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Chapter Text

The Triwizard Cup was still glowing faintly in Harry’s grip as he pressed it desperately, Voldemort’s scream echoing behind him. The hook behind his navel yanked him away—he braced himself for the familiar sight of the Hogwarts grounds.

But when his feet slammed down, it wasn’t grass beneath him. It was polished marble. He stumbled, gasping, nearly knocking over a sleek glass table stacked with half-finished drinks.

Five strangers froze mid-conversation.

One man in a sharp black shirt and glowing chest-piece raised an eyebrow.
“Well,” Tony Stark said, swirling his drink, “this is new. Either Pepper installed a teleporting intern service, or the UPS is really stepping up their game.”

A tall, broad-shouldered blond in red, with a cape that looked like it belonged on a medieval battlefield, leaned forward, squinting. “This child carries magic,” Thor rumbled.

“Magic?” Bruce Banner pushed his glasses up, looking torn between curiosity and concern. “That’s… not scientifically impossible, but it’s not supposed to happen in my living room.”

Harry gaped, wand still raised, chest heaving. “Where—where am I? What is this place?!”

“Relax, kid,” Steve Rogers said calmly, standing with the easy authority of a leader. “You’re safe here.”

Loki smirked from where he lounged on the couch. “Safe, perhaps. But he reeks of panic and blood. Tell me, boy—who were you running from?”

Harry’s knuckles whitened on his wand. “Voldemort.”

The name meant nothing to them, but the weight of it—the way Harry’s voice cracked with terror—made the room go still.

Tony clapped his hands once. “Okay, field trip gone wrong, evil wizard on your tail, and now you’re in my penthouse. I’m thinking… adoption papers? Or at least a non-disclosure agreement.”

Thor’s eyes blazed. “If a dark sorcerer hunts this boy, then he has found himself in worthy company. We shall defend him.”

Loki chuckled. “Speak for yourself, brother.”

Harry swallowed, glancing between gods, geniuses, and soldiers. For the first time since the graveyard, hope flickered. Maybe—just maybe—he’d landed in the right place after all.

Harry blinked at the overly bright lights and the massive windows that gave the skyline a view he wasn’t sure he wanted. He rubbed his arms, still coming down from the adrenaline of escaping the graveyard, and muttered, “…I can’t believe I got kidnapped by a bloody Portkey *again*.”

Tony leaned against the counter, grinning. “Welcome to my humble abode. Stark Tower, or, well… penthouse, technically. Name’s Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. And yes, that list is mandatory.”

Harry blinked. “…Right. Genius, billionaire, playboy… got it. And your superpower is sarcasm?”

Tony smirked. “That’s actually part two. You’ll pick it up.”

Steve stepped forward, hand extended, looking as serious as ever. “I’m Steve Rogers. Captain America. And I try not to get kidnapped by magical teens on Portkeys, apparently.”

Harry shook his hand quickly, muttering under his breath, “…yeah, tell me about it.”

Bruce hovered near the couch, giving Harry a small, reassuring smile. “Bruce Banner. Scientist. Don’t worry, I won’t turn into a green rage monster… unless provoked.”

Harry raised a brow. “Provoked, huh? Noted.”

Thor, booming and radiant, strode over, clapping Harry on the shoulder with a force that almost knocked him over. “I am Thor, God of Thunder! Fear not, young one — you have survived much, and your courage is admirable.”

Harry muttered under his breath, “…or I’m just stubborn. Same thing, right?”

Loki, lounging in the corner with his trademark smirk, finally spoke. “I am Loki, God of Mischief. And clearly, you are someone… quite intriguing.”

Harry blinked. “…Intriguing? That’s… comforting.”

Tony waved his hands. “Everyone’s welcome here. Sort of. Depends on whether you survive the sarcasm and Loki’s… well, Loki-ness.”

Harry flopped onto the couch, throwing his wand down beside him. “…I’ve had two hours of torture, homicidal wankers, and now I’m in a shiny nightmare with a bunch of gods and heroes. This is my life.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “And yet, you survive with wit intact. Fascinating.”

Harry groaned. “…you’re terrifying. All of you.”

