And I'm back, rested and largely recharged, having enjoyed Euro 2016, particularly the astonishing success of my team, Wales (I'm half English, half Welsh). Also job hunting in London, handling stuff for uni next year and the year after, having wisdom teeth removed and other medical stuff. Fun times.

Also, you may note that this epilogue comes in two parts. It's because it's too long for one.

The opinion poll on who you guys thought would be a good partner for Harry in the future has been closed.

Carol won by a fairly convincing margin, getting 45% of the vote. Diana was a fairly close second on 32%, Hermione was third on 10%, despite me repeatedly stating that she was not going to be paired with Harry – I suppose that a combo of people not having reached the first of my statements on the matter before voting, the open wording of the question and my own reputation for changing my mind (and thus the hope that it would apply here – sorry, it won't) played into it. Jean-Paul, Gwen Stacy and Uhtred brought up the rear, in that order, with about 13% between them. Thank you for your votes, they've been most interesting – seriously, almost half of the whole vote for Carol? I'm astonished – and rather pleased.

Guest: It has been pretty much a case of 'make it up as you go along' from day one. Sure, I have a grand plan… the details are just subject to change. A lot of change.

In Loki's view, Harry wasn't going anywhere and thus wasn't a particularly high priority. Once he'd taken over the world, he could claim his brother's son for his own and parade this fact in front of Thor – once he'd removed the block on Thor's memories. First things first and all that.

The Unfamiliar Familiar: Your PM function is blocked, so I'll respond here. First of all, thank you very much. As it is, we'll be seeing more of Ron and Hermione in Book II.

Hah! I suppose that you could say they are.

Fury, as it turned out, had to do a lot of very fast talking to prevent his immediate strangulation – by who it was uncertain, though Clint and Tony seemed most likely to snap. However, he didn't have to do half as much as might have been expected because of the presence of one very pertinent and attention grabbing person: Bucky Barnes a.k.a. the Winter Soldier.

Steve had stared at him for a long moment, then on seeing Bucky smile an uncertain, crooked smile, engulfed him in a tight hug, as if the last seven decades hadn't happened. But, of course, they had and in those decades, the Winter Soldier had carved out his dark legend. More than a few of those present had known people that the Soldier had killed or injured. A few had actually been injured by the Soldier.

The tension, however, had been broken by Strange.

"The Winter Soldier was a weapon in the hands of cruel masters," he said. "To be reprogrammed and reshaped to fit their needs and their desires. Every now and then, some humanity poked through. As a result, lives were spared." His gaze settled on Carol. "And lives were saved." His gaze shifted to encompass the rest of the Avengers. "And of any group in the world, you should understand the value of second chances."

The remaining tension, from the Asgardian contingent who had been fixing Bucky with universally cold looks, had been swept away by Thor. "You shot me," he said to the Soldier. "But you were under another's control when you did. You also saved the life of one of my dearest friends, as well as the life of one of my son's dearest friends, of your own will. Both times, you risked your own life to do it. Whenever you had your own mind, you sought to spare lives and destroy those who made themselves your masters, providing the information that ultimately allowed us to do so. While there will be a discussion of what has been done, for now, I have only one thing to say: thank you."

He stuck out a hand to Bucky, who stared at it in incomprehension before, at a gentle nudge from Steve, slowly shaking it. As he did, Thor made sure to look him in the eyes, before giving his family and friends a pointed look. There was another long moment, in which Odin's gaze flicked up and down Bucky, met his wife's in a speaking look, then both nodded ever so slightly. Loki, for his part, gave Barnes a cool look, then gave a faint nod of his own. And, with a wry smile, he added, "those in glass houses should not throw stones."

After that, while they were hardly embracing him and showering him with honours, the Asgardian contingent largely subsided, Thor's words and the rest of the royal family's tacit acceptance having a calming effect.

"Wait," Carol said slowly, having digested the prior revelation. "Hang on. When I got down off the mountain at Easter, that was you?"

Bucky paused, then nodded. "You needed help," he said, shrugging slightly. "And you reminded me of Stevie." He smiled a crooked smile. "Another dumb punk who just wouldn't stop picking fights with people bigger than them."

Steve glowered slightly at Bucky, before fixing Carol with a careful look, no doubt remembering what had been said before.

Carol, meanwhile, was stunned. "Oh my god," she said, stunned, then turned to the others. "Why didn't you say?"

Harry tugged his newly white forelock, stared at it in shock for a long moment, then exchanged a look with the others. "It wasn't exactly the easiest thing to explain," he said. "And then… stuff happened. There wasn't any good time. Or safe time. Also, why is my hair white?"

"HYDRA didn't know that he had turned," Natasha said. "If word had got out…"

"Okay," Carol said. "But, wait, you attacked the Helicarrier…"

"My mission was to sabotage it," Bucky said. "I sabotaged my sabotage. Where I could, I spared lives." His expression shadowed. "After that, HYDRA caught on."

"They enslaved you once more," Odin said, expression softening from its previous one of grudging acceptance and tempered hostility.

Bucky nodded tightly.

"Hey," Tony said. "I don't know about you guys, but this does not look like a party to me. Because that is the first priority." He paused. "Well, first priority is Pepper, then party."

"The two can be combined," Strange said, turning to Odin. "And I concur. Sire, may I suggest that, in the words of a Midgardian skald, 'we get this party started'?"

Carol leaned over to Harry. "Did he just…" she began.

"He did," Loki sighed.

"Stephen is an unending fount of three things: knowledge, enigmatic and irritating pronouncements and pop-culture references," Wanda said dryly. Dresden started whistling innocently in the background. Noticing, she added, "don't worry, it's charming on you, darling," and Dresden blushed horribly.

"A blusher?" Tony said, tone delighted and promising mischief – or at least, more mischief than usual, which was saying something. "I didn't think they came in your size – how does the blood reach your brain, Mister Beanstalk?"

Dresden, still somewhat red, smirked. "Magic," he said, wiggling his fingers mysteriously.

A glint appeared in Tony's eyes and he smirked a smirk of his own. "Were they out of opera cloaks at the cliché store when you got that dead cow you're wearing?" he riposted.

"I prefer organic products," Dresden said cheerfully. "Not artificial… prosthetics." His tone left no doubt about the implication, drawing a mixture of snickers and, from Loki, another sigh.

"True, but at least I'm not mistaken for someone cosplaying Clint Eastwood," Tony countered.

"Maybe, but with that colour scheme, you might be mistaken for a giant iPod."

"Oh, you didn't."

"Oh, I did."

The opening exchanges were over. Both men had established that they had encountered a worthy opponent. Consequently, they were now both grinning like sharks and a significant degree of foreboding. Coulson voiced the general consensus in a trademark matter-of-fact tone.

"We're doomed."

"In the interest of steering this conversation back on track," Loki said. "He does have a good point, father. I think we are all due a little celebration."

"Indeed we are," Sif said, appearing beside him. Not a moment later, her fingers interlaced with his. This did not go unmissed by any present, and those who had borne witness to the long saga of 'will they, won't they' breathed sighs of relief.

"I agree," Odin said. "We shall repair to Asgard. Everyone who has fought today is welcome at my table."

"Please," Lily said. "Allow me." Her smile turned impish. "I don't often get the chance to show off." She raised a hand and snapped her fingers. And just like that, they were in the great hall of the Royal Palace in Asgard.

"Dude," Carol said to Harry, thoroughly impressed. "Your mom has got moves."

Strange smiled the smile of one who has just been given the straightest of lines. "You want moves?" he asked, golden energy gathering around his hands in gleaming motes. "I'll give you moves." With a flourish, he cast the energy at a point in midair, and a pair of golden cracks opened up. The first allowed a certain Pepper Potts to uncertainly step through, with a gallant helping hand from the doctor. However, once she was through, she only had eyes for Tony, who pulled her into a tight yet extraordinarily careful hug, tears running down both their cheeks.

Out of the other, meanwhile, stepped Jean Grey, a little more certainly than Pepper. She looked tired, but all tiredness vanished when her eyes almost immediately settled on Harry and widened, as did Harry's own. For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Then, at a gentle push from his mother, Harry started forward, leading to Jean rushing over and pulling him into a breathless, ribcracking hug, tears rolling down both their cheeks.

The rest of the X-Men followed and reunions, some tearful, some not, and all joyous, took place – and a few introductions too.

And in the midst of it all, Strange quietly stepped aside, unnoticed by all but Odin, who followed him. "Everything has come together," he said. "As you promised. You are to be congratulated, Doctor."

"Thank you, sire," Strange said quietly. "But I would prefer that congratulations be deferred until I manufacture a day where everybody lives. However, I think that is beyond even my power, though I wish it were otherwise." He watched the happy reunions. "But," he added eventually. "Sometimes, once in a very long while, the universe gives me days like these. Days that gladden the heart and remind me just why we fight so hard and what we fight for."

"One thing that I learnt as a young man is that if you measure yourself by those you fail to save, then you will never know peace," Odin said.

Strange shrugged. "Perhaps not," he said. "But I am not simply self-flagellating for the sake of it. My failures, my inability to save some people… they prevent me from becoming complacent. From taking losses for granted and dismissing them simply as the cost of doing business." He shrugged. "But those are worries for another day."

"So they are," Odin said. "So they are."

OoOoO

The guests at what could only be called a victory feast were composed of the Avengers, the Asgardian royal family, the X-Men the Asgardian expeditionary force present at the battle of London and just about every living hero, soldier, Agent and sorcerer native to this time and reality who had fought in London, as well as an assorted sprinkling of others – as Thor was heard to remark, they'd have invited everyone else who had fought, but even Asgard's halls were only so large and its stores only ran so deep, especially when confronted with so many prodigious appetites celebrating one of the greatest battles in millennia and the survival of the universe itself.

Needless to say, however, it was one hell of a party.

