Harry Potter: The Revenant

Later that day, the SHIELD team gathered in the operations room. Nick Fury stood at the head of the table, his eyes scanning the room with sharp intensity. Beside him were Maria Hill, Howard Stark, and a carefully selected team of highly trained agents, each of them specialists in their respective fields. The mission ahead was going to be delicate—dangerous, too—and Fury needed the best.

The tactical team was assembled: young Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, whose sharpshooting and reconnaissance skills would be indispensable for long-range support; Melinda May, field agent, combat expert, and Fury's go-to when things got messy; and a stealth expert from SHIELD's covert ops division, known only as the Ghost—a shadow in the night, an expert in blending into darkness and neutralizing threats with deadly precision.

Fury surveyed them all, his hands resting on the table as if preparing to make the hardest of calls. He had led teams like this before, but this felt different—more personal. There was no room for error this time.

"Listen up," Fury began, his gravelly voice filling the room, commanding immediate attention. "You all know why we're here. Alexander Pierce is Hydra. I don't need to explain how deep this man's hands are in the pockets of our government. He's been playing us for years, and right now? He's walking a fine line. One wrong move, and he's gone. We need to catch him before he makes it."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. "There's no room for mistakes. No room for hesitation. You've all seen what Hydra can do. What they've done. And I'll be damned if I let them keep their claws in this country. Got it?"

"Got it," Maria Hill replied, her voice unwavering, though her posture was still as sharp as ever.

Fury nodded sharply before looking around the room. "Good. We move in sixty minutes. Each of you has a role to play." His eyes landed first on Clint Barton, who was sitting casually, but his presence was electric with anticipation.

"Barton," Fury said, his tone direct. "You're handling perimeter and reconnaissance. You've got the long-range view, you'll keep eyes on the ground and on the air. If anything moves, I need to know yesterday."

Clint cracked his knuckles and flashed a smirk. "You can count on me. I'll see things from a mile away. Pierce won't know what hit him."

Next, Fury turned to Melinda May, who was already adjusting the straps on her gear with her usual calm and focus. "May, you and Barton will handle the outer perimeter and surveillance. Your job is to make sure no one gets in or out without us knowing about it. If you need to neutralize a threat—do it quietly. I don't want anyone tipping off Pierce. Understood?"

Melinda met his gaze, her expression unreadable, but her lips quirked slightly. "Understood."

Fury's eyes moved to the next figure—Ghost, who stood silently, her face hidden behind a mask. In the darkened corners of SHIELD, Ghost was a legend. Silent, deadly, unseen. Fury didn't know much about her personal life—hell, no one did—but when it came to infiltration and espionage, she was the best in the business.

"Ghost," Fury said, his tone slightly softer, but no less intense. "I need you inside with Pierce. He trusts you. He doesn't know that you're working for us. That's a goddamn advantage. Use it."

There was a slight tilt of Ghost's head, a small acknowledgment of the assignment. Her presence alone had a calming effect on the room. Ghost didn't speak much, but when she did, everyone listened. Her silence was the kind that demanded respect.

"Got it," Ghost said, her voice low and muffled by her mask. It was more than a promise; it was a guarantee.

Fury turned to Howard Stark, who was hunched over a small, humming device in his hands, fiddling with something that could only be described as a piece of cutting-edge tech. Fury was willing to bet the man had spent hours tinkering with it while the rest of the team had been preparing their gear.

"Stark," Fury barked, snapping Howard's attention away from his gadgets. "You're in charge of tech. I need you to keep us covered—real-time intel, comms, the works. If Pierce tries anything, I want you on it first. And don't get cute. I'll need you sharp."

Howard looked up, raising an eyebrow, the faintest grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You can always count on me to keep things in line, Nick. But don't expect me to babysit. I'm not here to hold anyone's hand."

Fury gave him a pointed look, unamused. "I'll leave the babysitting to Maria."

Maria, standing just to Fury's side, gave Howard a deadpan stare. "I can take care of myself."

"Good," Fury grunted, more out of habit than anything else. "Let's get this show on the road. We've got sixty minutes to prep and go. Move like you've got something to lose, people."

The room filled with the sounds of agents securing their gear, checking their weapons, and heading for the exit. Fury's mind raced as he processed every angle. Pierce had played them all for fools for far too long, but Fury had learned the hard way to never underestimate the enemy. Not again. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Howard Stark fell into step beside him as they walked toward the exit, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his expression unreadable. "So, you think we've got a shot at bringing Pierce in alive?" Howard asked, his voice teasing yet carrying an undercurrent of seriousness.