Thor laughed, clapping him on the back again. “Fear not, boy! You shall thrive among us! Perhaps even best us in chaos!”

Bruce hid a small chuckle. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Tony just smirked. And Harry, despite himself, gave a tiny, reluctant grin. “…I hate all of you already.”

Harry looking at all of them and saying “oh,and im harry potter,trouble magnet,forced saviour of the wizarding world,tamer of twins and slayer of basilisks.” They all looked a mix of amused and concerned about that lisk apart from thor who was clearly impressed and loki who was getting more intruiged.

Harry sighing as he put his face in his hands and muttering “Brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant. First the Cup drags me to Voldemort’s little murder party, now it spits me out in—” He looked around at glass walls and the New York skyline. “—whatever this shiny nightmare is. Perfect. Love that for me.”

Tony barked a laugh. “Kid’s got flair. I like him.”

Steve crossed his arms, frowning. “Language.”

Harry whipped around, eyes blazing. “I *just* got kidnapped. Twice. In one night. By a trophy. You want me to say ‘golly gee, fiddlesticks’? Sod off.”

Thor guffawed so hard the floor trembled. Banner tried and failed to cover a grin. Tony leaned back smugly, raising his glass. “Oh, I’m keeping him.”

Loki tilted his head, eyes narrowing in amusement. “Sarcasm and defiance, even dripping with fear. How very… entertaining. Tell me, boy, do you always spit fire when cornered?”

Harry gave him a flat look. “Sorry, are you another homicidal wizard, or just cosplaying as one?”

That earned a choked laugh from Banner and an outright wheeze from Tony.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s a kid, Stark.”

“Correction,” Harry shot back, pointing his wand toward Steve. “I’m a traumatized fourteen-year-old who just watched a man rise out of a cauldron. Cut me some slack, Captain Tightpants.”

This time, even Thor couldn’t contain his laughter. “The boy speaks boldly!”

Harry sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You know what? Fine. I’ll sit here, you lot figure out what dimension I’ve been punted into, and if another bloody Cup shows up, someone else can touch it.”

Chapter Text

Harry dropped the Cup on the penthouse floor with a loud clunk. He stared at it, muttered something under his breath, and gave it a tentative poke with his wand. Nothing.

“Alright,” he grumbled, snatching it up and holding it tight. “One more time. Back to Hogwarts, please.”

The Cup sat there, smug and useless.

He shook it. Still nothing.

“Well, fuck.” Harry threw his head back, exasperated. “Fred and George are going to kill me. I’ve officially broken school property, and it wasn’t even my fault this time.”

Steve sighed loudly, arms folding tighter. “Kid.”

Harry pointed at him without looking up. “Don’t. Just—don’t.”

Tony was doubled over, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his drink. “Oh my god, he’s broken. We’ve officially adopted a British raccoon with trauma and a stick.”

Banner cleared his throat, half-smiling. “Portkey? That’s… what, teleportation technology?”

Harry glared at the Cup. “Supposed to be. Except it hates me. Figures.”

Loki sauntered closer, his smile sharp. “A magical object that betrays its wielder? Delicious. I see why fate brought you here.”

Harry shot him a look. “Fate can sod off too. I just want a nap.”

Thor clapped Harry on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted. “A warrior’s spirit! You shall feast and rest among us until your strength returns.”

Harry muttered darkly, “Brilliant. Kidnapped, stranded, and now adopted by a cape-wearing muscle cult.”

Tony raised his glass in salute. “Welcome to the family.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. The Cup wasn’t cooperating, and these strangers were only half-reassuring (at best). Then his stomach dropped.

“Shit. Fred and George.”

Tony perked up. “Are those more traumatized British raccoons?”

“Shut it,” Harry muttered, already lifting his wand. He concentrated, pulling every scrap of warmth and stubborn survival instinct he had left. Out leapt his silver stag, antlers glowing brilliantly against the penthouse glass.

The Avengers all went quiet, staring.

Harry cleared his throat, directing his message. “Hey, Fred, George… sooo, it’s really not my fault this time! I swear! I just escaped the homicidal wanker again, then got kidnapped by the bloody Portkey *again*, and now I’m stuck with a bunch of people in some shiny nightmare. Georgie, if you’re panicking, calm down. I’m fine. Just… with some people who look like questionable influences.”

