Harry Potter: The Revenant

Gideon Adler sat in a sparsely furnished but impeccably neat flat on the outskirts of London. It wasn't much—just a temporary base of operations—but it served its purpose. A leather-bound journal lay open on the table before him, filled with his neatly written notes. The topic: Hydra. He had spent months unraveling their web of influence in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, and each discovery only solidified his resolve to dismantle them completely.

The sound of flapping wings drew his attention from his work. He looked up, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as a magnificent phoenix appeared in the room, materializing in a flash of golden fire. Fawkes.

Adler leaned back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Albus," he murmured to himself, his voice tinged with amusement. "So predictable."

The phoenix hovered for a moment before gently dropping a letter onto the table. Fawkes regarded Adler with an inscrutable gaze, his golden feathers shimmering in the dim light.

Adler inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the bird. "You've always had a flair for theatrics, old friend."

Fawkes let out a soft trill, as if acknowledging the statement, before vanishing in another burst of flame.

Adler picked up the envelope, his fingers brushing over the familiar handwriting. Dumbledore's penmanship hadn't changed in decades. He tore it open and unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanning the words.

---

Dear Mr. Adler,

Your message, as conveyed through Mr. Fletcher, was received with great interest. It seems we find ourselves circling the same board, though the positions we occupy are far different than in years past with your ancestor Gellert Grindelwald. You intrigue me, as your family always has. Therefore, I propose we meet face to face, without pretense or intermediaries, to discuss the matters that so clearly concern us both.

If this arrangement is agreeable to you, I will await you tomorrow evening at 7 o'clock, at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. My brother Aberforth has agreed to provide us withl discretion.

I trust you will not disappoint me.

With warm regards,

Albus Dumbledore

---

Adler chuckled softly as he folded the letter. "Circling the same board, are we? Always the dramatist." He stood, crossing to the window and looking out over the London skyline, his mind already weighing the implications of this meeting.

Dumbledore's choice of words was as telling as ever. 'Without pretense.' That was a laugh. Albus had always been a man of pretense, weaving his truths with just enough ambiguity to keep others guessing. He played the role of the benevolent sage with such ease that even he had likely started to believe it.

Adler's expression darkened for a moment as memories surfaced—of a younger Dumbledore, brimming with ideals and ambition, of their shared dreams of reshaping the world, and of the catastrophic betrayal that had shattered it all.

But that was a lifetime ago. Gellert Grindelwald was dead—or as good as. Gideon Adler had been born in the ashes of that man, forged in the fires of regret and tempered by decades of reflection. He was no longer the boy who had dreamed of conquest, no longer the man consumed by a lust for power.

Now, he fought a different battle, one that demanded he confront the very darkness he had once embraced. Hydra was a cancer, its tendrils spreading through both worlds, and Adler had vowed to cut it out at the root.

But Dumbledore? He was a complication. The man had always been a master manipulator, and Adler knew better than to trust him. Still, there was value in the meeting. Albus was brilliant, and while his ego often clouded his judgment, his instincts were rarely wrong.

Adler's lips twitched into a wry smile. "I wonder, old friend, if you'll recognize me when we meet. Or will you see only what you wish to see?"

He returned to his desk, slipping the letter into the journal where he kept his notes. Tomorrow would be interesting. If Dumbledore wanted a game of chess, Adler would oblige—but this time, he wouldn't be the pawn.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Plenty of time to prepare. And if Dumbledore thought he held the upper hand, well... that was just another piece of the game.

—

The Ancient One was the picture of serenity as she poured tea into delicate porcelain cups. They sat in a sunlit chamber overlooking Kamar-Taj's serene courtyard, where monks trained in disciplined silence. The contrast between their tranquil surroundings and Harry Potter's barely-contained chaos was, in Wong's opinion, cosmic irony at its finest.

Harry, perched on the edge of his seat, was gesturing animatedly as he launched into a detailed explanation of his latest breakthrough. "So, hear me out—if you layer the dimensional weave with vibrational frequencies that match the portal's inherent resonance, you can stabilize it without needing a traditional anchor. It's like… playing a harp, but instead of strings, you're plucking at the fabric of reality."

The Ancient One inclined her head, her expression betraying nothing but mild curiosity. "Fascinating. And the inherent instability of using sound as a foundation?"