Fury glanced at him, his jaw tight. "We'll see. I don't trust the bastard, but we don't have a choice. We play this smart, we play it clean. And we don't let him slip away this time."

The team filed out, Fury's eyes still burning with intensity. They had one shot. One shot to bring down Pierce and end Hydra's stranglehold on the government. Fury wasn't going to fail—he couldn't afford to.

The clock was ticking down. The mission was set into motion.

—

The air felt thick as the team moved into position, each agent silently executing their part of the plan. Fury's mind never stopped calculating, even as he moved swiftly to the command center. His sharp gaze lingered on every agent, making sure they were ready to do what needed to be done. His hand tightened around the strap of his jacket as he mentally ticked through every possible outcome.

Maria Hill was already on comms, checking in with Barton and May, who were in position outside, coordinating their efforts. She gave a quick nod, confirming everything was going as planned. Fury trusted Maria—she wasn't just calm under pressure; she thrived on it.

Howard, for his part, was set up in the tech hub, tapping furiously at the holographic interface in front of him. Fury caught a glimpse of his hands flying across the controls, his fingers dancing with the precision of someone who had been born with a silver spoon and a penchant for genius-level tinkering. Stark's tech prowess was legendary, but Fury knew Howard could also be a wildcard—always unpredictable, always a little too confident. But Fury wasn't worried. Stark had his back on this one, and that was all that mattered.

Clint's voice crackled through the earpiece, cutting through the silence with a sharp, "Target in sight. I've got eyes on the perimeter. Nothing's moving on my end."

Fury's pulse didn't quicken, but his senses sharpened. "Good. Stay sharp, Barton. We need him alive. And for God's sake, don't blow anything up."

Clint chuckled, the sound like gravel rolling over stone. "Who, me? I was thinking more along the lines of the stealthy approach, boss."

"Better be," Fury muttered, but his eyes were focused on the task ahead.

Meanwhile, May was already in position, nestled against a shadowy alcove nearby, waiting for any movement from within. She was a master of patience. She didn't need orders. She knew the drill by heart.

It was Ghost who stood out as the wildcard. She hadn't spoken since the briefing, but Fury could feel her presence, even from across the room. She was preparing for what could only be described as a surgical strike. She didn't need to say a word for Fury to know that she'd do what needed to be done. Her role in this was critical—getting in close, staying unnoticed, and extracting Pierce before he could set his escape plan into motion.

Fury exhaled through his nose, feeling the tension in the pit of his stomach. The thought of Hydra's continued influence over the government, of Pierce's calculated manipulation, was something Fury couldn't stomach. Pierce was a ghost—a man with ties to everyone, yet loyal to no one but Hydra. That kind of person didn't just disappear. They needed to be taken down. Now.

Suddenly, Howard's voice crackled through the earpiece, breaking through Fury's thoughts.

"Fury, we've got a breach in the system. Someone's trying to access the intel."

Fury's eyes narrowed. "Where?"

"From the inside. We've got a mole. Someone is tipping off Pierce."

"Damn it," Fury cursed under his breath. "Who?"

Howard didn't answer right away, a pause of tension hanging in the air. "I don't know yet, but I'm tracing it."

"Find it, Stark. And if it's one of our people, I swear—"

"Relax, Nick. I'm on it," Howard interrupted. "Give me two minutes."

Fury clenched his fist, his temper rising, but he forced himself to stay composed. If there was one thing Fury couldn't stand, it was betrayal. He had his own suspicions, but it didn't matter now. They'd deal with it after they had Pierce.

"Ghost, status?" Fury's voice came out clipped, professional, even as his mind raced.

The response was immediate. "I'm in. He doesn't suspect a thing."

"Good. Get to him and don't waste any time," Fury ordered. His eyes flicked over to the screen displaying Pierce's position. He was still in his penthouse, surrounded by a few personal bodyguards, but Fury knew that Pierce had his fingers in too many pies. If they didn't act now, it would be too late.

Fury watched as the seconds ticked down, knowing there was no room for failure. The team was in place, but something still nagged at him—something in his gut told him this mission wasn't going to go as smoothly as planned. He was no stranger to complications. There was always a surprise, and Fury had learned to expect it, to embrace it.

Suddenly, Clint's voice came through again, this time with a different edge. "Target's on the move. We've got company—three men in black suits heading towards the building. Could be Pierce's security detail."

