Harry Potter: The Revenant

The soft rustling of leaves outside filtered into the cozy living room, where Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, a few scattered toys and books surrounding him. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen, and in the corner, a few small plants were carefully tended to on the windowsill. It was a peaceful scene, a contrast to the chaotic world outside.

Sitting next to him on the floor, with her legs stretched out in front of her, was his younger sister, Rose. At six years old, she was all wide eyes and boundless energy. Her golden-brown hair, a perfect blend of their parents' features, was pulled into two messy pigtails. She wore a brightly colored dress with little stars on it, a smudge of chocolate on her cheek from the cookies she'd been sneaking earlier.

"So," Harry said, holding up a small wooden puzzle in his hands, "how about we finish this? You're good at puzzles, right?"

Rose tilted her head, squinting at the pieces. "Hmm... I'm better at making them disappear," she said in a sing-song voice, her tone far too innocent for the mischief in her eyes.

Harry raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Making them disappear, huh? How does that work?"

She grinned, picking up a piece and turning it over in her hands. "I just... accidentally put them in the wrong spots! And then—poof!—the pieces go away."

Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. "You're a little troublemaker, aren't you?"

Rose gave a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. "I am not a troublemaker! I'm an adventurer!" She then scooted closer to him, peering down at the puzzle with intense concentration. "But I guess I'll help you finish this one... just don't tell Mum and Dad I'm using my adventurer skills to cheat."

He couldn't help but laugh. "Your secret's safe with me, kiddo."

They worked together for a few moments in silence, fitting the puzzle pieces together. Rose's small hands moved quickly, occasionally knocking a piece out of place, but Harry didn't mind. It felt nice to have this quiet time with her—no prophecies, no grand destinies. Just a simple puzzle and the comforting presence of family.

After a while, Harry glanced up from the puzzle, watching as Rose carefully placed the last piece into place. She sat back, beaming with pride.

"There! Done!" she declared, throwing her hands up in the air as if she'd just conquered a mountain.

"You did it!" Harry said with a mock bow. "I knew I could count on you."

Rose giggled, bouncing on her knees. "We make a good team, Harry!"

"We do," Harry agreed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "You're the brains of the operation, and I'm just here for the muscle."

Rose laughed, then abruptly stopped, her expression turning serious as she looked up at him. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you... okay?" she asked, her voice quiet and uncertain. "You've been kind of... sad lately. Like when I asked if you wanted to play outside and you said no."

Harry's heart twinged at her concern. He hadn't realized she'd been paying so much attention to him. He gave her a soft smile, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'm okay, Rosie. Just... a lot going on in my head, you know?"

She nodded seriously, as if she understood far more than any six-year-old should. "Sometimes when I have too many thoughts in my head, I draw pictures or make stories about dragons. It helps. Maybe you can do that too."

Harry's smile softened, and he chuckled, touched by her suggestion. "That's a good idea. Maybe I'll give it a try."

"Good!" she exclaimed, as if her plan was the greatest one in the world. "You should! And if you want, I can tell you a story about a dragon named Puff who loves chocolate."

Harry raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "A dragon who loves chocolate?"

"Uh-huh! Puff likes to hide the chocolate in his cave and only eats it on the weekends," she explained, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. "And he shares with all the other dragons who don't eat chocolate."

"Sounds like a good dragon," Harry said, trying not to laugh at the absurdity. "I think I'd like to meet Puff someday."

Rose beamed, clearly pleased with the idea. "You can! But only if you bring chocolate. That's the rule."

"I'll make sure to remember that," Harry promised, pretending to think it over. "Chocolate, Puff, and dragons. Got it."

She nodded sagely, clearly satisfied with the arrangement. Then, her expression softened again, and she reached over, slipping her small hand into his. "Harry, no matter what, we're a team. Even if you're busy with... things. You're still my big brother, and I still need you."

