Mystique Soldier Ch.25 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 25- Ambushed!

AN: Beta'd by Sam and Basilisk!

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The ambush awaiting them came in three layers.

Mere moments after Barton dropped face first into the chair—his warning still ringing in their heads—one side of the window behind him was suddenly pricked with two little holes in quick succession, declaring the start of the first layer. The man was lucky enough to have such a well-timed concussion, a second late and they’d have been looking at a Hawkeye without an eye.

A cracking sound made Harry's gaze flicker to the shelf full of utensils at the opposite wall, watching the destruction of two cups—both undeserving collateral victims for being in the bullets’ path.

"Snipers!" Yelena Belova uselessly announced.

The sniper shots may be silent, quieter than a gust of wind, but the experience and battlefield instincts let all currently present in the room know sharp and clear: they were under attack.

Natasha acted instantly, shooting down the lone bulb in the room to hamper the Snipers’ vision.

With the sudden darkness providing them a little more freedom in the safety of its cover, the two Widows began searching for a convenient spot to spy at the hidden enemies.

Harry didn’t care. The fear of failing one of his quest objectives so early took a stronger hold on him.

Ignoring Belova's warning hiss, he muttered a quiet Protego under his breath and quickly moved towards the half-unconscious Hawkeye, coming directly into the sniper’s line of fire.

"Harry!" He was surprised to notice Natasha's first instinct at his action was to almost throw herself in front of him like a shield.

‘Another person willing to die for me?’ It was strange, certainly. While he’d promised to show her what being cared for feels like, he hadn’t expected anything in return. His relationship with Natasha seemed one thing Harry couldn’t quite understand, even with the help of his Sagely wisdom.

Thankfully she had sufficient amount of self control, holding herself back at the last moment to witness the next round of fire being blocked by a blue energy field that flared brightly upon contact, lighting the darkened room up in a beautiful shade of blue.

"Wizard, remember?" Giving Natasha a quick smirk, he dove for Hawkeye's limp form—willingly entering the only area lit up by the moon’s natural light from the window, revealing himself to the Snipers’ vision—and started dragging him back to safety.

The next second, bullets started banging against his shield; useless but incessant, keeping the room lightened up in short but consistent blue flickers.

There was a time when a Sniper bullet would've left his arm ringing. But he'd grown infinitely more powerful since, and with a wand that matched with him perfectly—along with a proper shield spell like Protego—he didn't even twitch upon blocking the bullets.

Soon he was out of the window's range, the furniture behind him becoming the Snipers’ prey as they lost the protection of his shield.

“Perhaps next time you might consider not giving me such a sudden, and painful, heart attack?”

Snorting, Harry glanced up at Widow, swiping a lock of his fairly long hair behind his ears. "You need to worry more about escaping from the shitstorm we're soon about to be trapped in."

Natasha quickly took the mumbling Barton out of his hands, nodding towards the window. "Only if you can do something about them, and quickly. The mission is over. Hydra’s involvement complicates things too much. We take the target and the Red dust, move back to the forest, and settle in for evac."

“Sounds like a plan.” Harry nodded, before glancing back at the window with a frown—its one remaining pane was now riddled with seven new holes—his mind whirling to form a quick solution for their situation. With the attackers looming over their heads, leaving the house was utter foolishness.

From what he'd observed, the Snipers were taking cover above a terrace, hiding snuggly behind three-foot tall walls that encircled the entire roof. The only reason Harry had been able to divine their exact position was due to his almost superhuman sight. Even under the night's darkness, he'd made out the flashing scopes and thin barrels of their rifles peeking out of two holes within the wall—their entire bodies save for their hands hidden behind said wall—making them practically immune to most of the spells needing bodily contact.

The Hawkeye perk could’ve been incredibly useful here—to precisely aim for their hands—had the enemies not been so out of the Perk’s hundred meters range. As it was, he was more likely to blow their heads off than injure any fingers.

Normally, Bombarda would've been his first choice for a problem like this, simply destroying the entire Terrace—something he knew Bombarda was capable of—and taking care of the stealthy rats.

Unfortunately, he came back to the same reason why he couldn’t simply blow their heads off, falling in quite a unique predicament this time…

"I can’t deal with them without the risk of killing." He finally concluded to his silent teammates—all currently crouching upon the floor, away from the window’s range.

His mind stormed for a non-lethal answer, but apart from spamming Stunners or Imperios, he seemed to have nothing…‘That Wisdom perk could’ve come in handy right now…’

“Do it.” Natasha suddenly replied, the coldness in her voice jarring him out of his thoughts. “We cannot stick to a secondary mission’s parameters if our lives are in danger.”

He glanced at the woman from the corner of his eyes. Her beautiful face may as well have been sculpted from solid ice, giving away none of her thoughts. For some reason, however, he got the feeling that she didn’t include her own life in the ‘our’.

Harry hesitated. While he didn’t really care about the brainwashed assassins’ lives, or about the mission for that matter, his own quest was an entirely different thing…

And as his mind started wandering towards the Troll hunt—another situation where straight up blowing a hole in your enemies didn't work—a bulb lit up in his head.

“I have an idea.” He muttered, mulling it over thoroughly.

“Well, I'm not looking forward to leaving this house and walking straight into a Hydra encirclement, so I'd say go for it."

Nodding, he turned back to the window.

"Just don't do anything stupid, alright?" Her voice was much more gentle this time. "Your mother wouldn't be too happy with me if I let you risk your life for no reason....nor would I."

He rolled his eyes, though a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if the two redheads ever met behind his back. “I’m not even moving from my place.”

"Uhh, and I'm just about ready to vomit." Belova gagged beside them. "Get on with it already."

There was a strange grimace on her face though, a twisted fire of jealousy in her eyes that she was trying very hard to hide.

Shaking his head, Harry ignored the oddly flippant Widow, preparing to cast two of the newest spells in his repertoire, taking a deep breath as he raised his wand.

Letting loose the breath, he intoned slowly. “Reparo.” His wand movements were sharp and clear, and he knew he'd succeeded when the pieces of wood and glass littering the floor flew up to retake their position, filling in the gaps between the broken window.

A sudden intake of breath rose beside him but his attention was entirely on the window now.

He was glad the Snipers didn’t take an experimental shot at what would have surely looked like an odd phenomenon from their scopes, but that precious few seconds of inactivity was enough for him to cast his next spell—a lvl 1 Unbreakable charm.

It was one of the 5th year spells that he’d found whilst fishing for anything useful in the massive Hogwarts’ library. And he was certainly glad to have found it.

The Holly wand flashed, and while he felt his magic settling over his target, there was no change in the now pristine-looking window, except shining under the moon’s gaze.

Unfortunately, he didn't know how long his spell would hold. He'd never gotten the time to experiment. It could be anywhere from a couple of minutes to a couple of days.

For the next few seconds, a dramatic silence captured the room within its grip as all gazed at the window, finally being broken by Natasha hesitantly voicing, “So…is it done?”

Harry nodded uncertainly, using his limited telekinesis to pick up a broken table leg and throw it at the window.

The Snipers didn’t take the bait.

“Now this is just getting ridiculous.” Belova muttered with petulant indignation. “I’ve seen some weird stuff over the years. But flying glass? Shiny magic sticks? Invisible energy shields? How can you two act like everything’s normal!? It probably is to you, isn’t it? And what are you exactly? Magician? Mutant?...God I miss the days when I was the strangest thing this side of America….”

They both ignored her.

“Hello-ooo-oo!” She continued in a sing-song voice. “Perhaps you think it’s finally time to abandon your crippled friend and escape fro—woah! Hang on a minute now.”

