered his eyes then, as he placed his emptied mug down for the final time, a dramatic thud lingering in the short pause. “I'm, of course, talking about the Winter Soldier.”

Harry tilted his head. He’d largely forgotten about Winter the moment they exited their ride. Last he knew, the man still sported a punctured pectoralis from the stab wound that he hadn’t seen fit to heal; he might’ve decided to turn a new page, but he would still celebrate if the Soldier died outside his quest perimeters.

“I don’t know if you’ve made the connection yet,” Ares nodded at a smaller framed photo resting on his desk. “James Buchanan Barnes…'Bucky'. My best pal, and the man I’d failed to save in that Hydra lab…or so I thought." The sigh that forced its way out seemed to steal all his strength away, visibly aging him by decades as he pushed himself to his feet.

It was interesting to Harry how rapidly the man could go from a respectable veteran leader to a tired old man looking every bit his age. It was as if a spark went out of him, those bright blue eyes dimming down, gaining a weight which comes only from hard-earned wisdom that extorts a heavy toll.

"I spent decades mourning his death, wondering what I could've done better." Steve murmured, a forlorn despondence tugging at his voice as he slowly paced towards the window. "Digging my way through the rubble, searching for his body; never knowing he was exactly where I left him—with Hydra, looking not a day older. In some ways, that makes it even worse. Like I abandoned him. Failed the one guy who had my back through the toughest of times."

‘Ah.’ That explained the lack of joyful dancing.

Sadly, however, he found it a futile task to relate to the Captain’s words on any level. To him, blaming yourself for your enemy’s actions had always seemed such a strange way to tackle a situation. Was it your fault that you aren’t omnipotent? Your fault you weren’t born a god? Even he didn’t expect absolute perfection from himself every time, though he would most likely have the biggest claim to it—the System made it hard to make mistakes.

Then again, he supposed this was a little different. The Director seemed more affected by the ‘who’ he supposedly failed, rather than the failure itself; another subject he was completely ignorant about.

‘What exactly did it feel like, to fail a person who lent you their trust?’

The only people he'd ever failed—apart from his cute puppy—were his Hydra handlers, on the rare occasions when he fell short of their ever-climbing expectations. But resentment and hatred was all he could conjure from the depths of his blackened heart for those walking parasites, and Ares' situation seemed a tad bit different.

‘Hmm…’ He turned his thoughts in another direction, ‘What would it feel like if I failed Lily?’

He could imagine it now, that angelic beauty twisted in disappointment and betrayal as she heard of Dorea’s treatment at his hands. Instead of unconditional love, all those soulful green eyes seemed to ask was ‘Why?’.

Harry suppressed a flinch, chasing the image away with great haste. He did not like that look upon her face. It seemed to affect him right in the soul, aimed straight at his metaphorical heart. It was too powerful a weapon to be held by someone like Lily. Especially when the victim on its receiving end was him.

He did not like that at all.

Suddenly Harry felt great compassion for Ares. The man must have received that same ‘Look of Doom’ from Winter the moment they met.

“The worst part is,” Ares continued, staring at the cluster of featureless blanket of gray clouds that hid the coming of the Sun behind their gloomy front. “He doesn’t blame me a single bit.”

…And all his compassion disappeared in a flash. Why was the man looking like a living corpse if he didn’t receive the Look of Doom?

Perhaps some emotions were simply not worth understanding.

Ares shivered suddenly, icy tendrils of wind howling past the window. Tugging the blinds close, the man turned around with another great sigh. “I really shouldn’t bore you with this. Just know that I’m grateful for what you did back there.” He paused. “Or, well, what you didn’t do back there. The fact he survived you is already a blessing, much less with his mental faculties intact; I do know about that Torture curse you so love to use."

Harry frowned, instinctive suspicion rearing its head. "Alright?"

Steve smiled wearily, perhaps guessing his train of thought. “What I’m saying, Harry, is that I owe you a debt I doubt I’d ever get a chance to repay. In a time where I’m running out of people I could trust, you just gave me back my best friend—the greatest ally I could’ve asked for, who doesn’t hold me responsible for the countless mistakes I’ve made in my long run at Life.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he glanced at the green file sitting innocently on his desk. “I have many plans for S.H.I.E.L.D in motion, the latest of which involves a whole new division for the Widows who wish to join us.” He met his eyes once, reapproaching his seat with the gait of the elderly. “But that is not the most important one.”

