Harry Potter: The Revenant

The safehouse workshop was a chaotic symphony of innovation, where arcane runes glowed faintly amidst the sleek lines of advanced technology. The hum of machinery filled the air as Howard Stark leaned against a workbench, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, his sharp eyes darting between the schematics on the table and the wizard and Red Guardian seated across from him. Lily Potter, her hair tied back in a loose braid, was perched on a stool nearby, her wand twirling idly as she made notes in a charmed notebook that floated in front of her.

Alastor Moody grunted as he shifted in his seat, his magical eye whirring as it locked onto Alexei Shostakov, who sat with his arms crossed, an amused grin on his rugged face. This was the first time Moody had met the former Red Guardian, and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of him yet.

"You're a big bastard," Moody muttered, eyeing Alexei up and down. "I'd wager you could give a troll a run for its Galleons in a fistfight."

Alexei chuckled, his deep voice carrying a trace of Russian pride. "And you, my friend, look like you've already fought one. Did the troll win, or did you?"

Moody's lips quirked into a rare smirk. "The troll's six feet under. I'm still breathing, so you tell me."

Howard clapped his hands together, cutting through the banter. "Alright, lovefest aside, let's get to business, shall we? We've got some serious work ahead. Now, Moody," he said, pointing a wrench at him, "you're getting more than just a Vibranium-laced suit. Lily here has some ideas about... upgrades."

"Upgrades?" Moody asked, his magical eye swiveling to Lily, who looked up with a sly smile.

"I'm talking about your leg," Lily said, gesturing to his wooden prosthetic. "I've been working with Howard to design something better—something that combines magic and tech. A prosthetic that won't just get you from point A to point B but will also be an asset in combat."

Moody raised a skeptical eyebrow. "An asset? It's a bloody leg, lass, not a broomstick."

Howard grinned, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Oh, it'll be a leg, alright. But imagine a leg that's not just Vibranium reinforced but also enhanced with a few... tricks. Lily's been working on some enchantments to make it lighter, faster, and tougher than anything you've ever used. Plus, I've added a few Stark innovations—stabilizers for better balance, deployable spikes for traction, and, if you're feeling feisty, a shock mechanism for close encounters."

Moody leaned back, his magical eye narrowing. "You're telling me you want to turn my leg into a bloody Swiss Army knife?"

"Essentially, yes," Howard replied without missing a beat. "But cooler."

Lily flicked her wand, and a shimmering blueprint of the prosthetic leg appeared in mid-air. "It'll be linked to you magically, so it'll respond like a natural limb. We're also embedding a concealment charm to keep it looking ordinary until you activate its additional features. Think of it as a wand, a shield, and a boot all rolled into one."

Moody grunted, clearly impressed despite himself. "As long as it doesn't start thinking for itself, I'll give it a shot."

"Good," Lily said, beaming. "Now, on to the rest of the gear."

Howard leaned over the table, tapping a different schematic. "Everyone's getting the standard Vibranium-laced armor with built-in magical protection—runes for durability, fire resistance, and shielding spells. But I'm open to customizations. What do you two need?"

Alexei leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "I'm used to heavy combat, close quarters. I'll need something that won't restrict movement. And maybe... a weapon? Something hefty. I prefer smashing to stabbing."

Howard nodded, scribbling a note. "Got it. How about a Vibranium hammer? We can enchant it with some impact-boosting runes. It'll hit like a freight train."

Alexei grinned. "Now we're talking."

Moody cut in, his voice gruff. "I'll need a wand holster built into the armor—something quick-draw. And spare compartments for potions. I've got some tricks of my own I'll want to carry into battle."

Lily added a note to her floating notebook. "I can work in potion compartments and wand access points. What about your magical eye, Alastor? Any upgrades there?"

Moody considered this, his hand brushing over the worn surface of the eye. "It's served me well, but if you've got ideas, I'm listening."

Howard tapped his chin thoughtfully. "What if we integrate it with the suit's tech? Give you enhanced scanning capabilities—heat signatures, magic detection, maybe even some sonar for low-visibility situations?"

Moody's lips twitched. "If it doesn't interfere with the magic, I'll take it."

"Perfect," Howard said, turning back to Alexei. "Anything else for you, Red Guardian?"

Alexei shrugged, his grin returning. "Just make sure it looks good. I'm going to need to outshine Captain America."

Howard smirked. "I like your style."