Ignoring her flailing arms, Harry sprang up and took a hold of her shoulder in one smooth move, dragging her towards the window.

“No, no, no, wait, I’ll be a good girl, I’ll stay quie—!”

He threw her to the Snipers.

Instantly, four soft thumps sounded against the window, the bullets lolling down to the ground outside the house.

“It is done.” Harry smiled, walking over to glance at the snipers, who started shooting again after a moment of visible confusion.

Just like before, all the attacks simply collided against the now bullet-proof window and fell to the ground, not leaving even a single crack upon the glass.

“You could’ve tested this yourself! You had your magic shield to protect you!” Belova complained loudly, slowly getting up. “I might’ve actually died in here.”

“That—" Harry paused, before covering his surprise with a beaming smile. "wouldn't have been as satisfying. Besides, I had complete faith in my spell. You would’ve been safe regardless.”

“Liar.” She huffed. “You just wanted me to shut up, didn’t you?” She turned to Natasha, scowling. “I do not like this one. You should’ve left him behind.”

“Not my call.” Natasha shrugged, quickly propping Hawkeye up against the wall. “Besides, he might’ve just saved all our lives.”

“Please.” Belova scoffed. “My life wouldn’t have been in danger without you here in the first place.”

“Not true.” Harry cut in absently, checking up on Hawkeye’s injuries alongside Natasha. “The Red Dust in your possession makes you a target. Sooner or later, Hydra and the Widows would’ve caught up and torn you into pieces. Or kept you alive to experiment on your body and mind, making you a thoughtless, mindless, obedient slave.”

The situation was bad for them. They had at best a few minutes to prepare for whatever Hydra-Widows combo was heading their way, Barton suddenly becoming a liability was doing them no favors right now.

He briefly considered giving him one of his health potions—the wizard kind, not the Gamer kind—before dismissing it. The cut on his scalp was barely worth the attention, and while there was some bruising on his arms, Natasha had already patched up all the minor injuries efficiently. If anything, most of the damage looked to be taken by his bow snapped in half, and his missing quiver.

"C'mon Hawkeye, no sleeping on the job." Harry prodded the man. He didn't know how long this magical malady would hold their enemies' attention, but they needed to prepare for their opponents’ next move.

It was only when he glanced up did he realize that he was being targeted by two very irritated eyeballs, Belova’s glare burning a hole in his back.

"A very bright ray of sunshine, isn't he?" She turned to her fellow Widow. "I can see why you keep him around."

Natasha shook her head, finally standing up. "If you're looking for comfort, you won't find it in him."

"Of course not." Belova scoffed. "He's too much like you for that to happen."

“Enough.” Natasha waved her shush. “We need to move. I’ve patched up Barton as much as I dare to right now. Harry, you’re the strongest amongst us. Will you be able to use magic while carrying Hawke—”

She didn’t get to finish, for their brief moment of respite was finally ended by a sudden blast of epic proportions that left the entire house, and the very floor beneath them, rattling.

"Take cover!" Natasha bellowed over the rumbling of falling concrete and shaking walls, dragging a stirring Hawkeye with her under the kitchen counter.

The ear-splitting bang, and the subsequent shockwave, came from behind them—from the room he'd dismissed earlier as empty—its impact stronger than a grenade could hope to be. Dust and powdered concrete flushed inside their room through the man-sized hole he’d left in the wall earlier, forcing their eyes shut.

The second layer of ambush was finally upon them, and it did its job of sowing confusion and uncertainty within them perfectly.

Harry moved just in time to cover Belova, pulling her down beneath him, his wand hand raised high above—the Protego shield acting like an umbrella—before the ceiling started crumbling. A slab of concrete fell down from above—big enough to splatter anyone's brain matter all over the floor—bouncing off of his powerful shield to slide down beside them uselessly.

They stayed crouched down under the protection of his blue shield until the earthquake-like rumbling finally stopped and a modicum of stability returned over their heads. He didn’t know if his constitution was strong enough to survive blows from falling concrete slabs weighing over a ton, nor did he have any intention to find out right now. Only when the roof no longer looked like it was about to fall on their faces did he dare stick his head out of the cover, letting the shield dissipate.

“You mind freeing my boobs now?” Belova hissed from beneath him, smacking at his hand uselessly. “It's quite painful.”

With the prospect of death by brain-splattering now avoided, Harry finally paid attention to the woman trapped under him, realizing with a start that the soft flesh his fingers were currently gripping tightly was actually her left breast.

And from what he could feel, a very firm and fairly plump breast, bigger than Daisy Johnson certainly.

He let go only a brief second later, not even trying to grope another feel. Their situation was too precarious for him to risk letting his lower limb harden.

Her irritation seemed to disappear entirely when she glanced at him, the scowl turning to smirk, as if holding a victory over him. “Did you enjoy that, Wizard boy? Or maybe you’d like another go at them? You’ll have to come up with a new excuse though.”

Harry shrugged, quickly standing up. “Maybe after the mission. And the excuse will be saving your worthless life.”

She gaped at him open-mouthed, but Harry had already moved on, waving her over impatiently. “Come on, don’t just sit there gasping like a baby chicken.”

As if to insinuate his point, a framed portrait hanging unstably from the wall crashed down. The woman scrambled up quickly after that.

"You two alright?" Natasha called out, slipping out from underneath the counter.

Harry didn’t reply, straining his ears for enemy movements, his gun already aiming at his self-created wall-hole.

It was almost pitch black in the room, their lone source of light—the moonlight through the window—now buried under rubble. Even his nose was clogged due to all the soot and dust, bringing him to the precipice of sneezing multiple times.

"They must've torn down the entire backside of the house." Natasha whispered, hands patting the dust off of her uniform as she moved towards the wall-hole. "Get ready to engage. They could be here any minute now —"

Then they heard multiple footsteps, sifting through the rubble—a particularly loud clutter of falling stones warning them—as they made their way towards them.

"Nevermind, they're here." Natasha crouched down, her gun following his lead. "Yelena, get Barton to safety! Harry and I will—"

Barton's stifled coughing broke her command, though no move shifted their attention.

"I'm fine." He waved Yelena’s help aside, pushing himself up to his feet. "Never fight two Widows at once. Got it now." He held up his broken Bow. “I’m afraid I’ll be pretty much useless to you for a while."

Harry Reparo’d the bow.

Barton paused, before whispering quietly. “...I don’t suppose you can make some arrows out of nowhere as well?”

Harry transfigured a dozen pebbles into simple arrows.

“Holy sh—!…that’s convenient.” Hawkeye hefted one arrow out of the pile. “Fixed-blade broadheads, though they aren’t made of my usual aluminum-carbon combo. FOC is a little too high but it's alright for close-range.”

Harry shrugged. "I’ve never used arrows so they’re the best my mind can imagine."

Unfortunately, all their preparation was for naught as things went right to shit the next moment.

Another staggering blast rocked their world, this time blowing off the wall behind them. Coincidentally, it was also the part of the kitchen where two gas cylinders rested, further adding an explosive fuel to the fire. Literally.

The ground trembled beneath them, and the searing heat of the explosion pushed them all closer to the wall-hole—pincering them with the Widows. But the biggest threat came from above, as the ceiling did fall this time, forcing his teammates to scramble away from the falling debris.

Harry, on the other hand, recast the Protego umbrella back overhead until things finally calmed down at his end.

Unlike before however, he did not have the luxury to protect others, for their enemies seemed to have timed the attack perfectly. The moment everyone braced for the explosion’s aftereffects, the enemy Widows struck.