Toasts were frequently proposed, often to the horribly blushing Harry, once the story of how he had near singlehandedly banished Chthon and healed the world got around – while he protested that he'd had help, no one was particularly inclined to listen, particularly not Major Chapman's detachment of the British Army, who remembered very clearly how Thor and Harry had pulled their fat out of the fire. Whether he liked it or not, he was very definitely the hero of the hour, first among very many – and mercifully for him, each hero was toasted in turn, many repeatedly.

Indeed, it was only because everyone was ravenous and therefore spent a lot of time eating that the mortal guests dodged the bullet of instant liver failure. Naturally, a few drinking games took place, with a group of the Parachute Regiment, better known as the Paras, taking on Volstagg in a valiant but ultimately doomed attempt to drink him under the table.

The guests numbered in the thousands, filling the palace's greatest feasting hall to bursting and, to an extent, overflowing, so to attempt to describe all of what happened would be pointless, long winded and full of unnecessary details. A short summary of some of the key players, however, would not go amiss.

Tony, surprisingly, stayed largely sober, his arm tightly around Pepper's wait. Much of his time was spent verbally sparring with Dresden, each side giving as good as they got and enjoying it immensely. And since Asgardians appreciated a quick wit as much as a quick sword, many were observing and, of course, taking bets on the outcome.

Bruce equally remained sober and spent much of his time in quiet discussion with Remus, some of which Sirius joined them for, before picking out his brother and pinning him down for at least the length of a conversation.

Rhodey was speaking to Warren, having detected – as just about everyone else had – that there was something a tad off about the young man at the moment. Similarly, Steve and Natasha had sandwiched Bucky, who was looking a little overwhelmed by it all. Looking perhaps even more uncomfortable, Jason Todd – Sword of Faith still at his side – was sitting with the other Knights of the Cross and Dane Whitman. Both of them felt profoundly out of place, and not without reason.

Magneto and Namor, meanwhile, were in quiet discussion, something watched closely by Fury, Colonel Summers, Sean Cassidy and Professor Xavier. Peter Wisdom was also keeping half an eye on the discussion, but was engaged in a careful one of his own with Prince T'Challa in which the latter broached the tricky subject of the stolen Vibranium. In the end, they agreed to a more substantive discussion later on and T'Challa moved on to join Bruce and Remus, the latter of whom was rather delighted at the opportunity for discussion with the Black Panther himself.

Carol and Bobby were enjoying a reunion and the former was introduced by the latter to Jean, the two teenage girls quickly getting into conversation about football – they were captains of two rival teams, after all. Jean-Paul, meanwhile, was enjoying the attentions of pretty much every Asgardian warrior who could squeeze into the circle around him, recounting how he had defeated – and probably vaporised – Gravemoss.

The Asgardians were delighted by tales of such a mighty feat of arms and Jean-Paul was delighted by being surrounded by so many handsome men. Needless to say, it worked out rather nicely for all the parties involved.

Diana and Uhtred, meanwhile, were with their respective families and quite clearly could not be happier – especially since Uhtred's siblings falling over themselves to praise his contribution and Hercules was loudly and proudly proclaiming Diana's contribution to the battle to her mother Hippolyta, her Aunt Athena and everyone else within earshot, which included about half the hall. Under the circumstances, though, no one really minded.

Wanda, for the most part, was amused by watching her boyfriend's verbal sparring with Tony, though every now and then she shot suspicious looks over at her father and somewhat anguished, guilt ridden ones at her godson and her back-for-the-occasion not-quite-dead best friend.

Thor, for his part, spent most of the time with Jane, though close enough to Harry that he didn't feel abandoned. The only reason that he hadn't placed himself between his son and his girlfriend to be equally accessible to both of them was because Lily was occupying much of Harry's attention. It was not every day that one's mother returned from the dead/descended from a higher plane, if only temporarily, and Harry was naturally trying to make the most of it. Of course, he was caught between bombarding her with questions, simply staring at her to fix her in his memory or hugging her as tightly as he could.

Since the two of them were telepaths, they found a middle ground – Harry snuggled up to his mother, while they spoke telepathically and Lily intermittently ensured that he ate. All, for the most part, were content and for the first time in most of a year, the sense of looming darkness had vanished entirely. The building storm had finally spent its wrath and to no avail.

This was not to say, however, that all was settled.

Wanda, for instance, found her eye caught by the flicker of red cloak and saw her mentor standing off to one side, body language indicating that he wanted to have a word. With a light touch of her boyfriend's shoulder to let him know what she was doing, she slipped away from the table and over to her mentor's side. For a long moment, there was silence.

"A few months ago," she said eventually. "You said that you might not be the Sorcerer Supreme much longer. Yet here you are, hale and hearty."

"And I quite easily might not have been," Strange replied. "The best laid plans of mice and men and all that."

Wanda fixed him with an unamused look and he sobered somewhat.

"It is true," he said. "I honestly did not know if I would survive this."

"Is that why you didn't you just say that Jean-Paul would be fine?" she asked. "Why you let Stark, let me, punch you?"

Strange nodded. "Things were so up in the air that even I couldn't be sure," he said. "I was almost certain, but only almost. And would any of you have believed me if I had told you?"

"Probably not," Wanda admitted.

Strange smiled faintly. "Quite," he said. "In any case, you at least needed to throw that punch. I think we can both agree that I've had it coming for quite some time. And besides, don't you feel better now?"

"I…" Wanda said, then sighed. "Yes."

Strange nodded.

"You have played us all like puppets, Stephen," Wanda said. "And even though it's all turned out well – certainly better than might otherwise be expected – and it might have been necessary… there are questions to be answered."

"I know," Strange said calmly. "I will explain my reasons soon enough."

"How soon is soon?"

"Next week," he replied. "Now, I must take my leave."

"So soon?"

"Parties aren't really my thing," Strange said. "And for all your godson's sterling work at stitching reality back together again…"

"There are still gaps between the stitches," Wanda said, nodding. "I'll get my coat."

"No," Strange said, shaking his head. "Stay. You have catching up to do and party to enjoy. There will be work enough for us all in time. For now… have some fun." And with that, he swept out.

OoOoO

Similarly, Natasha had drifted over to Magneto, once he had finished speaking to Namor. She sat down beside him and the pair of them looked out across the hall, watching the party.

"Mister Lehnsherr," she said, after a long moment.

"Agent Romanova," he replied. "It has been a long time."

"Why did you get involved?" she asked.

"Do I need a reason to do a good deed?" Magneto replied.

"No," Natasha conceded, inwardly reflecting that life with the Avengers had worn away at least some of her instinctive scepticism of altruism. "But on this scale? In this way? Risking revealing yourself to the world? Yes."

"For all my grievances against humanity, past and present, I have never been so blind as not to realise that this world belongs to all of us," Magneto said. "And we must protect it." He smiled faintly and glanced over at Harry, Jean-Paul, then Jean, Scott and Bobby. "Besides, some of my people are here and I would be a poor guardian of the mutant race if I did not stand in their protection as best I could." His gaze shifted to Wanda. "And for all my flaws and failures, I am still a father." His grey eyes then drifted to Steve. "You could also say that it is the season for the repaying of debts," he added cryptically.

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"When Captain Rogers liberated Auschwitz," Magneto said quietly. "Among many others, he saved a little boy called Erik. That little boy owed him a debt. And it has been paid."

Natasha nodded her acceptance. "Where are you planning to go from here?" she asked.

"For the most part," Magneto said. "I think that I will have my hands full. Today has revealed to the world that superhumans exist in numbers that they had not previously imagined. Governments will be looking for ways to better defend themselves against rogue superhumans and what better way to do that than with superhumans of their own? Directors Fury and Wisdom, and the Avengers, have demonstrated the effectiveness of that stratagem."

"You think that mutants will be hunted and exploited," Natasha said.

"Natasha, I think we both know far better than most that there is no doubt about it," Magneto said. "Charles is content to be mutantkind's shield and so I must be their sword, no matter who comes for them."

There was a faint warning in his tone, a veiled threat that Natasha noted. "Understood," she said. "And Namor?"

"Namor is similarly suspicious and desirous of protecting his people," Magneto said. "He was feeling out an alliance between us." He looked Natasha in the eye. "SHIELD has nothing to fear from me, not unless they cross certain lines. I have no appetite for a war."

"But Namor is different," Natasha said.

"Namor is paranoid," Magneto said.

Natasha arched an eyebrow and Magneto chuckled.

"It takes one to know one," he said. "Or two, even." Then he sobered. "He has assisted thus far and he is an honourable man, even a good one, in his own way. But. He is a king, a king of Atlantis, and his realm comes first. What with the environmental pollution affecting his realm and his historically hair trigger temper, I think a flashpoint could come sooner rather than later."

"Maybe," Natasha said. "He mentioned something about internal trouble, too. Something about Lemuria, how it was stirring for the first time in millennia."

Magneto frowned. "Lemuria," he murmured. "That is a name that I have not heard before. But if it worries Namor, who is hardly one to jump at shadows…"

"Then we could have a very serious problem," Natasha finished.

Magneto nodded. "Something to think about, then," he said. "I had best be off, I think, after I pay my respects to our hosts and to Charles. And then…" His gaze shifted to Wanda, then back again. "In any case, good day to you, Agent Romanova."

"And to you, Mister Lehnsherr."

OoOoO

Magneto's next stop was somewhat less cordial and only marginally less guarded.

"Wanda?" he asked.

"Yes?" she asked sharply. This drew the attention of her boyfriend, who – to his credit – managed to refrain from noticeably gulping.

"May I have a word?" he asked. "In private?"

Wanda eyed him as the others tensed, then nodded. "Very well," she said, and followed him off to one side, before gesturing. A shimmering bubble surrounded them.

"All right, father," Wanda said, voice cold, in the bubble of time. "What are you doing here?"

"Your powers have grown, my daughter," Magneto said, glancing at the frozen surroundings outside the bubble, impressed. "And your control of them is incredibly precise. You could not step outside time, let alone take someone with you, when last we saw each other."

