Harry Potter: The Revenant

As Tony, Rhodey, and Cynthia approached the house, the noise hit them first. Music, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of college students pretending they're the life of the party. Lights flickered like they were trying to outshine each other, spilling out into the yard where groups of students gathered like a herd of over-caffeinated sheep. Tony grinned, adjusting his sunglasses even though it was dark. This was his scene, even if he wasn't exactly here to party—he was here for the mystery. And the mystery tonight? Cynthia.

"Here we are," Tony announced with all the flair of someone stepping onto a red carpet at the Oscars. He pushed open the door, throwing it wide like he was entering a five-star hotel, not some frat house on a Tuesday night.

Inside, chaos reigned. People swarmed the place like it was Black Friday and the last item on the shelf was a new iPhone. Tony did a quick scan of the room—standard college party stuff. There were groups of people trying way too hard to look cool, others chugging beers like they were training for an Olympic sport, and a few brave souls desperately clinging to their dignity by nursing cups of punch. It was the usual.

Rhodey, however, wasted no time. He immediately made a beeline for the drink table, as though he'd seen this scene a hundred times before and knew exactly what to expect. "I'll grab a beer," he muttered to himself, his voice already resigned to the inevitable mess of this night. As if he could somehow make it better by getting one drink ahead of the party chaos.

Cynthia, on the other hand, seemed way too comfortable here. She adjusted her jacket, glancing over at Tony with a smirk that suggested she was well aware of how extra he was being. "So, this is the infamous Tony Stark charm, huh?"

Tony grinned like the Cheshire cat. "You're getting the PG-rated version. Wait until the fireworks start."

They moved deeper into the fray, and Tony's eyes darted around, taking in the crowd. Some familiar faces—fellow students, a few undergrads trying to pretend they were more important than they actually were. But then, in the back of the room, a group of guys were making enough noise to start their own circus. Tony could practically hear the desperation in their gestures as they tried to draw attention to themselves.

Before Tony could make his move (read: plot how to turn this into a spectacle), Rhodey returned, two beers in hand, like some sort of beer-bearing hero. "Not bad," he said, taking a sip like he was judging a fine wine, clearly amused by Tony's distracted state. "You looking to start a fight already?"

Tony accepted his beer with a dramatic sigh. "Not yet. But I might need one just to stay awake. This party's like the textbook definition of 'meh.'" He grinned at Cynthia. "But hey, we can find something better than this, right?"

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. "Sure, but sometimes the best chaos is the kind that sneaks up on you."

Rhodey snorted and raised his beer in mock salute. "Here's hoping. Just remember, Stark—no blowing things up tonight. You promised."

Tony shot him a wink. "Relax, Rhodey. I'm on my best behavior."

Cynthia shook her head, amused by the dynamic between the two, her smile widening. "You two are something else."

Tony beamed, feeling proud. "You have no idea. Rhodey's the quiet genius, while I'm the one who gets things done with flair." He took a long sip from his beer. "And tonight? Oh, it's definitely going to be interesting."

Just then, a guy from the back of the room—probably about five beers too deep—stumbled toward them, looking way too eager for his own good. "Hey, you're Tony Stark, right?" he asked, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. "Big fan. Want to join us for a game of beer pong?"

Tony's smirk spread wider. "Beer pong, huh? Well, that's a game I can't say no to."

He looked at Cynthia, who seemed just as amused by this whole scene. "You in?"

Cynthia grinned, that mischievous sparkle in her eye. "Why not? Could be fun."

Tony turned back to the guy, who was practically shaking with excitement. "Alright, kid. You've got yourself a game. But don't expect us to go easy on you. I don't lose at anything."

The guy nearly melted with joy as he led them to the beer pong table. Rhodey, however, leaned in closer to Tony, dropping his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear.

"Don't forget, Stark. You've got the whole genius thing going for you. No need to crush them too hard."

Tony shot him a wink. "What's the fun in that?"

And just like that, the night hit full throttle. The game began with enough competitive energy to power a small country, and Tony was definitely in his element—though, deep down, there was a small part of him still thinking about one thing: Cynthia. There was something about her that made Tony want to stick around long after the beer pong was over. Maybe it was her easy smile. Maybe it was the way she looked at him like she could see through all the flashy bravado.