It was a perfect ambush, a perfect trap. Distracted, unbalanced, half-blind, and senseless, they should’ve been slaughtered by the platoon of Widows that entered through the hole.

However, the Widows had three things working against them.

One, the wall-hole was roughly his size, meaning the Widows could only enter at most two-at-a-time.

Two, while the others may’ve been unbalanced and scrambling for safety, Harry was perfectly at ease, ready to face them.

Three…he was just too fucking powerful. They never stood a chance.

The sound of bullets shattered any illusions of peace, the two front Widows opening fire the moment they rounded the wall-hole, only to go inert after colliding with his wandless shield.

Harry followed the muzzle flash of their rifles, shining like beacons amongst the darkness in constant rhythm, simply begging to be killed. He almost delivered upon their wishes. Almost.

Instead, two innocent stunners flared up from his wand, the bright red flash chasing away the darkness as they headed towards his targets. There was no warning of caution, no way of dodging from just two meters away. A mere second since their perfect entry, two female bodies dropped down; alive but unmoving.

His attention was briefly taken by a grunt of pain, glancing at Barton whose leg looked to be stuck beneath a particularly massive slab of concrete. From the other side of the wall, he spied the dark starry night staring back at him, the explosion having made them naked against the world, tearing down the entire wall and half the roof.

The chilling December wind that howled in, gently kissing his lock of long raven hair, was a welcome change after surviving the heat of two consecutive explosions. It was a shame the beautiful scene was ruined by three black SUVs parked outside the house, releasing armed Hydra soldiers into the peaceful neighborhood.

“YOU’RE SURROUNDED FROM ALL SIDES AND LAUGHABLY OUTGUNNED!” An amplified voice suddenly barked from one of the SUVs. “SURRENDER PEACEFULLY, AND NO ONE SHALL BE HURT!”

The lie was so ridiculous that his Sagely self almost made an entrance to provide him a life lesson in the middle of a battle. Harry forcefully pushed down the nugget of wisdom, turning back to face his enemies.

"Natasha, take Yelena and deal with them!" He commanded, shield flaring up against the gunfire of his next targets. “I’ll handle the Widows!”

The still stuck Barton was unfortunately beyond help for now—Natasha having failed to even move the slab of ceiling—but that didn’t stop him from twisting around and picking up his Bow again.

There was only a moment of hesitation before her voice answered back, "I'll be very angry if you get hurt."

"You and me both." Harry smirked, moving through the wall-hole. "Keep yourselves alive, I will join you shortly."

It was finally time to have some fun.

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Traversing through the charred and smoking debris of the ruined house, she and her fellow Black Widow took cover behind the broken walls, peering through the crevices to spy upon their enemies, and keeping away from the bright SUV headlights trained atop the house.

There were eight of them, all dressed in Hydra uniforms with their famous multi-headed symbols etched on their shoulders. The symbol was a recent development, Natasha knew. Their way of lashing out by revealing themselves blatantly, refusing to admit how close S.H.I.E.L.D had come to wiping them out entirely.

Right now, however, it was the weapons in their hands that caught her attention.

"They're looking to capture." Natasha muttered, counting four tranquilizer guns. "They must really want the Dust to be this desperate. I can't remember the last time Hydra ever took such a risk. You have the package secured?"

"Always." Yelena patted her side pocket. "Never let them out of my sight.”

The Hydra SUV in the middle barked another couple of useless warnings before their thugs finally moved towards the house, guns pointing straight at them.

“Shoulder to shoulder, just like the old days?" Yelena smirked at her.

Natasha shook her head, suppressing a smirk. "These aren't our fellow trainees."

Yelena shrugged. "That just makes this much more interesting. We'll actually get to kill them this time."

“WE’RE GIVING YOU A LAST WARNING! SURRENDER PEACEFULLY OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!”

“Hawkeye, cover us.” Natasha whispered back towards the trapped man—suppressing a wave of guilt. There was nothing she could do for him right now that she hadn’t already tried. Swallowing the bitterness, she turned to her former sister. “Stay here, and wait for my signal. I’ll take the main door.”

The Hydra soldiers were mere silhouettes against the SUV headlights, standing out against the darkness, practically presenting themselves as targets.

“Let’s do this.”

Crouching down, Natasha quickly exited through the kitchen, approaching the door they’d entered the house through. Behind her, through the doorway Harry had first separated, she could hear the muffled sounds of an intense battle.

A part of her longed to go in there and help the boy right this moment, to keep the promise she’d made to herself so long ago, uncaring of everything else around her. The mere thought of him being injured–or worse, killed—was more painful than the reminder of what she’d done in this city two years ago. Even the red in her ledger would look stale if Harry breathed his last under her eyes.

‘I’ll get him out of here, even if I die, even if everyone dies…’

But she also knew the fastest way of losing his respect was through incompetence, and abandoning her role in the middle of a mission to help someone who most likely didn’t need it would speak of an incompetence her professional pride would never allow. Nevermind the sheer patronization her actions would speak of…she’d be lucky to not be on the receiving end of his infamous look of contempt and disappointment that he reserved for the weak and foolish.

So she pushed down the fierce possessive fire burning within her, trusting the Mystique Soldier to survive, and took her position behind the door.

She glanced to the side, meeting the eyes of her sister in all but blood. “Go.”

She kicked the door open.

Time slowed down for the Black Widow, a few unpinned strands of her crimson hair whipping past her eyes through the wild winds as she stepped out to face her enemies, a pistol in her hand, aiming at the first one instinctively…

The trigger lurched, the bullet flew, and a hole appeared in the black mask covering the first soldier’s face, spraying red hot blood into the air. Before the body could even hit the ground, her gun spat one more shot in quick succession, hitting the helmet of the next one.

Time returned to normal, and the rest finally turned to her, guns homing in on her instantly.

Darts and bullets whizzed past her as Natasha ducked down from the incoming attack, taking cover behind one of the support pillars, the heavy fire from six gunners completely pinning her down. But her job was done; the soldiers were sufficiently distracted. And their distraction earned them two gunshots from the other end, her fellow Widow finally taking the stage.

The ensuing confusion was enough for her to leave the limited cover and dive behind a parked car, peering down from beneath to aim at the unprotected legs.

One was hit, falling down to her eye-level, with another bullet swiftly putting him out of his misery.

Not even two minutes in the fight, and five out-of-commision bodies were already littering the ground.

A random arrow suddenly came falling from the sky, plunging straight through the throat of one.

The sound of bullets completely numbed the neighborhood, the raucous battle inspiring the nearby civilians to stay hidden within their homes. She was sure the local police were already headed their way, and being recognized in this country might actually warrant an arrest for her internationally.

But Natasha wasn’t worried. She had full confidence they would be able to wrap up the party before their arrival.

That was when her instincts suddenly started blaring, warning her of the incoming threat.

Natasha reacted instantly.

Just in time too, as she rolled towards the next pillar, abandoning her cover, the car behind her exploded into the air. Her eyes stared back at where the car once was, to the being now revealed standing behind it, a grenade launcher propped on his shoulder, clutched by a metallic arm.

For a moment, her life stilled, the professional composure forced within her since childhood fracturing for a split second…then the car came crashing down, breaking her vision, and the world restarted again.

The Winter Soldier was here.

“Fuck.”

Her danger sense flared up again, but before she could even think to do something, an armored figure landed directly in front of her, its force cracking the tiled veranda of a neighboring house.

Completely metallic, with a black hood covering the top, the figure easily stood over 6 feet tall, looking as menacing as Ares in his battle armor. With a single slap, it pushed the burning car away.