"No thanks to you," Wanda said evenly.

Magneto sighed. This was not going to be easy. "I had no choice, Wanda," he said, with the long suffering tone of someone who has had this argument many times before. "I did not have the first idea of how to help you control your powers. Charles and Albus tried, but they could do little more than calm you and suppress your abilities, which they warned me would prove catastrophic in the long run. I had leave you with Strange for your safety and everybody else's. It was that or put you in some form of isolation, and that would have left you easy prey for those who sought to use you for their own ends."

Wanda gave him a grim look that said she acknowledged this, but she was damned if she was going to be happy about it.

"Besides," he continued. "You had to leave your own godson under similar circumstances."

Wanda's grass green eyes went cold and hard as chips of glass.

"I had no choice," she hissed furiously, crimson power crackling around her hands, taking a threatening step towards her father. "And you will stay away from him, or there will be a reckoning, father. Do you hear me?"

"Neither did I," he replied quietly, bowing his head slightly. "I had only just found you again, Wanda. Did you really think that I wanted to let you go?" He gestured towards Harry. "Remember how you felt when you were forced to give him up. Now imagine that you'd just managed to get custody of him again and had to give him up to an uncertain future because if you did not he would go insane with his own power! Imagine that, my daughter."

He shook his head tiredly. "Giving you up was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I always have, and always will, regret it. I desperately wanted to be there for you, even if I was not always good at showing it. Stephen warned me what would happen if I did not let you go. You would go mad, and the whole world would suffer for it. He swore to me on his power that he knew this to be true. And he swore to me that he would protect you." He met Wanda's gaze. "In your case, it was harder. At least I was giving you into the hands of a man I knew would be kind. You, on the other hand, with the boy… you had no such comfort."

Wanda stared at him for a long moment, then lowered her hands, power dissipating. "What a fine pair we make," she said, voice low. "I vowed that I wouldn't do what you did, that I would never give up a child in my care…" she absently clutched at her cloak, pulling it around her. "And yet I did. Twice."

Magneto laid a hand on her shoulder. "And neither was your fault. Your daughter would have been at horrendous risk if you had kept her, especially if it was known that Constantine was the father. And if you could not keep her, you could hardly keep Harry, who would have been under even greater threat," he said gently. "We all must do things that we do not wish to. Things that hurt."

"I know," Wanda said, voice low. "I'm not a child, father. And I don't mind doing them if the only one paying the price is me. But both times, it wasn't." If you looked closely, you could see tears on her face. "I just wish… I wish that I had found another way. I could have sent her to live with you, or Charles, or even Moira."

"But you did not trust me, and that is something I can hardly blame you for," he replied gently. "And you know as well as I do that at the time, Charles had enough problems with Wolverine and the Weapon X Project, ones that he barely surived, while Moira had yet to establish her base at Muir Island. And then there was the fallout from the Krakoa Incident, which encompassed all of us."

Wanda nodded. "I do," she said. "They and the knowledge that my daughter and godson are happy now helps with the guilt. But I don't think it ever goes away. Does it, father?"

Magneto looked away. "No," he said quietly. "No, it does not."

Wanda nodded. "And that is the way it should be," she said.

Her father smiled sadly. "My little girl, all grown up. Even after all this time, it still takes some getting used to." He turned away. "And never fear, my dear. My only interest in your godson was to indirectly pay off a debt long owed. Now honours are even, and I shall leave him be. I promise."

Wanda gave him a long, careful look, then said, "Very well. I'll hold you to that. Goodbye, father."

"Goodbye, Wanda. Until next time."

She lifted the spell.

"Oh, and Wanda?"

"Yes?"

"I am glad," Magneto said. "To see you looking so well."

Wanda eyed him for a long moment, then nodded slightly, the frost of her expression fading. "And I you, father," she said, in somewhat softer tones.

It was not a reconciliation, as such. But perhaps it was a détente. And, his heart somewhat lighter, her father nodded, then made his exit.

OoOoO

I watched as Magneto left, grey cloak swirling in his wake, and shivered. I'd been nervous of him before, simply thanks to the long shadow he cast. But now, having seen him in action, wielding power that was quite literally god-like… I mean, hells bells, he crushed that massive HYDRA helicarrier like it was made of tinfoil!

And he'd had plenty left in the tank afterwards, judging by the glimpses I'd caught of him in the midst of the battle. Enough to, unless I was very much mistaken, take on all comers and carry on a conversation at the same time.

Moreover, as soon as I'd seen him, I'd recognised him. I'd never met him in purpose, of course. Until today, not many people had done so and lived to tell the tale. Usually, if you're running into Magneto, you've crossed one of his people and he's about to make you pay for it. But I had seen him before, during my Soulgaze with Wanda. He had been one of the two… incarnations of her inner demons, I suppose, which made sense under the circumstances. The other had been even more frightening.

Point is, Magneto scares me witless, as he does pretty much anyone with a brain. And that's before I take into account the fact that I'm dating/apprenticed to his daughter. Still, the fact that he didn't fry my brain straight off was encouraging, probably because I compared favourably with the alternative, John Constantine.

I stood up and made my way over to Wanda's side, joining her in the shadowed alcove, as she watched her father leave. She and he had apparently spoken for only an instant before he left, but both a lingering sense of power and her body language suggested that it had been rather longer for them.

"So," I said eventually. "That was your dad."

"Yes," Wanda said. "Yes it was."

I opened my mouth, considered what to say next, then opted for honesty. "He scares me," I said.

Wanda sighed. "He scares most people," she said. "And with good reason." She looked up at me, smiled, and took my hand. "Don't worry. He won't hurt you. If he tries, I'll turn him inside out."

I blinked. It was something of a novelty to be on the receiving end of such protectiveness. It wasn't completely new – Murph had made it clear to Wanda what would happen if she hurt me, something that my girlfriend/sensei accepted with total equanimity, and Wanda herself had told her father to back off little more than an hour ago. Many men would find that somewhat emasculating. As I am not insecure about my masculinity or an idiot, I did not, and found it… well, actually kind of pleasant. Historically speaking, I haven't had that many people in my corner, people who would stand up and say, 'back off'. Those who have I value and cherish because I know that they would go to the wall for me, as I would for them. And it's always good to have one more.

"Wanda?" I asked.

"Yes?" she said.

I grimaced, well aware that I was about to step onto very thin ice. "John Constantine -"

"Believe me, Harry, any fuzzy feelings I had for John are long dead," Wanda said.

"I wasn't worried about that," I said. And I wasn't - Wanda's attitude to Constantine had been a mixture of profound wariness and borderline hatred. "I was just wondering about how you got mixed up with him. And what happened."

"Why do you ask?" Wanda said, a hint of wariness in her tone.

That was actually a pretty good question and I thought for a moment. "I've heard the stories," I said eventually. "About Constantine. When I was younger, one or two people on the Council, people who didn't like me very much, compared me to him." This was something that actually worried me. While the Council had – and arguably still did – regarded me as Darth Dresden, merely waiting for the right opportunity to unleash a tidal of Warlocky evil, and I had consequently learnt to ignore most of the suspicious looks and whispers, that was one that stuck with me.

John Constantine was widely reputed as a dangerous man, one who danced on the edges of the Laws, made deals with creatures from the darker end of the moral spectrum and manipulated allies and enemies alike into doing his bidding. I'd wandered close to the edges of the Laws before too. I'd made deals with beings like the Leanansidhe, the somewhat psychotic and unbelievably deadly right hand woman of Mab a.k.a. the Queen of Air and Darkness a.k.a. She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Hell, I'd made deals with Mab herself, and Lara Raith, who was now de facto ruler of the White Court of Vampires thanks in large part to yours truly. I'd summoned demons and made deals with them too. And while most people thought of me as a magical thug, and with good reason, I was uncomfortably aware that I'd had a gift for manipulation too, something remarked upon by the aforementioned Lara Raith, herself a centuries old master manipulator and now the queen of entire nation that lived and breathed backstabbing and manipulation. And since she'd remarked on it after I'd played her and her father, previously the King of said nation of backstabbers and manipulators, now a literal puppet on his daughter's strings – and believe me, you do not want to know how he wound up that way – like a harp, it was hard to disagree with her.

Point being: there were similarities.

"You're worried that you're like him?" Wanda asked, eyebrow arched.

"No," I said. "Well, maybe a little bit. Actually, quite a lot." I sighed. "It's also… he hurt you. He did something that hurt you very badly, and…"

"You want to hat up and make him pay?" Wanda asked, other eyebrow rising. This question sounded more testing.

"No," I said again. "Well, maybe a little bit. But mostly, I want to help, because it's clear as day that whatever he did is still hurting you. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. But…" I trailed off. Wanda's expression softened. Then, she leaned up and kissed me on the cheek.

"You," she said quietly. "Are a very good and a very sweet man, Harry Dresden. And you are not like John, because you care. Because you worry about these sort of things. Because when you say things like that, you are sincere." Her expression shadowed. "And John… I think that somewhere along the line, he found that it was too painful to care, too distracting to worry. And too difficult to be sincere. I saw your soul, Harry, and I saw a man who would sacrifice himself for others in a heartbeat. John might sacrifice himself, but not before he exhausted all the other options first – including throwing someone else under the proverbial bus. You see people as people. Somewhere along the line, John stopped doing that and started seeing them as pawns. He is an extremely dangerous man and in my opinion, a thoroughly nasty piece of work. Something made all the more tragic by the fact that he was once, and perhaps still is somewhere deep down inside, a good man."

I listened in silence, waiting while Wanda gathered herself.

"When I met him, he was that good man," she said. "He wasn't unusually powerful, handsome or even a particularly talented fighter. But he was very, very clever. He's forgotten more about demonology than most people have ever known, he's a rare wanded wizard with a gift for some aspects of the wandless art, a gift he developed on his own. He's even charming, in his own rough sort of way."