"Minor hiccup," Harry said, waving a hand dismissively. "I've already calculated the probability of a cascade failure. It's only 14.6%."

Wong nearly choked on his tea. "Only 14.6%? That's a one-in-seven chance of catastrophic dimensional collapse!"

"Hey, glass half-full, Wong!" Harry shot back. "That's an 85.4% chance of success. Those are good odds."

The Ancient One suppressed a smile as she sipped her tea. "And what inspired you to explore such an… unorthodox approach?"

Harry's grin widened. "I was reading about harmonic convergence in Temporal Manipulation: Theory and Practice, and it hit me—magic and music are basically the same thing. They're all about rhythm, intention, and resonance. I mean, look at incantations—they're like magical lyrics."

Wong set his cup down with a deliberate thud. "And what happens when your 'magical lyrics' accidentally summon something from a dimension you didn't mean to access? Like, oh, I don't know, Dormammu?"

"Dormammu, shmormammu," Harry said with a shrug. "I'll just tell him I'm here to bargain. It worked for you, didn't it?"

The Ancient One chuckled softly, a rare sound that made Wong glance at her in disbelief. She turned her calm gaze to Harry. "You have an intriguing perspective, Mr. Potter. Your willingness to experiment is both admirable and dangerous."

"I like to think of it as dangerously admirable," Harry quipped, earning an eye-roll from Wong.

"However," she continued, setting her cup down, "there is wisdom in tempering enthusiasm with caution. Magic is not merely a tool; it is a force that demands respect."

Harry nodded, his expression growing more serious. "I get that. Really, I do. But isn't magic also about pushing boundaries? If we never experiment, how do we grow? How do we find new ways to protect people?"

The Ancient One studied him for a moment, her piercing gaze seeming to see straight through him. "You remind me of someone I once knew. Brilliant, passionate, and reckless."

"Let me guess," Harry said with a lopsided grin. "Stephen Strange?"

The Ancient One's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "No. Gellert Grindelwald."

Harry froze, his grin faltering. Wong smirked into his tea, satisfied that the Ancient One had finally managed to throw him off balance.

"I'm not saying you share his ideology," she clarified gently. "But like him, you have a tendency to dive headfirst into the unknown, trusting your intellect to see you through. That is a strength—but it can also be a weakness."

Harry swallowed, his vibrant energy dimmed just slightly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Wong leaned back, folding his arms. "About time someone got through that thick skull of yours."

Harry shot him a glare, but the Ancient One raised a hand, and silence fell. "Mr. Potter," she said, her tone warm yet firm, "I see great potential in you. You are a seeker of knowledge, unafraid to challenge convention. That is a rare and valuable trait. But remember, true mastery comes not from knowing everything, but from knowing when to step back."

Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Got it. Less 'mad scientist,' more 'wise sage.'"

"Something like that," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Wong cleared his throat. "If you're done handing him compliments, perhaps we can discuss how to ensure he doesn't blow up the library."

Harry's grin returned in full force. "Oh, come on, Wong. You're just mad because I'm better at this than you were at my age."

Wong gave him a withering look. "You are insufferable."

"And you love it," Harry shot back, raising his teacup in a mock toast.

The Ancient One chuckled again, shaking her head. "Tea with the two of you is never dull."

As the conversation shifted to safer topics, Harry couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. Sure, he still had a lot to learn, but if he could impress even the Ancient One, he had to be doing something right. Now, if only Wong would stop glaring at him like he was a magical ticking time bomb.

—

The Ancient One sipped her tea in contemplative silence after Wong's departure, letting the tranquility of the room settle for a moment before speaking. Her tone was gentle, but her words carried the weight of unspoken truths.

"Harry," she began, setting her cup down carefully, "I understand the allure of diving into knowledge, of losing yourself in the pursuit of answers. But life, as you know, is rarely confined to books or theories. Sometimes, the people who matter most are the ones who bring us the clarity we seek."

Harry, still flipping through Magical Flora of the Multiverse, paused mid-page. He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond immediately, sensing there was more to come.

"Your teammates—Natasha, Barnes, James, and Sirius—are preparing for a mission," she continued, her gaze steady. "They plan to extract Alexei Shostakov from a heavily fortified prison. A delicate operation, fraught with risk. They may require your help."