Whatever it was, it had his full attention. And for once, Tony Stark wasn't sure if he wanted to walk away from the chaos. Because, just maybe, this night might turn out to be more than just another typical frat party.

And that, my friends, was a first.

—

From their perch on the rooftop, the Hydra agents remained still, like shadows observing the ever-moving scene below. The party had taken on a life of its own, with music pulsing through the air and students laughing, shouting, and engaging in typical college revelry. To an outsider, it looked like any other Friday night, but to the Hydra agents, it was the calm before the storm.

Through the lens of their high-powered scopes, they could see Tony Stark laughing, making his usual sarcastic remarks, his charm and charisma filling the space between him and his companions. Cynthia, or rather, Sinthea Schmidt as they knew her, was leaning in, playing her part with precision, her cool confidence only adding to her allure. She wasn't just fitting into the scene—she was controlling it, and the agents couldn't help but be impressed.

"She's good," the woman murmured into the comms, her voice barely a whisper. "He's eating out of her hand."

Her partner, the man with the scar running down his face, kept his eyes glued to the scope. "Of course he is. Stark thinks he's the one in control. His ego's a perfect trap."

The woman's lips twitched into a small smile. "We need to stay in the shadows. If she thinks we're closing in, she'll spook. Let her do the heavy lifting for now."

The man adjusted the focus on his scope, zooming in on Tony as he took a drink and exchanged another playful jab with Rhodey. "Stark's got no idea what's coming. His little party's about to take a turn, and he won't see it until it's too late."

Below them, the scene played out like a well-rehearsed script. Tony, ever the center of attention, was holding court with his usual mix of humor and sharp wit. Cynthia was clearly intrigued, but there was something more there—a quiet intensity in her gaze as she studied him. The Hydra agents could see it, even from their distant vantage point. She was more than just an observer; she was a player, carefully weaving her way into Stark's inner circle.

The man with the scar took a deep breath. "Cynthia's moving quickly. She's going to make her move soon."

The woman nodded, scanning the group below again, her fingers lightly brushing the lens of her scope. "She knows Stark's type. Play to his ego, keep him distracted, and he'll fall into her trap without realizing it."

There was a moment of silence as they both watched the interaction unfold. Tony, with his usual bravado, had turned to face Cynthia with a wide grin, the kind that he reserved for moments when he was winning. Cynthia responded with a knowing smile of her own, and the Hydra agents exchanged a glance.

"She's getting closer," the woman whispered, her eyes narrowing. "Too close for comfort."

The man gave a slight nod but didn't look away from the scene below. "Patience. We wait for the signal. Cynthia knows how to play this. We don't rush in."

As Tony laughed again, clinking his beer bottle with Rhodey's, the agents could almost feel the electric tension that hovered in the air between Tony and Cynthia. It was undeniable. The chemistry was palpable. And the worst part? Tony had no idea what was really at play.

Below, Tony was losing himself in the moment—talking, laughing, competing in beer pong, the usual antics that made him the life of any party. But his mind, sharp as ever, was quietly analyzing the situation. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off, though. It was like a buzzing in the back of his brain, one he couldn't ignore. But he pushed it aside, letting his usual bravado take the wheel.

Cynthia, meanwhile, was studying him. No doubt trying to figure out how best to reel him in. She was a mystery—calm, collected, never rushed. Tony couldn't help but admire her poise. She had an aura about her that was both disarming and magnetic. And yet, there was something about her that set off his internal radar. Something he couldn't place.

But that was the fun part, right? Discovering things. Getting to the bottom of mysteries. Tony smirked, deciding he'd figure it out eventually.

On the rooftop, the Hydra agents were watching him. And they were watching her.

"Now's the time," the man whispered, his tone flat and calculated. "She's got him hooked. We don't need to intervene just yet. But we need to stay alert."

The woman gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. "When she makes her move, we'll be ready."