Lily closed her notebook with a decisive snap. "Alright, I think we've got everything we need to get started. Moody, I'll need you to stick around for measurements and some calibration work for the prosthetic. Alexei, I'll send you some weapon prototypes to test."

Moody stood, his wooden leg creaking as he shifted his weight. "Fine. But no funny business, Stark. If this leg malfunctions in the middle of a fight, I'm coming for you."

Howard raised his coffee cup in a mock salute. "Noted. But trust me, old man, when I'm done with you, you'll be the baddest one-eyed bastard this side of the Atlantic."

Alexei snorted. "Except for Fury."

Moody's magical eye swiveled toward Alexei. "We'll see about that, comrade."

—

The training room in the safehouse was a vast, high-ceilinged space enchanted to mimic different terrains and combat scenarios. Its walls shimmered faintly with wards, ensuring that the magic unleashed within wouldn't level the rest of the building. Moody stood in the center of the room, his magical eye spinning as he assessed the equipment, wards, and the two men standing before him.

James Potter and Sirius Black were decked out in lightweight training armor, a blend of enchanted leather and Stark-tech padding. James was grinning, his hazel eyes glinting with the same mischief that had earned him and Sirius countless detentions at Hogwarts. Sirius, on the other hand, looked more subdued but no less eager. His sharp, angular face bore the marks of his time in Azkaban, but his gray eyes burned with determination.

"You two think you're ready for this?" Moody growled, his voice like gravel being crushed underfoot. His magical eye swiveled to Sirius. "You've been out of Azkaban for what, half a year? That place saps more than just magic. It eats away at your instincts, your reflexes. And you," he barked, turning to James, "three years in a magical coma might've saved you from Voldemort, but it doesn't save you from me."

James smirked, adjusting his grip on his wand. "You sound worried, Alastor. Afraid we might show you up?"

Moody's face didn't twitch, but his tone turned colder. "Cockiness gets you killed, Potter. You know better."

Sirius tilted his head, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "Come on, Moody. We survived your Auror training once. What's a little refresher between old friends?"

"Old friends?" Moody spat, stomping his wooden leg for emphasis. "You'll wish we were strangers by the time I'm done with you."

He raised his wand, and the room shifted around them. The floor turned into uneven cobblestones, fog rolling in to obscure their vision. The faint sound of footsteps echoed in the distance.

"Your mission is simple," Moody barked. "Neutralize me. If you can't do that, survive for ten minutes without getting 'killed.' No cheap tricks, no holding back. I'll know if you're slacking."

James and Sirius exchanged a glance, their years of friendship allowing them to communicate without words. They both raised their wands, falling into a practiced stance.

"Let's dance," Sirius muttered, his grin widening.

Moody didn't respond verbally. Instead, he flicked his wand, and a barrage of stunners erupted from the mist, forcing James and Sirius to dive in opposite directions.

James rolled to his feet, firing a silent Expelliarmus toward the source of the spells. The red beam sliced through the fog, but it hit nothing. "He's moving fast," he called out.

"No kidding," Sirius growled, ducking as another spell whizzed past him. He countered with a Confringo, the explosive charm sending a shockwave through the fog, momentarily clearing it. "Think he's using the fog to track us?"

"Always assume the worst!" Moody's voice boomed from somewhere in the mist. "That's the first lesson, boys. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

James chuckled under his breath. "Same old Moody."

Sirius barked a laugh, already moving to flank. "At least we know he hasn't gone soft."

A faint whirring noise was the only warning before a Stupefy streaked toward James. He barely managed to deflect it with a hastily cast Protego, the force of the impact sending him stumbling backward. "He's not aiming to teach us a lesson—he's aiming to obliterate us!"

"Lesson two!" Moody's voice growled as another spell came hurtling out of the fog toward Sirius. "You're only as good as the worst day you've prepared for. And trust me, lads, I'm your worst day."

Sirius leapt behind a conjured stone wall, the Reducto Moody had sent his way obliterating it seconds later. "Alright, enough playing nice," he muttered. He flicked his wand, and a spectral dog erupted from its tip, charging into the mist to sniff Moody out.

James, meanwhile, muttered a quick Homenum Revelio. A faint glow appeared to his left, and he grinned. "Got you." He sent a flurry of jinxes in that direction, but the glow disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"Lesson three!" Moody bellowed. "Your enemy won't stand still just because you've found him!"

From the corner of his eye, Sirius saw a shadow darting between the fog banks. He pointed his wand and cast Incarcerous, ropes flying toward the figure—but they wrapped around nothing. A decoy.

