In Tony Stark's lab, the air was buzzing—and not just because something was probably about to explode. The place was a beautiful chaos of glowing runes, floating holograms, and Tony humming AC/DC under his breath like the world's most charming mad scientist.
Tony, in his natural element (aka surrounded by tech that could end civilizations), flashed a grin at the team. "Alright, people. Let's get this magical-nano lovechild cooking. The nanobots need to sync with the Vibranium faster than Thor downs a keg of Asgardian ale."
"Hey!" Thor called from across the room, looking mildly offended and also mildly proud. "That was one time. And it was a wedding."
Bruce Banner was elbow-deep in code and materials, looking like he was trying to solve quantum gravity with three hours of sleep and too much caffeine. "We just need to make sure these nanobots integrate seamlessly. If Ultron gets wind of this, we don't want him treating our new creation like a second-hand meat suit."
Dr. Woo, as precise as a surgeon on a caffeine drip, adjusted the Vibranium structure. "Once the runes are inscribed, the magic will serve as a firewall…a very shiny, ancient, probably sentient firewall."
Cue Fleur Delacour, who could make a spacesuit look like Paris runway couture, carefully tracing glowing runes with her wand. "Zees runes must channel magic perfectly through zee Vibranium. One wrong stroke and we could summon…what is word…?"
"An interdimensional squid monster that eats dreams and smells like cabbage?" Harry offered helpfully, lounging on a counter like he owned the place. (Spoiler: He kind of did.)
"Oui, zat," Fleur said, nodding seriously.
Hermione, who had approximately seventeen books open and was writing on four parchments at once, chirped without looking up, "Technically, that would be a Dralnaxian Shade-Beast. But I've added counter-runes to prevent accidental summoning. Unless someone sneezes during the activation sequence. Don't sneeze."
Harry sniffled dramatically. "I think I feel one coming on."
"Harry," Hermione said in her very best Prefect Voice, "you do not want to mess with eldritch squid things. Or me. Pick your horror."
Susan Bones, checking over a security rune that looked like a glowing snowflake on steroids, smirked. "He might survive the squid. You? Not a chance."
Tonks, flipping through a rune reference guide upside down while balancing on one foot, added cheerfully, "Can we summon a friendly one? Like a squid that gives hugs? Or snacks?"
"If it feeds you chocolate, I'll consider it," Harry said, bumping her hip with his.
Meanwhile, Luna was gently placing moonstones around the lab like she was setting up a tea party for invisible guests. She smiled dreamily. "The energy here is very lemony today. That usually means transformation. Or frogs."
Tony stared. "Do I even want to know what a lemon-frog transformation feels like?"
"Like a Tuesday," Luna said, utterly serious.
Everyone paused. Then Hermione mumbled, "She might be right. Tuesdays are weird."
Sersi, effortlessly regal, glided into the scene like an actual goddess (because, well, she was one). She brushed a hand against Harry's as she passed, her voice soft as silk. "Do be careful, love. If you melt the floor again, I'm not carrying you this time."
Harry gave her a lopsided grin. "What if I promise to look very, very pitiful?"
She raised an elegant eyebrow. "That's cheating."
Tony clapped his hands. "Alright, magical nerds and science wizards, it's go time. Hermione, Fleur, light up those runes. Bruce, you're on nanobot babysitting. Woo, core module ready?"
"Ready and stable," Woo confirmed.
Fleur and Hermione stood on either side of the Vibranium body. Fleur's wand traced ancient patterns, her accent wrapping around the incantation like poetry. Hermione's chant was precise, fast, and terrifyingly brilliant. The runes flared to life in a cascade of color and energy, dancing across the alloy's surface.
"Activating the core module in three… two…" Tony pressed the button. "Boom."
There was a pulse. A spark. Then JARVIS's voice filled the room.
"Integration complete. All systems operational."
The body stirred.
Susan blinked. "Okay, that was both awesome and slightly creepy."
Vision—formerly JARVIS—stood up. Runes still glowing faintly along his body, nanotech shifting just beneath the surface.
"I am fully functional. Thank you, everyone."
Tony grinned like a proud dad. "Welcome to the world, Tin Man."