She smiled wryly. "And I was charmed. I was charmed by his wit, his daring, his cunning, the grime and the grit. He was the Laughing Magician, the Demonsbane, the Hellblazer. Even the Fae think twice before making a bargain with John Constantine. I was charmed by his legend as much as the man himself. And I was so charmed that I forgot what he used that charm for."

She looked at me. "You see, before he is anything else, John Constantine is the world's greatest conman," she said, in a matter of fact tone. "Because of his charm, among other things - including a distinct talent for legilimency, wanded mind magic - the only person I've ever met who was better at pulling other people's strings was Stephen Strange himself, though a certain Peter Wisdom would be in for a shout on that score." She smiled grimly. "That last, now that was his real gift. Where he couldn't fight himself, he got other people to fight for him, to sacrifice themselves for his own ends. He used their goodness as a weapon, against them and against his enemies."

"Did he do that to you?" I asked quietly.

Wanda snorted. "Did he ever," she said. "It got to the point where I wondered if he ever saw me as anything other than a good lay and a useful weapon."

At that point, my inner Neanderthal got control of my voicebox and let out an incoherent growl.

Wanda chuckled, not unkindly. "It's okay," she said. "It's long been over between us and the pain he caused me is long buried. I think that he did care for me, as much as he was capable of doing so." She shrugged. "Besides, he wasn't that way to begin with. When I met him, he was still a good man. He, Nick Fury and Sirius Black, they were the three rogues of the Order of the Phoenix - the wanded group that fought the wanded Warlock Voldemort."

She smiled faintly. "The three of them were as thick as thieves, always up to something. James, Thor, sometimes joined them, but Lily kept him on a leash, and in any case, he was smartening up and growing up in general, focusing on his family." Her smile faded. "As a result, I'm not sure if he really saw what John became. Considering how it seemed to surprise him when he saw how Nick had changed, when Nick was a good deal closer to Lily and James than John was, I don't think he did. Because as the war ground on, as we fought against what seemed to be an inevitable, unstoppable force, as we were forced to make more compromises... those three grew darker."

She paused for a long moment, as if considering what she was going to say. "It was least obvious with Sirius, though his wilder side became more apparent and he started taking more risks," she said. "He, James and their friends, they had been known as the Marauders at school, for their pranks and mischief, the chaos they caused. Sirius began to be called the Marauder himself, and he caused chaos all right, but of a nastier kind."

She paused. "Nicholas, our SHIELD liaison and spymaster, having the near impossible task of trying to outwit and outmanoeuvre his older, more experienced and infinitely better resourced counterpart, Lucius Malfoy, steadily grew darker, grimmer and much more ruthless," she said. "Once, he smiled easily. Soon, though, only Lily, the closest thing he had to a sister, and her son Harry, could make him smile. And even then, that smile was a shadow of the thing it once was."

Her expression shadowed. "But John... John put them both to shame. He stated to go down darker and darker paths. He walked the very edges of magic, consulting with dark creatures, doing deals with demons. And not just for information, either. More than once, we had visits from the Wardens. All that ever did was make him refine his approach, treading on the very edge of the Laws. Albus, Albus Dumbledore, tried to call him to heel, but John told him that he as long as he was the one who did the Order's dirty work on the demonology front, he would do it his way and no one else's. And every day, the war got darker." She went silent for a long time. And when she finally spoke again, her quiet, calm voice seemed much more raw, much more painful. On instinct, I reached out and squeezed her hand, getting a tired smile in response. "Then, John did something I could not forgive, something that broke my trust in him forever."

"What?" I asked quietly.

Wanda sighed. "I…" she began, then trailed off and sighed again. "I am sorry, Harry," she said eventually. "But talking about it brings back a lot of painful memories. And I don't think that I am ready to share them."

I nodded. "I've got a few of those," I said.

Wanda smiled sadly. "I'm sure you do," she said. "For now, let us just say that John didn't merely betray me. He tricked me into sending an innocent man, a friend of us both, to his death."

Normally, I'm a fairly talkative guy, usually because running my mouth is a good way to distract people while I'm thinking my way out of trouble. It annoys my friends and enemies no end, which is kind of what it's meant to do. I can listen, though, which is what I'd been doing, keeping my tongue on a leash. Now, however, I couldn't have spoken if I'd wanted to. I was struck dumb.

So instead, I squeezed her hand in a non-verbal show of support.

Wanda smiled, more warmly this time. "That's enough wallowing in the darkness of the past," she said, stepping into the light of the rest of the hall. "We've beaten the darkness and for now, the present is bright and the future is brighter. And I, for one, am minded to enjoy it."

I felt a smile of my own coming on. "You know what? So am I."

OoOoO

"Well," Harry said eventually, as the feast began to wind down – or at least, the eating parts did. The drinking was just getting warmed up. "That was... interesting."

The kids had congregated once more, slipping away from their various admirers – though Harry himself was still attached to his mother's side.

"Kind of fun, actually," Carol said. "As world saving goes. Four out of five, would do again." She smiled a warm, happy smile. "I got to fly," she said. "No plane, no armour, no nothing. Just me, living the dream." She chuckled. "And I'd do it all again, twice, just for another five minutes in the air."

"Not any time soon mes cheris, thank you very much," Jean-Paul said firmly. He seemed to have solidified once more and returned to his prior self. But if you looked closely at his eyes, really looked… you would see a flash of golden lightning.

"It was most glorious," Uhtred said cheerfully. "We did battle with the foulest of forces and emerged triumphant."

"I enjoyed it," Diana said. "Mostly." She smiled. "I got to see my dad again."

"I got to meet my mother," Harry said softly. He smiled. "So, yeah. I'd do it again." He cocked his head. "And flying was cool."

"What about having all of reality in the palm of your hand?" Carol asked, eyebrow raised.

"Pass," Harry said. "One thing I found out is that if you make one change of any real significance to the past, the ripple effect is crazy. You'd spend more time tweaking the past than enjoying the results." He looked at them all. "For instance, if I'd changed something... I'd probably never have met most of you, even any of you. And if I had and I remembered what I'd changed, you probably wouldn't. And I wouldn't know you." He thought for a moment. "I wouldn't know anyone, really: dad, uncle Loki, Ron, Hermione, Tony, Bruce, Pepper, Nat, Steve, Clint... none of them. I'd lose more than I'd gain." He paused. "And... I don't think anyone has that right, to just reach out and change things on a whim. Or at least, not unless they really know what they're doing,"

"And you don't?" Uhtred asked.

"Not a clue," Harry said cheerfully. "Also, if I'd gone through with it, Chthon would have pounced and used me warping reality to turn it all inside out, and that would not have been fun."

"And the award for understatement of the millennium goes to..." Carol said dryly.

"Oh, I can think of one that might beat that one out."

All of them looked up to see a woman in a white, battle damaged version of Natasha's jump suit. She was, as Harry was somewhat uncomfortably aware, a very attractive woman, something that the dirt and dishevelment of battle only seemed to enhance. She also looked somewhat familiar, with blonde hair cut in a neat bob, cornflower blue eyes and a strong face, upon which was an amused smile.

"Sharon?" Carol asked, stunned.

"Fancy meeting you here, little cousin," Sharon said, enfolding the younger woman in a hug. "You know, I always knew you had a talent for getting yourself into sticky situations - you didn't need to prove it." She leaned back. "Or is it just teenage rebellion, a need to go bigger and better? Because I can tell you right now, you'll have trouble going bigger and better than this.

"Sharon," Carol complained, darting a glance at the others.

Sharon noticed and smirked. "Or maybe it's because there are cute boys involved," she said.

"Sharon!"

"I'm just teasing," Sharon said, affectionately ruffling her cousin's hair, eliciting a scowl. "Though they are kinda cute." Her eyes drifted down to the way Uhtred and Jean-Paul's hands were interlaced. "Though two of them are spoken for." Her gaze shifted to Harry and her eyes twinkled. "Leaving a young man who looks like trouble even if you don't know who he is."

"Do I look like trouble?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Jean-Paul said, eyes half-shut. "Oblivious and very cute trouble, but still trouble." His lips curved into a smile. "It's one of your better points, mon cher."

"Thanks. I think," Harry said. "Carol?"

Carol went a little pink. "Kinda, yeah," she said.

"Speaking of looking like trouble, my dad called," Sharon said pointedly.

Carol winced. "What did he say?"

"His exact words, which he told me to pass on, were: 'Carol Susan Jane Danvers, you have no idea how much trouble you're in'."

"I'm for it, then," Carol said fatalistically.

"You went straight into an active warzone and picked up a super weapon with the destructive capabilities on par with Mjolnir," Sharon said. "And you got to fly, without a plane. Right now, he's stuck between worry, relief and total jealousy. So, yeah, you are."

Carol's face scrunched up as she grimaced, then glanced at the others. "You think I could get away with blaming this on Doctor Strange?" she asked.

"You might," Lily said, with dry smile. "It would have the advantage of being true."

Carol nodded. "I did help, you know," she said to her cousin.

Sharon smiled. "I know, cuz," she said. "And he knows. Believe me, he's so proud he could burst. But he's also worried as hell. You're good, Carol, you're tough, you're talented and you know how to handle yourself. But you're also completely untrained and you threw yourself straight into one of the most vicious battles in history. It wouldn't have been easy for him to watch that without being able to do anything – he's used to being able to protect you."

"What about you?" Carol asked, frowning.

Sharon looked wry. "It wasn't exactly a cakewalk for me, either."

"Not what I meant," Carol said.

"I know. He taught me the basics, hand to hand, gun safety, that sort of thing, after Charlie," Sharon began, before cutting herself off, expression shadowing. She shook her head. "Look, it's not so much about you getting in trouble, it's about you being untrained."

"Why didn't he teach me?" Carol asked.

"I asked once," Sharon said. "Your mom said no. She didn't want you being part of the family business."

"Family business?" Carol asked, blinking.

"Yeah," Sharon said. "I'm not the first Agent 13, you know. It used to be grandma."