Harry frowned, setting the book aside. "Alexei Shostakov? The Red Guardian? He's… still alive? I thought—wait, no, that's classified intel. Of course, you know. Why am I even surprised?" He shook his head, his vibrant energy dimming slightly. "But why didn't they ask me? I mean, I've been right here. Wong's already tried to kick me out twice."

The Ancient One tilted her head, studying him carefully. "Perhaps they thought you were too occupied. Or perhaps," she added softly, "they sense the distance you've been placing between yourself and them."

That caught Harry off guard. His mouth opened to protest but closed again just as quickly. "I'm not—I mean, I'm not avoiding them," he said finally, though the words sounded unconvincing even to himself. "I'm just… busy. There's so much to learn, so much to do. If I can master this stuff, I'll be better prepared to protect them, to protect everyone."

The Ancient One leaned back, her expression unreadable. "Noble reasons, to be sure. But nobility can be a lonely road, Harry. It often convinces us that pushing others away is for their benefit, even when it's truly about shielding ourselves."

Harry's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his Vibranium claws tapping rhythmically against the arm of his chair. "I can't let them get hurt because of me. Not again. Every time I let myself get close to someone, they—" He stopped, his voice catching for a moment. "They always pay the price."

"And so you seek to protect them by retreating into solitude," she said, her voice neither accusatory nor pitying, simply matter-of-fact. "But isolation is not protection, Harry. It is a wall. One that keeps out love and support as much as it keeps out pain."

Harry let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "You're starting to sound like my mom."

"Lily is a wise woman," she replied with a small smile. "And like the rest of your team, she understands something you have yet to fully grasp: the strength of a team. Of family."

Harry didn't answer immediately. He knew she was right, of course. She always was. But the thought of rejoining them, of putting them in danger again, made his chest tighten. "What if I go, and something happens to them? What if—what if I can't save them?"

The Ancient One reached for her tea, her movements slow and deliberate. "Fear of loss is a natural part of life, Harry. But it is not a reason to abandon those who care for you. In fact, it is precisely why you must stand with them, rather than apart. Together, you are stronger. Together, you can face challenges that would break any one of you alone."

Harry stared at the intricate pattern of the carpet beneath his feet, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. "So, what are you saying? That I should pack up my books and join them on this mission? Play happy family again?"

She smiled faintly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of wisdom and mischief. "I am saying that sometimes, the answers you seek in books can only be found in the bonds you share with others. And perhaps, in this mission, you will find more than just an old comrade to rescue. Perhaps you will find yourself."

Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You know, for someone who claims not to meddle, you're pretty good at it."

The Ancient One chuckled softly. "A necessary skill, when dealing with someone as stubborn as you."

Harry smirked despite himself, then stood, his Vibranium claws retracting with a metallic snikt. "Alright, alright. I'll go. But if my mom starts lecturing me about 'family values,' I'm blaming you."

She inclined her head, her smile growing. "I will bear the blame with pride."

As Harry left the room, his mind whirling with thoughts of his father, his godfather, and his teammates, the Ancient One watched him go, a quiet satisfaction settling in her chest. She had nudged him toward the path he needed to walk—but as always, the journey itself was his to take.

—

The war room was buzzing with the final touches of the plan. James, Sirius, Bucky, and Natasha were in full operational mode, prepping gear, checking intel, and triple-checking escape routes. The air was thick with urgency. Lily, who had joined them for the final strategic meeting, was reviewing the magical elements of the operation, her brow furrowed in concentration as she adjusted a few of the magical seals and charms they'd need to bypass the prison's defenses.

"This Disillusionment charm will buy us a few minutes, but we need to make sure the wards don't react to magical interference," Lily muttered, glancing over at Natasha, who was reviewing the security footage one last time.

Sirius, who was fiddling with an explosive device, looked up. "Don't worry, Lil. We've got everything in place. No way those magical wards are gonna stop us." He gave a roguish grin, though his eyes betrayed a hint of concern. He wasn't taking this lightly.

Lily's gaze softened momentarily, but only for a second. Then she snapped back into professional mode, casting a pointed look at him. "You just focus on not blowing yourself up, Padfoot. Or anyone else in the vicinity, for that matter."