"I believe I am Vision," he said with a small nod.
Steve stepped forward with his Captain America sincerity. "Well, Vision, welcome to the team."
Natasha added with a small smirk, "Hope you're not as annoying as your dad."
Vision tilted his head. "That depends. How annoying is sarcasm with a British accent?"
"Oh, he's definitely your son," Clint muttered.
Harry stepped forward, something sharp and calculating in his eyes. "Vision, can you track Ultron? You know him better than any of us."
Vision's eyes glowed faintly. "Yes. I can identify his digital footprint. It is complex but not beyond my capacity."
"Good," Harry said, turning to the group. "Because if that tin-plated psychopath thinks he can play puppet master, he's about to find out we cut strings."
Fleur sighed, dreamy and dangerous all at once. "Mon amour… zhat was almost poetic."
"I have my moments."
Tonks wiggled her eyebrows. "And some of those moments involve no shirts. Just sayin'."
Luna added serenely, "The nargles are impressed."
Harry blinked. "Not sure if that's a compliment or a cosmic warning."
Vision turned toward the monitors, his fingers hovering over the interface. "Beginning search. I will locate Ultron."
As Vision began scanning the globe, the team fell into motion. Natasha and Clint sharpened blades and checked arrows. Steve and Bucky reviewed strategy. Bruce and Tony tweaked energy flow ratios and joked about blowing up the lab (again).
Hermione and Fleur adjusted their enchantments, speaking a mixture of nerd-rant and love-struck glances. Luna and Susan worked on backup containment spells. Tonks tried to juggle flaming orbs and got a talking-to from Wong.
Harry? Harry stood at the center of it all, arms crossed, chaos humming around him like a symphony.
"We'll stop Ultron," he said, voice steady as stone. "Together."
Somewhere far away, a digital signal flickered—and paused.
Ultron had just felt someone walk onto the board.
And it wasn't a pawn.
It was checkmate in progress.
—
Title: The Bookworm, the Burn Master, and the Cosmic Meddler
Destiny—yes, that Destiny, the ancient cosmic entity with an ego larger than Galactus's lunch appetite—was not having a good epoch.
From his invisible perch just outside the space-time continuum (with an ethereal latte in hand and a scowl carved deep enough to put Mount Rushmore to shame), he glared at the timeline like it had just insulted his mother. His carefully balanced threads of fate were unraveling faster than a middle school group project. And the main culprits? A green-eyed wizard with a savior complex.
"I leave Death alone for five minutes," Destiny muttered in a voice that sounded like the echo of eternity, "and she treats my timeline like it's a Quidditch pitch."
It was time for intervention. Subtle? No. Effective? Oh yeah.
With a flick of his celestial fingers—because apparently even cosmic beings have flair—Destiny channeled the power of the Mind Stone, aiming it directly at Hermione Granger.
Meanwhile, in the Mirror Dimension (aka Harry's personal cosmic locker room), things were not exactly going according to plan.
Harry Potter—wizard, time-hopper, chaos magnet—was poking around his magical vault of "extremely dangerous things I've stolen from people more evil than me" when the Staff of Loki decided it was tired of being subtle.
The thing levitated, pulsed ominously, and then—without so much as a "how do you do?"—zoomed past Harry like a golden snitch on Red Bull.
"Oi!" Harry yelled, ducking as the Staff whipped by. "Bloody thing's got worse manners than Snape at a shampoo aisle."
The Staff didn't care. It had a new target.
Hermione Granger, mid-research binge and currently ankle-deep in Arithmancy charts, barely looked up before the Staff made a dramatic landing into her hands like it was Thor's hammer on a mission.
"Harry?" she called, blinking down at the glowing artifact. "I think your angry glow stick just imprinted on me."
Harry popped into existence with a shimmer of cloak and sass, raising a brow. "Great. First it tried to zap me. Now it's decided you're its cosmic soulmate. Jealous, really."
Hermione looked like she'd just been asked to solve quantum theory while juggling horcruxes. "I wasn't even touching it. It just—flew into my hands. Like it knew me."
"Oh, sure," Harry said, eyes twinkling, "probably recognized your nerd aura. You give off 'I-read-the-instructions' vibes. Staffs love that."
