[Quest Updated]
'No, don't you dare system…!'
The last '?' in the secondary objectives changed;
Free Winter Soldier and Taskmaster from Mind control ( )
Harry dismissed it away. This was one objective he was going to ignore. One objective he intended to fail.
This was too personal.
His enemies had recovered by then, untangling themselves and heading back into the battlefield.
The Taskmaster made its way for the tensed girls, ignoring him entirely, and thus earning a Bombarda to the chest as result—blasted away straight into a different lane.
The two Widows just stared at its flying metallic body for a long second, before finally sitting down, sheer relief sagging them of their strength. "They're all yours."
The Winter, atleast, knew not to ignore him. But he should've also learned not to try and attack him with a simple punch.
But he did, and Harry made sure to teach him a lesson, slipping past his fist and planting his knee straight into his groin. The Soldier doubled over, gasping, and for a brief moment Harry felt strangely ashamed and guilty for targeting the spot, experiencing the secondhand pain himself.
The moment passed and Harry quickly closed the distance between them, picking up the downed man by his neck—ignoring his elbow to the rib—and with a great spin, threw him into the incoming Metal suit.
This time however, Taskmaster jumped over his body neatly, stepping on Soldier's stomach to close the distance between them.
It didn't ignore Harry this time.
Harry huffed. "Stop bothering me. My fight is not with you."
Whoever this Taskmaster was, Harry only cared about it as far as the mission said to.
With the intention to eliminate this distraction, Harry raised his wand, activating Hawkeye to take a perfect aim…and then cast the Killing Curse, "Kedavra!"
The jet of green death crossed the distance in a second, but with dexterity and skill that no being its size should ever have, the Taskmaster vaulted over the spell and continued its path straight for him.
Harry frowned. 'This...could be a problem.'
Engaging it in hand-to-hand might make the fight much closer than Harry was willing to accept. Alone, Harry was sure he could defeat it. But with the Winter Soldier? It would be a foolish attempt.
He needed the Taskmaster out of the picture.
Without hesitation, Harry started hurling his entire spell repertoire at the metallic being; Unforgivables, Stunners, Levitation charms, Transfigurations...with the help of Hawkeye, he should've easily wrapped this being in chains of steel or killed it entirely by now…but it showed no signs of stopping, being just a little too dexterous, too fast, and too strong to be trapped or killed by magic.
And unfortunately, he hadn't learned Transfiguring living things or their clothing. Or, in this case, armor.
'Very well, then.'
Harry stepped forward, ready for some close combat...and immediately stepped backwards as the Taskmaster whipped out a spherical shield—incredibly similar to Captain America's iconic symbol—out of nowhere, and let it fly straight at him horizontally, looking to detach his head.
An idea flashed in his mind, and instead of ducking, he created a wall of Wandless magic at his front, while hitting the shield with Impedimenta, Hawkeye showing its accuracy here. It didn't stop the projectile completely—the strength supplied behind the throw being even more than his—but it did slow it down significantly.
Extending a hand forward, Harry let the shield snap into his awaiting palm smoothly.
Taskmaster faltered for a brief second, but then continued its run forward. Unfortunately, right that moment the Winter Soldier joined them as well.
'A proper 2v1? Let's go.'
Harry flexed his arms, cracked his neck, and drove on to meet the two Super beings.
The moment they were ten meters away, he gathered magic in the hand that still clutched the shield, and waited...
8 meters…..
7 meters…
6 meters..
Finally, barely five meters away from reaching him, he hurled the shield back to its owner with his full strength, adding a blast from his magic just before letting go.
The shield flew twice as fast as it had come.
Winter barely managed to duck down, but Taskmaster took it straight to its metallic face, a satisfyingly loud clang emitting from the contact.
Taskmaster went down like a bitch.
But Winter reached him, intending to crush him down with his shoulder bash. Harry neatly twisted aside, but the Soldier was waiting for it, his hand swinging backwards, a knife clutched between his fingers.