“Who the hell are you?”

It raised a shield in answer.

“Nevermind then.”

She ran.

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The Widows were all incredibly skilled, Harry would give them that. Skilled and resourceful.

While Natasha was undoubtedly the best amongst them, he was willing to bet most of their combat skills lined up above Lvl 60. They were also physically stronger, faster, and much more dexterous than an average Hydra assassin; including males.

Harry could certainly respect such power and skill.

Three months ago, had he faced 10 Black Widows in an enclosed space, he would’ve cut his losses and planned an escape. Even with Wandless magic, facing a dozen armed Natasha knockoffs would’ve surely been a suicide.

Now? Well…

Mere moments after entering past his Hole-In-The-Wall, he was subjected to heavy fire from 10 suppressed rifles, the bullets splattering against his shield like raindrops, its radiance flaring up into a beautiful translucent sphere of electric blue that washed away the corners of the darkened room.

The shield was Wandless.

That alone should have proved how far he’d come, but what followed next left his unshielded mind free to bubble in excitement. His wand flashed, a whisper leaving his tongue, and with contemptuous ease, a Widow crumbled down to the floor without ever receiving a chance to dodge the jet of red flash.

And then another.

It was effective enough that his enemies quickly abandoned their current play.

It was a delicate balance to be sure, maintaining the shield and shooting Stunners, casting Wandless and Wand magic both at the same time. The difference between the two couldn't have been more clear than then.

Wandless magic was like flexing a third arm, a new muscle that one must manually control. And his Mana Manipulation directly affected the control of this third limb, its increase also bringing an improvement over its utility and power. Wand magic, on the other hand, was akin to ordering this third limb to heed one's Will, letting it automatically take care of things.

So while he put most of his focus on actively maintaining his shield—manually directing and supplying it with magic—a small part of him  maintained a steady stream of Stunners with the aid of his wand, enabling him to perform multiple feats of magic at the same time.

The Widows had to be commended as well though. They didn't let the laughably easy defeat of their 4 members twist their judgment, instantly adapting to his strategy.

They forwent their rifles, exchanging it for pistols, and started closing the distance between them. With a meter long gun no longer impeding their movements, the assassins were finally able to take full advantage of their dexterity to dodge the Stunners, its bright red flash contrasting with the room's darkness, making it easier to track it visually.

There were eight Widows remaining, spread out around him in the small room, a device similar to Natasha's stuck on their wrist—glinting blue. The wall behind them was shredded into oblivion, the pile of debris they had to crawl through visible at the entrance.

The damage spoke volumes on why the explosion had been earthquake-inducing. The roof was nowhere to be seen in this part of the house, the pale moon itself winking at him through the sky. If someone had told him this was the result of a failed attempt at destroying the entire Bungalow, he would've believed them.

He spied the rest of Budapest behind them, the city still awake and merry, the Christmas lights twinkling over them like starlight. The howling winds of the eve brought a soft melody to his ears, a sweet local Christmas song that blared in a nearby Church, spreading happy chills along his arms that had nothing to do with the cold.

♪ Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, 

Alles schläft; einsam wacht ♪

It was beautiful. He could remember hearing a similar tune last year, but he couldn't remember it evoking such palpable feelings of peace within him...

It made this fight even more exciting. And strangely calm and joyous.

Unfortunately, his enemies didn't seem to share his cheer.

Before he knew it, the Widows had taken their position, now dropping their guns entirely to engage him in hand-to-hand, the absence of walls and roof making their battlefield look much more spacious than it actually was.

It was a shame though—for them—cause he was even more competent in melee.

They attacked him in teams of three, forming a perfect triangle around him, so at least one would find a weak spot to slip through.

Harry dropped his shield.

'Time to go all out...' Without killing them, of course.

♪ Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!

Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh! ♪

The first one engaged with her arm raised straight, the device around her wrist—Widow’s bite, as Natasha had informed him—shooting a tiny bolt of electricity. The second came sweeping down at his feet—trying to knock his legs off the ground—while the last one leapt up straight, her knee raised and shin cocked to deliver a devastatingly powerful kick.

Harry dealt with them surgically.

He let the electric electricity hit his torso, his overpowered robe brushing them off as mere mud, while he flickered to its owner—dodging the other two completely—leaving mirage images behind. He clutched at the Widow’s extended arm, too fast for her to react, and with a strong tug, pulled her off of the ground, throwing her back towards the circling audience, before finally ending with a Stunner.

♪ Durch der Engel Halleluja, 

Tönt es laut von fern und nah: ♪

The leg-sweeping one didn’t let his body’s relocation stop her, continuing her flow to whirl back at him with the other foot, her shin aiming for his calves.

Harry simply kicked back at her.

Their legs met in the middle with a snap, shin against shin, but only his proceeded forward. The Widow’s entire body did a quick revolution before she crashed into one of her teammates.

Another Stunner gave her an early retirement from the battle.

♪ Christ, der Retter ist da!

Christ, der Retter ist da! ♪

The last one hesitated…and a Stunner took her in the face.

‘Three down, five to go. Maybe I should spice things up? An Imperius here, an Incarcerous there…?

…Nah. It’ll be like playing with food.

There was simply no contest. His perks alone made him overpowered, even if his drastically better stats were dismissed. Running, and engaging in melee, increased his overall speed and strength by 10%. He was durable enough to eat a straight punch from any Widow and not move from his place. Even the one shock disk that managed to land on the back of his hand barely stung his skin, let alone cause any damage.

Combined with his astonishing sense of balance, the debris filled room might as well be his home turf, letting him perform inhuman levels of acrobatics to take out another two Widows.

When only three exhausted assassins finally remained, staring back at him in frustration, he decided to go out with a…unique bang.

He activated his mutation.

An army of Pheromones headed for the three admittedly pretty women, ready to test how he could utilize the skill in combat.

He’d expected failure, expected to encounter something similar to Lily, a mutated sense of their feelings that left him unable to manipulate them…

What he did not expect was to find a trace of foreign Pheromones already acting upon the females. It was unlike anything he’d felt before…unnatural somehow. Fake, duplicate…but complex. Something he couldn’t hope to replicate right now. But from what his mutation told him, the Pheromones were somehow controlling the actions of the victims, forcing them to act exactly according to the wishes of its caster.

‘This must be what Steve meant.’

Curious, Harry decided to wash them away without using Red Dust.

Surprisingly, it worked. Their inner workings may be complex but they were woefully weak. His Pheromones almost bullied them away, before slowly trying to work their own magic upon the females; calming their rising panic, elevating their arousal for him…

Unfortunately, waking up from mental prisons after more than a year seemed to evoke a very strong mixture of emotions that denied a solid foothold for his mutation to take place.

“What a shame.” He muttered, letting his mutation deactivate.

It would’ve been great to celebrate such a beautiful night in the arms of three powerful assassins turned girl-friends.

‘Some other time maybe…’

For now, he must comfort the newly awakened Widows who looked around them with wide, teary eyes.

“W-what…what did we do…?” There was a hint of distress and sadness in the Widow’s voice, that was quickly hidden behind fear as the eyes came to land on him. “You…oh, shit.”

The other two caught on as well, slowly raising their arms. “Look, kid…uhh, sir…we don’t mean any harm. We were trapp—”

“I know.” Harry interrupted them. “I was the one to free you.”

“I—but, Dreykov…” The floundering Widow took a deep, calming breath, before staring back at him with a bow. “Thank you. Truly. We won’t forget this.”

“Yeah, well…” Harry smiled, raising his wand. “I’m afraid I must put you to sleep for now.”