He came to a halt by his desk, and for a quick second, a look of deep unease and uncertainty seemed to wash over him before his shoulders firmed. "You let the Winter Soldier live. It doesn’t matter what motivation you might’ve had, it shows that you've grown, beyond even my wildest hope. Not just in power—which Agent Romanoff remains strangely tight-lipped about—but also as a person.”

The Director raised his head, piercing blue eyes hawking into his soul. "I wish to offer you another position at S.H.I.E.L.D, which, while more restrictive, comes with much greater power and responsibility—the kind that I hadn’t believed you were capable of handling.” He pushed the file forward. “Until today.”

Harry arched a brow. While he liked the sound of power, he certainly disliked its ‘restrictive’ part much more. “What position are we talking about exactly?”

“The position of a leader.”

Harry sat back, the suspicions quickly replaced by sheer confusion. "You wish me to lead your agents?"

"Not agents, no." Ares paused, before amending. "Not normal agents, at least. See for yourself.” He nodded at the file.

Frowning, Harry ignored the strangely oppressive gravitas in the air, opening the file with casual disregard.

“...’Avengers Initiative’?”

“The Avengers Initiative,” Ares corrected, dumping himself in his seat again. "A dream I have been working towards for a long time now. It started about a decade ago; I met this woman…a pilot, who was involved in a terrible accident. She lost a friend that day, but gained something else in turn. Something much more dangerous…”

The man steepled his fingers under his chin, eyes grave and exigent. “Power. Incredible amounts of power. The kind that could leave our world a ruined husk in the wrong hands. And you, better than most, could probably imagine how many ‘wrong hands’ this world contains. And trust me, you still aren’t even close.”

Harry folded his hands, suppressing the urge to moue. The man didn’t even know his imagination!

“So I thought of a program,” Steve continued. “to keep such power from the said wrong hands, and if necessary, to fight it. A team of special people, meant to battle special enemies throughout the entire globe. Sadly, such people are rare, and the few I’ve met would never join S.H.I.E.L.D willingly. So that dream had stayed a dream…until you came along.”

Harry nodded slowly, realizing the scope of the offer.

“I shall be honest, Harry.” Ares sighed. “While my hope remains high, I still don’t expect this to go very far. S.H.I.E.L.D will provide you with a great number of resources—should you accept, of course—but actually forming a team will fall completely on your shoulders. I can at most provide you with a small list of names, but most of my attempts at recruiting have always ended in miserable failure; powerful people tend to have powerful egos, and I still haven’t learned the trick to get through most. Originally, I’d envisioned myself leading the group, but time has not been kind to me, and I cannot stretch my attention even more. With some guidance and training though, I can see you at the helm just fine. But this will be a difficult task to begin, let alone complete.”

"So…The Avengers Initiative. Are you interested?"

Harry was utterly unsurprised when the ring of System sounded in his ears.

----------------------------

The offer sat in his mind longer than he would've expected.

Leading others was an idea Harry had never entertained before. Why depend on strangers and risk the chance of failure, when you can grow powerful enough to handle any challenge yourself? He may have risen beyond his life as an assassin, but that didn't mean he forgot his past. And in his experience, depending on others always resulted in bitter disaster.

Yet, the idea lingered.

As Apparition in or out of the Headquarters was warded against—something he was grateful for, ‘cause he wasn’t in the mood for it—and Natasha and the rest of the rescued widows were still in another facility, it left Harry with nothing better to do whilst he and Lily waited to be picked up. Even Kara had to rush off somewhere, though she was mightily apologetic, leaving behind a 2nd key to her room. And so the idea wiggled and sizzled in his thoughts, slowly cooking and growing into something larger, refusing to vacate his mental premises like an irritating fly he couldn’t quite squash.

There was just something so grandly novel about leading a group of special people, powerful people, that he slowly found himself being enamored by the vision. The memories of his brief adventure with Natasha were his main motivator, hounding his thoughts every step of the way, forcing him to imagine how awesome it would be to lead a bunch of beautiful, big-titted female agents who were competent enough to hold their own, into the toughest of missions across the globe.