And so, the Hydra agents remained in the shadows, their eyes fixed on Tony and Cynthia below. They were no longer just watching a party—they were watching the beginning of something far bigger. The pieces were in place. The game had begun.

—

Back at the safehouse, Howard Stark was hunched over a bank of computers in his workshop, the dim glow of multiple screens illuminating his face. His fingers moved with practiced speed across the keys, each tap a calculated step in his ongoing battle against Hydra's encryption. The files they'd brought back were unlike anything he'd encountered before—twice encrypted, designed to thwart even the most advanced systems. But Howard Stark was no stranger to a challenge.

He'd already cracked the first layer, but the second was proving far more stubborn. A series of seemingly random letters and numbers blinked across the screen, a cruel mockery of any attempt to break through. Howard leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes, exhaustion creeping in. He wasn't about to give up, though. If there was one thing he couldn't resist, it was a puzzle—especially one that had the potential to bring down Hydra's influence in the government.

"Come on, you slippery little bastards," he muttered, adjusting his glasses as he leaned forward again, his fingers dancing over the keyboard.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the quiet workshop, marking the time passing with no progress. Howard had been at it for hours, feeding encrypted codes into the system, trying to tease apart the layers of security that Hydra had so carefully woven. But this wasn't just about a simple password or hidden file. These were Hydra's deep roots, their agents buried in the very foundation of the American government, operating under layers of protection Howard had only ever seen in the most advanced secret programs.

His thoughts flickered back to the team. They were en route back to the safehouse after their mission, the weight of the success hanging in the air. He'd heard the reports from Peggy, Steve, and the rest—more than enough to confirm what they had suspected: Hydra wasn't just a rogue faction anymore. They were embedded, insidious, lurking in places they had never imagined.

But Howard wasn't content with just breaking open some cryogenic tanks or finding rogue super soldiers. No, he was after the big fish—the puppeteers behind this whole operation. The ones who were controlling the chaos from the shadows. The names on those encrypted files were more than just people—they were Hydra's lifeline, their secret agents, the ones who'd infiltrated positions of power across the nation.

"You've got to give them credit," Howard muttered to himself. "They've made sure no one finds out about this until it's too late. Well, guess what, boys? I'm not giving up."

His fingers paused as he noticed something in the encryption. A pattern. It wasn't a breakthrough, not yet, but it was enough to spark his curiosity. The second layer wasn't a simple code—it was a red herring, a smokescreen designed to keep anyone from looking too closely. He hadn't missed it before, but now that he had a foothold, he could see the faint outline of something more—something buried deeper than even he had realized.

Howard tapped a few keys, bringing up a list of seemingly inconspicuous numbers and letters. Nothing special, nothing at all. But then he ran a quick scan, matching these codes with known Hydra algorithms—something clicked. A secondary encryption had been slipped into the codes, a double lock on the names. Whoever had crafted this wanted to be sure no one was getting their hands on these identities, not ever.

He grinned. "Gotcha."

The process of decrypting the second layer would take longer. Howard had to adjust the parameters of his decryption software manually, bending it to fit this new discovery. It was frustrating work—sifting through false leads, debugging lines of code—but Howard thrived in this chaos. His mind was sharp, and his hands moved instinctively over the keys as he isolated the secondary encryption system Hydra had embedded within the file.

Hours passed, and the first rays of dawn began to peek through the windows of the workshop. Howard hadn't left the screen, barely noticing the passage of time as he meticulously untangled the complex web. Finally, with a satisfied click, the screen shifted. The double encryption had been cracked. Names began to materialize on the monitor—lines of text, some familiar, others utterly unknown. Names of Hydra agents, deeply embedded within the government, their aliases and roles hidden under layers of secrecy.

"Well, well, well," Howard said, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with the satisfaction of victory. "Looks like we've got ourselves a list."

As he scrolled down the file, he could feel the weight of the discovery settle in. These names weren't just agents—they were power players, operatives at every level of government, people who had influenced major policy, shaped history, and been at the heart of Hydra's plots for decades. There were senators, businessmen, military officials, even some names he recognized from high-profile positions—figures who had managed to stay one step ahead of every investigation into Hydra for years.