"Nice try, Black," Moody's voice taunted.

James growled in frustration, his mind racing. "Alright, think, think. He's using the fog to keep us off-balance. We need to—"

"Distract him?" Sirius interrupted, his grin wolfish. "On it."

Before James could protest, Sirius transformed into his Animagus form, his large black dog shape blending into the mist. Moody's eye whirred, but Sirius's sudden change of tactics threw him off for a split second. That was all James needed.

"Expelliarmus!" James shouted, his wand slashing through the air.

The spell hit Moody squarely, sending his wand spinning out of his hand. Sirius lunged, tackling Moody to the ground. The older man let out a grunt but twisted with surprising agility, knocking Sirius off balance and retrieving his wand in one fluid motion.

"Lesson four," Moody growled, brushing off his robes. "Never let your guard down. But I'll admit, you two haven't rusted as much as I thought."

James helped Sirius to his feet, grinning. "Is that your way of saying we passed?"

Moody's magical eye swiveled to him. "Don't get cocky, Potter. I've still got fifty other ways to break you."

Sirius smirked, clapping Moody on the shoulder. "You missed us, admit it."

Moody grunted, a rare twinkle of amusement in his good eye. "You're lucky you're both too damn stubborn to die. Now, get cleaned up. We've got real enemies to face, and they won't pull their punches like I just did."

As James and Sirius laughed and walked off, Moody allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. Maybe these two would survive after all.

—

The sparring room was quieter than usual, though the faint hum of Shield-grade energy barriers lining the walls and the rhythmic sound of fists meeting flesh filled the air. Natasha Romanoff and Melinda May moved like opposing storms, circling each other with predatory grace. Both women were in sleek training gear—light, breathable, but durable enough to handle the punishment they were dishing out.

Clint Barton leaned against the wall nearby, idly flipping a practice arrow between his fingers. His sharp eyes followed the fight, a smirk tugging at his lips. He was still getting used to this team—magic, super-soldiers, and whatever the hell this "Kamar-Taj" business was—but watching Natasha go toe-to-toe with "The Cavalry" was the kind of entertainment he could get behind.

Natasha feinted left, then struck out with a lightning-quick kick aimed at May's ribs. May anticipated it, blocking the blow with her forearm before countering with a jab aimed at Natasha's jaw. Natasha ducked, spun, and tried to sweep May's legs out from under her. May leapt over the sweep with effortless agility, pivoting mid-air to deliver a sharp kick toward Natasha's side.

Natasha blocked, grinning as she stepped back. "Not bad for someone who isn't technically an assassin."

May didn't reply, but her eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching in what might have been a smile. She moved in again, throwing a series of rapid strikes. Natasha blocked most of them, but May slipped past her defenses, landing a glancing blow on Natasha's shoulder.

Clint winced dramatically. "Ooh, Tasha, you letting her win? That doesn't feel very Black Widow-y."

Natasha shot him a glare over her shoulder. "Keep talking, Barton. You're next."

Clint raised his hands in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. "I'm just saying, May's making you work for it. Thought you were supposed to be the unstoppable assassin."

May finally spoke, her voice calm and measured even as she threw another punch. "Unstoppable doesn't mean unbeatable." She sidestepped Natasha's counterattack, grabbing her wrist and twisting it into a lock that forced Natasha to kneel—or risk a dislocated shoulder.

Natasha tapped out with her free hand, her grin widening. "Alright, you've got me." As May released her, Natasha stood, rolling her shoulder. "Nice technique. You always this intense, or is it just because of me?"

May tilted her head, considering. "I like to know what I'm up against."

"Same here," Natasha said, adjusting her stance. "Again?"

Before May could respond, Clint groaned from his perch against the wall. "You two are machines, you know that? What happened to team bonding? Isn't that why Fury dragged us into this team in the first place?"

Natasha turned to him, hands on her hips. "And what do you suggest, Clint? A trust fall?"

Clint grinned, twirling his arrow. "I was thinking more like a drinking game, but sure, trust falls work too. Might be fun watching you drop May."

May crossed her arms, arching a brow. "If anyone's doing the dropping, it'll be me. And trust me, Barton, you won't enjoy it."

Natasha laughed, a rare, genuine sound that momentarily lightened the room's tension. "Careful, Clint. She's got a mean right hook."

"I'm noticing," Clint muttered, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. He straightened, stepping forward to join them. "Alright, fine. You're both scary, I get it. But seriously, how are you two adjusting to… all of this?" He gestured vaguely around the room, clearly referring to the larger team dynamic.