The mere thought sent a warm sense of yearning through his soul.

The vision followed him through the rest of his morning, growing even stronger when he adjourned with Lily for an early breakfast in their private Suite. Soon, one face out of the mysterious bunch of 'beautiful, big-titted females' was stolen by Lily and refused to change, holding onto the position permanently.

While it had started as a stray thought at first, the idea grew rapidly bigger in his mind, so much so that he contemplated asking her directly whilst she needled him for his mission details—growing sick with worry every time he described something even remotely threatening (not that he minded, her worries usually came in the form of clingy hugs and sneaky kisses, and this time was no different).

Still, having her join a team under his leadership would’ve been a blessing delivered straight from the Creator; she definitely ticked all his boxes with flying colors, and the thought of being trapped in a Trunk with her colored an even more enticing image than his jaunt with Natasha.

Sadly, he couldn’t quite finish his vision, for apart from those two, there weren’t any other female candidates that fit the bill. Perhaps Kara, though as competent of an agent she was, she really couldn’t keep up with Widows or wizards.

And according to Steve, the Avengers were supposed to be a large group of powerful warriors; three simply won’t cut it. Then again, the man also believed he was capable of including males in his team, so perhaps it was his own fault for being so unbelievably stupid.

'Maybe some of those Widows would be open to join my squad of badasses.' Harry mused. The few he’d fought seemed to be more competent than Belova.

Yet, the thought didn’t fill him with the same degree of excitement that Natasha and Lily did.

For a brief moment, his mind even wandered to that framed picture in Ares' office, feeling a pang of regret at not being able to include the stunning American hero in his rooster. From the little he saw of her skin-tight uniform in the faded black and white photo, she definitely passed his physical requirements quite well.

Sadly, she was quite dead, and had remained so for very many decades now.

Still, that didn’t mean there weren’t any other appreciable candidates in this wide world. He wagered fate simply hadn’t been kind enough to let them meet yet.

Harry would certainly keep an eye open for them; collecting powerful beauties was a task he didn’t need a Quest to pursue, even if he did have one.

The day carried on into early afternoon, where he was finally forced to shove his growing dream down his brain's drain. Ares hadn't given any time-limit for his answer, so hurrying to a decision wasn’t necessary either way; not that it stopped him from nursing the subject in an absent corner of his mind.

The Sun had climbed high up the ether by the time three black SUVs came rolling down the 47th street, carrying the rest of his fellow Potters in their secure, bulletproof interiors. Harry and Lily had been notified of their coming mere moments before their arrival, so they were present outside the Headquarters’ garage to witness them deboarding.

Even basking under the bright rays, the day still radiated an almost blistering chill—perhaps heralding the comings of a rare early Snowfall in New York—so he wasn’t overly surprised to see his Midget dressed up like a fat white sheep as she jumped out of the car. Though taking in the relatively modest clothing of Dorea and James—no doubt utilizing Magic to ward off the cold—she stood out like an overdressed, waddling penguin all the same.

Of course, that didn’t stop her from jumping around like a baby spider the moment her eyes fell on him and begin closing the distance between them with midget-sized leaps, hollering at the top of her voice the whole way, “Harrryyy! I knew you'd be back safe! I told Dori and Dad they were being dumb for worrying! But not me, nuh-huh; I always knew you'd be back!” The crazy Midget hurled herself into his arms, uncaring when he caught her full arms-length away from him, wrinkling his nose at her fluffy fur-jacket.

Misty green-eyes beamed up at him from beneath a shaggy hood—like an arched bundle of clouds the color of Wolf-fur—a comically wide smile stretching her Midget-face end to end. “Did you get me any gifts!?"

Still holding her in midair like a kitten, arms fully extended, Harry replied blandly, “No.”

“Awwwww,” The dangling Midget whined, kicking the air with her tiny legs uselessly.

Sighing, he placed the pouting furball of excitement down, who was promptly snatched up by Lily before she could launch another assault on him.

James and Sis2 approached him at a more sedate pace, though looking no less welcoming of his presence. He was a tad bit surprised when Dorea walked right up and enveloped him in a tight hug with not so much as a moment’s hesitation, burying her head in his neck.