“Wait, wait! Please, we aren’t the enemy! Its Dreykov! He poisoned our minds!”

♪ Christ, in deiner Geburt! 

Christ, in deiner Geburt! ♪

Now was the time Harry would’ve normally stunned the three anyway and walked on. But as the beautiful song in the background sang out its last notes, he found himself in a strangely good mood, the smile on his face refusing to abate.

So he decided to go for a…gentler touch.

“I understand. And I do not intend to kill you, merely stun you for a brief time, while we reach safety.”

“But…we can help…whatever you want—”

“My apologies.” Harry aimed at the middle one. “We cannot afford to look over our shoulder all the time. I have a way to carry all of you in a protected space, and for that you must go to sleep. For now.”

They hesitated, glancing at each other. Then at the bodies littering the floor.

"Who knows…" Harry shrugged, "We might even celebrate this Christmas together."

For whatever reason, that seemed to do the trick, none of them trying to put up a fight. Perhaps because they knew how useless it was, or perhaps they decided to show him a modicum of trust. Either way, three Stunners headed their way and all the Widows were finally stunned and downed.

With a great stretch, a very satisfied Harry began collecting their bodies, whistling a tune of random notes as he dragged them back through The-Hole-In-The-Wall.

There he came upon a most…fascinating scene. Barton, one leg still stuck under debris, was aiming his bow at the sky.

"Are you randomly shooting arrows and hoping for one to stick?" Harry asked, dumping the bodies beside the man one by one.

Instantly, the man twisted towards him. "Harry! Thank God for small mercies. You need to go! Fast! They're in danger....Natasha is in danger!"

Harry paused, straining his ears, his supernatural hearing picking up on the clang of battle, before...

Eyes widening slightly, he quickly left the bodies littering the floor and turned to Hawkeye.

“Leviosa!”

Slowly, with a noticeable tremble, the concrete slab rose to the air, and with a swipe of his wand—was thrown to the side.

"Thanks." Barton muttered. "Can't even feel my legs, and that’s how you know it's serious. Good for the pain, bad for the health."

"Hawkeye! Focus!" Harry snapped, removing his magical trunk and willing the door for the completely empty room to appear. "Dump all the bodies inside this suitcase. Don't touch anything else. I'll get those two back."

The man gave him a doubtful look. "Kid, that thing wouldn't even fit my head insi—oh."

One body quickly flew over and went inside.

Hawkeye was left gasping.

"Magic.” Harry waved it off. “It's much bigger from the inside. Just do it."

He didn't wait for the man's nod, tearing off towards the junior Hole-In-The-Wall.

The moment he stepped outside, the chilliest of winds assaulted his being for a brief second before it readjusted. The bodies of fallen Hydra soldiers littered the ground like ants, bullet and arrow wounds in all of them. He briefly wondered if he'd find a familiar face beneath the mask, but now wasn't the time to desecrate the dead.

...And then his eyes fell upon the two Widows fighting side by side. Or, well, the enemies they were fighting.

'Revenge' suddenly seemed to carve itself a nice piece of his time, begging to be had from the man who started it all.

Yep, I definitely have time for revenge alright. Definitely.

How could he not? The last pebble in his pond, the last name in his list, the last chapter of his past...

He could end it all now. He could clear it all.

'Winter Soldier.' His lips curved up. 'Let's see how strong you really are now.”'

It was only fair, after all, to compare your growth against the first enemy you faced. He hadn't even put up a fight back then, busy as he was crying his eyes out to be let go, but now...now he was curious how long the fight would last...

Before he ripped the Soldier into pieces.

Without wasting time, Harry quickly came up with a plan.

He did take in the figure fighting beside him of course, someone who was not just keeping up with the Soldier, but actually performing better. Most likely due to their mechanical Armor but there was no denying their skill either.

Natasha and Yelena were doing a good job of surviving against opponents who vastly surpassed them. Their teamwork was almost perfect, filling each other's gaps in defense, taking the pressure off of the partner, keeping one enemy tied to the front as a shield, while trying to take down the other...

Indeed, they were doing well, fighting with a chemistry few could possess. And the Super soldiers, while devastatingly more powerful, were absolutely shite at team work.

…Which was definitely the only reason his teammates were still alive.

Not anymore. He'd give them another.

He quickly observed the new enemy, making note of her higher strength and Vitality…in all the other stats however, he had the edge.

Antonia Dreykov (Taskmaster)

Antonia sounded like a female name, but he wasn’t one to judge.

‘Alright…let's do this.’

Taking cover behind a fiery car that must've exploded in the battle, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, remembering Dumbledore's words even though they weren't needed anymore.

The Three Ds: Destination, Determination and Deliberation. His destination was fixed, his high Int helping him memorize the place exactly as he'd observed just now. His determination was solid, his Will power—strengthened through every struggle he'd won since he was four—helping him believe completely. His deliberation was absolute; he knew he wanted to be there, on his own violation. Not with haste, but with Deliberation.

With the three Ds sorted, Harry twisted on the spot, and the world twisted along with him.

It didn't feel as uncomfortable as he'd felt the first time he did it, and when the space finally ruptured and threw him out to his destination, he gathered his wits much faster than ever.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about the sound for now, and the moment he Apparated behind Winter Soldier with a crack as loud as a firecracker, his enemy started whirling around. A good thing then, that his speed outmatched the Soldier's by more than double.

Before he could do more than bring an arm up in defense, Harry kicked him in the stomach with such brutal strength that the man flew through the air and crashed into his ally, taking it down with him.

"Harry..." Natasha heaved, her breath raspy, sweat and blood trickling down her cheeks and chin. "Oh, thank God."

But if Natasha was looking bad, Yelena may as well have been dead. Her left eye was shut close, her lip was bleeding, and her forearm sported a large red gash..

In comparison, their enemies looked perfectly fine and ready to go another round.

Harry was glad to change that.

The two Widows didn't look like they'd be any help for now, hands clutching their sides, barely capable of standing due to sheer exhaustion...

Yet, they weren't ready to let him face them alone either.

Harry smiled. He was doing that a lot today. This was a good day. "Take a breather, you two. I'll handle them."

While he'd hoped the two could handle this gender-confused Taskmaster, giving him some alone time with Winter, he was fine with handling both as well.

Without his system's limitations, he would actually be able to unleash himself fully today.

[Quest Updated]

'No, don't you dare system…!'

The last '?' in the secondary objectives changed;

• Free Winter Soldier and Taskmaster from Mind control ( )

Harry dismissed it away. This was one objective he was going to ignore. One objective he intended to fail.

This was too personal.

His enemies had recovered by then, untangling themselves and heading back into the battlefield.

The Taskmaster made its way for the tensed girls, ignoring him entirely, and thus earning a Bombarda to the chest as result—blasted away straight into a different lane.

The two Widows just stared at its flying metallic body for a long second, before finally sitting down, sheer relief sagging them of their strength. "They're all yours."

The Winter, atleast, knew not to ignore him. But he should've also learned not to try and attack him with a simple punch.

But he did, and Harry made sure to teach him a lesson, slipping past his fist and planting his knee straight into his groin. The Soldier doubled over, gasping, and for a brief moment Harry felt strangely ashamed and guilty for targeting the spot, experiencing the secondhand pain himself.

The moment passed and Harry quickly closed the distance between them, picking up the downed man by his neck—ignoring his elbow to the rib—and with a great spin, threw him into the incoming Metal suit.

This time however, Taskmaster jumped over his body neatly, stepping on Soldier's stomach to close the distance between them.

It didn't ignore Harry this time.

Harry huffed. "Stop bothering me. My fight is not with you."