Harry's throat tightened, a lump forming as he looked down at her, his heart swelling with gratitude for the simplicity of her love. In a world that often seemed far too complicated and dangerous, moments like these—quiet moments with his sister—felt like a balm to his soul.

"I need you too, Rose," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than you know."

For a moment, the two of them just sat there, hand in hand, the weight of the world outside slipping away, if only for a little while.

—

The next morning felt like the universe was playing an elaborate prank on Tony Stark. He hadn't been this hungover in years—his head was throbbing like a jackhammer and his body felt like it had been run over by a freight train. It was the kind of hangover that made you question every life decision you'd ever made. He was sitting in the lecture hall, trying (and failing) to focus on the professor's words while cradling a cup of coffee like it was the holy grail. His sunglasses, a perfect cover for both the pain and his signature look, sat firmly on his face, though they were probably doing little to hide his current state.

Rhodey, seated beside him, was in a similar state of misery, though he was managing to hold it together a little better. It probably helped that Rhodey was one of those people who had the discipline to drink water between beers. But even Rhodey couldn't hide the exhaustion in his posture or the slight grimace on his face.

"So, next time," Rhodey grumbled, rubbing his temples, "we're not going to a frat party. I'm too old for this, man."

Tony made a sound that could've been interpreted as a laugh if you weren't too busy focusing on the fact that his head was attempting to perform a small-scale earthquake inside his skull. "Yeah, yeah, next time we'll just rent a yacht, drink expensive whiskey, and invite a hundred people to pretend they're having fun," he muttered sarcastically, trying to sip his coffee without spilling it all over himself.

Rhodey just shot him a flat look. "You know I'm serious, right? I'm not even sure my liver signed up for last night's festivities."

"I'm serious too," Tony shot back with a sly grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll think about getting a yacht. Maybe hire a private chef. Someone with taste, not these frat party idiots with their 'signature cocktail' of... whatever that punch was." He shuddered. "That was borderline illegal."

"I'm not even sure it was punch, Tony. More like... mystery fluid," Rhodey said, cracking a faint smile despite his hangover.

Tony chuckled before taking another sip of his coffee, eyes scanning the room. He half-expected the world to stop spinning, but instead, the professor launched into some lecture about quantum mechanics. Tony's brain felt like it was trying to run at a thousand miles per hour while stuck in first gear. Nothing was making sense, and everything was kind of a blur.

That's when she walked in.

Cynthia.

She entered the room like someone had turned down the world's volume. The door opened, and in walked the kind of woman who could steal the spotlight in any room just by existing. Tony's head jerked up, and for a split second, everything went into slow motion. She was wearing a jacket that looked like it was custom-tailored just for her—effortless, but stylish. Her steps were confident, like she knew she was the main event, and Tony couldn't help but notice how effortlessly cool she looked, even on a Monday morning.

Rhodey, noticing the change in Tony's demeanor, raised an eyebrow. "You good, Stark?"

"Yeah," Tony muttered, his voice slightly distracted. "I just—uh—need to concentrate for a second."

Cynthia's gaze caught Tony's across the room, and she didn't even hesitate. That smirk of hers appeared, the kind that suggested she knew something Tony didn't—something dangerous. She walked toward him with that same confidence, and Tony felt the whole world shift around him.

"Well, well," Cynthia said with a hint of playful curiosity in her voice. She slid into the seat next to Tony, as if she'd been planning to do it all along. "Didn't expect to see you in class this morning."

Tony's mouth felt dry, but he recovered quickly. "Yeah, I'm just here to enhance my intellectual prowess. You know, the usual." He took another sip of coffee, though it did little to soothe his sudden nerves. "What about you? Thought I saw you leave at at some point... to some mysterious gathering last night?"

Cynthia chuckled, crossing her arms. "Oh, I was there. But I think you were too busy winning beer pong to notice me."

Tony grinned, leaning back in his chair, clearly intrigued. "Beer pong? That's my art form, okay? I practically invented it." He raised an eyebrow, still trying to play it cool despite the chaos of thoughts running through his head. "So, what's the deal? Came to MIT for the parties, or are you here to work? Because I'm assuming the latter."