"I’m glad you’re okay.” Her breath was pleasantly warm on his skin. “We were so worried when you didn’t return with your friends. Mum and Dad were planning on Apparating there…I thought that you…” She choked off, shaking her head whilst her hands tightened around him. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Sadly for her, the words fell on utterly deaf ears, for he was a whit engrossed by the feel of her gently swaying body that fit against him perfectly. Dressed in a faded-pink turtleneck sweater that hugged her curves tight, Harry could feel her breasts pressing against him in blissful satisfaction.

Harry realized she was just a tad bit shorter than him—something he was grateful for; there were one too many gorgeous ladies taller than him—as her head lay on his shoulders perfectly, with strands of her jet black hair escaping her beanie, marring his vision with wispy threads.  A second later, her arms lowered around his waist, fingers clutching at his back with an almost Lily-like grip.

Harry found himself awkwardly enthralled; caught between appreciating his unique position, whilst also feeling like he should be doing something more than simply standing still like a stoic statue.

Though a little hesitant, he slowly moved an arm to wrap over her shoulder, patting her back like he would Midget’s.

He must’ve done something right, for her corded muscles lost some of their tension, her body relaxing against him ever so slightly. Behind them, he couldn’t help but notice his father’s face seemingly losing some of its more defined age-lines, almost in a younger rendition of Ares’s transformation from fossil to human.

“We wanted to stay with you last night, but they wouldn't let us.” James said with a small smile, noticing his gaze.

His words seemed to finally break the moment as his sister leaned away, awkwardly stepping back whilst tucking the loose hair strands behind her ear. “Yeah, Mum had to threaten your Director with castration before they allowed her to remain."

Harry snorted. That was a sight he would’ve personally liked to see.

“In my defense,” Lily piped up, still holding onto a very clingy limpet in her arms. “he was being awfully dull last night. The metal-armed man must’ve sent him in quite a shock.”

“So, uh…” Dorea glanced from him to James and Lily, then back to him. “So you’ll be staying with us right? Your…job is over?”

“It is.” Harry nodded, turning to James. “Have you planned anything for the Holidays? Are we going back to England?”

No one had predicted the completion of his mission so soon into their holidays. Now they had the rest of the days to do as they pleased.

“The others want to stay.” James answered, glancing at Dorea with quirked brows. “And your sisters aren’t opposed to it either.”

“W-well,” The said sister ducked her head. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t.”

"Well then," James gave a wide smile, clapping excitedly. "I guess our holidays have officially started! Let's get going, shall we? We have a lot of planning to do."

Only a few precious minutes later, they were all back in the black SUVs, and Harry was never more glad that he'd kept his promise of safe return.

It felt like home.

----------------------------

James heaved a relieved sigh as the black SUVs drove off into the distance, leaving the four Potters behind at the entrance of their luxury hotel. The Sun overhead had finally decided to use a sliver of its true strength and drive the edge off of the Winter’s chill, leaving them warm and toasty, and making his impressive grasp on warming Charms moot.

Not that James minded. He was simply glad to finally put all this S.H.I.E.L.D business behind him and never look back...though he had a feeling his wish wouldn’t be granted quite as easily.

“Huh.” Grunted the potential breaker of said wishes, narrowed eyes scanning the hotel up and down. “This is the place?”

James glanced at the Hotel; from its grand, royal entrance to the towering top that stuck above the rest, seemingly scoffing down at all the buildings around it. He turned back to his son, uncertain. “Why? You don’t like it?”

After a few seconds of silent observation, Harry finally answered. “I stayed here before.” Shrugging, he started towards the obsidian-framed doors. “Doubt they ever saw me. If they did…hopefully they no longer remember.”

James glanced back at the hotel, now far less enthused.  The insinuation behind the words was easy to grasp, shooting a spike of alarmed curiosity through him, though he kept his mouth shut. While he desperately wished to know everything about his son—from his goriest of kills to the most mundane of crimes—he would rather his daughters’ ears remained pure for another year or two. Rosalia was a living, breathing manifestation of chaos on the best of her days, let alone when she was particularly high on sugar; he really didn’t need her getting even more inspired by her brother’s tales than she already was.