May shrugged. "I've worked with teams before. This one's… different."

"That's an understatement," Natasha said. "I spent years not trusting anyone. Now I'm trustung a bunch of wizards, a few super-soldiers, one of whom came back from the dead, and an actual former dark lord. It's a work in progress."

"Hey, don't forget the bowman," Clint said, pointing at himself. "You can trust me. Mostly."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you're good at what you do."

"And charming," Clint added, grinning.

May shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You two are exhausting. But I'll give you this—this team might be strange, but it's effective. If we're going up against Hydra, we'll need every advantage we can get."

Natasha nodded, her expression turning serious. "Agreed. Hydra's always been dangerous, but this… this is something else. Magic, super-soldiers, genetic experiments—they're pulling out all the stops. We can't afford to be anything less than ready."

Clint nodded, twirling his arrow again. "So, what's the plan? Another round of sparring, or are we finally going to eat? Because I'm starving."

Natasha glanced at May, who raised a brow. "Food can wait," May said. "One more round."

Clint groaned, slumping against the wall. "You're both insane."

Natasha smirked as she turned back to May, her stance shifting. "Let's see if you can keep up, Cavalry."

—

After an intense sparring session that left everyone dripping with sweat, Natasha, Melinda, and Clint finally relented to the demands of their stomachs. Over a shared meal in the safehouse's kitchen—where Clint, ever the joker, managed to snag most of the bread before Melinda smacked his hand away—they found themselves laughing more than they'd expected. For a team assembled from such wildly different backgrounds, they were beginning to find some common ground. But Natasha, always focused, quickly turned the conversation back to business.

"We've had our warm-up," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin and leaning back in her chair. "Now it's time to talk about gear. Howard and Lily wanted to go over everything with us."

Clint raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-bite of his sandwich. "Howard Stark and Lily Potter? I feel like I've accidentally stumbled into a nerd's fever dream."

Natasha smirked, standing up and motioning for them to follow. "Try not to drool too much when you see what they've been cooking up."

Melinda stood as well, her demeanor as cool and composed as ever. "I'm more interested in seeing how practical their designs are. I've seen too many prototypes that look great on paper but fail in the field."

"Trust me," Natasha replied, leading them toward the armory. "Howard may be eccentric, but he's a genius. And Lily? She's not just some wand-waver. She's been combining magic with tech in ways that'll make your head spin."

As they entered the armory, Clint let out a low whistle. The room was a sleek blend of high-tech engineering and magical artistry. Steel racks held everything from state-of-the-art firearms to enchanted blades, while holographic displays showcased schematics for various pieces of gear. The air hummed faintly with magic, a sensation that made even Melinda pause for a moment.

Howard Stark, clad in his signature button-up shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, was bent over a table, tinkering with what looked like a miniature arc reactor. Lily Potter stood beside him, her crimson hair pulled back into a loose ponytail as she waved her wand over a piece of armor, runes glowing faintly under her touch.

Howard looked up first, flashing his trademark grin. "Ah, our sparring champions have arrived! Tell me, who won? My money's on Natasha."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Of course, it's Natasha. She's terrifying. Can we talk about the gear now before she decides we need another round of trust falls?"

Howard laughed. "Alright, alright. Come on over. Let's start with the basics."

Lily stepped forward, gesturing to a set of sleek black tactical suits displayed on mannequins. "These are your new field uniforms. Vibranium-laced fabric for maximum durability, reinforced with enchantments to enhance mobility and provide basic protection against magical attacks."

Melinda examined the suits closely, running her fingers over the material. "Looks sturdy. What kind of enchantments are we talking about?"

"Think of them as layered wards," Lily explained. "They'll repel low-level spells and mitigate the damage of more powerful ones. And we've included charms to regulate body temperature, suppress sound for stealth missions, and even provide a mild healing boost in emergencies."

"Impressive," Melinda admitted. "But how do they hold up against non-magical threats? Bullets, knives, explosions?"

"That's where I come in," Howard said, stepping up with a flourish. "The Vibranium weave is practically indestructible. Bullets? They won't even leave a dent. Knives? Good luck. Explosions? Well, you might feel the heat, but you'll walk away in one piece."

Clint tapped one of the suits, nodding in approval. "Alright, I'll admit, this is pretty cool. But what about the fun stuff? Gadgets, weapons?"