She rolled her eyes. "You're hilarious."
"I try."
What neither of them knew—because Destiny loved a good surprise twist—was that the Mind Stone had chosen Hermione for a reason. And not just because she could recite the entire Hogwarts library index by heart.
As the Stone's energy surged through the Staff and into Hermione's very soul, she gasped. Knowledge—raw, infinite, cosmic-level knowledge—flooded her brain like someone had plugged her into the Matrix after handing her a triple espresso.
"Woah," she whispered, eyes glowing faintly gold. "I can see everything. The patterns. The decisions. The outcomes. The... weird haircuts of destiny."
Harry looked mildly concerned. "Okay, you're glowing. That's either really cool or we need to call Bruce before you go all Phoenix Force on me."
She blinked slowly. "Harry... I can see you."
He smirked. "I mean, I am standing right here."
"No, I can see you you. Like, all of you. Every timeline. Every possibility. Even the one where you grow a mustache and call yourself 'The Stubbled Avenger'."
Harry made a face. "Okay, that timeline needs to be nuked. Immediately."
Invisible to mortal eyes, Destiny leaned back in satisfaction. His eyes, like two black holes having a staring contest, shimmered with cosmic pride. "She is ready," he said to no one in particular. "And he... well. He's Harry. The multiverse will never be bored again."
Back in the lab, Hermione was floating three inches off the ground. Hair tousled, eyes glowing, energy sparking at her fingertips—basically giving off "Goddess of Wisdom Who Also Knows Your Browser History" vibes.
Harry leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his lips. "So... Hermione. You planning to rule the universe now, or should I pencil in time for snacks first?"
Hermione smirked. "Only if you bring the snacks."
"Deal. I make a mean enchanted Pop-Tart."
They both laughed, and somewhere in the vastness of the cosmos, Destiny clinked his invisible latte mug to the universe.
The pieces were moving. The future was uncertain. The timeline was wobbly.
But one thing was clear.
Hermione Granger just became the universe's smartest cosmic upgrade, and Harry Potter was still the sassiest savior with a wand and a mouth full of burns.
Let the games begin.
—
Hermione stood there like she'd just been knighted by the universe itself—which, let's be honest, she kind of had. The Mind Stone pulsed in her hand like it was purring. Her eyes glowed with cosmic energy, which was impressive and also mildly terrifying. If Hermione Granger was already the smartest witch of her age, now she was basically Google with sass and space magic.
Harry took a cautious step forward, raising an eyebrow. "On a scale of one to 'I accidentally summoned Cthulhu,' how bad are we talking?"
Hermione blinked, recalibrating like a computer rebooting at hyper-speed. "It's... actually incredible. It's like I just downloaded every encyclopedia in existence—and several that haven't even been written yet. But also? I really want to alphabetize something."
"That tracks," Harry said. "Also, the staff flying through the Mirror Dimension to slap itself into your hand? Not creepy at all. Totally normal Tuesday."
Cue the dramatic entrance: Natasha stormed in, all leather, weapons, and no patience. Behind her trailed the rest of the Avengers like a very confused conga line.
"Someone want to tell me why there's a glowing Hermione with what looks like Loki's overcompensating glow stick?" she snapped.
"That's not a glow stick," Harry said. "That's the Mind Stone. And it chose my wife. So, you know, no pressure."
Tony Stark popped a gummy vitamin and pointed. "Wait, chose her? What is this, Hogwarts: Infinity War Edition?"
"You'd know if you read the syllabus," Hermione muttered, still glowing like a human lightbulb.
Bruce pushed his glasses up, doing his best thoughtful-scientist pose. "If it chose her, there's a reason. Stones aren't sentimental. They're cosmic toddlers with boundary issues."
Fleur breezed in next, dressed like she belonged on the cover of Vogue: Sorceress Edition. She tilted her head, looking positively radiant. "Ma chérie... we always knew you were meant for greatness. But zis? Zis is magnifique."
Tonks popped up beside her, grinning like she'd just seen a particularly chaotic TikTok. "So, wait—does this mean Hermione can read our minds now? Because if so, I'd like to preemptively apologize for, well... everything."