"Actually," she said, the smirk still there, "I'm transferring here. I'll be finishing my last year at MIT."

Tony blinked twice, the words not quite processing at first. He opened his mouth to say something, but his brain had short-circuited for a moment. "Wait... transferring? Mid-year? To MIT? In the middle of the semester? Do you have a magic wand, or do you just have people in high places?"

Cynthia didn't flinch. In fact, her smile only grew a bit wider. "Maybe a little bit of both. But I'm not here to make waves. Just... a special project," she added with a wink, clearly enjoying the mystery she was leaving in her wake.

Rhodey, who had been sitting quietly and observing the exchange, narrowed his eyes at the conversation. "Yeah, that sounds really special, like it's something we should just... trust. Transferring to MIT in the middle of the year isn't exactly a walk in the park. You don't just decide to do that unless you're, I don't know... a genius, or some kind of secret agent."

Tony shot Rhodey a look like he was missing the point. "Don't be so suspicious, Rhodey. She's just... got a project going on. Who am I to argue with that?"

Cynthia leaned in slightly, making eye contact with Tony. "You'd be surprised what's possible when you know the right people, Tony. Things work out."

Rhodey, however, wasn't convinced. He folded his arms and leaned back, muttering something under his breath about not buying it. "Uh-huh. Sure, 'special project.'"

Tony, still smirking, turned his full attention to Cynthia. "You've got my interest. So, you're telling me, the MIT transfer student with the mysterious project, is stuck in this lecture with us? That sounds like perfect timing."

"Oh, it's not just timing," Cynthia replied smoothly, her voice laced with a subtle challenge. "It's fate, Tony. We're all part of the same project now."

Tony blinked, processing her words with that usual sharpness that came from being the smartest guy in the room. He was definitely intrigued—by her, by her mysterious project, and whatever this was turning into. "Well, I guess we'll see how this project unfolds, won't we?"

Rhodey just sighed, clearly not sold. "You're getting way too excited for someone who just got out of a beer pong tournament. Let's just... see how this goes."

Tony ignored him, his attention still fully on Cynthia. "You're in for a wild ride, Cynthia. MIT's about to get a whole lot more interesting."

And as the lecture began and the professor droned on, Tony Stark couldn't shake the feeling that his world had just gotten a little bit more complicated—and a whole lot more entertaining.

—

The training room in the safehouse was a fortress in itself—reinforced walls designed to withstand Vibranium-clad destruction and the unyielding strength of Super Soldiers. In the center, Harry stood with his claws extended, gleaming like liquid silver under the overhead lights. Across from him, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes prepared for a sparring session that was about to make the term "high stakes" feel like an understatement.

"You sure about this, Harry?" Steve asked, lifting his shield with the practiced ease of a warrior who'd seen it all. "We don't hold back."

Harry smirked, his British accent cutting through the air like a blade. "Good. If you did, this wouldn't be any fun. Besides, I need you to work out your opinions on this whole 'Ancient One' thing—preferably before I punch them out of you."

Bucky chuckled darkly, rolling his Vibranium shoulder with a metallic whir. "Cocky, aren't we? Let's see how long that lasts."

Steve, ever the tactical leader, gave Bucky a nod. They moved in unison, honed by years of fighting side by side. Harry's emerald eyes narrowed, and the grin on his face only widened.

"Let's dance, boys."

---

Steve launched his shield first, the Vibranium disc spinning like a buzz saw as it screamed through the air toward Harry. But instead of dodging, Harry shifted slightly, timing the trajectory with razor precision. His claws retracted with a snikt as he reached out, snatching the shield mid-flight with a casual thunk.

For a moment, the room went silent. Steve's eyes widened, and Bucky stopped mid-charge.

"Okay," Bucky muttered, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "That's new."