Carol stared, jaw hanging loose. "Grandma?!"

"She's the little sister of Peggy Carter, Carol," Sharon said. "What did you expect?"

"Yeah," Harry said slowly. "About that…"

Carol shot him a quelling look and, at her cousin's expression, sighed and said, "Grandma isn't Peggy Carter's much younger sister. She's her daughter. By Captain America."

"We checked," Harry added helpfully.

Sharon stared at them for a long moment, then snorted. "Guess that explains a few things," she said. At Carol's surprised expression at her relative lack of reaction, she said, "I can freak out later." Then, her expression sharpened. "The serum is in you? And active?"

Carol nodded. "It was dormant," she said. "Easter gave it a kick in the pants. I'm a super soldier."

"Super soldiers aren't bulletproof," Sharon said.

Carol grimaced, but didn't disagree. "I did get a little training," she said. "Well, a kind of crash course. You know, in how to use that ring."

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "The last person on record as wielding that ring – and yes, I know exactly what it is – was Agent Scott. He is the only one who could have given you a crash course and he's been dead for several years now."

Carol opened her mouth, then closed it, not wanting to explain to her cousin – and then her uncle – how she had technically died, something that would doubtless result in the eruption of Mount Jack O'Neill and the retasking of a significant number of US and NATO military assets to the tracking and incineration of one Doctor Stephen Strange.

"I've been dead for over a decade, technically speaking," Lily pointed out, shooting Carol a knowing look. "Today is a day when the borders between things that are usually absolute; life and death, past and present, and so on, have been blurred."

Sharon inclined her head. "Fair point," she admitted, before looking back at Carol. "Anyway, cuz, ignoring how scary it was seeing you out in the field like that… you did good. Scratch that, you did amazing."

They were simple words, but Carol, a girl usually more at home with smirks and wry or sardonic grins, did not so much smile as beam.

OoOoO

Harry, meanwhile, did not have to worry so much about scolding from worried relatives, since Jean had been more preoccupied with hugging him to death and back. He stayed by his mother's side as if glued there, clinging to her in the manner of a much younger child – something that at first sight rendered amusing by the fact that he was now somewhat taller than she was. At second, however, it was tragic. After all, this was the first and only time in his entire life that he could remember being held by his mother, the second time in his memory that he had heard her voice.

Others came over to join them, mostly to speak to Lily, but soon departed, leaving mother and son to their reunion. And with the exception of chatting to friends, that was that.

Naturally, this closeness made the parting all the more painful.

"Please," Harry whispered in a tiny, almost inaudible voice. "Don't go."

"Oh sweetheart… if I could stay, I would. I would stay forever, because every moment I am with you is worth more than all the wonders in the universe," Lily said, tears running down her cheeks. "But I can't. I have a job to do, one that I chose to do in order to save you, and one that needs to be done."

She raised a hand and gently cupped Harry's cheek. "I love you so much, Harry. I have to go, but a part of me will always be with you." She laughed sadly, then rolled her wrist and a golden-red aura flared around Harry, dancing like flames. "And a bit more literally than most: there is a little piece of the Phoenix in you. It will be there for you, protect you, when I cannot."

Harry said nothing, but hugged her as tightly as he could, a hug his mother reciprocated. Then, she gave him a final, lingering kiss on the crown of his head and faded away into a cloud of golden sparks which themselves then vanished. And Harry, tears in his eyes, could only cling to his father and weep at this parting.

OoOoO

In time, however, he came to terms with it, as other items were pushed up the agenda. Notably, recognition.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, puzzled. They were in the living room of an old and elegant Mansion in New York, apparently where Tony had grown up, which had been refurbished as a stand-in for the still under repair Avengers Tower.

"We're up for a few medals," Clint said, before meaningfully looking at the kids.

"Wait, we're included in this?" Carol asked, stunned.

"We fought valiantly against forces of true evil," Uhtred said, as if this was all perfectly logical.

"And nearly died doing it," Diana added.

"Well, yeah," Harry said, sharing a confused look with Carol. "Of course the Avengers would get awards. But..."

"But nothing," Clint said. "No one particularly wants to publicise your involvement, because of your age - even if everyone knows that you, Harry, were there because they recognised you from the tv footage. But you're each up for a few medals."

"Like what?" Carol asked.

"Off the top of my head?" Clint asked. "The George Cross, the Legion d'Honneur and the Presidential Medal of Freedom."

"You are shitting me," Carol said in shock, to puzzled looks from Uhtred and Diana. Jean-Paul, as ever, translated.

"Shitting as in bullshitting, mes cheris," he said. "Meaning lying. Carol is expressing disbelief. Emphatically."

"Why?" Diana asked.

"Because the George Cross and the Presidential Medal of Freedom are the highest civilian honours Britain and the United States can award," Clint said. "Second only to the Victoria Cross and the Medal of Honour. And the George Cross is usually limited to citizens of Britain and the British Commonwealth, which of you five only Harry is, through his mother."

"And the Legion d'Honneur is the highest accolade offered by the French Republic," Jean-Paul said. "Each is... something of a big deal."

"That's one way to put it," Harry said, somewhat uneasily.

"You're up for the Order of Merlin too, Harry," Clint added. "First Class."

"What?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Yup," Clint said, and grinned. "Come on, kid, it's hardly surprising."

"It is to me," Harry said faintly.

"You think that's a shock, you, your dad and your uncle are all up for honorary knighthoods," Clint said, clearly enjoying himself.

"WHAT?!"

"Don't be so surprised," Natasha said, having ghosted her way over. "Foreign royalty are often invested with honorary knighthoods. The only difference is that you three have earned it." She smiled. "And you think that you're shocked, you should have seen Steve when he was told that he was going to get a full knighthood."

"What is the difference?" Diana asked, puzzled.

Natasha's smile turned into a smirk. "Steve's parents came to America from Ireland in the early 20th century. Steve was born in 1918 and he was born in the US, making him a US citizen," she said.

"So?" Carol asked.

"So Ireland was part of the British Empire until 1922," Natasha said. "What everyone has just realised is that Steve technically holds joint citizenship. And as in this case, is eligible for a full knighthood." She glanced over her shoulder and her smirk widened. "He's still in shock."

OoOoO

As for the rest of the world, the primary reaction was relief. HYDRA had been crushed, the Avengers had returned and the mysterious red skies had been banished, the disasters they had brought with them undone.

And the papers had predictably gone crazy. The narrow aversion of the apocalypse had that effect.

Of the more serious and cool-headed papers, some had focused on the implications of the rearmed Belfast, being cautiously favourable – it had proved its usefulness by providing a deadly effective aerial screen and engaging in an extended duel with the Dreadnought, but the fact that a museum ship and national treasure was now armed to the teeth and had been hiding in plain sight in the heart of London was more than a little unsettling.

Others had focused on the revelation that Thor was not the only person who could wield Mjolnir, with the Guardian leading with the headline, Avengers Assemble: heroes gather to topple HYDRA.

The Economist did a special issue which charted the increases in military expenditure following the Battle of New York, compared defence strategies of the US, Britain, France, Germany, Russia, Japan, India and China, and noted how this expenditure was thoroughly ineffective so long as it was directed towards conventional warfare. Instead, it advocated the advancement of funding for MI13 and similar organisations, on the grounds that they had been the only ones to deal with the HYDRA menace even close to effectively.

It also discussed the fact that Mjolnir was, however temporarily, wielded by an unknown woman who had faded back into the background as soon as the battle was over. Finally, it did an article on the fact that this was the second recorded major superhuman attack on British soil and wondered if there had been others.

Eastern papers had expressed what could politely be called severe disgruntlement at being dragged into/being caught up in the overspill of what they deemed to be a fight between western powers and would-be powers – in other words, nothing to do with them. As was pointed out, however, HYDRA weren't exactly respecters of international borders, and ancient Elder Gods from before time certainly weren't.

They had also wondered, quite loudly, why the world seemed to be exclusively depending on western superheroes and western gods to defend it, and why this was so. This was actually a fair question, but one as yet without an answer – save for the fact that Asgard was in many ways possibly the closest divine realm to Earth.

Many others, meanwhile had asked some similarly pertinent questions.

It had not been two years since Captain America's testimony and historical record had pinpointed HYDRA, a Nazi deep science organisation, as the driving force behind the technological advances of the Nazi war machine. The news that they had nearly succeeded in bombing America back to the stone age with weaponry more powerful than anything short of the most powerful nuclear bombs had unnerved people to put it mildly.

Aside from Pearl Harbour, there had been no major attacks on mainland America during World War II. It was terrifying to imagine that not only had America narrowly avoided being the victim of a bombing raid that would have made the London Blitz and the Firebombing of Dresden combined look like a small firecracker, but the organisation behind it was still active.

That fear had been assuaged somewhat by the firm belief on the part of the general population that HYDRA was dead and buried. In the East, little enough thought had been given to it – HYDRA, after all, had been primarily a Western phenomenon and, though it had had involvement on the Eastern Front, a Western problem prior to its destruction in the 40's.

Those in the know knew better on both parts – HYDRA was a much more multinational organisation than its history with Nazi Germany would imply, a much older one as well, and one that had survived its supposed obliteration at the end of the war. Reduced, perhaps, restricted, perhaps, but still something of a threat, albeit one denied most of its bite.

Then, they had come under new leadership and made new alliances, transforming into something much more dangerous, erupting from the darkness to sow chaos. This new HYDRA wielded weapons both mystical and mundane with equal ease, assault teams appearing from nowhere to carve through any defence arrayed against them. The juggernaut of SHIELD couldn't stop them. Even the previously all-powerful Avengers were helpless, left floundering, by HYDRA's lightning fast and efficient raids. And, adding an extra dimension of terror to proceedings, most of those raids were spear-headed by a Cold War legend, the Winter Soldier.