James chuckled. "Let's hope that explosion doesn't end up being your farewell gift, Sirius."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll save it for the Hydra agents," Sirius quipped, adjusting his gear with a wink.

But before anyone could say more, the temperature in the room seemed to shift. A soft hum echoed through the air, followed by a golden light that rippled through the shadows of the war room. The glowing portal expanded, shimmering in mid-air until it stabilized. It was a sight that none of them had expected, and they all froze for a moment.

Then, stepping through the portal, came Harry.

He was wearing the armor that everyone had seen on the footage after his rescue of Nick Fury's team—the red and gold gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. His cloak, the Cloak of Levitation, fluttered dramatically behind him as he stepped into the room with the kind of swagger that only Harry Potter could pull off.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Harry greeted with a grin that was pure mischief, his tone light and teasing as he scanned the group. "Need a hand, or were you planning on going in without me?"

The team immediately recognized him. The armor—much more refined now—was a dead giveaway. But it wasn't just the armor. The presence, the way he walked, the subtle confidence in his gaze, was unmistakable. They all had seen the footage of him taking down Hydra agents alongside Fury's team, and here he was, standing in front of them, his usual cheeky self as if nothing had changed.

Lily's face instantly morphed from businesslike focus to a mix of surprise and, to everyone's shock, mild irritation. She threw her hands up in a mock display of exasperation. "You," she began, pointing at him, "have some explaining to do. The last time I saw you, you were off saving Fury's team, and I haven't seen hide nor hair of you since. Not a letter, not a call—nothing! And you—" she jabbed a finger at him again, her eyes narrowing as she walked up to him. "—had the audacity to walk in here like you've been on a vacation. Do you know how much you worried your father and me? And I don't care if you were learning the Mystical Arts! You're still our son, and you're still going to explain yourself."

Harry blinked, caught off-guard by his mother's sudden outburst. "Mum, come on. I did try and send a couple of owls—well, technically, they were more like raven-like creatures—after all, they were really far out. But who's counting, right?" He grinned, trying to smooth things over with his usual charisma.

But Lily wasn't having it. "You don't just disappear for months without so much as a single owl or anything. You're lucky I'm not sending you back to Hogwarts for a detention."

James, watching from the sidelines, chuckled, not quite able to hide his amusement. "It's good to see you, son," he said with a grin, "but your mother's right. You do owe us an explanation."

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, his smile never wavering. "Alright, alright, I get it! I'll make it up to you. You know, with, like, some quality time. After, of course, we save the day again. Because—" he glanced at the map with a wink "—I've got all the plans for this mission. Trust me, I've been keeping busy. It's not like I've been sitting around playing Quidditch or anything."

His eyes flicked briefly over to Natasha, and a small, knowing smile tugged at his lips. The tension from their last encounter, the kiss they'd shared before his departure, lingered just under the surface, but neither of them spoke about it. Natasha's gaze briefly softened, but her professional demeanor quickly took over.

"Good to see you, Potter," she said, her voice steady but with an underlying warmth.

Sirius, still leaning casually against the wall, grinned. "So you finally made it, huh? Can't say I'm surprised. I mean, you did have that whole 'dramatic entrance' thing down to an art form. Good timing though; you just missed your mother's lecture." He gave Harry an exaggerated wink.

Harry smirked back, tossing him a playful salute. "Ah, don't worry, Sirius. I'm used to the lectures. But hey—" Harry shifted, tapping the edge of the table with one gloved hand "—if we're all ready, I'll gladly jump in and handle the heavy lifting. I'll be the distraction while you all sneak in. Sound good?"

Bucky, who had been observing the exchange with quiet amusement, grunted in approval. "You're not kidding when you say you've got some impressive armor. And a dramatic entrance. Alright, Potter. Let's see what you can do."

Natasha gave him a small nod. "We're going to need all the help we can get."

Harry leaned back, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, I'm not one to not help out when there's a chance for some fun. Now, what's the plan, and where do I fit in?"

The room went silent for a moment as the rest of the team, now energized by Harry's sudden arrival, refocused. They all understood the stakes of the mission, and with Harry now officially on board, they were ready to move forward. But as the minutes ticked away, Lily finally gave in, her voice softening just a touch.