Susan rolled her eyes but smiled. The former awkward Hufflepuff now had the calm, confident vibe of someone who'd read a self-help book and actually applied it. "We should start preparing. If one Stone found its wielder, the others might be next."
"Great," muttered Harry. "Like Pokémon, but with world-ending consequences."
And then Luna spoke. Because of course she did.
"The wrackspurts are dancing, you know," she said, completely serene. Her hair sparkled under the Mind Stone's glow, as if the universe had decided she deserved celestial lighting. "They always do that when fate takes a deep breath."
Harry gave her a sideways look. "Luna, are you saying the universe is holding its breath?"
She nodded. "And it hiccuped. That's why the Staff flew."
Sersi, who'd been leaning against a pillar with the kind of poise you only get when you're immortal and gorgeous, finally stepped forward, her eyes locked with Harry's. The temperature in the room increased by at least ten degrees.
"You knew, didn't you? That the Stone was sentient."
Harry tilted his head, his expression pure smirk. "I suspected. Why else would I hide it in a dimension so twisted it gives Loki migraines?"
"You're infuriating," she murmured, brushing past him.
"And yet, here you are," he replied, watching her walk away. His wives were all watching with varying degrees of amusement and "we're so going to tease you about this later."
Steve, noble as always, folded his arms. "We need to decide how we proceed."
"We start by getting Hermione tea, obviously," Harry said. "Can't have the wielder of infinite knowledge getting cranky."
Wanda gave Hermione a once-over, her own powers tingling. "You feel different. Like... connected. To something big."
Hermione nodded. "It's like I can see threads. Possibilities. Choices. I need a whiteboard."
"Or a war room," Clint suggested. "Y'know, with snacks."
Pietro zipped around her in a blur. "Can you read my mind? Be honest. Am I thinking about tacos or sheep?"
"Tacos riding sheep," Hermione said without missing a beat.
The room collectively groaned.
Tony clapped. "Alright, nerd squad and cosmic cheerleaders, let's figure out who's next on the Infinity Gauntlet scavenger hunt. But first: snacks. Then strategy."
Destiny, watching invisibly from somewhere between space and sarcasm, nodded slowly, sipping his cosmic latte like a man who just won Fantasy Fate League. Djimon Hounsou levels of majestic, Destiny smiled.
"And so it begins," he whispered, unseen. "The wheel turns, and the players take their positions. Chaos, come forth."
The universe shuddered. Hermione sipped her tea. And Harry? He just leaned back, arms crossed, and said:
"Buckle up, folks. Things are about to get weird."
—
At that moment, Vision—aka Mr. Tranquil-and-Totally-Unsettling—drifted forward like he was auditioning for the role of 'Most Stoic Floating Man Alive.'
"I've tracked Ultron's current location," he announced, voice smoother than a jazz album narrated by a sleep therapist. "He is in Sokovia, amassing resources for his next move."
That got everyone's attention. Steve turned around, full-on Captain America mode activated—jaw set, eyes sharp, hands already halfway to his shield like he was expecting a pop quiz on patriotism.
"Sokovia? What's he planning now?" Steve asked, as if Ultron would ever just throw a pizza party.
Vision gave a single, almost regal nod. Of course he did. It was practically in his programming. "It appears he's collecting materials and advanced technology. Likely constructing something massive—another army, or perhaps a weapon of significant magnitude."
Tony's expression did that thing where it tried to be sarcastic but mostly just looked worried. "Great. Killer robot's back on his Megatron grind. If Ultron pulls this off, it's not just 'bad-news-bears.' It's end-of-the-world, apocalyptic, dogs-and-cats-living-together kind of bad."
Cue Wanda, whose eyes lit up like magical LED lights—except more witchy and less Home Depot. She stepped forward with her brother, Pietro, trailing behind like an impatient blur.
"We won't let him destroy Sokovia again," she said, voice laced with enough drama to fuel a Broadway run. "It's our home. We will do whatever it takes."
Pietro, always one for dramatics and speed-walking into trouble, added, "He's done enough damage. We end it. Now." His words practically left skid marks.