Howard leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the names once more. His mind raced as he thought about the implications. "If we go public with this, it'll shake the country to its core. But it won't be enough to take them down. We'll need more than just names—we need the proof. The whole damn operation needs to be exposed."

Just then, the sound of the team's arrival reached his ears. The engines of the plane cut off as they touched down on the nearby airstrip. Howard quickly copied the list of names, sending it to his secure server with a final click. He was ready. The team would need this information. They were going to need everything if they were going to take down Hydra once and for all.

As the door to the workshop opened and the team filed in, Howard pushed his chair back and stood up, a grin spreading across his face.

"Well, looks like you're all just in time. I've got something that'll make this mission look like a walk in the park."

He turned to the group, holding up the list of Hydra agents embedded in the government.

"This," he said with a smirk, "is where the real fun begins."

—

As the team settled back into the safehouse, the weight of the mission pressing down on them, Natasha Romanoff made her way towards Harry's designated corner of the room. He had removed his helmet and hood, the red fabric of his Revenant Armor still fitting him like a second skin. His black mask was resting beside him, his dark eyes scanning the various screens that surrounded him. Harry was seated at a workbench, his posture slightly hunched as though trying to find some comfort in the middle of the chaos. His expression was unreadable, but Natasha knew better than to take that at face value.

It was Harry's first mission. The team had expected him to be eager, but what they hadn't accounted for was the burden of it all—the gravity of taking on an enemy like Hydra for the first time. Natasha knew exactly what that felt like. It was easy to be drawn into the excitement of a mission, but the aftermath—the quiet moments when the adrenaline faded—could be harder to deal with.

"How're you holding up?" Natasha's voice was soft, a rare moment of tenderness slipping through the cracks of her usually stoic demeanor.

Harry didn't look up at first, his fingers moving restlessly over the edges of his armor. He was still getting used to the weight of it—both physically and mentally. The Revenant Armor was designed for someone like him: a hybrid of advanced technology and combat prowess, a warrior with an edge that could cut through any battlefield. But it wasn't just the tech that Harry was still adjusting to. It was the purpose behind it, the weight of being part of a team that went to battle not just for survival but for a cause much bigger than any one individual.

"I'm fine," Harry muttered, though the tension in his voice gave him away. He didn't even try to disguise it. "Just... processing. You know?"

Natasha nodded, understanding more than he realized. She had been there once—had been the new recruit, the one who was expected to fit in, to take orders and execute missions flawlessly. But it took time to shake off the feeling of being an outsider. Of realizing that no matter how powerful you were, there were always new challenges that could change everything.

"You did well out there," Natasha said, her tone more reassuring than anything else. "You handled yourself under pressure. That's not easy."

Harry gave her a small, rueful smile but didn't respond immediately. His eyes flickered to the side, focusing on the control panels of the plane's systems. His thoughts were elsewhere—on the mission, on the people they'd fought, and on what they had learned.

"It's just… I wasn't expecting it to hit like this," Harry admitted, finally looking up at her. The weight of it all was evident in his eyes. "I've trained for this, but it's different when you're actually there, you know? When you're facing real people who've been twisted into something they never were…"

Natasha sat down next to him, her posture relaxed but alert. "Yeah, it's always different when it's real. You can prepare yourself for the tactics, the fights, the missions, but you can't prepare for what comes after. It messes with you." She let her gaze linger on him for a moment, letting him know she understood. "But the thing is, Harry, you've got something that not everyone has. You can make a difference. You might not see it yet, but you will."

Harry didn't say anything for a long moment, as if letting her words sink in. Then, with a deep breath, he stood up and grabbed his mask, slipping it back on with a determined look on his face. The change in his demeanor was almost immediate. The armor, the mask—it was all part of the transition he needed to make. From the young man who had been thrust into this world of secret wars and shadowy enemies, to someone who could stand side by side with the likes of Captain America and Black Widow, taking on the fight without hesitation.

"Thanks, Natasha," Harry said quietly. "For the words. I needed that."

She gave him a nod, standing up herself. "Anytime. We're a team, remember? We look out for each other."