In direct conflicts, HYDRA was swiftly crushed, but when acting indirectly, striking from the shadows, they were untouchable and were entirely indifferent to who their targets were. Every nation, every group, that had or pretended to power was fair game. East and West alike felt the apparently irresistible wrath of HYDRA. Suddenly, they were everyone's problem. Then, the Avengers fell, SHIELD was crippled and HYDRA were ascendant, the world at their mercy. And when that was so… they nearly destroyed it. They were defeated, of course, by a rag-tag alliance of freed Avengers, an MI13 assault team specially convened for the purpose and a selection of other superpowered specialists, or so it was assumed.

While there was more to this story than met the eye, the details didn't matter to a terrified world. They were acutely aware that this was a battle in which they had been helpless. Oh, there were stories of human ground troops, fighter pilots and, of course, the Belfast, from the British Armed Forces. And there was MI13, a good portion of whose Agents were human and were seen fighting. But the bulk of the battle was fought between heroes and villains, gods and monsters, angels and demons. It was fought on an entirely different level.

Then, it went even further out of reach, when the sky turned red and the world began to convulse as if someone had got to the base code of reality and hit the button marked 'randomise'. You could shoot monsters, after all. Perhaps not very effectively, but they were visible, tangible and comprehensible, if only barely. But this… no one was quite sure what had happened – oh, they knew that something had gone wrong there were figures who had appeared alongside the demons and monsters and natural disasters, heroes, quite apart from those who fought in London, who worked to save lives. But they didn't know what had happened, what HYDRA had done. And they didn't know how it was undone, which it had been, as if someone had just waved a hand and said, "No more."

The Avengers and MI13 had simply said that HYDRA had laid hands on an ancient mystical artefact called 'the Darkhold', used its powers to fuel their ascension, before losing control of it. It was, apparently, then destroyed, undoing the worst of its effects. And so were HYDRA. According to the Avengers, HYDRA had been reduced to a fraction of its former strength for a long time thanks to a global SHIELD operation that had purged all known HYDRA bases. Ever since, HYDRA had been relying on its vast technological and mystical advantage and carefully planned attacks to wage psychological warfare. Shock and awe tactics, essentially.

"It is not so different to mundane terrorist organisations, such as Al-Qaeda," Loki explained. "They lack the numbers to face your militaries in battle, so they strike from the shadows, seeking to inspire fear and earn psychological victories. The only difference is that HYDRA's agents were much better trained, much better armed and much more ambitious." He smiled grimly. "And that ambition was their undoing. HYDRA has been destroyed. A few remnants survive, for sure, but none with any real threat. Their power has been broken, and I believe that they will never regain it."

Despite this, the gutting of HYDRA's base, the destruction of their Helicarrier and the seizure of the vast majority of their assets, this was met with scepticism. Lucius Malfoy, HYDRA's titular leader, and other HYDRA leaders such as Baron Zemo, had escaped after all. And it wouldn't be the first time that HYDRA had risen from the ashes.

TIME magazine summed up the feeling on that issue quite neatly with one of its main inside articles: And Two More Shall Take Its Place: Why the most dangerous terrorist group of all time won't stay dead.

Prior to HYDRA's rapid rise and apparent fall, the main global threat were bomb attacks by the Mandarin, who had neatly filled the niche of Vaguely Middle Eastern Terrorist Demagogue, so violently vacated by Osama Bin Laden. While they were not uncommon and a cause for much mourning, they weren't the same kind of problem.

No one was quite sure where the Mandarin was from, with a voice that was deep, educated, and carried overtones of Britain with other influences, suggesting a former colony, his predominantly Oriental imagery and his odd habit of wearing sunglasses all the time suggested a mingling of the old and the new. All that seemed to add up as consistent was his anti-Western, particularly anti-American, rhetoric and his habit of launching violent and untraceable bomb attacks.

At least, however, he was a familiar kind of threat. Moreover, he wasn't going to end the world any time soon. And further differences emerged as details of HYDRA's membership leaked out and the purge of armed forces, intelligence agencies and governments worldwide began.

HYDRA was something very new and very frightening. You didn't just have to worry about the foreign looking fanatic waving a gun, shouting religious/nationalist catchphrases and declaring their desire to turn you all into red mist. No, now you had to worry about others.

Who was a HYDRA Agent? Maybe it was the family man or woman next door, with a spouse and kids who they loved very much, who went to work every day and gave you a nod and smile as they went by, perhaps stopping to ask about your day. Maybe it was the passionate young student, agitating for a cause, any cause. Maybe it was the old lady you got chatting to in the queue at the shops. Maybe it was the laughing young man or woman dancing near you in the club who you thought might be giving you the eyes. Maybe it was the person sitting next to you on public transport, reading a newspaper or a book.

Maybe, just maybe, it could be anyone. Anyone could be seeking to bring the world order down around everyone's ears. For, of course, the greater good.

Or at least, historians pointed out, drawing parallels to the revolutionaries, the Anarchists, Communists and Fascists of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, while it wasn't new, it was one that hadn't been seen for a while.

With its resurgence, powerful enough to command the Winter Soldier, almost bring about the deaths of the Avengers, hide in the heart of the capital of a global power (albeit a somewhat diminished one), and use a supercharged helicarrier to hold the world to ransom, then nearly unleash a power that nearly destroyed the world and necessitated the intervention of Odin Allfather himself, before finally going down, the public mood was set to downright terrified.

And when the world was terrified, it looked to the Avengers. Even if they were sceptical of what they heard, they still wanted to know what Earth's Mightiest Heroes had to say. They had, after all, led the charge against HYDRA in the final battle. Steve did not disappoint.

"What if HYDRA come back and try again?" one journalist asked. "You thought you destroyed them in your time, but they came back again, just like you did."

"They won't," Steve said. "My time, as you call it, was well over half a century ago. The HYDRA we faced today was a different creature to the one I faced back in the forties. It was smaller scale, for one thing, a fraction of the size. It operated on a much grander scale, but that was only because the technology was there for it to do so. The actual organisation was smaller and masked that with weapons that carried a bigger punch and a careful choice of targets. It took them over half a century to rebuild even that far. A few months ago, SHIELD launched an operation against every known HYDRA base in the world, destroying them all, forcing them to retreat to the London base, which until recently, we couldn't find. Now that it is found and destroyed, I don't think that HYDRA as an organisation have anywhere to hide."

"You think that it's done and dusted?" another asked. "Just like that?"

"No," Steve said. "There'll be a lot of cleaning up. High ranking members of HYDRA escaped and will have to be hunted down. There may well be other cells, other groups, formed in the months while HYDRA was operating out of one base and one base alone. HYDRA was also highly factionalised in my day, so there may be other groups out there. But they will be weak, vulnerable and lacking in the kind of resources required to present that much of a threat. That doesn't mean we should let our guard down, however. I thought that HYDRA was gone, and as it turned out, they'd just been waiting. And the idea of HYDRA is one that will, unfortunately, endure. There will always be people who believe that humanity cannot be trusted with its own freedom. But there will also always be people there to fight them."

"But what about those who don't want more fights?" another journalist asked. "This is the second grand scale battle in a major city inside of five years, a number that rises significantly if you take into account some of the Avengers' other exploits in between. In both the Battles of New York and London, hundreds died and lasting damage was done, and both times, the Avengers were at the heart of it. That's not the only major conflict, either – the so-called 'Battle of the M4' earlier this year, also against HYDRA and its monsters, narrowly prevented the death of thousands on the outskirts of London."

"You could say the same about fires and firemen," Steve replied. "Or cops and crimes. As long as there's one, you'll need the other. We go where we're needed. Honestly, we'd rather that there were no battles, that we weren't needed. But as long as we are needed, we'll be there to fight the fights that need to be fought."

"Captain Rogers, who was the woman who used Mjolnir? How was she able to use it when Thor was, according to his own testimony, imprisoned at the time?"

"That information is classified. The woman in question doesn't want press attention, so don't go looking. You won't find her unless she wants to be found," Steve said. "As for Mjolnir, according to Thor, there's some sort of 'worthiness enchantment' on it. You need to be a certain sort of person to wield it." He quirked a smile. "Think Excalibur and you've got the idea."

"What about the woman with the green halo around her? Who was she?"

"She's someone who didn't have to fight," Steve said, after a long moment. "Someone who should never have had to fight. And she's someone who stepped up to the plate anyway. She's a hero. And that's all I have to say."

The press corps, unsatisfied but aware that they weren't getting anything more on that score, turned the questions to the aftermath.

OoOoO

And what an aftermath it was.

The effects of Chthon's chaotic power were felt across the universe; the very fabric of reality, the space-time continuum, was warped and damaged and had to be repaired. Wormholes opened and shut at random, previously healthy stars went supernova and psychics of all kinds across the universe were plagued by visions of pure chaos. This crippled entire civilisations and started a million wars across the universe for a million different reasons.

Some were small, some were large, and thankfully, none of them were among the great cosmic powers. But even so, even the slightest ripples of Chthon's power brought death to tens of billions, chaos and destruction to hundreds of billions more. And that was just in the present. Chthon's power tore through history like a buzzsaw. Most of the changes were reverted, and swiftly, often by the agency of Doctor Strange. But some… some were found to be best left as it was.

For instance, a long way away, in an abandoned area of space, a long dormant reserve of power was activated, crystals humming into life. Repairs began.

OoOoO

Other changes could not be undone.

In the depths of the realm of Nidavaellir, the dwarf King Eitri followed his subordinates into the deepest and darkest chamber in the realm. Normally, it was pitch dark – no trouble for dwarf eyes, but a lot of trouble for anyone looking to break in to it. Now, however, it was lit by a dull red glow, emerging from cracks in a vast seal adorned with complex runes and inscriptions of power.

"So," he said heavily. "It is true." He turned to his nearest subordinate. "You. Send a message to Asgard with all haste, for the attention of the Allfather alone. Tell him that the Seal of Muspelheim is cracked."

OoOoO

Other dark forces were also on the move.