"I just wish you'd keep us in the loop more often, Harry."

Harry gave her a sheepish grin, his tone light but sincere. "I will, Mum. I promise. After this mission, I'll make it up to you both. But right now, we've got a Red Guardian to rescue."

And with that, the team gathered around the table again, their resolve strengthening. The mission was set, and with Harry Potter—now in his shining armor—by their side, there was no question they were going to succeed.

—

As the team moved through the safehouse, finalizing details and reviewing every step of their plan, Harry's presence remained firmly anchored in their minds. His sudden arrival had thrown everything into disarray, but there was a comfort in having him there, even if it wasn't quite in the way they'd anticipated.

Sirius, who had been studying Harry's cloak with an interested gleam in his eye, broke the silence with a grin. "Alright, mate, you've got to tell me about the cloak. I mean, I know it's magical or whatever, but it looks like it could be straight out of a fairy tale." He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of the fabric, making the cloak ripple as if alive.

Harry smirked. "This old thing? It's not just for show. It's the Cloak of Levitation. And it's… well, alive, in a way. So, yeah, I've got this fancy piece of fabric doing more than just keeping me warm." He gave the cloak a gentle tug, and it responded by swaying dramatically, almost as if bowing to its own importance.

James, always one for practicality, narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You know, instead of all this sneaky stuff, why don't we just use your portals to bust Shostakov out? Get him out in an instant. No need for this whole 'sneak and grab' plan."

Harry raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "It's not quite that simple, Dad. Sure, the portals are handy, but I can't just open a portal wherever I want without some… consequences. It's not like teleporting on a whim—there's a bit of a balance involved. I can't just whisk someone out of a high-security prison without messing with the fabric of reality, and believe me, you don't want me to do that."

Lily, who had been quietly watching, her arms crossed, now stepped forward. Her eyes softened for just a moment, though her tone was sharp. "And as much as you like to avoid family reunions, I'm more interested in how you upgraded the armor. Last I checked, the Revenant Armor you wore was made of vibranium-laced fabric." She circled him, eyes narrowing as she studied the gleaming metallic sheen of his armor. "This? This is something else. So, what's the real story?"

Harry's expression shifted to something a little more serious, but there was still that edge of humor in his voice. "Well, you could say I had a little help. The Cloak of Levitation... merged with the original armor." He ran a hand along the breastplate, the light glinting off the shimmering surface. "It's not just an upgrade—it's a fusion."

As he spoke, the armor seemed to react, shifting and flowing seamlessly as though it were part of the fabric of the cloak itself. Then, as if on cue, the armor retracted, melting back into the cloak in a fluid motion. The cloak, now seemingly alive in a way, swirled and fluttered, almost like it was bowing to the group.

"Isn't it a beauty?" Harry said with a grin, his tone almost playful. "I mean, it's got a mind of its own now. The armor and the cloak are… well, they're one now."

The cloak gave another small flutter, almost like it was showing off, and then, just as quickly, the armor returned to its original place, snapping back into its intricate design and settling on Harry's form with a quiet hum.

Lily, despite her irritation over Harry's absence, couldn't help but marvel at the way the armor had responded. "You really do get all the cool stuff, don't you?"

"I like to think I'm just really good at shopping for magical and highly advanced tech," Harry quipped with a smirk.

Sirius, never one to let an opportunity pass, leaned in, his grin widening. "So, this armor? Can it do the whole 'disappearing act' too, or is it just the cloak that gets all the fancy tricks?"

Harry winked. "Give it time, Padfoot. Who knows? It might surprise you."

The moment of levity didn't last long, though. Natasha stepped forward, breaking up the banter with a pointed look. "Alright, enough of the family reunion. We've got a plan to execute. If Harry's got the goods to help, I'd say now's the time to start putting those abilities to use."

James nodded, his tone turning serious once more. "We stick to the plan. If Harry's here to help, we use whatever's in his arsenal, but we don't deviate unless we absolutely have to."

Harry gave a mock salute, his grin returning. "Sure thing, Dad. I'll try not to make any unnecessary entrances. Wouldn't want to upstage the rest of the team."