Harry twirled the shield in his hand like it was a toy, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "What's the matter, Steve? Thought this thing was supposed to come back to you." He mimicked Steve's signature stance, crouching slightly and cocking his arm back. "Let's see how you like it."

With a flick of his wrist, Harry hurled the shield. It whizzed toward Steve with alarming speed, ricocheting off his raised gauntlets before rebounding toward Bucky. Bucky barely managed to duck, the shield slamming into the wall behind him with enough force to leave a dent.

Steve raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "Not bad. But it takes more than flashy tricks to win."

"Flashy tricks? Oh, Cap," Harry said, claws extending once more. "You haven't seen anything yet."

---

Bucky recovered first, charging with his Vibranium arm cocked back. Harry met him head-on, their collision sending shockwaves through the room. Bucky's fist connected with Harry's ribs, the force reverberating through Harry's Vibranium-coated skeleton. Instead of staggering, Harry grinned as the kinetic energy coursed into his magical core.

"Thanks for the boost," Harry quipped before slamming his clawed fist into Bucky's arm. Sparks flew as Vibranium met Vibranium, and Harry used the momentum to vault over Bucky, landing just as Steve lunged with the shield.

This time, Steve feinted low and swung high, aiming to catch Harry off guard. But Harry was faster, using his claws to hook the edge of the shield and redirect its momentum, forcing Steve to stumble.

"You've got the experience, I'll give you that," Harry said, spinning on his heel to deflect another punch from Bucky. "But I've got the style. And—oh, right—the magic."

With a surge of power, Harry channeled the stored energy into his claws, unleashing a wave of golden flames that swept toward both men. Steve raised his shield just in time to block the blast, while Bucky dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the fiery arc.

"That's cheating!" Bucky shouted, his voice tinged with exasperation.

Harry laughed, darting toward him with a speed that rivaled any Super Soldier. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are we playing fair now? Let me just put my claws away and we'll do a nice, friendly slap fight."

---

The sparring intensified. Steve and Bucky adjusted their tactics, attacking in tandem to keep Harry on the defensive. Every clash of Vibranium sent ripples through the room, and Harry moved like a whirlwind, absorbing hits, redirecting attacks, and countering with devastating precision.

At one point, Bucky managed to pin Harry's arm with his Vibranium hand. "Gotcha," he growled, tightening his grip.

Harry's grin turned feral. "Do you?" With a flex of his muscles, Harry absorbed the kinetic energy from Bucky's grip and released it in a shockwave that sent the former Winter Soldier flying.

Before Harry could press the advantage, Steve was on him, shield slamming down in a powerful arc. Harry raised his claws to block, and the impact sent sparks flying as the two locked in a stalemate.

"You're good," Steve admitted, his voice strained as he pushed against Harry's claws. "But you're not invincible."

Harry's grin never faltered. "Neither are you, Captain."

With a burst of energy, Harry disengaged, flipping backward and landing in a crouch. The absorbed kinetic energy hummed in his core, and he channeled it downward, slamming his fist into the floor. The resulting shockwave rippled through the room, sending Steve and Bucky sprawling.

---

When the dust settled, all three men were breathing hard, but none looked ready to quit. Steve pulled himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help Bucky up.

"Well," Bucky muttered, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm officially annoyed."

Steve chuckled, leaning on his shield. "You're relentless, I'll give you that. But you're also asking the wrong question."

Harry tilted his head, retracting his claws with a soft snikt. "Oh, yeah? Enlighten me."

Steve met his gaze, his tone serious. "You're asking us what we think about the Ancient One's offer. But what you should be asking is whether you're ready for the responsibility that comes with it."

Bucky snorted, crossing his arms. "He's saying you should do it, but only if you're ready to carry the weight of saving the universe. No pressure."

Harry sighed, glancing between the two of them. "So, let me get this straight. One of you says 'think it through,' and the other says 'go for it.' Great advice, as usual."

Steve smiled faintly. "You already know the answer, Harry. You just need to trust yourself to make the right choice."