Dorea, on the other hand, had more than enough ideas on how best to torture her classmates without adding Harry’s unique expertise; One mass-murdering Potter child was all James could handle right now.

It seemed Lily didn’t share his concerns overmuch, however. Holding a dozing Rose-sized parcel in her arms, his wife joined Harry with a wary smile on her face. “Do we want to know?”

James couldn’t help but wince at the sudden interest on his eldest daughter’s face.

“Well…” Harry paused, tilting his head towards his mother. “I didn’t pay for the night.”

James blinked, then snorted, relieved. Perhaps not all his crimes were as drastic in nature as he’d been led to believe.

Gently taking over Rose-holding duty from his wife, he tailed after the group last, speaking reassuringly as they entered the hotel, “It has been, what…a year, at least? I’m sure the good people of Carlyle don’t remember anything.”

“And if they do, we can help them forget it.” Promised Lily, taking Dorea’s hand.

James didn’t even pause at the blatant declaration of crime. By now, he’d come to believe he was the only voice of reason in the Potter family. Considering his youth, a bigger irony has never existed.

They passed the main lobby on their way to the elevator, where sat the same receptionist who’d left the Potter lord thoroughly confused when they’d first arrived. The explanation over the workings of this ‘Magnetic Stripe Card’ that unlocked rooms with a single swipe of its plastic mysteriousness had left him almost as confounded as Arthur Weasley and anything remotely muggle. James preferred simply lodging it into ‘Muggle magic’ and never think about it.

As they boarded onto the Elevator, all four safe and together, he finally released the last bit of tension his heart had held onto ever since Harry’s departure; the sheer relief he felt as the great weight was lifted off his shoulder was almost heavenly.

To say the truth, the past few days had not been a good time to be James Potter; it was as if his life had become one giant storm of self-doubts and worries, only encouraged further by the sudden wrench in Harry’s mission that left behind a permanent scar of anxiety in his heart. He wagered without Sirius and Remus’ reassurances, he would’ve been almost as bad as Lily.

Something was finally going right for their family, and a bunch of muggles just had to come and ruin it.

Though in hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have babbled his mouth to his friends like an idiot. That secret had belonged to Harry; his to hide or his to disclose.

Then again, could he truly be blamed?

After Harry’s departure, they had decided to stay back in the S.H.I.E.L.D building, intending to swindle out any drop of info about his mission. Which was why they’d known something had gone horribly wrong when that devious-looking aircraft came back with only one original passenger.

They had all been worried, of course. Not as much as Lily perhaps—who’d gone absolutely catatonic and nigh inconsolable—but worried enough to contemplate Apparating straight to Harry right that instance. And while he was glad his daughters had found solace in each other, that did nothing to prevent him suffering in his own special kind of hell. After all, it was he who’d ultimately decided to let Harry do Harry-things without any complaints, too cowardly to risk alienating his son so soon after he’d got him back.

Was it truly a surprise that he’d wailed out his life-problems to his mates? He'd let his son–who hadn’t even completed his first Hogwarts’ year—be involved with secret organizations full of scums. Scums who wouldn't think twice before slitting the throats of children. Scums who would kidnap five-year-olds, experiment on them, torture and manipulate them to suit their purposes...And he'd let his son head straight back into their folds. Let him fight dangerous enemies, unnatural enemies, all on his own.

It was understandable for doubts to brew within him. Doubts were something he’d struggled with for a very long time now. From the moment he was first discharged from St. Mungos, a part of him had always questioned every single decision critically, wondering if he was making a mistake, if he’d ever truly healed, or if the Cruciatus did manage to change him after all, breaking something vital as it had in Lily—just, perhaps, not as visible.

And that part of him would always stay alive, always suspiciously analyzing his actions for fault and imperfections. A worm left behind in his mind, courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Even discounting the mental anguish, the sheer challenges Lily and him had to face, adjusting to their new responsibilities in life—knowing they were suddenly approaching their thirties, instead of just starting into their adulthood…it had been one difficult period of time.

They simply never got to grow past their post-Hogwarts selves. They never had the time.