Whoever this Taskmaster was, Harry only cared about it as far as the mission said to.

With the intention to eliminate this distraction, Harry raised his wand, activating Hawkeye to take a perfect aim…and then cast the Killing Curse, “Kedavra!”

The jet of green death crossed the distance in a second, but with dexterity and skill that no being its size should ever have, the Taskmaster vaulted over the spell and continued its path straight for him.

Harry frowned. 'This...could be a problem.'

Engaging it in hand-to-hand might make the fight much closer than Harry was willing to accept. Alone, Harry was sure he could defeat it. But with the Winter Soldier? It would be a foolish attempt.

He needed the Taskmaster out of the picture.

Without hesitation, Harry started hurling his entire spell repertoire at the metallic being; Unforgivables, Stunners, Levitation charms, Transfigurations...with the help of Hawkeye, he should’ve easily wrapped this being in chains of steel or killed it entirely by now…but it showed no signs of stopping, being just a little too dexterous, too fast, and too strong to be trapped or killed by magic.

And unfortunately, he hadn't learned Transfiguring living things or their clothing. Or, in this case, armor.

'Very well, then.'

Harry stepped forward, ready for some close combat...and immediately stepped backwards as the Taskmaster whipped out a spherical shield—incredibly similar to Captain America’s iconic symbol—out of nowhere, and let it fly straight at him horizontally, looking to detach his head.

An idea flashed in his mind, and instead of ducking, he created a wall of Wandless magic at his front, while hitting the shield with Impedimenta, Hawkeye showing its accuracy here. It didn't stop the projectile completely—the strength supplied behind the throw being even more than his—but it did slow it down significantly.

Extending a hand forward, Harry let the shield snap into his awaiting palm smoothly.

Taskmaster faltered for a brief second, but then continued its run forward. Unfortunately, right that moment the Winter Soldier joined them as well.

'A proper 2v1? Let's go.'

Harry flexed his arms, cracked his neck, and drove on to meet the two Super beings.

The moment they were ten meters away, he gathered magic in the hand that still clutched the shield, and waited...

8 meters…..

7 meters…

6 meters..

Finally, barely five meters away from reaching him, he hurled the shield back to its owner with his full strength, adding a blast from his magic just before letting go.

The shield flew twice as fast as it had come.

Winter barely managed to duck down, but Taskmaster took it straight to its metallic face, a satisfyingly loud clang emitting from the contact.

Taskmaster went down like a bitch.

But Winter reached him, intending to crush him down with his shoulder bash. Harry neatly twisted aside, but the Soldier was waiting for it, his hand swinging backwards, a knife clutched between his fingers.

Protego leapt at his wand with a tiny whisper, and the knife stopped short, letting Harry dive in his guard and lay a nasty jab to the stomach. Winter gasped, hunching over.

"Do you remember me?" Harry asked, lightly.

Winter's hand came back to slash again, but this time Harry caught his wrist, his superior strength enabling him to stop it on the spot.

"You took me from a prison when I was four."

Winter let his knife drop, his other hand coming to catch it from below, but Harry’s magic was faster. With a strand of wild magic channeled through the wand, he caught the blade midway…

…And lodging it straight into Winter's chest, just beside the armpit.

"And then you put me in another one. A worse one."

The Soldier grunted, writhing in his arms, but Harry simply punched the knife, driving it deeper.

"You trained me, sometimes."

Winter’s knees shook, but Harry didn't let him fall, jabbing his wand in his stomach, softly intoning, 'Crucio'.

Pleasure filled Harry’s body completely, the screams of his kidnapper music to his ears.

"But you never remembered me."

Harry stared in his eyes for a brief second, disappointment filling him as he saw no recognition. He let go and Winter went down.

Harry cast the Cruciatus again.

The man arched on the ground, his howls and screams almost unnatural.

He never would’ve thought the Winter Soldier could sound so…human.

“You still don’t remember me, do you?” Harry sighed, realizing the futility.

He raised his wand, the tip coloring green, the Killing Curse ready to be cast. “That is fine. Now you won’t have to.”

Just when Harry thought the Soldier defeated, laying at his feet like a dead dog, ready to eat his Killing Curse, the Soldier found some shocking strength, plunging a hidden knife straight at his shin.

‘Shit!’ He tried dodging, but it caught at the corner of his legs anyway…

Harry expected a deep cut, expected to feel pain, a punishment for playing with his food.

Even though he never could've killed him without knowing if he remembered, it was still foolish.

Instead, the knife skidded off the robe and the blade broke in two.

Winter’s eyes visibly widened, and Harry released a tense breath. ‘Thanks, mom.'

He may just have come to love Lily now. There was no way his affection for his gorgeous mother was anything less than 80.

Huffing, he turned his attention to Winter.

With one hand, he dragged him to his feet. "Let's finish this." Then he jabbed his wand in his stomach, "Avada Kedavra!"

It must’ve been sheer instincts but somehow Winter managed to bring his metallic arm in the middle…

The spell struck, Harry let go of his hold, and the Soldier flew back from the force of a point-blank Killing Curse, deep cracks spreading within his arm. He landed right beside a shocked Belova, whose big round eyes flickered from him to the Soldier.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spied Taskmaster closing the distance quickly, intending to ambush him.

He glanced at Winter Soldier, but he looked closer to death than ever. And Harry simply couldn’t ask Natasha and Belova to fight Taskmaster. They’d get wrecked.

Harry turned to face the thing, glancing once at Natasha. "Finish him for me, please."

While he would've liked nothing more than to be the one putting Winter Soldier out of his misery, he couldn't let revenge cloud his judgment. Out of the two, Taskmaster was more dangerous.

Besides, a dead Winter Soldier is a dead Winter Soldier.

Despite not having recovered fully, Natasha leapt at his request, eyes bursting with cold determination.

Harry focused on his fight. Taskmaster had its shield back, and now it carried a sword along with it. Frowning, Harry calculated its running speed, predicting its path, and aimed a Bombarda ahead of it, hoping to time it just perfectly for it to blow up right in its face.

The Taskmaster didn't risk it. It cocked its hand back and once again threw their shield like a disk, intercepting the spell and activating it prematurely. A mushroom of fire and dust erupted at the point of contact, lighting up the dark night with its radiance. And not a second later, his cockroach-like opponent came dashing out of the ocean of fire, cutting a path straight through it.

Harry took a deep breath, clutching the wand tightly. For the first time in actual combat, he was about to cast Bombarda Maxima…

"Noo—ooo—oo!" The sudden despairing howl from Belova lapped up his attention. "You fucking bastard!"

Harry glanced, just for a quick second, but it was enough to make him forget about Taskmaster. There she stood, Natasha Romanoff, one of the most fearsome assassins, with a knife sticking out of her stomach, a kneeling Winter Soldier trying to back away, struggling to keep a bloodlusted Belova at bay…

First came confusion. ‘What happened? How could Winter still walk…let alone harm Natasha?’

Then came the understanding. He’d underestimated the Soldier. And Natasha paid for it.

And then the rage showed its ugly face inside him. So similar to that day, yet so different…

Rage. All encompassing, limitless, powerful rage…

Winter Soldier!

But the Taskmaster was here, just a couple jumps away. Harry didn’t try to banish his rage, didn’t try to suppress it. Instead, he channeled it, a part of him feeling almost empty.

“Bombarda Maxima.” It may as well have been a whisper, having no possibility of working for a Lvl 1 spell. And yet, magic didn't care right now. Rage was enough to fulfill all the requirements.