Protego leapt at his wand with a tiny whisper, and the knife stopped short, letting Harry dive in his guard and lay a nasty jab to the stomach. Winter gasped, hunching over.
"Do you remember me?" Harry asked, lightly.
Winter's hand came back to slash again, but this time Harry caught his wrist, his superior strength enabling him to stop it on the spot.
"You took me from a prison when I was four."
Winter let his knife drop, his other hand coming to catch it from below, but Harry's magic was faster. With a strand of wild magic channeled through the wand, he caught the blade midway…
…And lodging it straight into Winter's chest, just beside the armpit.
"And then you put me in another one. A worse one."
The Soldier grunted, writhing in his arms, but Harry simply punched the knife, driving it deeper.
"You trained me, sometimes."
Winter's knees shook, but Harry didn't let him fall, jabbing his wand in his stomach, softly intoning, 'Crucio'.
Pleasure filled Harry's body completely, the screams of his kidnapper music to his ears.
"But you never remembered me."
Harry stared in his eyes for a brief second, disappointment filling him as he saw no recognition. He let go and Winter went down.
Harry cast the Cruciatus again.
The man arched on the ground, his howls and screams almost unnatural.
He never would've thought the Winter Soldier could sound so…human.
"You still don't remember me, do you?" Harry sighed, realizing the futility.
He raised his wand, the tip coloring green, the Killing Curse ready to be cast. "That is fine. Now you won't have to."
Just when Harry thought the Soldier defeated, laying at his feet like a dead dog, ready to eat his Killing Curse, the Soldier found some shocking strength, plunging a hidden knife straight at his shin.
'Shit!' He tried dodging, but it caught at the corner of his legs anyway…
Harry expected a deep cut, expected to feel pain, a punishment for playing with his food.
Even though he never could've killed him without knowing if he remembered, it was still foolish.
Instead, the knife skidded off the robe and the blade broke in two.
Winter's eyes visibly widened, and Harry released a tense breath. 'Thanks, mom.'
He may just have come to love Lily now. There was no way his affection for his gorgeous mother was anything less than 80.
Huffing, he turned his attention to Winter.
With one hand, he dragged him to his feet. "Let's finish this." Then he jabbed his wand in his stomach, "Avada Kedavra!"
It must've been sheer instincts but somehow Winter managed to bring his metallic arm in the middle…
The spell struck, Harry let go of his hold, and the Soldier flew back from the force of a point-blank Killing Curse, deep cracks spreading within his arm. He landed right beside a shocked Belova, whose big round eyes flickered from him to the Soldier.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he spied Taskmaster closing the distance quickly, intending to ambush him.
He glanced at Winter Soldier, but he looked closer to death than ever. And Harry simply couldn't ask Natasha and Belova to fight Taskmaster. They'd get wrecked.
Harry turned to face the thing, glancing once at Natasha. "Finish him for me, please."
While he would've liked nothing more than to be the one putting Winter Soldier out of his misery, he couldn't let revenge cloud his judgment. Out of the two, Taskmaster was more dangerous.
Besides, a dead Winter Soldier is a dead Winter Soldier.
Despite not having recovered fully, Natasha leapt at his request, eyes bursting with cold determination.
Harry focused on his fight. Taskmaster had its shield back, and now it carried a sword along with it. Frowning, Harry calculated its running speed, predicting its path, and aimed a Bombarda ahead of it, hoping to time it just perfectly for it to blow up right in its face.
The Taskmaster didn't risk it. It cocked its hand back and once again threw their shield like a disk, intercepting the spell and activating it prematurely. A mushroom of fire and dust erupted at the point of contact, lighting up the dark night with its radiance. And not a second later, his cockroach-like opponent came dashing out of the ocean of fire, cutting a path straight through it.
Harry took a deep breath, clutching the wand tightly. For the first time in actual combat, he was about to cast Bombarda Maxima…
"Noo—ooo—oo!" The sudden despairing howl from Belova lapped up his attention. "You fucking bastard!"