Howard grinned, reaching under the table to pull out a sleek bow and quiver. "For you, Hawkeye, we've got a bow made of Vibranium alloy—lighter, stronger, and practically unbreakable. The arrows? Well, let's just say we've got a little bit of everything. Explosive tips, EMP charges, grappling hooks, and even a few enchanted ones, courtesy of Lily."

Clint's eyes lit up as he took the bow, testing its weight. "Okay, I'm officially impressed. You've outdone yourself, Stark."

Howard winked. "I always do."

Lily turned to Melinda, holding up a pair of sleek black gauntlets. "Agent May, these are for you. Enhanced strength boosters, built-in tasers, and a small shield charm activated by a simple gesture. They'll complement your hand-to-hand style perfectly."

Melinda slid one of the gauntlets on, flexing her fingers as the enchantments activated with a faint glow. "Not bad," she said, her tone approving. "I could get used to this."

Finally, Lily handed Natasha a pair of modified Widow's Bites. "For you, Natasha. These are upgraded versions of your usual gauntlets. In addition to their standard taser capabilities, they now include magical pulse emitters and a cloaking charm."

Natasha examined them closely, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You've been busy."

"You have no idea," Lily said with a grin. "But it's worth it. Hydra isn't going to know what hit them."

Howard clapped his hands together. "Alright, team, any questions? Complaints? Requests for an espresso machine in your field packs?"

Clint raised a hand. "Actually, do we get a warranty on these? You know, just in case Hydra blows them up or something."

Howard chuckled. "Don't worry, Barton. If anything breaks, we'll fix it. But good luck trying to break Vibranium."

As the team continued to test their new gear, Natasha glanced at Melinda and Clint, her expression softening just a bit. They were still getting used to working together, but with gear like this—and a team this determined—she knew they'd be ready for whatever Hydra threw their way.

—

The library of Kamar-Taj was a place of reverence, its high, vaulted ceilings echoing with an ancient stillness that seemed to demand respect from anyone who entered. The shelves were lined with books whose spines glowed faintly in the dim light, radiating power and secrets from ages past. Harry sat at a heavy wooden table, a stack of thick tomes before him. He had an intense look of focus on his face as he flipped through a book titled Advanced Applications of Elemental Convergence.

Hovering nearby, his arms folded and his expression resembling that of a hawk ready to strike, was Wong.

"You're turning the pages too quickly," Wong said, his voice sharp and accusatory.

Harry paused, blinking up at the man. "I've been reading for over an hour without a single word to you, Wong," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "I think I've earned the benefit of the doubt."

"You've earned nothing," Wong retorted. "I know your type. Overconfident, reckless, and far too clever for your own good." He gestured dramatically toward the bookshelves. "The last person who thought they could master advanced battle magic without proper supervision ended up summoning a demon into the meditation chamber."

Harry smirked, flipping a page with deliberate care, just to be cheeky. "I promise, no demons today. I'm just trying to brush up on my counter-spell strategies. You know, in case Hydra decides to send more magically inclined assassins my way. Or do you think they'll take it easy on me?"

Wong narrowed his eyes. "The threat of Hydra is no excuse to disregard discipline. Magic is not a tool for your convenience, Potter. It is a sacred art, one that requires humility and—"

Harry held up a hand, cutting him off. "Yes, yes, and focus, and patience, and self-awareness," he finished with a drawl. "Believe me, I've heard the lecture. Merlin knows, my mother won't stop talking to me about it. But honestly, Wong, I think you just like glaring at me."

Wong's lips pressed into a thin line. "Glaring at you is my way of preventing catastrophe."

"Touché." Harry returned to his reading, though he could feel Wong's eyes boring into the back of his head.

Harry decided to let his mind wander as he continued flipping through the book. The spells detailed within were no joke—incantations that could summon storms, conjure walls of flame, or even freeze entire rooms in ice. He couldn't help but imagine how these techniques could be applied in the field, against Hydra or any of their allied wizard factions.

"Potter," Wong said suddenly, breaking Harry's concentration.

"What now?" Harry asked without looking up.

Wong stepped closer, his tone a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "You're not just studying. You're scheming. I can tell."

Harry leaned back in his chair and gave Wong a half-smile. "You're not wrong. I'm trying to figure out how to tweak these spells for combat situations. Efficiency, mobility, all that. Hydra's mages are fast, and if I don't stay two steps ahead, I'm toast."