As Natasha turned to leave, she paused at the door. She could sense something in him—the same thing she'd seen in herself after her first mission. It was the moment of realization that this world was now his, for better or worse. Harry wasn't just a kid anymore. He was a soldier. And with time, he would become one of the best.

"By the way," she added, giving him a sly smile, "I don't think anyone's forgotten that it was you who cleared the way for us back there. You kept your cool when things could've gone south fast. That counts for a lot."

Harry gave her a small, self-deprecating chuckle, but his eyes held a new spark—a confidence born from the trials of the mission, a determination to grow stronger with each step.

"Yeah, well," he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm just getting started."

With that, Natasha gave him a final look before stepping out, leaving Harry to prepare for whatever came next. He wasn't just a soldier anymore. He was part of this team. And in time, he'd prove just how far he could go.

—

The safehouse was quieter than usual, save for the faint hum of encrypted communications equipment and the occasional soft laughter coming from the lounge area. James and Lily Potter exchanged a glance as they made their way toward the noise, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. It had been a long and harrowing mission, and both of them were eager to check in on their six-year-old daughter, Rose, who had been left in the care of Billy Koenig and Phil Coulson.

While they trusted the two agents implicitly, leaving Rose behind—even in a secure location—was never an easy decision. Rose, despite her young age, had a knack for finding trouble. That, combined with her tendency to demand attention like a pint-sized queen, meant that babysitting her was no small task.

As they approached the lounge, they caught sight of a scene that could only be described as controlled chaos. Rose, her dark auburn curls bouncing as she hopped excitedly on the couch, was wearing a tiara slightly askew on her head and a sparkly cape that looked suspiciously like one of Lily's scarves. She was holding what appeared to be a makeshift wand—a chopstick wrapped in glittery paper—and declaring her dominion over the "kingdom" of the safehouse.

"Bow to your queen!" Rose proclaimed, her green eyes flashing with regal authority.

Billy Koenig, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a crown made of tin foil perched precariously on his head, dutifully bowed. "Your Majesty, I am but a humble servant. Your wish is my command."

Phil Coulson, who was seated on the armchair with a bemused expression, held up a plastic sword. "Your Majesty, I pledge my allegiance to your reign. Though I must warn you, the couch dragon has been spotted nearby."

Rose gasped dramatically, clutching her wand. "A dragon? In my kingdom? This cannot stand!"

Tonks, who was perched upside-down on the other end of the couch with her bubblegum-pink hair and a mischievous grin, chimed in. "Don't worry, Your Majesty. I'll take care of the dragon. Just give me the word."

"Do it, brave knight!" Rose commanded, pointing her wand at Tonks.

Before Tonks could spring into action, James cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "And what, pray tell, is going on here?"

Rose froze mid-bounce, her tiara slipping further down her forehead. She turned to face her parents, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. "Daddy! Mummy! You're back!" she exclaimed, abandoning her royal persona and launching herself at James, who caught her with practiced ease.

"Yes, we're back," Lily said, stepping closer to smooth down her daughter's wild curls. "And it seems like you've been keeping everyone very... busy."

Billy shrugged, still wearing the tin foil crown. "She's got a lot of energy. Figured it was safer to channel it into a pretend kingdom than let her take over the comms system."

"Again," Coulson added dryly, giving James and Lily a knowing look. "Your daughter is a force of nature."

James chuckled, ruffling Rose's hair. "That's one way to put it."

Rose, seemingly unfazed by the gentle ribbing, looked up at her mother with wide, innocent eyes. "Mummy, did you fight bad guys again? Did you win?"

Lily knelt down to Rose's level, her expression softening. "We did, sweetheart. And we're all safe, just like we promised."

Rose beamed, clearly pleased with this answer. "Good. 'Cause I told Sir Billy and Sir Phil that my parents are the best heroes ever, and they agreed!"

"Did they now?" James said, raising an eyebrow at the two agents.

Billy grinned. "What can I say? She's persuasive."

"She threatened to exile us," Coulson deadpanned, though there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "We didn't stand a chance."

"That's my girl," James said proudly, setting Rose down. "But remember, even queens need to listen to their babysitters."