Harry glanced, just for a quick second, but it was enough to make him forget about Taskmaster. There she stood, Natasha Romanoff, one of the most fearsome assassins, with a knife sticking out of her stomach, a kneeling Winter Soldier trying to back away, struggling to keep a bloodlusted Belova at bay…
First came confusion. 'What happened? How could Winter still walk…let alone harm Natasha?'
Then came the understanding. He'd underestimated the Soldier. And Natasha paid for it.
And then the rage showed its ugly face inside him. So similar to that day, yet so different…
Rage. All encompassing, limitless, powerful rage…
Winter Soldier!
But the Taskmaster was here, just a couple jumps away. Harry didn't try to banish his rage, didn't try to suppress it. Instead, he channeled it, a part of him feeling almost empty.
"Bombarda Maxima." It may as well have been a whisper, having no possibility of working for a Lvl 1 spell. And yet, magic didn't care right now. Rage was enough to fulfill all the requirements.
A mere meter away from him, the spell hit the leaping figure of Taskmaster, her sword cocked back to swing his head open.
Only at the last moment did he create a shield to protect his face as an earthquake-inducing explosion tore the lands of Budapest asunder. Taskmaster soared across the sky, 30-40 feet in the air, her armor cracking into pieces before she disappeared away from his vision.
His entire world had become fire, and yet, he barely felt any heat once he pulled the hood of his robe over. When the fire finally calmed down, Harry flickered beside Natasha instantly, a hand curving around her waist, supporting her weight, glaring eyes scanning the world to find the one who did this…
The sirens of police blared through the air, and multiple Black SUVs approached the scene. Winter Soldier had escaped, a defeated Belova limping back to them, tears in her eyes.
Harry only knew he needed to get out of here now. Quickly. Before she bled out. Revenge was no use if she died right now. He spied Barton at the corner of their blasted house, his magical trunk closed and secured in his hand. He aimed at the man, and intoned, slow and clear; "Accio."
He took Belova's arm, while Barton flew over to them. With Natasha still hanging off of his arm, pale and silent, her eyes blurry but peaceful, Harry took a deep breath, imagining their destination.
'The point of Evac, middle of the forest.'
Then he twisted, and the world with him.
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The moment they landed back into the real world, he knew he'd bungled up.
Pain tore at his thigh, his robe useless to prevent the splinching of an imperfect Apparition.
There was a specific spell to instantly heal splinched body parts back, but he hadn't had time to learn it, nor had he truly felt it necessary this time—having mastered the ability enough to not bungle up the spell.
Unfortunately, he'd never considered having to Apparate three other people alongside.
Opening his inventory, Harry quickly downed a couple of Health potions. By the time he turned around, his injuries were already healed, and his eyes finally took in the forest behind.
Instantly, his racing heart slowed down.
It was a quiet night that greeted Harry, a most jarring change from the shitstorm of bullets and battles. Even the sudden groans and retching of his teammates couldn't disturb the peace of the forest.
He would've liked to sit there and calm his heart some more, breathing the chilling wind of this dark forest. He would've liked to forget about his teammates, forget about the mission...forget about his failure at finally ending the life of his kidnapper.
He was so close! So close to putting an end to that chapter of his life! So close at finally being completely free from Hydra's grasp!
But he failed. He came so close…yet, he failed.
The chilling winds of the forest proved to be a great balm to soothe the pain and frustrations of his failures, almost turning the emptiness of his heart to peace.
"...H-Harry." Natasha's pained whisper eliminated all such notions, and all the memories came crashing back.
He turned to face his companions, shaking away the fatigued tranquility. They were laying on the ground, amongst the long roots and bushes of the forest, all unmoving except Natasha...
"Shit." He scrambled to her, all thoughts of quest and revenge vanishing away in smoke.
"N-not me." She shook her head tenderly, the knife still buried in her stomach. "Clint and Yelena. Please...s-save them…save them instead..."
"Shut up." He hissed, irritation rising within him at her so casually dismissing her own life.