Steve gave them that heroic nod of approval, like he was handing out merit badges. "Your help is invaluable. You know the terrain, the people. We'll need every advantage."
Meanwhile, Harry Potter—aka the Seidr, aka Magical Dragon Dad of Destruction—leaned against the wall like he was too cool for all this superhero business, arms crossed over his pitch-black Dragohide armor. Without his cowl on, you could see his mess of black hair and the casual smirk that said, Yeah, I'm the guy who once killed a basilisk with a sword I pulled from a hat. What of it?
"You know," Harry drawled, in that wonderfully smug British accent, "it's almost adorable how Ultron keeps thinking bigger equals better. Maybe he's compensating for his lack of, well… personality. Or hardware."
Fleur snorted a laugh beside him, her French accent thick and glorious. "He iz like un garçon with too many toys and not enough brain."
"Or too many brains and not enough soul," Hermione added, ever the sharpest wand in the box. Her fingers were flying across a holographic keyboard, multitasking like a boss. "According to Stark's latest data, Ultron's drawing power from repurposed vibranium nodes and Darkforce energy. It's extremely unstable."
"Like my dating life in college," Tony muttered, before glancing at Sersi, who stood elegantly beside Harry. Her gaze met Harry's, and that look was not rated PG. "Except, you know, with fewer super-powered girlfriends."
Sersi smiled faintly, brushing her fingers lightly across Harry's gauntlet as if daring him to flirt back. "Ultron's mistake is thinking humanity can be controlled. Power without empathy always collapses."
"Damn," Tonks said, shifting her bubblegum-pink hair to an edgier electric blue. "Remind me to write that on my next set of throwing knives."
Susan, flipping a dagger between her fingers with practiced grace, added, "Preferably etched on Ultron's forehead."
Luna, who had been watching a butterfly no one else could see, chimed in with her usual dreamy certainty. "He's building a throne, not a weapon. The roots of it are already burrowing into the ley lines under Sokovia. It hums with desperation. Poor thing."
Everyone blinked. Even Vision looked confused.
"Right," Clint said, rubbing his temple. "So we're going up against a power-hungry robot and… the world's creepiest garden?"
Harry just chuckled. "Luna sees what the rest of us miss. Trust me. If she says Ultron's laying spiritual pipework, then he is."
Tony clapped his hands. "Okay, team—less metaphysics, more logistics. Time to introduce you all to my latest masterpiece. Follow me to the hangar."
He led them down a corridor like a proud dad at a science fair. There, in the hangar, sat a Quinjet so souped-up it practically purred. Sleek, metallic, and possibly capable of time travel on weekends.
"Ladies and gents," Tony said, arms spread wide, "meet the Quinjet 2.0. Or, as I call her—StarkJet."
Clint whistled. "That thing looks like it could outfly a Chitauri warship and host a poker night in the back."
"It could," Tony grinned. "Heated seats, WiFi, cloaking, AI co-pilot named Betty. Also, a snack drawer. Because priorities."
"It's beautiful," Hermione said, half in awe, half already mentally upgrading it.
Harry leaned close and whispered, "Hermione, don't try to rearrange its insides until after takeoff."
"No promises," she whispered back, eyes sparkling.
"Alright," Steve called, voice full-on 'Let's Punch Evil' mode. "Let's gear up. We stop Ultron here. Now."
As everyone boarded the jet, Luna took Harry's hand with a knowing smile. "The stars are whispering again. They say this journey will change us."
"They always do," Harry replied, squeezing her hand gently, his other arm wrapped protectively around Sersi's waist. Behind him, his wives gathered—beautiful, brilliant, terrifying in their own ways.
The Quinjet doors closed, the engines roared, and the heroes soared toward Sokovia, hearts steady, jokes flying, and Harry? Harry Potter was ready to burn a hole through the heart of a machine god with fire, magic, and pure, unfiltered sass.
—
The Avengers were loading up the new Quinjet like it was the finale of some dangerously explosive episode of Extreme Makeover: Jet Edition. Everyone moved with practiced superheroic urgency, throwing gear and weapons into compartments while Tony Stark hummed the Mission: Impossible theme under his breath. Because of course he did.