Rose crossed her arms but nodded. "Fine. But only because they were good knights."

Tonks snorted, flipping herself upright. "I'll have you know, I'm the best knight. Took down the couch dragon single-handedly. You're welcome, Your Majesty."

Lily shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Thank you, Tonks. And thank you, Billy, Phil. We owe you one."

Coulson waved a hand dismissively. "She's a handful, but she's got a good heart. Just like her parents."

As Rose ran off to show Tonks her collection of stuffed animals, James and Lily exchanged a glance. Despite the chaos, they couldn't help but feel grateful. Their daughter was safe, happy, and loved—and in a world as dangerous as theirs, that was no small victory.

—

The dining area of the safe house was a quiet sanctuary, the warm glow of a single hanging light casting soft shadows across the room. Plates of simple meals and steaming cups of tea were scattered across the table, untouched in favor of shared silence and occasional quiet conversation. The team needed this moment—time to decompress after the chaos of their recent mission.

Steve Rogers leaned back in his chair, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, his gaze distant. Peggy Carter sat beside him, her sharp eyes softer now, though still attentive to the quiet tension that lingered. Across from them, Natasha Romanoff methodically disassembled and cleaned one of her pistols, the rhythmic motions a calming ritual. Harry sat nearby, his red-and-black Revenant armor still on but with the mask and hood removed. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he absently toyed with the clasp of his gauntlet. Bucky Barnes was at the far end of the table, his vibranium arm resting on the surface as he stared into his untouched drink.

"Quiet night," Bucky muttered, breaking the silence.

"Too quiet," Natasha replied without looking up from her work.

Harry smirked faintly. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It usually is," Steve said, setting his mug down with a sigh.

Peggy was about to add her own thoughts when the air in the room seemed to shift. A sudden gust of wind, though no windows were open, swept through the space, carrying with it an almost tangible energy. The light flickered, dimming for a brief moment before a swirling, golden portal materialized in the center of the room.

The team shot to their feet instantly. Steve and Bucky had their weapons ready before the portal had fully formed, their super-soldier reflexes kicking in. Natasha had her pistol raised, aiming at the shimmering anomaly, while Harry's Revenant armor came alive, he snapped up his hood and put on his mask in a seamless motion. Peggy, though unarmed, moved to Steve's side, her stance poised and unflinching.

"What the hell?" Harry breathed, his voice distorted slightly by the mask.

Before anyone could act, James, Lily, and Sirius burst into the room, drawn by the commotion. James had his wand in hand, his green eyes narrowing as he took in the glowing portal. Sirius, ever the loose cannon, already had his wand raised, ready for a fight. Lily, her face set in fierce determination, was at her husband's side in an instant.

"What's going on?" James demanded, his voice sharp as his wand tip sparked with energy.

"Stay back!" Steve barked, his shield raised protectively as he positioned himself in front of Peggy.

The golden portal shimmered once more, and a figure stepped through with an air of calm authority. She was a woman of indeterminate age, her head shaved bald, and her saffron robes flowing elegantly around her. Her presence was commanding, yet serene, as though she belonged there despite the chaos she'd caused.

"Who the hell are you?" Natasha demanded, her pistol never wavering.

The woman raised a hand, and with a subtle wave, the air seemed to grow still. "I mean no harm," she said, her voice calm yet resonant, as if it carried some unspoken truth. "I am the Ancient One."

The name hung in the air like a challenge. Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Harry didn't lower their stances, and James, Sirius, and Lily looked equally unconvinced.

"What do you want?" Steve asked, his tone measured but firm.

The Ancient One met his gaze with an almost amused smile. "I am not here to fight. I am here because events have been set into motion—events that could unravel more than just your world."

Her eyes swept across the room, pausing briefly on each person before landing on Harry. "And you, young one, stand at the center of it all."

Harry tilted his head slightly, his mask retracting to reveal his puzzled expression. "Me? What does that mean?"

The Ancient One smiled enigmatically. "All in good time, Mr. Potter."

Before anyone could press her further, the scene cut to black, leaving them all on edge and the promise of answers hanging tantalizingly in the air.

---

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