Yet, it was all overshadowed by the feelings evoked within him at the sight of her limp body lying on the ground, entirely too similar to when he'd seen Diggory blast Rose away from the stage. Except this time, the anger was overshadowed by a gulf within his heart, a strange fear of loss stark within him.
It was so jarring to see the fearsome assassin this way. To see a woman he'd grown up hearing words of caution about, now laying so delicately upon the naked ground—her red hair spread around head like a halo—a moment or two away from death.
And it's your fault!
Harry wasn't about to let that happen. He quickly came to kneel beside her stomach, willing his magical trunk to reappear.
He didn't know if it would work without entering the suitcase, but without thinking overly much, he opened the case and stuck his wand hand inside, intoning, "Accio Dittany!"
Magic must've been smiling on him that night for the small bottle leapt into his awaiting palm mere seconds later.
"Harry...please." Natasha whispered again, weakly trying to push him back . "D-don't waste this…o-on me...I don't d-deserve it...after everything…everything I've done..."
Harry snorted, swatting the offending arm aside. "Whatever you did, I've done worse. You're just going delirious, woman."
It certainly looked like she was. Her forehead was burning up in a raging tempest, hotter than the surface of an active volcano. Her eyes were dim and fluttering, struggling to stay open, only a slight sliver of her striking green pupils peering up at him. Her hands were clutching her stomach tightly, fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife while she tried so hard to hide the pain from him…
"I won't let you die." He promised, more to himself than her.
A bit of Wandless magic hung the Dittany bottle in mid-air, his hands gently unwrapping Natasha's grip from the knife.
"And you're a fool to even ask me so."
Gripping the seam of her uniform, he tore it above the stomach as softly as he could, revealing her smooth pale skin to his eyes, marred by copious amounts of dark blood, gushing around the knife sticking out of her proudly.
It was a testament to the gravity of the situation that he didn't even glance at the slight cleavage revealed through her split uniform.
"Besides, I promised you didn't I?" He retook the bottle from mid-air and popped the stopper off. "To show how it feels...having people care for you."
With one quick swipe, Harry removed the knife out, and in the time it took Natasha to release a pained hiss, quickly poured down three drops of Dittany, remembering the last minute studies he'd done to prepare for the mission.
Once the potion started working as intended, he moved over beside her head, propping it up on his lap, the curly red hair sprawling down from his robes beautifully.
"To feel safe, like someone has your back."
The wound was closing fast, sealing shut as a new layer formed right over it. Harry caressed her forehead, glad to feel the heat slowly recede.
His mind however, was on another plane entirely, remembering the care his family had treated him with. The feelings it evoked within him, some that he hadn't even recognised at that time.
"To feel needed, not for your skills but simply for who you are." His voice was soft, and he didn't know who he meant those words for right now. He didn't know if the woman beneath his eyes even wished to feel that way. If she even wished to feel what he'd felt. "To feel...not alone."
She looked up at him, tears trailing down her cheeks, the green pupils so bright and wonderful…and he believed she did.
"Can't show that to a dead woman now, can I?" Harry smirked, shaking away the strange melancholy trying to clamp his heart.
Natasha stayed silent through it all, but her eyes never left him.
He checked on her injury, now just a line of red and silver, twinkling slightly under the moonlight. "God, even your scars are beautiful."
Only once her condition stabilized did he finally move on to check up on the others.
"Rest." He ordered, transfiguring a large rock into a feathery soft pillow. "Don't get up until I say so."
Natasha gave him a weak smile, and the tears started falling quicker, tiny sobs racking her body. "S-sure, doc." She swallowed thickly. "Understood."
She turned her head away and her shoulders shook deeper. Harry was a little confused, but he had absolutely no idea how to provide comfort right now.
He slowly transferred her head to the pillow, but just when he tried standing, found his hand suddenly being pulled down.
"Harry…." She whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. "Thank you." He was surprised when she brought them to her lips, laying the lightest of kisses. "Thank you."
Harry snorted, patting her head like he would to Rose. "Relax. I wouldn't have let you die anyway."