Fortunately, this time his friends were there to support him. The sheer relief of sharing a burden as high as Harry’s past had been...cathartic. Rarely had James ever needed to hide something from them; they were like the siblings he never had, sharing a bond he hoped his children would too when they grew up.

Though he was quite lucky none of them shared the same morals they once did; the war had changed them all in their own ways, fraying the line between good and bad, right and wrong, black and white…. He doubted they would’ve been as accepting of Harry otherwise.

Either way, the deed was now done. And considering the peace it brought him, he couldn’t bring himself to truly regret it either.

The ding of the elevator soon announced their destination, coincidentally waking the sleepy-eyed redhead in his arms.

As the group of five made their way through the hotel corridor, James smiled down at Rose. “Good afternoon, Princess. Had a nice nap?”

With a mighty yawn escaping her tiny maw, Rose gave a sleepy nod and let her head fall back on his shoulder, groaning.

James sympathized; being a tiny ball of chaos day and night was a difficult job. He could only imagine how much energy she expended in always keeping them on their toes. And such energy can only be found in a good night’s rest—something he doubted either of his daughters received last night. He had to trick a couple of Sleeping droughts down their gullets before they decided Harry could wait another few hours after all, and finally went to bed.

The thought shifted his attention to his son, whose green eyes flickered across the corners of the corridor. A part of him was still astonished at how different Harry felt in the course of a mere two days; it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, the sheet of ice that separated him from everyone else now thawed thinner than ever. He smiled more freely, no longer flinched at a touch, and had even reciprocated his sister’s hug…

And it brought him back to his original concerns. But now he found himself wondering...how could he resent his actions—or lack thereof—when the only thing it did was bring their family even closer?

He couldn’t.

So as they reached their Suite, James shook the doubts and uncertainties of his life away. Ultimately, there was only one lesson he took away from the entire experience: when things get weird, just go with the flow. Sure, he might win this year’s Most Irresponsible Dad award by a landslide, but who cared? Not him. Not Lily. Not his friends, nor his kids. So why drown in pointless misery?

The truth was…the Potter family fell too far out of the norms to be concerned with the widely accepted social rules; even Rose, seemingly the most innocent of them all, hid a past darker than any child her age should be subjected to. How can anyone expect them to be remotely normal? How can they be judged by the rules of a conventional society?

Whatever the future may hold for them, and however strange things may get, as long as they were alive and united, James decided he would consider them a smashing success. All he could now do was take everything in stride and simply keep moving forward.

And if anyone found fault in that?

‘Well…’ James smiled, watching his son blithely enter their booked rooms, patting his much shorter twin on the head indulgently. ‘They can take it up with us, can't they?’

----------------------------

Something had changed, Harry knew for certain. Something was different within him.

He’d recognized it in the Headquarters; even through the first waking breath of this day. Though he hadn’t had the time to properly introspect, distracted as he’d remained the entire morning between Lily, Kara, and the offer. But now, in the peace and quiet of his new room, he found himself falling on his bed, eyes closed and mind lost within.

A deep sense of assurance had set in his bones, he recognised. As if he was, for the first time in his life, fully free and in control of himself. He no longer felt that restless edge of paranoia biting at his heels, urging him to keep growing stronger, to not rest even a single moment, to avoid the distractions that came with life, to gather more power and secure his existence, never stopping, always striving for more, more, and more...

It was as if he had evolved somehow. Like he'd passed the first true test of his life and came back stronger than ever.

He felt...content. Peaceful. Serene and carefree. Carefree enough to begin enjoying his holidays without mourning the wasted time.

The urge to grow stronger wasn’t gone, of course; he doubted it ever would. But it simply no longer came from the fear of Hydra catching onto him. Their deep, dark shadow that shrouded his entire existence was gone now. He knew, with no doubt or subtlety, that he was finally powerful enough to take the entirety of Hydra and lay them in rubble.

He needn't fear them anymore. He had grasped their figurative image with both hands and lit it up in a fiery explosion, ending that chapter of his life forever.

'This is it.’ He breathed out, opening his eyes.

Harry had won.

Now it was time for the next part of his journey.