"Damn it," Fury muttered. "Ghost, stay on Pierce. Don't engage unless necessary."

"Understood," Ghost replied, her voice a breath of calm in the storm.

Howard's voice came back over the earpiece, urgent now. "Fury, I've traced the breach. It's coming from one of our agents in the command center. I'm pulling their comms now."

Fury's hand clenched into a fist, fury boiling just beneath the surface. "Identify them, Stark. Now."

The tech was silent for a moment before Howard's voice came through with a reluctant edge. "It's Maria Hill."

Fury's chest tightened. He had never expected it to be her—his right hand, the person he trusted most. Betrayal stung more than any bullet.

"Goddamn it," Fury muttered, his mind racing. He had to make a decision. "Clint, May—stand by. Ghost, keep Pierce occupied. Maria's on our list now. I'll deal with her later."

Howard spoke again, his voice filled with tension. "Fury, you sure about that? Maria's not someone we can just—"

"Deal with it, Stark. If Hill's the leak, I'll take care of it. Focus on the mission."

Fury took a deep breath and composed himself, pushing the anger down into a place where it could be dealt with later. The mission came first. Pierce came first.

"Get ready," Fury barked. "This is it. We're going in."

The team was ready. The game was set. And Fury wasn't going to let anyone—friend or foe—stand in his way. The storm was coming, and Fury was at the eye of it.

—

The SHIELD team moved in fast, the sleek black uniforms blending with the shadows as they surrounded Pierce's penthouse. Clint's voice came through first, calm and precise as always, despite the tension hanging in the air.

"Target's in sight, Fury. Two guards outside, but the place looks clear inside. He's alone for now."

"Good," Fury's voice was low but filled with purpose. "Move in. Don't engage until we have him secured."

They made their way inside, a well-oiled machine, each agent perfectly synchronized. Ghost slipped through the shadows, a silent predator, as May and Clint positioned themselves on opposite sides of the building. Howard was still coordinating from the tech hub, his voice coming through their earpieces.

"Target's in the study," Howard reported, his voice steady despite the rising intensity. "I've locked down all exits, but if Pierce tries to move, he's going to be trapped."

Fury nodded to Maria, who was covering his six. The team was ready. The only thing that could go wrong was the unpredictable nature of Hydra—and, as it turned out, there was more to fear than just Pierce's machinations.

Without warning, a wave of energy surged through the room, a flicker in the air that sent chills down Fury's spine. It wasn't the usual tech-based interference. This was something... unnatural. Fury's instincts flared, and he threw up his hand, signaling for the team to halt.

Then, it happened.

The lights flickered, dimmed, and the air grew dense with an eerie hum. Fury's sharp gaze locked onto the figure standing in the center of the room: a tall, imposing man, his robes flowing like black ink, wand raised with an air of practiced menace. Fury barely had time to react before the air around them seemed to vibrate, the walls themselves warping.

"Hydra's not the only force at play here, Director Fury," the wizard sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "And you've made a fatal mistake in underestimating the power we bring."

Fury's pulse quickened as another figure emerged from the shadows, his features shifting unnaturally, like something not quite human. Wizards. Working with Hydra. Of course, Pierce was clever enough to align himself with them.

"We've got company," Fury barked into the comms, his voice grating. "Clint, May, Ghost—take cover. We're in the middle of a goddamn magical ambush."

And with that, the battle erupted in an explosion of violence. The wizards flung spells like whips, their curses flying toward SHIELD agents with deadly intent. Clint ducked behind a pillar, arrows already at the ready, returning fire with rapid precision. May moved like a blur, using the environment to her advantage, while Ghost stayed in the shadows, her strikes sharp and lethal.

But Fury, clad in his custom vibranium-laced suit, barely flinched. Designed by Howard Stark, enchanted by Lily Potter and Gideon Adler, it absorbed kinetic energy and redirected impacts, and Fury swore to himself that if he made it out of this, it would be standard-issue gear for every agent on his team.

For now, though, it was his lifeline. A dark streak of a spell hit him square in the chest, and it was like being hit with a battering ram, the energy absorbed by the suit, leaving him only a second to adjust before returning fire. The vibranium woven into the fibers of his suit shimmered under the magical barrage, keeping him relatively unharmed.

"Is this how Hydra plays now? Sending wizards to do their dirty work?" Fury muttered under his breath, turning to face the enemy.