He did have his quest to complete after all, even if it hadn't been his main reason.
She shook her head, a twinkling laugh escaping past her lips. He found he quite liked the sound. "Not for that. Just…you…" She sighed. "Thank you. For being here."
Harry frowned, glancing around. "Where else would I be?"
"Dunce." She chuckled weakly, snuggling her cheeks close to his hand. "Absolute dunce."
Shaking his head, Harry gently freed himself and moved on, though his smile didn't lessen one bit.
Yelena and Barton were relatively safer, though both were undoubtedly splinched. With infinitely more reluctance this time, he decided to use Dittany for both of them as well.
While they weren't anywhere close to dying, taking needless risk was foolish.
Things were sober in the group, none willing to talk. He didn't exactly know where the sudden reluctance came from, but he was quite satisfied with it. Silence had always been his best friend.
Unfortunately, as he started patching Belova up, his stubborn redhead patient decided to disobey him, sitting closer to watch him work.
A curious question tugged at his heart, and Harry finally glanced at Natasha. "So…is this one your sister?"
Belova looked up sharply at that, but Natasha's eyes were on the night sky now.
Finally, she cleared her throat, glancing at him. "No. The Red Room, where they train all the Widows, they created a fictional family for us. A fake pair of parents with a fake backstory." She snorted bitterly. "That's how the Red Room operates. They take young girls from all around the world. Young, helpless—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "It's pointless."
Humming, Harry finished up with Belova and moved on.
He could feel the other Widow's stare however, especially as he insisted Natasha go back to sleep, with the threat of being Stunned and put to bed anyway.
And after a few moments of quiet staring, she finally turned to Natasha. "I see why you like him now. It must've been so easy to replace me with someone who is more like you. He's a much better sibling than I ever was, isn't he?"
"...Yelena." Natasha sighed.
"No, no, I get it." Belova raised her arms up, but her lips looked wobbly. "Cheers and celebrations for you, moving on with your life. Replacing our fake family for a real one. Replacing a fake sibling for a real one."
Before Natasha could get a word in, Belova burst out again. "But it wasn't fake for me, you understand!? I don't care what you say, it wasn't fake for me!"
Harry took the entire exchange with a frown, a low irritation growing in his chest. "I am no one's replacement. If I took your sibling title, then I'm definitely an upgrade. You are far too weak to be able to hold a position worthy of me."
He observed the woman's stats just to be sure. He outclassed her in every stat.
Belova stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown another head, blinking hard. "...What?"
He blinked back. "What?"
"S-sibling title...?" Her lips curled up incredulously. "Worthy position? Is that how you wand waving freaks think of relationships? That's messed up."
Harry cuffed her on the head, hard enough to give a concussion to someone weaker, eliciting a loud and painful yelp.
"Do not call me that." He said mildly. "I will kill you."
She chuckled uncomfortably but he'd meant every word.
As the girls started whispering amongst themselves, Harry approached their resident Bow master.
Barton would definitely have been hit the worst amongst them, had Natasha not taken that knife in the gut. There was a nasty break in his shin bone, with multiple ruptures around his calves. On top of that, his knee was sliced due to splinching, but thankfully it wasn't as deep as Harry's had been.
"You know, kid." Barton's voice blurred as Harry propped him up against a tree, putting a dab of healing juice over his scalp as well. "I was wrong about you."
"Hmm?" Harry didn't look up.
"I just…didn't like you very much, you know?" He said drowsily. "When I first met you. You looked so much like my kids. So young, so perfect. But then I'd see your eyes. And a cold cynical bastard would stare back. Challenging me to even dare treat you like a child…you were never a child."
Harry transfigured a piece of wood into a warm cotton cloth, tying it around his broken shin bone. While Dittany might've healed the outer injuries, the bone was still a little broken. Once the cloth nicely covered the entire shin, he re-transfigured it into plastic.