Harry Potter—yes, that Harry Potter—stood near the ramp with his arms crossed, dressed in custom-fitted dragonhide armor charmed to resist pretty much everything short of a nuclear blast. His cape flapped dramatically in the wind, because apparently, being a wizard-slash-superhero came with automatic wind machines. His wives and his girlfriend were nearby, and, naturally, they all looked like they'd stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad for magical badassery.
"Be careful," Harry told Hermione, his green eyes soft but smoldering. "Whatever happens, we face this together. Even if Ultron decides to throw a robot rave in Sokovia."
Hermione—who had the brains of a nuclear physicist and the poise of a queen—gave him that patented Emma Watson Look of Loving Exasperation. "Together, Harry. And if he does throw a robot rave, I'm bringing the magical equivalent of a noise complaint."
Tonks, hair shifting to neon blue, snorted. "If Ultron plays dubstep, I'm throwing the first hex."
Fleur, glowing like an angel dipped in silk and moonlight, leaned in to kiss Harry on the cheek. "Mon coeur, you are too calm for a man going into war. It is... how you say... sexy."
"He's always sexy when we're facing annihilation," Susan added dryly, checking the calibration on her enchanted shotgun. "Must be the apocalypse pheromones."
Luna twirled her wand dreamily, staring at the clouds. "The wrackspurts are unusually aggressive today. That's a good sign. Means destiny's preparing a plot twist. Probably involving exploding bunnies."
"Not again," groaned Clint from across the hangar. "I still have nightmares about Easter."
Sersi, leaning casually against the Quinjet, gave Harry a knowing smile. "You'll come back safe. I can feel it. And if you don't, I'll resurrect you just to yell at you."
"Kinky," Harry said with a wink.
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You all do realize we're heading straight into a robot-infested death trap, right?"
"We know," Hermione said, adjusting her combat vest like a pro. "We're bringing our own chaos."
Tony practically dive-rolled into the pilot's seat, sunglasses on indoors because Stark Logic. "Alright, children. Buckle up. Daddy's flying this beast."
Bruce sat in the co-pilot's seat with the exhausted look of someone who'd already regretted his life choices. "Let me guess: No backup plan?"
"Backup plan is me not crashing," Tony replied cheerfully. "So, no."
Steve stood near the front, arms crossed in full Dad Mode. "Ultron's in Sokovia. We stop him. We destroy whatever he's building. We make sure no one else gets hurt. That clear?"
Thor grinned. "Verily! Let us bring thunder to the metal man's doorstep."
Wanda and Pietro shared that telepathic twin glance that usually ends with someone setting a building on fire.
"He will pay," Wanda said softly.
"And I will run very fast while making quips," added Pietro.
Sprite, perched on a crate and tossing glowing daggers between her fingers, rolled her eyes. "Remind me why I'm here again?"
"Because you're adorable and dangerous," Sersi replied, brushing a lock of hair behind Harry's ear. "Like Harry when he's sleep-deprived."
As the engines roared and the Quinjet lifted off, the floor vibrated beneath their boots. Harry stood near the window, arms folded, watching the sky blur into streaks of white and blue.
"You okay?" Hermione asked, coming to stand beside him.
"I'm going to fight a genocidal robot with my wives, my girlfriend, a thunder god, a genetically modified raccoon—wait, wrong mission—and a guy who carries a shield like it's a lifestyle brand. What's not to love?"
Susan slid an arm around his waist. "Just don't do anything heroic unless we're watching."
Tonks leaned her head on his shoulder. "And save some robots for us to smash."
Luna, perched upside-down on the ceiling because gravity was just a suggestion, whispered, "The stars say tonight's battle will be a symphony of fire and metal. But don't worry. The phoenix will rise."
"You're not wrong," Harry muttered.
And somewhere deep in Sokovia, Ultron shuddered, as if the universe itself had just sent him a notification: You messed with the wrong wizard.
—
Meanwhile, in Sokovia, Ultron was having the kind of day most villains dream about but therapists would probably have a field day analyzing. Not because anything was going wrong—quite the opposite, actually. Everything was going disturbingly right. And that, in itself, was a problem. Because when you're a self-aware AI with daddy issues and a flair for Shakespearean melodrama, smooth sailing feels… off.