Harry chuckled, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "You know what? I think I do." He flexed his hands, claws momentarily glinting under the lights. "But first, how about one more round? I'm not done knocking the Boy Scouts around just yet."

Bucky grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Now you're speaking my language."

—

The workshop in the safehouse was a chaotic blend of magic and technology, a space where wands and Vibranium circuitry coexisted in perfect, if eccentric, harmony. The walls were lined with enchanted blueprints, tools that shimmered with a faint magical aura, and shelves crammed with half-finished projects that ranged from intriguing to outright dangerous.

In the center of it all stood James Potter, Lily Evans-Potter, and Sirius Black, deeply engrossed in their latest creation. James was fiddling with a sleek metallic gauntlet that pulsed with blue light, his glasses slightly askew as he muttered to himself. Lily hovered over an array of floating crystals, weaving intricate runes in midair with her wand, while Sirius lounged against the workbench, twirling a spanner like it was a wand.

"This," Sirius declared, holding up a glowing orb the size of a Quaffle, "is either going to revolutionize magical communication or blow a hole in the side of this place."

James shot him a look. "Can you not jinx it before we even test it?"

"I'm just saying, Prongs," Sirius said with a roguish grin, "if it does blow up, we can call it a feature."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Sirius, you'd turn a malfunctioning toaster into a prank if you could."

"Who says I haven't?" Sirius quipped, winking.

At that moment, Harry entered the workshop, still clad in his sparring gear, though his claws were retracted. The residual energy from his session with Steve and Bucky seemed to radiate off him, making his presence impossible to ignore.

"Am I interrupting another episode of Magical Tinkerers Gone Wild?" Harry asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

Lily turned first, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her son. "Harry! Perfect timing. Your father's trying to turn a pair of enchanted boots into hover shoes, and Sirius is, well…" She trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward Sirius.

"Being brilliant," Sirius finished, tossing the spanner aside and spreading his arms dramatically. "What brings you here, kiddo? You're usually busy saving the world or breaking a sweat with America's favorite boy scout."

Harry smirked, walking over to the cluttered workbench and picking up a small, glowing crystal. "I've made up my mind about the Ancient One's offer."

That got their attention. James set down the gauntlet, his expression serious. "You mean the whole 'learning the mystical arts and potentially altering the balance of the universe' thing?"

"Yeah, that," Harry said, spinning the crystal between his fingers. "I'm going to do it."

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Sirius broke it with a low whistle. "Well, that's a bloody big decision. What changed your mind?"

Harry shrugged, setting the crystal back on the table. "Sparring with Steve and Bucky helped. It's not just about the power—though, let's be honest, the idea of me mastering magic on a whole new level is kind of terrifying. It's about the responsibility. If I have the chance to learn something that could help protect all of us, I'd be an idiot not to take it."

Lily stepped forward, her green eyes filled with concern and pride. "Are you sure, Harry? The Ancient One's teachings aren't just about learning spells. It's a whole different mindset, one that requires sacrifice and—"

"Discipline," James added, crossing his arms. "Something we Potter men are not exactly famous for."

"Oi," Harry shot back, though his grin softened the jab. "I'm disciplined when it matters. And besides, if anyone can juggle being a wizard, a Super Soldier, and a mystical whatever, it's me."

Sirius chuckled, clapping Harry on the back. "That's the spirit. Just promise me you won't turn into one of those stuffy mystics who speaks in riddles. I've got enough of that with Dumbledore's letters."

Harry smirked. "No promises. I might even grow a beard, just to mess with you."

Lily sighed, though a smile tugged at her lips. "We'll support you, Harry. Always. Just… be careful. The Ancient One's world is full of dangers we can't even begin to understand."

Harry nodded, his expression turning serious. "I know. But I've survived Hydra, and sparred with Steve Rogers. How hard can this be?"

James snorted. "Famous last words."