One of the wizards, a lanky man with a cruel grin, raised his wand, muttering an incantation under his breath. Fury's enhanced reflexes allowed him to dodge the first wave of blasts, but the wizard was relentless, his magic swirling around him like a storm. Fury ducked behind a column as a spell detonated nearby, the force rattling the bones in his body. He gritted his teeth.

It was then that he noticed something—one of the wizards was staring at him, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing with confusion. Fury felt it before he saw it: a shift in the air, a spell focused directly on him. The wizard had realized something. His spells weren't landing as they should.

"Did you think your little toys would save you, Fury?" the wizard taunted, raising his wand with a swift motion. Fury's instincts screamed—he wasn't fast enough to avoid the attack. The wizard's incantation was low, his words laced with malice. "Cavum Secundum!"

The cutting hex shot through the air with a vicious hiss, aiming straight at Fury's neck. His body reacted before his mind could even process the threat. He ducked just in time, the razor-thin edge of the spell slicing through the air like a knife.

But the spell was too fast. It caught him on the left side of his face. Fury felt the searing pain as the spell sliced through his skin, his eye burning in agony. He staggered back, the blood seeping from the wound, and cursed under his breath. His left eye, once keen and sharp, now useless, blinded by the force of the hex. Fury's vision clouded as his mind raced to keep himself steady.

"Damn it!" Fury hissed, his good eye flashing with fury as he felt the warmth of his own blood trickling down his cheek. He didn't have time to dwell on it. The fight wasn't over.

"May! Clint! Ghost!" Fury barked, his voice gritty with pain, but focused. "Keep pushing! We're not done yet!"

He threw himself into the battle once more, his movements sharp despite the injury. His suit was holding up—barely—but he could feel the strain. The wizards might have had magic on their side, but Fury had something else: sheer will. His team would not lose this fight.

In the chaos of it all, Fury couldn't help but notice how the enchanted suit seemed to hum in response to his anger, the magical properties augmenting his own sense of purpose. Fury wasn't just going to survive this fight—he was going to make sure Hydra didn't see another day.

"Clint, I need cover on the left," Fury commanded, his voice a little rougher now, but no less commanding. "Ghost, finish him!"

And even though the blood was dripping down his face, Fury's focus never wavered. Not while Pierce, Hydra, and these damn wizards were still standing.

—

The Ancient One sat in her meditative pose at the center of the grand hall in Kamar-Taj, her serene demeanor masking the intensity of her focus. Her hands moved slowly, weaving invisible strands of energy as she peered into the swirling possibilities of the multiverse. Then, she paused, her expression shifting ever so slightly.

"Interesting…" she murmured, her tone laced with concern.

Harry, who had been practicing a complex series of wandless spells nearby, stopped mid-cast. He turned to her, sensing the gravity of her thoughts. "What's wrong?"

She opened her eyes and gazed at him with calm urgency. "One of your allies is in grave danger, Harry. Nicholas Fury. His life is at risk."

Harry straightened, his emerald-green eyes flashing with determination. "Fury? Where is he?"

The Ancient One's hands moved again, creating an intricate pattern of golden light that hovered in the air between them. The pattern shifted and re-formed into a vision of Fury, bloodied and cornered, holding his own against what appeared to be wizards in Hydra's employ. Even from the projection, Harry could feel the oppressive tension and danger radiating from the scene.

"He is in Washington, D.C., battling forces both mundane and magical. He fights well," she said, her tone almost admiring, "but he cannot hold out alone. He will need you."

Harry nodded, already moving toward the doors that led to his room. "I'll be there in minutes. Just need to suit up."

As he turned to leave, the Ancient One's gaze sharpened. Her eyes flicked to one of the far corners of the room, where the Cloak of Levitation hung from its peg, swaying faintly in the still air.

"Wait," she said, her voice stopping Harry mid-stride.

Harry looked back, puzzled. "What is it?"

The Ancient One rose gracefully, her attention fixed on the Cloak. It was trembling now, as though vibrating with an unseen energy. Then, without warning, the Cloak slipped free from its peg and floated into the air, its crimson fabric rippling like liquid fire.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is it supposed to do that?"

The Ancient One allowed a faint smile to touch her lips. "It seems the Cloak has taken an interest in you."

The Cloak hovered for a moment, as if deliberating, before darting out of the room and disappearing down the corridor in the direction of Harry's quarters.

Harry stared after it, bewildered. "Uh... where's it going?"