"But I wanted you to be." Barton continued his one-sided commentary. "Cause whenever I look at you, I see them waving back. And I didn't want my kids to grow up like you. I didn't want them to become like you. And a small part of me despised you for it. A part of me blamed you for what you became, you see?"
Done with the task, Harry stayed still for a moment, a little captured at where the tale was going.
"But then I asked myself…if my kids were taken away from their home, forced to go through what you went through, and came back alive in one piece, would I care what they are? What they've done? Would I blame them for what they've become? And you know what I realized? No. No, I won't. Sure, I wouldn't like what they might end up doing in the future, but I won't hate them. Never. I'd just be glad they've returned. And you know what, kid? You aren't so bad afterall. So maybe I'll even be proud. No, I will be proud. Very proud…I'm proud of you, kid."
'...Yeah, this one's definitely delirious.'
Harry packed up his bottle of Dittany and entered into his magical trunk, placing the bottle back where it was taken from. While in the Potions room, he also searched for a blood replenishing potion for Natasha.
Someone from outside knocked on his trunk, and he was a little startled to realize it sounded exactly like someone knocking on his doorstep.
"Kid?" Barton's voice called down a second later. "We're holding a 'What the fuck should we do next' meeting. You coming?"
Harry wondered if he should pay the Widows a visit, see if anyone's awake and murdering their sisters…
'...Nah, they're all probably sleeping. Plus no one can open a door but me.' Which meant even if they were awake, it wouldn't do them much good.
He climbed up the stairs and left his trunk-home, tossing the blood-replenishing potion to Natasha. "Drink up, you won't look like you're about to faint the next second."
She didn't even see the content before the bottle was empty. The effect was immediate, returning some color to her face, giving back her liveliness.
"I feel much better already." Natasha raised her brows, straightening slightly.
She was almost back to full health, so he knew it to be true.
"So?" Barton asked, sitting on the grass. "What's our plan now?"
"The evac will be here in less than thirty minutes." Harry said, mind whirling. "We have the Red Dust package, we have twelve brand new Black Widows ready to declare their endless loyalty to us, and we are all alive. I'd say the mission is a smashing success."
There was silence for a few seconds, a couple of crickets croaking, before Belova chuckled uncomfortably.
"Ah. You see," She scratched her head. "About that…ahahaha…"
Now she had everyone's attention.
"The Red Dust…" She visibly wilted. Probably for the first time in history. "I…I lost it. It's with them."
Harry closed his eyes. "What."
"I lost it, alright?" She snapped. "I don't have it. There were twelve syringes, they took all of them."
Harry sighed, rubbing his head. "How?"
"What do you mean 'how'!? That metal-armed bastard took it from me! It's not like I gave it to charity or something!"
He hit her with a stinging hex.
"Hey! That's not fair!"
Harry stood up. "I'm going after them."
He wasn't about to fail one of the easier objectives of his quest due to some incompetent girl.
"What? No!"
"And what do you think—"
"I'm coming with you."
The last one stopped all the complaints.
"Nat?" Barton prodded, concerned. "I'm not saying going back is the wrong idea, but I don't think you sho—"
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She snapped. "You will escort the Target back to base while Harry and I secure the package. We will call for Evac when we've succeeded."
"Natasha…" There was a pleading edge to Belova's tone now. "Don't do this, please. Your boy is in an entirely different league, he can take care of himself. Is coming so close to death not enough for today?
For a moment, Natasha's eyes softened, but the fire in them never wavered. "I'm sorry, Yelena. I have to do this."
Harry met Natasha's eyes, and he knew he wouldn't be able to convince her otherwise.
"You know what happened just ten minutes ago."
Natasha nodded calmly. "We were ambushed. This time, it would be us on the other side. They won't have a chance to escape."
"Well…" Harry smirked. "If that's what the team leader wants, who am I to say otherwise?"
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AN: Sorry, I know my schedule's gone fully wack. Will try to be more consistent this year. Hope you all enjoyed this chap, the next one will be the last for this mission.
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That's all for now, wish you all a very happy New Year and a fabulous 2026. Until next time, peace!