The truth settled over his shoulder like a gentle breeze as he stood up, wandering towards his window. The colorful curtains left something to be desired, but the view beyond was breathtaking enough to forget about them; the grandeur of the enormous skyscrapers stretching across his vision from the open windows, as he breathed in the sweet Winter dew whilst the chill of December ran past his face, infiltrating his room without permission.

Harry closed his eyes. His inventory rested a mere thought away—holding his Wand, Pistol, Battle-robes, Divine-suitcase, and the Invisibility Cloak. All ready at a moment’s notice.

Outside his room, the sound of Rose and Dorea fanning their argument of the ages—once again—merged with his parents’ droning words as they charmed the rooms with protective magic. It was an assuring bundle of noises, reminding him of the presence of people who cared for him deeply.

There was nothing to worry about anymore.

Sighing contentedly, Harry closed the windows and turned around. He still had his Daily quests to complete, along with a bunch of homework he was already too overqualified for. With some free time yet remaining, he set upon the work.

As the afternoon entered a deeper stage, it brought along with it the presence of Lupins and Blacks—who'd returned from their short trip to New York's Wizarding Bank.

This time, Harry didn't avoid them like some useless chores not worth doing, joining the assembling group of ten in the living room with a laxness he would never have shown before.

He was slightly surprised to note the pause in the steps of a chosen few at his entrance, a hint of something deeper than just 'gravitas' infecting their eyes when their gazes fell on him. Well…they weren’t all grave. Sirius flashed him a knowing grin, while Sara gave a sly wink. But Remus and Amelia were more difficult to comprehend; both seeming something decidedly undecided, more understanding and cautious...

Frowning, Harry glanced at James whilst Lily disappeared in the kitchen. His father must’ve felt his gaze, for he met his eyes briefly before quickly turning away, a guilty grimace flashing on his face.

'Ah.' Harry leaned back, understanding. 'He must've babbled.'

Not that it mattered anymore. He was done with Hydra. Even if the rumors of his existence spread into the wider world, the consequences that would befall any who dared come after him would be wholly upon them.

Plus, if he accepted the position as the leader of the Avengers—as he was so close to doing—his name would undoubtedly spread far and wide in the world. A group of defenders that was supposed to battle powerful enemies globally wasn’t something one could keep out of the public-eye. Even his brief skirmish against Winter and Taskmaster was enough to gain attention in Hungary, he could only imagine the notoriety he would collect if he did so on a regular basis.

His life as Mystique Soldier the Assassin just didn’t mean as much to him anymore.

Ahead, while the adults gave a simple greeting of ‘Hello, Harry’ and engaged in boring chit chat about the American Ministry, the shorter members of the group hailed him greetings with their own brand of enthusiasm.

"Harry!" Andrea put her hands on her waist, stomping over with a comically outraged look on her face. "You left without saying good-bye!"

He threw himself on the couch before he could face her, lazily stretching his neck around. "Hello to you too, Andrea."

“You should’ve waited for me!” She whined, plopping her butt down beside him in a huff. “And how come you got friends in America? Also, why would they need any help from you?”

Behind her, Amelia Black was doing her best impression of a hawk as her gaze shifted between him and her daughter.

Harry rolled his eyes. ‘What exactly did James tell them?’ They were acting like he’d flip a switch any time now and go on a city-wide killing spree. At least, Amelia Bones was.

Which…wasn’t that bad of an idea for power-leveling, had he not been considering the leader of Avengers’ position. That was one downside of his ‘beautiful, busty women’ vision: he’d be tied down by the morals of the ignorant.

Sighing, he glanced at his couch-mate, reconsidering his placement on the cushion. “Your mother told you why I was here?”

“Just that your muggle friends needed your help.” Andrea answered, legs dangling over the couch, “What, are you advising them on magical stuff and uhh, other stuff? Why do they need a Firstie though?”

He didn't need to find a way for question-avoidance as Black chose that exact moment to stand up, deciding now to be the perfect time for taking the center stage.

For some reason, Harry had a suspicion it wasn’t by any coincidence.

"Settle down, children, settle down!" He barked with a Rose-worthy goofy smile. Of course, he wasn’t nearly as cute.

Lily joined them the last, a set of steaming teapots, saucers, and almost a dozen cups magically arranging themselves on the table.