"Relax, Dad," Harry said, heading toward the door. "I'll be fine. Besides, if I mess up, at least you'll have something exciting to tinker with."

As he left the workshop, Sirius called after him, "And don't forget to bring us back something shiny from Bleeker Street!"

"Only if it doesn't explode!" Harry shot back, his voice echoing down the hall.

The three adults exchanged glances, a mix of pride and worry reflected in their expressions.

"He's going to be brilliant," Lily said softly.

"Or blow up the multiverse," James muttered.

"Either way," Sirius said with a grin, "he's definitely my godson."

—

Harry made his way down the quiet hallway, his sparring gear still clinging to him and his boots leaving faint, muffled echoes on the polished floors. His mind buzzed with thoughts about what lay ahead at Kamar-Taj. While the sparring session had helped him make up his mind, a new undercurrent of nervous energy surged within him.

"Planning to slip off into the mystic arts without saying goodbye?"

Harry stopped abruptly, his enhanced senses catching the faintest shift of movement from the shadows. Turning his head, he saw Natasha Romanoff emerge from the dim corner of the hallway, her presence so seamless it was as if the shadows themselves had parted to let her through. She leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, her expression as unreadable as ever—but there was something in her eyes that spoke louder than words.

"I didn't think I needed to announce my every move," Harry replied with a smirk, his voice low but amused. "I figured you'd just shadow me to the jet and then drop some cryptic one-liner to wish me luck."

Natasha tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You underestimate how much I enjoy making you squirm first."

Harry chuckled, walking closer until there was only a few feet between them. "Not much of a challenge, considering you can read me like an open book. Should I be worried about whatever interrogation tactics you're about to use, Widow?"

Her smirk softened into something more sincere, and her voice lost its teasing edge. "No tactics. Just… wanted to talk."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "About what? The Ancient One? Mystical arts? Or how I'm probably going to blow up reality on my first day?"

Natasha shook her head, stepping closer, her movements deliberate and smooth. "About you leaving. About how long you'll be gone. About us."

That last word hung in the air, heavier than Harry had expected. He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Us?"

"Yes, Harry. Us." Her gaze met his, unflinching but layered with something unspoken—vulnerability wrapped in steel. "We've been… dancing around this for a while now, haven't we?"

Harry swallowed, his usual wit momentarily failing him. "I mean, I thought the dancing was going pretty well. I even have my two-step down."

Natasha's lips quirked into a faint smile, but her eyes didn't lose their intensity. "You're impossible."

"True," Harry admitted, stepping just a fraction closer. "But you're still here, so what does that say about you?"

Natasha shook her head, though her smile widened. "That I'm crazy, apparently."

Silence stretched between them, charged with an energy neither of them could ignore. For once, Harry didn't fill it with a sarcastic comment or a witty remark. He simply looked at her, truly looked, and saw past the assassin, past the spy. What he saw was Natasha—someone who understood the weight he carried because she carried her own.

"So…" Harry finally said, his voice quieter, softer. "What happens now?"

Natasha's hand brushed against his as she stepped even closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her. "Now?" she echoed, her voice almost a whisper. "Now, you stop overthinking and let me give you something to remember while you're off learning how to bend reality."

Harry's breath hitched, his heart pounding as she reached up, her fingers brushing the back of his neck. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in her movements, only the confident determination he'd always admired in her.

And then her lips were on his.

The kiss was everything Harry hadn't allowed himself to imagine it would be—soft yet firm, fiery yet controlled. Natasha kissed him like she had nothing to lose and everything to gain, and Harry responded in kind, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer as if he could imprint the moment into his memory.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Natasha smirked up at him, her hand still resting lightly on his shoulder. "There. Now you have something to look forward to when you come back."

Harry let out a shaky laugh, his forehead resting against hers. "You know, for someone who doesn't believe in goodbyes, you're really good at making them memorable."

"It's not goodbye," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Just… see you later."

Harry nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "See you later, Nat."