A mere meter away from him, the spell hit the leaping figure of Taskmaster, her sword cocked back to swing his head open.

Only at the last moment did he create a shield to protect his face as an earthquake-inducing explosion tore the lands of Budapest asunder. Taskmaster soared across the sky, 30-40 feet in the air, her armor cracking into pieces before she disappeared away from his vision.

His entire world had become fire, and yet, he barely felt any heat once he pulled the hood of his robe over. When the fire finally calmed down, Harry flickered beside Natasha instantly, a hand curving around her waist, supporting her weight, glaring eyes scanning the world to find the one who did this…

The sirens of police blared through the air, and multiple Black SUVs approached the scene. Winter Soldier had escaped, a defeated Belova limping back to them, tears in her eyes.

Harry only knew he needed to get out of here now. Quickly. Before she bled out. Revenge was no use if she died right now. He spied Barton at the corner of their blasted house, his magical trunk closed and secured in his hand. He aimed at the man, and intoned, slow and clear; “Accio.”

He took Belova’s arm, while Barton flew over to them. With Natasha still hanging off of his arm, pale and silent, her eyes blurry but peaceful, Harry took a deep breath, imagining their destination.

‘The point of Evac, middle of the forest.’

Then he twisted, and the world with him.

----------------------------

The moment they landed back into the real world, he knew he'd bungled up.

Pain tore at his thigh, his robe useless to prevent the splinching of an imperfect Apparition.

There was a specific spell to instantly heal splinched body parts back, but he hadn't had time to learn it, nor had he truly felt it necessary this time—having mastered the ability enough to not bungle up the spell.

Unfortunately, he'd never considered having to Apparate three other people alongside.

Opening his inventory, Harry quickly downed a couple of Health potions. By the time he turned around, his injuries were already healed, and his eyes finally took in the forest behind.

Instantly, his racing heart slowed down.

It was a quiet night that greeted Harry, a most jarring change from the shitstorm of bullets and battles. Even the sudden groans and retching of his teammates couldn't disturb the peace of the forest.

He would've liked to sit there and calm his heart some more, breathing the chilling wind of this dark forest. He would've liked to forget about his teammates, forget about the mission...forget about his failure at finally ending the life of his kidnapper.

He was so close! So close to putting an end to that chapter of his life! So close at finally being completely free from Hydra's grasp!

But he failed. He came so close…yet, he failed.

The chilling winds of the forest proved to be a great balm to soothe the pain and frustrations of his failures, almost turning the emptiness of his heart to peace.

"...H-Harry." Natasha's pained whisper eliminated all such notions, and all the memories came crashing back.

He turned to face his companions, shaking away the fatigued tranquility. They were laying on the ground, amongst the long roots and bushes of the forest, all unmoving except Natasha...

"Shit." He scrambled to her, all thoughts of quest and revenge vanishing away in smoke.

"N-not me." She shook her head tenderly, the knife still buried in her stomach. "Clint and Yelena. Please...s-save them…save them instead..."

"Shut up." He hissed, irritation rising within him at her so casually dismissing her own life.

Yet, it was all overshadowed by the feelings evoked within him at the sight of her limp body lying on the ground, entirely too similar to when he'd seen Diggory blast Rose away from the stage. Except this time, the anger was overshadowed by a gulf within his heart, a strange fear of loss stark within him.

It was so jarring to see the fearsome assassin this way. To see a woman he'd grown up hearing words of caution about, now laying so delicately upon the naked ground—her red hair spread around head like a halo—a moment or two away from death.

And it's your fault!

Harry wasn't about to let that happen. He quickly came to kneel beside her stomach, willing his magical trunk to reappear.

He didn't know if it would work without entering the suitcase, but without thinking overly much, he opened the case and stuck his wand hand inside, intoning, "Accio Dittany!"

Magic must've been smiling on him that night for the small bottle leapt into his awaiting palm mere seconds later.

"Harry...please." Natasha whispered again, weakly trying to push him back . "D-don't waste this…o-on me...I don't d-deserve it...after everything…everything I've done..."

Harry snorted, swatting the offending arm aside. "Whatever you did, I've done worse. You're just going delirious, woman."

It certainly looked like she was. Her forehead was burning up in a raging tempest, hotter than the surface of an active volcano. Her eyes were dim and fluttering, struggling to stay open, only a slight sliver of her striking green pupils peering up at him. Her hands were clutching her stomach tightly, fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife while she tried so hard to hide the pain from him…

"I won't let you die." He promised, more to himself than her.

A bit of Wandless magic hung the Dittany bottle in mid-air, his hands gently unwrapping Natasha's grip from the knife.

"And you're a fool to even ask me so."

Gripping the seam of her uniform, he tore it above the stomach as softly as he could, revealing her smooth pale skin to his eyes, marred by copious amounts of dark blood, gushing around the knife sticking out of her proudly.

It was a testament to the gravity of the situation that he didn't even glance at the slight cleavage revealed through her split uniform.

"Besides, I promised you didn't I?" He retook the bottle from mid-air and popped the stopper off. "To show how it feels...having people care for you."

With one quick swipe, Harry removed the knife out, and in the time it took Natasha to release a pained hiss, quickly poured down three drops of Dittany, remembering the last minute studies he'd done to prepare for the mission.

Once the potion started working as intended, he moved over beside her head, propping it up on his lap, the curly red hair sprawling down from his robes beautifully.

"To feel safe, like someone has your back."

The wound was closing fast, sealing shut as a new layer formed right over it. Harry caressed her forehead, glad to feel the heat slowly recede.

His mind however, was on another plane entirely, remembering the care his family had treated him with. The feelings it evoked within him, some that he hadn't even recognised at that time.

"To feel needed, not for your skills but simply for who you are." His voice was soft, and he didn't know who he meant those words for right now. He didn't know if the woman beneath his eyes even wished to feel that way. If she even wished to feel what he'd felt. "To feel....not alone."

She looked up at him, tears trailing down her cheeks, the green pupils so bright and wonderful…and he believed she did.

"Can't show that to a dead woman now, can I?" Harry smirked, shaking away the strange melancholy trying to clamp his heart.

Natasha stayed silent through it all, but her eyes never left him.

He checked on her injury, now just a line of red and silver, twinkling slightly under the moonlight. “God, even your scars are beautiful.”

Only once her condition stabilized did he finally move on to check up on the others.

"Rest." He ordered, transfiguring a large rock into a feathery soft pillow. "Don't get up until I say so."

Natasha gave him a weak smile, and the tears started falling quicker, tiny sobs racking her body. "S-sure, doc.” She swallowed thickly. “Understood."

She turned her head away and her shoulders shook deeper. Harry was a little confused, but he had absolutely no idea how to provide comfort right now.

He slowly transferred her head to the pillow, but just when he tried standing, found his hand suddenly being pulled down.

"Harry…." She whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. "Thank you." He was surprised when she brought them to her lips, laying the lightest of kisses. “Thank you.”

Harry snorted, patting her head like he would to Rose. "Relax. I wouldn't have let you die anyway."

He did have his quest to complete after all, even if it hadn’t been his main reason.

She shook her head, a twinkling laugh escaping past her lips. He found he quite liked the sound. "Not for that. Just…you…” She sighed. “Thank you. For being here."

Harry frowned, glancing around. "Where else would I be?"

"Dunce." She chuckled weakly, snuggling her cheeks close to his hand. "Absolute dunce."

Shaking his head, Harry gently freed himself and moved on, though his smile didn't lessen one bit.

Yelena and Barton were relatively safer, though both were undoubtedly splinched. With infinitely more reluctance this time, he decided to use Dittany for both of them as well.