"Guess what Uncle Siri's got for you all!?" Black asked.

“Next edition of 'The Art of Pranking for the mentally challenged'?” Dorea hedged dryly, to the chuckling amusement of the adults.

“Oh ho ho, you may laugh now…” Sirius rubbed his hands dramatically, his toothy smile taking a more sinister turn. “But when you see these bad boys, you’ll be the first one jumping in joy...”

Crazed eyes still fixed on his audience, Sirius slowly moved one hand to his pant pocket, maintaining his evil smile all the while. A few seconds later, that smile grew strained, and the gray-eyed man began fishing around more desperately, stretching his eureka moment for another long second with his index finger still raised to protrude upon the world. “Hold on just a moment now…”

Harry didn’t pay anymore attention to the man as his reconsideration of his placement suddenly became much more pertinent; for whatever reason, Susan and Midget had decided squeezing in beside him on the couch was a better idea than finding themselves a seat—the result was him being pinched between Andrea and Rose, making up for what Dorea was gracious enough to quickly dub the ‘Firstie Sofa!’.

Sadly, all of his escape routes were quickly cut off when Midget suddenly transformed into a limpet, holding onto him like a stubborn barnacle whilst squeezing her head into his side, a stupid, impish grin lighting her face as she stared up at him from beneath his arm.

Harry rolled his eyes and settled down.

“Ah ha!” Black yelled suddenly, finally removing his hand from his pocket, a bunch of blue paper slips clutched in his fist. “Here they are! Tickets for the Yule-tide Dueling Tournament!”

Dorea was the first to perk up amongst them, looking a tad startled. “Dueling? Here?”

“Yep! Didn't think these bloody Yanks—"

"Sirius!" Amelia Black snapped.

“—the gentle American wizards,” Sirius seamlessly transitioned. “would know Dueling if it hit them on their heads, but hey, what do I know, huh? So…who wants to see some professional Wizarding duels?”

Judging by the faces of his couch-mates and Dorea, all of them. And he would be lying if he said his own face wasn’t reflecting the same thing.

The 33 points sitting in his System called for him to make a decision; magical vs physical. And what better way than watching Professional Duelers throw spells around to recognise the potential of his magic? And, of course, if it deserves any massive amounts of points investment.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a more meaningless discussion, as the three families started a session of excited planning on how they’d like to spend the rest of their holidays. A flurry of suggestions were thrown in the mix, with some of the wilder ones being pitched by his couch-mates including things from ‘Beach Day!’ and ‘Ice-creams!’ to ‘Muggle-flying!’ and ‘Waterparks!’. And of course, coming from wizards—and tiny manipulative little midgets at that—the adults were reluctant to simply dismiss what many would consider idiotic ideas. After all, what may ail a normal human wasn’t a problem for them.

By the time they dispersed their meeting for lunch, one plan stood out as more immediate than the others—a plan that all males, save him, stood against as a united force, and all females seemed overly excited about.

Shopping.

And thus it was, Harry Potter started upon his first true 'Holiday', with his family by his side, not knowing what to expect but eager to find out. It was the start of a new beginning, of a future without Hydra...

A new chapter of his life was about to be written, and he was ready to span its pages with his tales of thrills and perils.

----------------------------

AN: That's about it for this one! Hope you enjoyed the chap! Another one for this story incoming soon (MS Ch.28), this time it really shouldn't take long, but no promises.

And on that note, it did take quite a bit longer than I predicted, didn't it? Partly because the chapter wanders around a little and I had to make sense of it as a whole. And partly because the opinions of my betas on this chap were very split.

Some found the parts after Ares' meeting a tad boring and slow moving, other found it his fav. So I rewrote a large part of the chapter to make it more compact and faster paced, before, with abject disappointment, discarding it completely. I feel like this chapter is less about the Avengers bit (which I was going to make the main plot before my change of heart) and more about Harry's shift in life after Hydra. 

Either way, I won't be surprised if the opinions among you were also split. I tried to make it work by dividing the 'boring' bits between this chapter and the next—which will cover his holidays and where I'm taking him as a character—but if this still feels a little droll, do let me know.

Anyway, that's all for now. Let me know what you thought about this chapter, stay safe and see ya soon!