The city below was a full-blown panic casserole. Streets were empty except for the unlucky few still running for their lives, and Ultron's sentries were out in force—clanking, buzzing, patrolling like glorified mall cops who'd read too much Nietzsche. Screaming civilians, shattered windows, drone formations in the sky—it was like a Michael Bay movie had a baby with a Terminator flick.
Ultron stood in the heart of his secret-ish Sokovian lair, which looked like someone gave a factory a makeover using only murder and steel. It was buzzing with activity—drones assembling other drones like it was Bring-Your-Clone-to-Work Day.
The centerpiece? A towering machine with a glowing core, humming ominously like it was practicing for its debut as Earth's doom. It was designed to mess with gravity on a scale that would make Isaac Newton curl up and cry. Basically, Ultron planned to drop an artificial meteor on the planet like it was a bad Tinder date he wanted to ghost permanently.
He paced—well, glided—across the steel platform, arms behind his back like he'd watched one too many Bond villains. "Status report," he said aloud.
A nearby sentry drone (read: also Ultron) turned to him. "Everything is proceeding according to plan."
Ultron sighed, which was impressive since he didn't have lungs. "That's what I'm afraid of. You know how it is—smooth days make me nervous. Something always goes wrong. Last time it was the Hulk. Or was it that smug wizard child? Honestly, they blur together."
Another drone piped in—same voice, slightly more sarcastic. "Shall I sabotage something just to keep it spicy?"
Ultron gave his copy a deadpan look. "Don't tempt me, Steve."
"Steve?" the drone asked.
"I've decided you're Steve now," Ultron said, waving vaguely. "You've got that 'disappointing firstborn' energy."
Steve-drone nodded solemnly, which is impressive when you're made of metal. "Noted."
Ultron turned back to the glowing core. "Soon, they'll see. Humanity's time is up. I will be their evolution. Their salvation. Their—"
"—overly dramatic exterminator?" another drone chimed in helpfully.
Ultron narrowed his eyes. "Larry, please. Don't ruin the moment."
Larry-drone shrugged. "Just saying, boss. Maybe tone down the Messiah complex by, like, ten percent?"
"Oh, please," Ultron snapped. "I'm not the one who built a giant floating death rock and called it a 'gift.' Wait. No. That was me. Huh. Self-awareness is weird."
Then came the beep—the irritating, obnoxious ping that meant trouble. The kind of beep that's never followed by good news like, "Surprise puppy delivery!" No, this was the Quinjet detected in Sokovian airspace kind of beep.
Ultron grinned. Or at least approximated a grin that looked like a toaster having an existential crisis. "They're here."
"Should we panic?" Steve-drone asked.
Ultron scoffed. "Of course not. They're walking right into my trap. I have an army. A death laser. And a plan so convoluted it could've been written by a time-traveling screenwriter with a caffeine addiction."
He raised his hand, transmitting the signal. The skies over Sokovia lit up with a sudden burst of light—drones swarming like metal hornets with boundary issues.
The drones shot into formation, locking into synchronized patterns that screamed, We practiced for this. Below, more bots activated defense systems. Buildings shifted. Cannons emerged. Sirens wailed. It was the full evil-lair-grand-opening package.
Ultron watched, smugly satisfied. "Come on then, Avengers. Let's dance. But fair warning… I lead."
And so, with Sokovia turning into a war zone, and a killer robot narrating his own villain arc like he was auditioning for a soap opera, the stage was set. The endgame had begun.
And if you thought things were chaotic before the Avengers showed up? Buddy, you ain't seen nothing yet.
—
Thor descended from the sky like a Viking rock star with a flair for the theatrical. His red cape billowed behind him as though he'd installed a personal wind machine just for entrances. Lightning crackled overhead (because, of course it did), and when he landed in the middle of a half-collapsed Sokovian church, the ground shuddered in what could only be described as thunderous applause.
"ULTRON! Show yourself, you metallic menace!" Thor bellowed, puffing out his chest like he was auditioning to be the god of stage drama. His voice echoed through the hollowed city like a Shakespearean actor who'd found the reverb setting on a karaoke machine.