Wong frowned, clearly torn between reprimanding Harry for his irreverence and grudgingly admitting he had a point. "Battle magic isn't just about raw power," he finally said, his tone softening slightly. "It's about understanding your surroundings, predicting your opponent's moves. That level of mastery doesn't come from a book. It comes from experience."

Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Fair. But I can't exactly wait for Hydra to send another ambush squad to practice. And, you know, I'm not exactly normal anymore." He tapped his chest, referencing the Vibranium-enhanced skeleton, the spliced DNA, and the serum running through his veins. "Every advantage counts."

Wong sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."

"I get that a lot," Harry quipped. "But come on, Wong. Admit it. You're at least a little impressed."

Wong's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "When you accidentally set yourself on fire trying to cast one of those spells, don't expect me to put you out."

"Noted," Harry replied with a grin.

As he returned to his studies, Wong hovered nearby, still watchful but perhaps a little less harsh. He'd never admit it, but there was something about Harry's determination—and his sharp wit—that reminded Wong of the Ancient One herself. That thought unsettled him almost as much as it reassured him.

—

After a couple of hours of intense study, Harry's attention began to wane. His eyes flicked over the intricate diagrams of spell patterns and enchantments, but his mind started wandering. He let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair and stretching. Across the room, Wong was still watching him like a particularly disapproving hawk.

"You know, Wong," Harry called out, not bothering to look up from his book, "if you keep staring at me like that, people might think you're plotting something sinister. Ever consider taking up knitting? Maybe a calming hobby?"

Wong didn't bite. "Perhaps I should start knitting a shroud for your inevitable demise if you continue treating magic like a plaything," he replied, deadpan.

Harry snorted. "Wow. Dark. And here I thought we were bonding."

He tried to refocus on the text in front of him, but his fingers drummed on the table restlessly. Boredom was beginning to claw at him, and when boredom struck Harry Potter, trouble wasn't far behind.

Then inspiration hit. A mischievous glint appeared in Harry's eyes as he began tracing the air with his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, a small golden portal shimmered to life in front of him.

"Wong," Harry said through the portal, his voice now coming from a second portal that opened up directly next to Wong's ear.

Wong jumped, startled, and turned to glare at the source of the voice. "Potter!" he barked, spinning around to see Harry sitting smugly at his desk on the other side of the room. "What are you doing?"

"Talking to you," Harry said innocently, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand. "You're so far away over there. Thought I'd save us the trouble of shouting."

Wong clenched his jaw, his patience visibly fraying. "Portals are not toys!"

"I'm aware," Harry said, though his smirk suggested otherwise. He flicked his fingers again, and another portal appeared—this time directly above Wong's head.

"Wong," Harry's voice echoed from the new portal. "Wong? Can you hear me? Over."

The older sorcerer's eye twitched. "Stop this nonsense right now, Potter, or—"

Another portal opened at Wong's feet. "Wong, I'm trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty," Harry's voice quipped, barely stifling laughter.

Wong muttered something in Mandarin that Harry was fairly certain was a very creative curse. He slammed the portal near his ear shut with a sharp hand gesture, only for another to open in front of him. This time, Harry poked his head halfway through, grinning like a mischievous child.

"You know, I could totally see us as a comedy duo," Harry said. "Harry and Wong: Masters of Mischief. We'd be big in Vegas."

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you're asking for right now?" Wong growled, though his tone had softened just enough to suggest he wasn't completely immune to Harry's antics.

Harry shrugged. "Probably loads. But come on, admit it—this is at least a little impressive."

"It's juvenile," Wong snapped. "And reckless. The misuse of portals can lead to catastrophic consequences! What if you accidentally opened one into the Dark Dimension?"

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Pfft. What are the odds of that? Besides, I'm pretty sure Dormammu would just find me annoying and kick me out."

Wong sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are impossible."

"I prefer 'innovative,'" Harry corrected, leaning back through his portal and closing it behind him. He sat back down at his desk, looking quite pleased with himself.

Wong stormed over to Harry's table, his expression a mix of exasperation and grudging respect. "You are lucky the Ancient One has taken a liking to you. Otherwise—"

"Otherwise, I'd be thrown into some interdimensional prison for life?" Harry interrupted, grinning. "I think you secretly enjoy having me around, Wong. Admit it."

Wong glared at him for a long moment, then turned on his heel without another word, muttering something about "children these days."

As Wong left the library, Harry couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Sure, he might have been pushing his luck, but getting a rise out of Wong was just too much fun to resist. Besides, it wasn't every day you got to prank the most uptight sorcerer in Kamar-Taj.

---

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