Lily sighed, though there was affection in her gaze. "Just don't make a habit of saving the world without visiting your family first, okay?"

"I'll try to remember that," Harry said, his expression softening for a moment before his usual mischievous grin returned. "Now, let's go rescue a former Soviet supersoldier, shall we?"

—

As the plane hummed steadily through the skies, the tension from the earlier conversation began to settle, but Harry couldn't quite shake the undercurrent of discomfort from his interaction with his parents and Sirius. It had been too long since he'd been back with them—too long since he'd had a proper conversation with any of them.

But there was one conversation that lingered in his mind, and it wasn't the kind that could be avoided forever.

Natasha sat across from him, her posture as composed as ever, though Harry caught the subtle flick of her eyes every now and then as if she was waiting for him to acknowledge the elephant in the room. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, as if bracing himself for what was coming. He didn't need to wait long.

"So, about that kiss," Natasha's voice was low, her usual steely composure cracked just enough for Harry to catch the edge of something far more personal.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I figured we'd have to talk about that eventually."

She arched an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. "You've got a way of dodging the hard conversations, don't you, Potter?"

Harry chuckled bitterly, half-smiling. "I learned from the best," he muttered, his gaze flicking toward where his parents sat, deep in conversation with Sirius.

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

He glanced at her then, her expression steady but those bright green eyes tracking him carefully. "What do you want me to say, Natasha? I didn't—"

"You didn't come back." She cut him off, voice sharp but not unkind. "You saved Fury, and then you disappeared. You didn't even come to talk to me or check in. Just... nothing." The words were quieter now, and she leaned forward, her hands resting on her lap. "I know you've got your reasons. I've seen you running from things before. But I can't pretend it didn't hurt, Harry."

He exhaled slowly, a knot tightening in his chest. He had known it would come up, and maybe it was time to stop avoiding it. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Natasha. I… I didn't know what to do with that kiss. It was my first. Hell, my only kiss. And I didn't—I didn't even know what it meant, or what I wanted it to mean."

Natasha tilted her head, watching him with that calm, knowing gaze. "It wasn't about the kiss, though, was it?"

Harry paused. That was the thing about Natasha. She could read people like an open book, and it was hard to hide behind his usual bravado with her. He could feel the weight of the words she wasn't saying.

"No," he admitted softly. "It wasn't about the kiss. It was… about not feeling like I had the right to come back. After everything with Fury, and with the mess I left behind... I didn't feel like I deserved to."

"Deserved what?" Natasha's voice was soft, though still laced with an edge. "To come back and face the people who care about you? You think it was easy for me to watch you leave that night?"

He shook his head, his voice thickening with the weight of the confession. "I never meant for it to be this way. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I had to learn everything first, before I could come back and face anyone."

"You can't learn everything, Harry. Sometimes you just have to be here. With us. Even if you don't have all the answers."

Her words hit harder than any punch, and Harry felt the truth of them settle deep in his chest. He'd spent so much time running, trying to learn everything, that he'd lost sight of the one thing that had always been there: the people who cared about him. He'd thought distancing himself was the solution, when in reality, it had only made the distance grow wider.

"I didn't mean to push you away, Nat," he said quietly. "But I… I guess I thought it was easier than facing the fact that I don't know what I'm doing. I never have."

She studied him for a moment, the soft light of the plane's cabin catching the intensity in her gaze. "You're not the only one who doesn't have it figured out, Harry. None of us do. But we're still here, aren't we?"

Harry swallowed, nodding slowly. His eyes met hers, and for the first time since he'd returned, the weight in his chest seemed to lighten. He couldn't change the past, couldn't take back the time he'd wasted running, but maybe, just maybe, he could start being honest now.

"I'm sorry, Natasha. For everything. And I promise… I'll do better this time. I'll be here."

The small, almost imperceptible nod she gave in response told him all he needed to know. She wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily, but she was willing to try. That was more than he had hoped for.

"Good," she said with a small, wry smile. "Because if you're going to get into any more dangerous situations with me, I'm going to need someone who actually knows how to stick around."

Harry smirked, though it was a softer, more genuine expression than he'd shown in a while. "Wouldn't dream of running off again."

And for the first time in a long while, Harry felt like he might actually be able to keep that promise.

---

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