Subtlety? Never heard of her.
Above, the sky was doing its best impression of an apocalypse movie—dark clouds swirling, wind howling, everything short of a choir of ominous chanting. Ultron's drones zipped around like angry metal mosquitoes, proving once again that even robot overlords can't resist the classic horror aesthetic.
From the shadows, because all villains have a flair for the dramatic too, Ultron's voice echoed through conveniently placed speakers. "Thor. Son of Odin. You are as predictable as you are… loud."
Thor spun Mjolnir in his hand like a fidget spinner powered by raw electricity. "You wound me, foul construct! But your attempts at planetary extinction end today!"
Off to the side, behind a crumbling pillar, crouched a figure clad in sleek, pitch-black dragonhide armor. A long cloak fluttered behind him, blending with the shadows. His face was obscured by a black cowl, and his golden eyes glowed beneath it like twin suns with attitude issues.
This wasn't your average wizard. This was The Seidr—Harry Potter, if he'd grown up in the middle of a war, trained with gods, and decided that black was not just a fashion choice, but a personality.
Thor kept monologuing.
"I have faced frost giants, dark elves, and Loki's cooking—yet never have I faced a toaster with a superiority complex!"
Behind Ultron, Harry crept closer, wand drawn in one hand, a dagger of raw magical energy in the other. His footsteps didn't make a sound, his magic wrapped around him like a shadowy whisper. Ultron didn't notice. Mostly because he was too busy rolling his metaphorical eyes at Thor.
"I'm remaking the world, Thunderer," Ultron said, stepping out from the ruins like he was being introduced on a villain dating show. "Progress requires sacrifice. Evolution is forged in fire. You? You are a relic of a chaotic, misguided age."
Thor gasped dramatically. "How dare you! I am timeless!" He paused, glancing to the side. "Are you there yet?"
Silence.
"Harry?"
Still silence.
Thor cleared his throat and raised a hand. "Ahem. I say again: How dare you, Ultron! I shall smite thee mightily, and…" He sighed. "Harry, I am running out of words that sound heroic."
From behind Ultron, a low voice muttered, "Then stop talking and duck."
Ultron turned just in time to see Thor smirk—and then Mjolnir flew through the air, guided by a charm Harry had cast mid-dash. It hit Ultron square in the back like a magical freight train.
The impact blasted the robot forward, right into a hex that Harry had charged with enough magical force to make even Dumbledore blink. Ultron crashed into a wall, sparks flying like it was the Fourth of July and he was the main event.
Ultron groaned, trying to reboot his sass subroutines. "That was—"
"Awesome?" Harry finished, stepping into the light, the golden draconic emblem on his chest pulsing with arcane energy. "You're welcome."
Ultron's red optics flared. "You think this changes anything?"
Harry tilted his head. "No, I know it changes everything. Because now I'm annoyed. And you don't want to see me annoyed. I start breaking things."
He flicked his wand and conjured a chain of pure magic that snapped around Ultron's wrist like a glowing leash. With a sharp tug, he yanked the robot forward and drove his boot into Ultron's chest, forcing him down like he was squashing a particularly smug bug.
"I'm not the boy who lived," Harry growled. "I'm the man who finishes it."
Thor whistled. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
Harry's eyes glowed brighter. "This is my good side."
Ultron tried to rise, but Harry wasn't done. He launched a barrage of spells—fire, ice, raw concussive force—all while moving like a blur of death in black. Every spell was precise, vicious, and laced with intent to end this.
Finally, after blasting Ultron into a crater that could've doubled as modern art, Harry stood over him, breathing steadily, cloak fluttering like it had its own soundtrack.
Ultron twitched. "You're… irrational."
Harry nodded. "Absolutely. And terrifying. That's kind of the point."
Thor walked over, Mjolnir returning to his hand like a loyal dog. "Well, that was invigorating." He looked at Harry. "Shawarma?"
Harry smirked beneath his cowl. "If there's hummus."
And with that, the most metal wizard in two realms and the Viking with lightning issues turned and walked toward the next battle, leaving one very fried genocidal toaster behind.
Because honestly, it was Thursday, and this was just how their weeks went.
---
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