While they weren't anywhere close to dying, taking needless risk was foolish.

Things were sober in the group, none willing to talk. He didn’t exactly know where the sudden reluctance came from, but he was quite satisfied with it. Silence had always been his best friend.

Unfortunately, as he started patching Belova up, his stubborn redhead patient decided to disobey him, sitting closer to watch him work.

A curious question tugged at his heart, and Harry finally glanced at Natasha. "So…is this one your sister?"

Belova looked up sharply at that, but Natasha's eyes were on the night sky now.

Finally, she cleared her throat, glancing at him. "No. The Red Room, where they train all the Widows, they created a fictional family for us. A fake pair of parents with a fake backstory." She snorted bitterly. "That's how the Red Room operates. They take young girls from all around the world. Young, helpless—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "It's pointless."

Humming, Harry finished up with Belova and moved on.

He could feel the other Widow’s stare however, especially as he insisted Natasha go back to sleep, with the threat of being Stunned and put to bed anyway.

And after a few moments of quiet staring, she finally turned to Natasha. “I see why you like him now. It must’ve been so easy to replace me with someone who is more like you. He’s a much better sibling than I ever was, isn’t he?”

"...Yelena." Natasha sighed.

"No, no, I get it." Belova raised her arms up, but her lips looked wobbly. "Cheers and celebrations for you, moving on with your life. Replacing our fake family for a real one. Replacing a fake sibling for a real one."

Before Natasha could get a word in, Belova burst out again. "But it wasn't fake for me, you understand!? I don't care what you say, it wasn't fake for me!"

Harry took the entire exchange with a frown, a low irritation growing in his chest. "I am no one's replacement. If I took your sibling title, then I'm definitely an upgrade. You are far too weak to be able to hold a position worthy of me."

He observed the woman's stats just to be sure. He outclassed her in every stat.

Belova stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head, blinking hard. "...What?"

He blinked back. "What?"

"S-sibling title...?" Her lips curled up incredulously. "Worthy position? Is that how you wand waving freaks think of relationships? That's messed up."

Harry cuffed her on the head, hard enough to give a concussion to someone weaker, eliciting a loud and painful yelp.

"Do not call me that." He said mildly. "I will kill you."

She chuckled uncomfortably but he’d meant every word.

As the girls started whispering amongst themselves, Harry approached their resident Bow master.

Barton would definitely have been hit the worst amongst them, had Natasha not taken that knife in the gut. There was a nasty break in his shin bone, with multiple ruptures around his calves. On top of that, his knee was sliced due to splinching, but thankfully it wasn’t as deep as Harry’s had been.

"You know, kid." Barton's voice blurred as Harry propped him up against a tree, putting a dab of healing juice over his scalp as well. "I was wrong about you."

"Hmm?" Harry didn't look up.

"I just…didn't like you very much, you know?" He said drowsily. "When I first met you. You looked so much like my kids. So young, so perfect. But then I'd see your eyes. And a cold cynical bastard would stare back. Challenging me to even dare treat you like a child…you were never a child."

Harry transfigured a piece of wood into a warm cotton cloth, tying it around his broken shin bone. While Dittany might've healed the outer injuries, the bone was still a little broken. Once the cloth nicely covered the entire shin, he re-transfigured it into plastic.

"But I wanted you to be.” Barton continued his one-sided commentary. “Cause whenever I look at you, I see them waving back. And I didn't want my kids to grow up like you. I didn't want them to become like you. And a small part of me despised you for it. A part of me blamed you for what you became, you see?"

Done with the task, Harry stayed still for a moment, a little captured at where the tale was going.

"But then I asked myself…if my kids were taken away from their home, forced to go through what you went through, and came back alive in one piece, would I care what they are? What they've done? Would I blame them for what they've become? And you know what I realized? No. No, I won't. Sure, I wouldn't like what they might end up doing in the future, but I won't hate them. Never. I'd just be glad they've returned. And you know what, kid? You aren't so bad afterall. So maybe I'll even be proud. No, I will be proud. Very proud…I'm proud of you, kid."

'....Yeah, this one's definitely delirious.'

Harry packed up his bottle of Dittany and entered into his magical trunk, placing the bottle back where it was taken from. While in the Potions room, he also searched for a blood replenishing potion for Natasha.

Someone from outside knocked on his trunk, and he was a little startled to realize it sounded exactly like someone knocking on his doorstep.

“Kid?” Barton’s voice called down a second later. “We’re holding a ‘What the fuck should we do next’ meeting. You coming?”

Harry wondered if he should pay the Widows a visit, see if anyone’s awake and murdering their sisters…

‘...Nah, they’re all probably sleeping. Plus no one can open a door but me.’ Which meant even if they were awake, it wouldn’t do them much good.

He climbed up the stairs and left his trunk-home, tossing the blood-replenishing potion to Natasha. “Drink up, you won’t look like you’re about to faint the next second.”

She didn’t even see the content before the bottle was empty. The effect was immediate, returning some color to her face, giving back her liveliness.

“I feel much better already.” Natasha raised her brows, straightening slightly.

She was almost back to full health, so he knew it to be true.

“So?” Barton asked, sitting on the grass. “What’s our plan now?”

"The evac will be here in less than thirty minutes." Harry said, mind whirling. "We have the Red Dust package, we have twelve brand new Black Widows ready to declare their endless loyalty to us, and we are all alive. I'd say the mission is a smashing success."

There was silence for a few seconds, a couple of crickets croaking, before Belova chuckled uncomfortably.

"Ah. You see," She scratched her head. "About that…ahahaha…"

Now she had everyone's attention.

"The Red Dust…” She visibly wilted. Probably for the first time in history. “I…I lost it. It’s with them."

Harry closed his eyes. "What."

“I lost it, alright?” She snapped. “I don’t have it. There were twelve syringes, they took all of them.”

Harry sighed, rubbing his head. “How?”

"What do you mean 'how'!? That metal-armed bastard took it from me! It's not like I gave it to charity or something!"

He hit her with a stinging hex.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

Harry stood up. “I’m going after them.”

He wasn’t about to fail one of the easier objectives of his quest due to some incompetent girl.

“What? No!”

“And what do you think—”

“I’m coming with you.”

The last one stopped all the complaints.

“Nat?” Barton prodded, concerned. “I’m not saying going back is the wrong idea, but I don’t think you sho—”

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” She snapped. “You will escort the Target back to base while Harry and I secure the package. We will call for Evac when we’ve succeeded.”

“Natasha…” There was a pleading edge to Belova’s tone now. “Don’t do this, please. Your boy is in an entirely different league, he can take care of himself. Is coming so close to death not enough for today?

For a moment, Natasha’s eyes softened, but the fire in them never wavered. “I’m sorry, Yelena. I have to do this.”

Harry met Natasha’s eyes, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to convince her otherwise.

“You know what happened just ten minutes ago.”

Natasha nodded calmly. “We were ambushed. This time, it would be us on the other side. They won’t have a chance to escape.”

“Well…” Harry smirked. “If that’s what the team leader wants, who am I to say otherwise?”

----------------------------

AN: Yes, another cliffhanger. Yes, I know it sucks. But hey, it's a 12K+ chapter! Sorry it took another extra day, tho I did post it in July so...

Anyway, let me know what you thought of the chapter! A lot of action in this one, and quite a bit of character development. Hopefully you enjoyed!

Also, I have a feeling that I've rushed the chapter in some places. If you find anything in particular, pls let me know.

That's all for today, may you all have a wonderful end of the month. See ya lot in August, peace!

P.S: Got another raffle warning smh.