As she stepped back into the shadows, Harry stood there for a moment longer, his fingers brushing his lips as if to confirm the kiss had been real. With a renewed sense of determination—and maybe just a little smugness—he turned and continued toward his room, ready to face whatever the Ancient One had in store for him.

—

In the serene quiet of the sanctum at 177A Bleecker Street, the Ancient One sat cross-legged in her meditation chamber. Her hands moved with deliberate grace, manipulating the mystical artifact that hung from her neck—the Eye of Agamotto. The verdant glow of the Time Stone within cast ethereal shadows across the room as she turned the artifact slowly, allowing the threads of time to reveal themselves.

Her gaze sharpened as the strands of possible futures unraveled before her, each branching out like a cosmic tree. She saw the young man—Harry Potter, his entire skeleton coated in Vibranium, his claws gleaming with latent magical energy, his body honed into a perfect weapon by Hydra's cruelty. She saw the path of his choice: his acceptance of her offer to learn the Mystical Arts.

The visions accelerated. She saw Harry standing among the masters of Kamar-Taj, shaping intricate spells with his claws, wielding a combination of sorcery and physical prowess that defied precedent. She saw him pushing boundaries, challenging conventions, and perhaps most intriguingly, shaping the future of magic itself.

The visions grew darker. She saw him clashing with forces that sought to unravel reality—foes that even she hesitated to name. She saw his Vibranium-infused magic striking out like a thunderclap, his strength and ingenuity holding back chaos itself. But most importantly, she saw him succeeding.

The Ancient One's eyes opened, the green glow of the Time Stone fading as the chamber returned to stillness. A faint smile graced her lips, tempered by the weight of the challenges ahead.

---

She rose to her feet, her movements fluid and precise, and exited the chamber. Outside, she found Wong overseeing a small pile of ancient tomes in the library, his face creased in concentration.

"Wong," she said softly, yet her voice carried the weight of authority.

Wong looked up, immediately sensing the importance of the moment. "You've seen something."

"Indeed," she replied. "Our new student will arrive soon. You remember our discussions about Harry Potter?"

Wong nodded slowly, his expression guarded. "The boy who carries more burdens than most lifetimes should endure. You said he was important."

"He is," the Ancient One confirmed. "More than even I anticipated. His arrival will shift the balance of our world—and many others. Prepare the training chambers and ensure the libraries are ready. He will need access to everything we can provide."

---

She found Kaecilius in the Sanctum's main hall, performing a slow, deliberate kata, his hands weaving patterns of golden light in the air. He paused mid-motion when he saw her approach.

"Master," he said, inclining his head. "You seem troubled."

"Not troubled," she corrected, stepping closer. "Anticipatory. A new student is coming to Kamar-Taj. A unique one."

Kaecilius raised an eyebrow, curious. "Unique how?"

"You'll see soon enough," she replied cryptically, her tone suggesting there was no room for further inquiry.

---

Finally, she found Mordo in the outer courtyard, his expression serene as he practiced with his staff. He spun it once, expertly, before lowering it as the Ancient One approached.

"You need something of me?" he asked, his eyes scanning her face.

"Yes. A student is coming to Kamar-Taj. You will oversee some of his physical training."

Mordo frowned. "Why me? What is so special about this student?"

"His journey has made him a warrior unlike any you've encountered," the Ancient One said, her tone calm yet firm. "But there are gaps in his foundation—gaps that only discipline can fill. He will challenge you, Mordo, just as you will challenge him. It will be good for both of you."

Mordo's frown deepened, but he nodded. "Very well."

---

As the Ancient One returned to her meditation chamber, she glanced one last time at the glowing Eye of Agamotto. Her expression remained tranquil, but her mind buzzed with the possibilities that Harry Potter represented. A boy born of magic, forged into a weapon, now seeking to become something more.

Her voice carried softly into the air as she whispered, "Welcome to Kamar-Taj, Harry Potter. Let us see what you will become."

---

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