Two of them faced each other. Both were tall, both were dressed exclusively in black, and neither was as young as they appeared. One, however, was seated in a chair at the top of a set of marble steps that only narrowly escaped the description of throne, a ruler lazily confident in her power. The other was standing, head slightly bowed, before her, aware of his position as a relative supplicant and despising it – but, of course, taking care not to let it show.

"So," the woman said. "The stories are true. Lord Voldemort is returned."

"I am, my lady," Voldemort said, in his cold, clear voice.

"You wish my assistance," the woman said, in a tone that said very clearly that this was not a question. "For the child prophesied to be your bane is now better armed and better protected than any of us could have imagined." She narrowed her eyes. "You want me to join you in making war on the Princes of Asgard."

"You are one of the few to have done so and lived," Voldemort replied. "But I do not. Not yet."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Then what do you want?"

Voldemort smiled. Even with the handsome face he had once more, it was not a pleasant sight. "An exchange of secrets," he said. "I was restored to my physical form some months ago by draining the power of Thor's son through my connection to him. While that avenue has been cut off, it left me with certain… gifts. Those gifts have allowed me to quickly gather information about the new dispositions of this world. And among that information has been an intriguing tale or two."

"Like what?"

"Like the location of the lost work of Grindelwald's greatest lieutenant, my lady. The Word of Kemmler has been found," Voldemort said. "And within it, the key…"

"To ascension," she breathed. Then, her expression turned suspicious. "But only one can ascend. What is your price?"

"There is more than one route to godhood, my lady. My resurrection has given me some measure of your gifts. Especially where the boy is concerned," Voldemort said.

The lady in question smiled. "Ah," she said softly. "Now I see."

"Do we have a compact, my lady Selene?"

"We do, my lord Voldemort."

OoOoO

Others were also being given audience.

Carol was nervous. She had wielded the Green Lantern Ring in battle, and, at first, had been scared she'd broken some sort of taboo, especially once it had been taken away again. Instead, she was deeply surprised to find out that she'd actually gained a sort of honour by doing so. Apparently it was like drawing the Sword in the Stone or wielding Exalibur. Apparently, there was like, only one person in a generation that it deemed worthy. That made her feel a little dizzy, to be honest.

And now Odin wanted to speak to her. The King of Asgard. The Protector of the Nine Realms. A literal god, a god of gods, even, someone who had walked out of the pages of Norse Mythology only a few years ago and had proved his badass bona fides by going toe to toe with a guy who'd taken her and Harry's best shots to the face, lost an arm, then curbstomped the Hulk (though after the arm losing thing, he'd been possessed, so… even more badass).

Anyway. Kind of intimidating.

Shifting nervously outside the audience chamber – Harry had wanted to come with her, but had been forbidden – she waited. Apparently this was private, between her and Odin and his wife, Frigga. The latter was a relief. Odin tended towards sternness, according to Thor and Loki, but Frigga was gentle, kind and both could and would rein Odin in if she felt he was being too harsh. Certainly, her own experience of the latter bore that out, but all she'd really seen of Odin was epic level badassery when he went toe to toe with Chthon in London.

Finally, the chamberlain – sort of a valet/right hand man – signalled her to enter. His name was Algrim and he was tall and slim, purple skinned with white hair and pointed ears, as well as a soft voice that put one at ease. This last was something she was most glad for, as was the slight, reassuring wink that was sent her as she walked into the throne room.

"Carol Danvers," Odin said. "We bid you welcome."

Nervously, Carol curtsied. "Thank you, your majesty," she said. Senators, Ministers, Generals, Presidents… she was fine with them all. Admittedly, none of them exuded authority on such a stifling scale with such negligent ease.

"You have the thanks of Asgard for protecting our grandson," Odin said grandly.

Carol paused, then said, "You're welcome?" Then she blushed and added, "Your Majesty."

Odin's mouth flickered into a small smile. "Do not stand on courtesy, Miss Danvers. This is not a formal occasion and I am more than familiar with the Midgardian preference for informality. I am aware that no disrespect is meant by it."

"Through Tony Stark," Carol guessed.

"Yes. Lord Stark is… an experience."

"Sarcasm is pretty much how he communicates," Carol said, slightly apologetic.

"I know," Odin said, sounding slightly put upon. Frigga covered her mouth, amused.

Then Odin cleared his throat, and slammed his spear into the ground with an echoing boom. Carol managed to restrain herself from jumping. As she did, she caught the smallest glimmer of approval in Odin's eye.

Frigga was less circumspect. She smiled a mischievous smile – and suddenly, Carol could see where Loki got it from – and winked. Carol couldn't help but smile back. Odin flicked his eye over to his wife and minutely raised an eyebrow. She merely smiled back and said nothing. Odin let out a small snort, then turned to the attendant who was hurrying in with a large case.

"Though you have not asked for it, your valour and loyalty to my grandson means that as you have earned medals in the mortal realm, you must be rewarded in this one," Odin said, tone firm. Carol opened her mouth to object, but he shook his head. "The feat of wielding the ring of the Green Lantern is a rare one indeed, even rarer for one of your youth. That alone would be commended. If your feats, people will say that I am an unjust and churlish King." His eye twinkled slightly. "So if you accept this gift, you are putting me in your debt."

Loki, Carol thought on seeing how neatly she had been tied up, had clearly taken after both parents in equal measure.

"Well, if I'm doing you a favour," she said dryly, as the attendant held the box before her, poker faced.

At an encouraging nod from Frigga, Carol opened it. And stared, jaw hanging loose.

It was a shield. No, that wasn't doing it justice. It was a beautiful shield. Round, smooth, deadly and practical, it was painted in deep red, cobalt blue and inset with a golden star.

"Your majesty… I don't know what to say. Other than, thank you," Carol said, stunned.

"This shield was forged by the same artificer who forged the personal weapons of the royal family: Mjolnir and Gungnir – my spear," Odin said. "He is King Eitri, of the Dwarven realm of Nidavaellir. My grandson advised on the design, for your ancestor, Captain Rogers, and the choice of colours. He felt that they suited you."

"He was right," Carol said, then frowned. "What about Loki?" he asked, before she could stop herself. "I mean, he doesn't have a special weapon, does he?"

Odin raised an eyebrow. She blushed a little, but held his gaze. After a while, he nodded and said, "My younger son does not wish to limit himself with any one weapon. Mjolnir is almost Thor's fifth limb – his identity is tied up in it, as is much of his power. Even my spear is a sign of who and what I am, an identifier. Loki is like a cat – though he is loyal, affectionate and perceptive, he is also proud, changeable and he severely dislikes being bound to one path. A personal weapon would do that. Instead, he wields weapons as he requires them."

Carol nodded slowly, noting that the subject of was being skirted around and deciding not to push further. "What path would this bind me too?" she asked.

"The path you choose," Frigga said quietly. "You may wield it in service of your country, in service of others, or, if you wish, leave it as a reminder and a memento on your wall." She smiled. "It is yours do with as you desire."

"Thank you," Carol said simply, receiving a grave nod from Odin before being ushered out.

OoOoO

As it turned out, she was not the only one to be honoured.

Uhtred was gifted with an axe by the name of Jarnbjorn, previously wielded by Thor himself, one apparently without peer and with a storied history. Unsurprisingly, the shock and delight of such a gift left him in a stunned silence for some time, being barely able to stammer out thanks for the honour done to him.

Diana's gift was more practical, a set of bracers forged and enchanted specifically to control and restrain her empathic abilities, meaning that at the very least she could get some privacy in her own head.

And Jean-Paul's gift was a ring, one which contained a suit designed to resist the hazards of the sort of speeds he reached and the exotic energies he might encounter. It also, apparently, anchored him to the mortal plane of existence by placing a certain undefined limit on his speed, so as to avoid a repeat of his nearly being transmuted into pure Speed Force energy when he attacked Chthon at light speed.

Harry himself… well, for starters, any new Prince was naturally to be showered with gifts from Asgardian nobility, royalty and nobility from across the Nine Realms and beyond. A new Prince who had just succeeded in banishing the most feared of the Elder Gods and repairing the fractured world, doubly so.

Harry stopped messing with these after an incident in which he got tangled up in what seemed to be a cat's cradle of webbing – a gift from Kwaku-Anansi, the God of Stories of the Orishas, a trickster and (unsurprisingly) a friend and rival of Loki's. In any case, Loki didn't seem to be remotely surprised when he found his nephew trapped in a ball of webbing and remarked that it was either designed to carry a lesson (even the mightiest and most cunning warrior can be trapped) or as a joke. Or, quite likely, both.

Instead, they were packed off to a storage room where they were classified, labelled and carefully cared for, to be brought out on the occasions when their givers came to visit.

As for Odin, what would he give his grandson? A sword, or some other weapon, fit for a warrior? A fine crown, fit for a prince? Or a secret text, fit for a mage?

As it turned out, the answer was 'none of the above'.

"My gift to you, grandson," Odin said. "Is one that I now recognise is rightly yours." He drew from within a pouch a gleaming golden feather on a thin silvery chain like shaped moonlight. Where a mundane one would have simply shone gold, this flickered with the colours of fire as it caught the light. When he handed it to Harry, it seemed to flare, burning like a flickering tongue of flame, and Harry recognised it.

"Grandfather," he began. "That…"

"Is my phoenix feather," his grandfather confirmed. "Dipped in gold to preserve it, yet it retains its fire."

"I can see," Harry managed, rather dazed. "But grandfather, it belongs to you."

"It did," Odin said. "But you are child of the Phoenix as much as you are a child of my line. And often, a mage will wear a symbol to which they have a connection or an affinity. It was obvious from the moment you touched it that there was an affinity."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Harry took it and put it on. As soon as he did, he gasped as a feeling of warmth, of comfort almost, travelled through him. "Thank you, grandfather," he said quietly. "I will treasure it."

"That is all I ask, grandson."