"To retrieve something for you," the Ancient One replied, her tone amused but cryptic. "Your Revenant Armor, I believe."

Harry frowned, taking a hesitant step toward the corridor. "Shouldn't I—?"

She raised a hand, stopping him again. "No. Trust the Cloak. It has chosen its path. And now, it seems, it has chosen you."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Instead, he turned back to face her, his mind racing with questions. "This is normal here, isn't it? Magic deciding to just... do its own thing?"

The Ancient One inclined her head. "Normal, perhaps. But rare. It seems you are destined for more than you realize."

Before Harry could respond, the Cloak returned, carrying the Revenant Armor in its folds, the pieces floating in perfect synchronization beside it. It stopped before Harry, presenting the armor like a loyal squire to its knight.

The Ancient One's expression softened. "Go now, Harry. Your ally awaits. And remember—magic chooses its wielder as much as the wielder chooses magic."

—

Harry reached out, his fingers brushing against the edge of the Cloak of Levitation. The moment they made contact, a ripple of energy surged through the room. The Cloak responded instantly, wrapping itself around Harry's outstretched hand like a living entity. A low hum filled the air, and the Revenant Armor, still hovering beside the Cloak, began to glow faintly.

Before Harry could react, the Cloak surged forward, enveloping him in a cascade of crimson fabric. The pieces of the Revenant Armor followed suit, moving as if guided by an unseen force. They swirled around him, clicking into place with a precision that defied explanation. The red and black tactical plates shimmered with a metallic sheen, fusing seamlessly with the Cloak's ethereal fabric.

The transformation was breathtaking. The once separate entities—the Cloak and the Revenant Armor—merged as though they were always meant to be one. The fabric of the Cloak flowed into the armor, becoming a dynamic cape that billowed behind him, the rich crimson contrasting sharply with the sleek black and gold of the armor. The intricate details of the armor's design seemed to come alive, the golden accents glowing faintly as though infused with magical energy.

Harry felt the armor settle onto his body, not with the rigid weight of metal but with the fluidity of something alive. The mask slid over his face, its black surface smooth and reflective, with the hood drawing up of its own accord to cast a shadow over his emerald-green eyes, now alight with an inner fire.

The Ancient One watched in silent awe, her usual composed expression faltering for the briefest moment. This was not merely magic at work—it was something far greater, a melding of forces that should not have been possible.

When the transformation was complete, Harry stood in the center of the room, a figure of commanding presence. The armor exuded an aura of power, its design both menacing and regal. The crimson cape flowed behind him like liquid fire, its edges flickering faintly as though alive with embers.

Harry flexed his fingers, marveling at the synergy between the armor and the Cloak. It felt as though they were an extension of himself, responding to his thoughts even before he acted. The Ancient One took a step closer, her gaze sharp with curiosity and something bordering on reverence.

"This… this was not expected," she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "The Cloak has never acted this way before. Nor has it ever chosen to merge with another artifact."

Harry looked down at his hands, the golden lines of the armor pulsing faintly with his heartbeat. "Feels like it's alive. Like it's… listening."

The Ancient One nodded slowly. "It is more than alive. It has become a part of you now. This union—it is unprecedented. The magic within the Cloak and the vibranium-laced armor have bonded to your own essence. You are no longer just their wielder; you are their equal."

Harry took a deep breath, the weight of her words settling over him. "Well, that's a lot to unpack later. Right now, Fury needs me."

The Ancient One smiled faintly, regaining her usual composure. "Go, then. But be cautious, Harry. This power you now wield—it will draw attention. From both allies and enemies."

Harry nodded, his voice firm as he turned toward the portal the Ancient One had conjured. "Let them come. Fury first. The rest can wait."

With a final glance at the Ancient One, Harry stepped through the portal, his new armor gleaming in the light of Kamar-Taj. The billowing cape seemed to whisper promises of power and destiny as he vanished into the swirling energy, leaving the Ancient One standing alone in the grand hall.

She watched the portal close, her expression contemplative. "Destined for more than he realizes," she murmured to herself, before returning to her meditative stance, the golden strands of the multiverse already beginning to shift in response to Harry's new path.

—

The battle in Pierce's penthouse was a symphony of chaos. Magic clashed with steel, and the SHIELD team fought valiantly, but the wizards had the upper hand. Their spells tore through furniture and walls, turning the luxurious space into a war zone. Fury gritted his teeth as another hex exploded near him, sending shards of marble and glass flying in every direction.