OoOoO

While new heroes were being added to the ranks of the mighty, SHIELD began a purge, one that dragged on for months. Even with Fury carefully preparing a lightning strike designed to render the faction of HYDRA that had grown like a parasite within SHIELD, even with the aid of SHIELD's psi-division, it was slow, difficult work.

After one long day, Fury walked calmly into his office and sat down, noting a slight difference in the air. "Well?" he asked, apparently speaking to thin air. "What's your take?"

"I think that this it is all very dull, grim work Nicholas, and I don't envy you it. I also think that the future is about to get very interesting indeed, and I don't think that one response team, no matter how mighty, can deal with it all," Strange said, fading into view.

"There are others in the pipeline," Fury said. "Not all SHIELD related."

"Yes, the Ultimates project," Strange said, tone flat. "Nicholas, you must stop that by any means necessary."

Fury frowned. "Why?"

"If the Ultimates project goes ahead, the world will fragment. A superhuman arms race will start and the nations of the Earth, already mistrustful of one another, will be irrevocably divided at a time when they can afford it least," Strange said. "This is just the beginning, Nicholas. Things are moving in the darkness. Things far more patient and insidious than Chthon. HYDRA is not gone, merely diminished, and temporarily at that. Under Lucius Malfoy's command, it will be a force to be reckoned with for years to come. Earth must become a united world."

"United by what?"

"By the Avengers," Strange said. "And not by force. The Avengers need to demonstrate that they are not just for the West, but for the Rest too, by action and not just by word. If we are to survive the coming upheavals and the cataclysm that will follow, we will all need to rally beneath their banner."

"We," Fury noted. "You're throwing in?"

"Not immediately," Strange said. "But you will be seeing more of me."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing, considering," Fury said dryly.

Strange smiled a Cheshire cat smile. "Of course it isn't," he said, fading away. "But remember, Nicholas… united we stand. Or divided we will fall."

"Fucker always has to have the last word," Fury muttered, but it was a fairly token mutter.

An Avengers World.

Now that was something to think about.

OoOoO

He was not the only Director making moves.

"So, Director Wisdom," Pepper said. "What can SI do for you?"

"Her Majesty's Government would like to commission Stark Industries, specifically Tony Stark, for a very special project," Wisdom said. "Britain is vulnerable. When HYDRA went down in flames, for now, anyway, one of our two technological countermeasures was cut in half by one shot from the Dreadnought's cannons. And the second, HMS Valiant, Britain's first helicarrier, was still in dry dock. It should have been ready for service six months before that shitstorm, but we gave the contract to BAE and, predictably, they cocked up the engines."

He leaned forward. "Speaking personally and on behalf of Her Majesty's Government, not least Her Majesty herself, we don't want to be caught like that ever again. We might not survive it. So we would like Stark Industries to refit and enhance the Valiant and to design and build two other Helicarriers."

"Director Wisdom, I appreciate your confidence in Stark Industries," Pepper said. "But we don't take on military contracts anymore."

Wisdom arched an eyebrow. "And I'm a monkey's fucking uncle. SHIELD's Helicarriers use Repulsor Tech engines."

"Building engines isn't the same as building weapons, Director," Pepper said, tone turning cool. "And if you want to continue this meeting, then you will moderate your language."

Wisdom blinked, then smirked and inclined his head. "Fine. I'm aware of Mister Stark's personal aversion to designing and building weaponry. That's fine, we can outfit them afterwards. What we want is everything but guns, up to and including passive defence systems, like shields."

"Well, I'd have to speak with Mister Stark about that, since he's the one who does the designing. But there's still the matter of what you intend to do with these helicarriers," Pepper said.

"MI13 has extensive experience with the supernatural. We're Britain's defence against the weird stuff and we, and our predecessors, have been for centuries," Wisdom said. "We've got more than our share of magic at our disposal, for instance, and we want to be able to shut down dark magic, portals, etcetera."

"Defence, in other words," Pepper said. "But Director, I've noticed that a lot of the time, when military or espionage figures talk about defence, they're really talking about offence. Britain having three helicarriers in the air is going to make a lot of people very nervous."

"The thing about carriers, heli or otherwise, is that they aren't very fast," Wisdom said. "It would take quite a while for it to be able to threaten another country. Unless, of course, you have a Nexus Engine. Which we don't." He shrugged. "In any case, I made sure that there were some stringent restrictions put on them. First, they can't be deployed outside of Britain without a two thirds majority vote in the House of Commons. Second, they can't be deployed in Britain for more than three days straight without said vote in the Commons and an investigation, to make sure that someone isn't trying to pull a fast one with a fake threat. Third, we're not the only ones building them."

"Well, I can hardly say I'm surprised by that last part," Pepper said wryly.

"Yeah, fair enough," Wisdom said. "The Chinese have got at least five in the works, the Americans are building another three. The Russians are supposed to be building a couple, though rumour has it that they're just taking all their old sea carriers and bolting engines on the side, which is a disaster waiting to happen. Even the French, the Germans, the Brazilians and the Israelis are getting in on the act, probably India, Japan and South Africa too."

"What about Wakanda?" Pepper asked.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Wakanda had a whole fleet of the damn things," Wisdom muttered. "No one's ever been able to get much out of them."

He sat back. "The only difference between them and me is that I'm coming to Stark Industries. You say no, fine. We'll go to BAE. They're marginally more reliable than Hammer is. But put it to Tony this way: if he's the one designing, building and installing all this hardware and software, then he can put in lots of little redundancies to make sure that they aren't misused."

Pepper eyed him. "Why would you want him meddling in the operating systems of the Helicarrier?" she asked.

"Because I'm a spy. I don't trust anyone, least of all my government. But I do trust people's motives," Wisdom said. "Stark will want to put checks on the Helicarrier's power. He's savvy enough to recognise that a Stark designed helicarrier would be the biggest, baddest thing in the sky, let alone two, three if you count the Valiant. He puts checks on those, he puts checks on them all. He'll also know them inside out. Just in case they ever need to be taken down."

"And if you and he are ever on a collision course?" Pepper asked.

"If he and I are ever on a collision course, Ms Potts, Helicarriers would not be my weapon of choice," Wisdom replied calmly.

Pepper's eyes narrowed at this borderline threat. "You're an unusual man, Director," she said. It wasn't entirely complimentary.

"Not that unusual," Wisdom said. "I was trained by Nick Fury. Like him, I believe in heroes. And like him, sometimes, I think you need someone on the outside to look in. Someone who can say, 'no. You're going too far'. Fury and I play that role for each other, but it can only go so far. We're similar people with similar interests. The state is accountable to the people – in theory, at least. Due to our secrecy, MI13 isn't really all that accountable to anyone. We can't be. And the way I see it, there's worse people to be accountable to than Tony Stark." He smirked. "If only because being accountable to Tony Stark means being accountable to you."

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure how British voters would react to the knowledge that you're handing quite a lot of power to a CEO of a private company and a foreign citizen," she said.

"I'm not handing it to you as CEO of Stark Industries. I'm handing it to you as Pepper Potts, moral centre of Iron Man and the Avengers," Wisdom said. "You may not realise it, but you're a key piece in the Avengers puzzle. Without you, they'd probably fall apart." He sat back. "And you're helping to raise this generation's Captain America."

"Excuse me?" Pepper asked.

"Harry Thorson, formerly known as Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and the Kid With Far Too Many Cosmic Coincidences To His Name," Wisdom said, tone laconic. "You're a mother figure to the kid, arguably the most significant one in his life. His future stepmum is more like a big sister to him. Romanova is pretty reserved by nature. His grandma's in Asgard all the time, while he's mostly on Earth. Wanda's a fairly new entrant, or re-entrant, into his life, and in any case, he spends most of his time on Earth with the Avengers. His actual mum is sort-of-not-quite dead, and certainly not a regular figure in it. And that leads to, and leaves, you, Miss Potts."

He gave her a piercing look. "The boy looks up to you, from what I hear. And I hear things about him. He's a natural leader who draws people to him. He's insanely brave, with a knack for finding trouble and an equal knack for getting out of it smelling like roses. And he cares, he honestly does, particularly about people most wouldn't even notice, much less bother about. He's got all the hallmarks of the leader of this generation of heroes." He tilted his head and examined her. "Also, he'll be powerful. Oh, he'll be powerful all right. He's scarily strong now and he's getting stronger every day. We've got psychics on the payroll and according to them, he's the key to just about every future."

He looked grim. "And without your influence, among others, he could turn into something that makes Magneto at his worst look like a joke. He's already made that perfectly clear." He eyed Pepper. "And you know, don't you? You know what that boy is capable of."

"I know that he has a temper, that he hates injustice," Pepper said calmly. "And that he's been through a lot of terrible things. Things that no child should have to suffer through." She met Wisdom's gaze. "But he's a good boy. I believe in him."

"Strong words, Ms Potts."

"Words that I'll stand by, Director Wisdom."

Wisdom smiled slightly. "Thought so," he said. "And that's good. Because if you and others do, I think that he'll justify that belief. And if he follows his dad's example and yours, along with the rest of the Avengers, I think the future is going to be pretty damn bright. But a lot of it depends on you."

"I'm glad you think so, Director," Pepper said. "But don't think that your charm is going to sway my judgement."

Wisdom let out a bark of laughter. "I didn't expect it to," he said, standing up. "That's why I meant it."

"That's not going to work either," Pepper said wryly, standing with him and shaking his hand. "Director, I'll get back to you with my decision by the end of the week. I need to discuss it with Mister Stark and the board first."

"That'll do just fine," Wisdom said, then reached into his pocket. "And tell Stark that if he takes it, he's working on a budget." He pulled out a cheque, handing it to Pepper.

"It's blank," she said, a touch surprised.

Wisdom smiled a grim smile. "Exactly," he said.

A statement of intent there from Wisdom, and not the last one he'll make. Anyhow, carry on to chapter 80, the second part of this epilogue, because this absolute fucking monster of an epilogue was too big (i.e. circa 30,000 words) to do as one chapter.