"Fury, we're getting pinned down here!" Clint called over comms, his voice strained but steady. He fired off another arrow, its explosive tip knocking one of the wizards off balance. May moved like a phantom, taking out another wizard with a brutal combination of strikes, but it was clear they couldn't hold out much longer.

Fury ducked behind a shattered desk, clutching his side. His suit had absorbed most of the impact from a recent spell, but he could feel the bruises forming beneath. His good eye scanned the room, calculating their next move. They needed backup—and fast.

That's when it happened.

A ripple of golden light appeared in the air, shimmering like liquid sunlight. Everyone froze, both SHIELD agents and wizards alike, as the portal expanded, its edges sparking with raw magical energy. The air grew thick with anticipation, an electric charge that made the hair on Fury's arms stand on end.

From the portal stepped a figure, his presence commanding immediate attention. The first thing Fury noticed was the armor—sleek, red, and black, with intricate golden accents that glowed faintly in the dim light. A hood shrouded the figure's face, and a crimson cloak flowed behind him, its edges shifting as if alive. The armor seemed to hum with power, a perfect blend of magic and advanced technology.

Fury's breath hitched. He knew that armor—or at least, he thought he did. It looked like the Revenant Armor he and Lily had helped design, but this... this was different. It was sharper, more menacing, as though it had evolved into something far beyond its original form.

The room fell silent, save for the crackling of residual spells. The wizards exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence faltering in the face of this unexpected arrival. Even Pierce, standing at the back of the room, looked unsettled.

The figure moved forward with deliberate steps, the sound of his boots echoing in the ruined space. Then, with a soft snikt, vibranium claws extended from his gauntlets, gleaming under the flickering lights. Fury's eye widened in recognition.

"Harry?" Fury muttered under his breath, disbelief evident in his tone.

The figure turned his head slightly, the mask hiding the face but revealing a distorted but familiar, determined face. Fury could practically hear the smirk playing at Harry's lips as he raised one hand, the claws glinting ominously. "Miss me, Fury?"

Howard's voice crackled over the comms, filled with equal parts shock and awe. "What the hell am I looking at? That's... that's not the armor we designed! What did he do?"

Harry didn't wait for a reply. He raised his other hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the air around him shimmered. A wave of force rippled out, sending the wizards stumbling backward. One of them tried to cast a spell, but Harry was faster. He lunged forward, claws slashing through the air, disarming the wizard in one swift motion.

The SHIELD team snapped out of their stupor, taking advantage of the distraction. Clint fired another arrow, taking down a second wizard, while May and Ghost closed in on the remaining targets. Fury pushed himself to his feet, his eye never leaving Harry.

"About damn time you showed up," Fury growled, his voice tinged with grudging admiration.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, his smirk widening. "You looked like you could use a hand."

One of the wizards, desperate and cornered, hurled a killing curse at Harry. The green light streaked toward him, but Harry didn't flinch. The cloak reacted instantly, wrapping around him like a shield. The spell struck the fabric and dissipated, leaving Harry unharmed. He stepped forward, his movements fluid and unrelenting, and took the wizard down with a single, precise strike.

In the control room, Howard was practically vibrating with excitement. "Lily's gonna flip when she sees this! The armor—it's not just a suit anymore. It's... alive!"

Back in the penthouse, the last of the wizards fell, leaving only Pierce standing amidst the wreckage. Harry turned to him, his emerald eyes blazing with unspoken fury.

"Alexander Pierce," Harry said, his voice low and deadly. "I hear you've got a lot to answer for."

Pierce sneered, though the fear in his eyes betrayed him. "You think this changes anything? Hydra is eternal—"

Before he could finish, Harry flicked his hand, and the claws retracted. He raised his palm, and a glowing, golden rope of magical energy materialized, wrapping around Pierce and yanking him to his knees.

"Eternal, huh?" Harry said, leaning in close. "Let's see how eternal you feel in a SHIELD interrogation cell."

Fury stepped forward, standing beside Harry. His face was bloodied, his left eye covered with a makeshift bandage, but his presence was as commanding as ever. "Nice work, kid," he said gruffly. "But next time, try to show up before I lose an eye."

Harry glanced at him, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best, Fury."

As the SHIELD team secured Pierce and tended to the injured, Harry stood amidst the chaos, the cloak billowing around him like a living entity. The battle was over, but the war was far from won. And Harry, the Revenant, was ready for whatever came next.

---

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