The stag flicked its ears, then galloped through the window, vanishing into silver mist.

There was a pause.

Banner blinked. “Was that a… magical hologram therapy animal?”

Steve looked scandalized. “Did he just call us questionable influences?”

“Kid nailed it,” Tony said proudly. “Questionable is my middle name. Well, technically Edward, but still.”

Loki was smirking, eyes gleaming. “He carries his chaos well. I like him.”

Harry dropped back into the couch with a groan. “Fantastic. Now I’ve reassured the twins *and* insulted my kidnappers in one go. Day’s going great.”

Thor raised a goblet he’d somehow conjured from nowhere. “To the boy’s resilience!”

Harry muttered, “To my patience, which is hanging by a thread.”

****

Back at Hogwarts, chaos reigned. Fred was pacing, wand clutched tight, muttering about storming Dumbledore’s office. George was sitting rigid on the edge of a table, pale and breathing too fast.

“George,” Fred said sharply, grabbing his twin’s shoulder. “Breathe. Harry’s tough, he’ll—”

And then a silver stag trotted straight through the wall.

Both twins froze as Harry’s voice rang out:

“Hey Fred, George… sooo, it’s really not my fault this time! I swear! I just escaped the homicidal wanker again, then got kidnapped by the bloody Portkey again, and now I’m stuck with a bunch of people in some shiny nightmare. Georgie, if you’re panicking, calm down. I’m fine. Just… with some people who look like questionable influences.”

The stag flicked its ears once, then vanished.

Fred stared at the empty air. “…Did he just call a bunch of strangers questionable influences?”

George buried his face in his hands, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “I’m going to kill him when I see him. After hugging him. Then killing him again.”

Fred finally cracked a grin. “Shiny nightmare, huh? Reckon he’s been dumped in some kind of Ministry broom cupboard? Or, ooh—maybe Malfoy Manor redecorated?”

George looked up, eyes blazing. “No. He said questionable influences. That means he’s surrounded by idiots. Which means we’re rescuing him.”

Fred’s grin widened. “Finally. A proper adventure.”

****

A new patronus-a fox this time- shimmered again in the penthouse. This time it didn’t run away — it paused mid-air, shook its head, and a bright, squeaky voice came through, unmistakably two voices at once.

“Well, at least it’s not the cupboard,” the Patronus said, Fred’s voice dripping with mock relief. “But seriously, baby basilisk—when can you come back?”

“Me and George are going to kill you straight after hugging you and not letting go for a few hours,” George’s voice followed, delivered like a solemn promise and a threat in one breath. “Also bring sweets. And an explanation. Possibly a dramatic entrance. Also were coming to get you,we’ll just go find the coordinates thats in the tracking charm in your shoes then we will get to you.”

Harry blinked, jaw slack. For a beat he couldn’t move; then he curled his fingers into a hysterical little fist. “You little—” he started, and immediately laughed, the sound shaky and free at the same time. “God, you lot are impossible.”

Tony whooped. “Awww, cute. Your friends are adorable murder-huggers.”

Loki’s smile widened. “Kill him after hugging. How theatrical.” He seemed almost pleased.

Steve shifted, expression softening despite himself. “They care about you.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, voice small and stubborn. “They annoy the living hell out of me, but—” He swallowed. “—they’ll kill anyone who tries anything. That’s the important bit.”

Thor clapped once, booming. “Then they shall be welcome allies in battle and in embrace!”

Bruce was already scribbling notes in the margin of whatever coffee-table tome Tony had left open. “Hugging as a post-trauma coping mechanism… interesting.”

The fox winked — or would have, if foxe winks were a thing — and dissolved into a shower of silver motes.

Tony clapped both hands. “Well. That was wholesome. Also, kidnapping survivors with family like that? Good long-term.”

Loki stood, hands behind his back, eyes thoughtful. “They are…curious allies. Perhaps I should write to them.”

“Please don’t,” Harry warned immediately, grabbing at his hair like he needed to physically restrain the idea. “They will spike your letters with chewing gum and confetti.”

Bruce chuckled. Steve’s frown had relaxed into something like a smile. Harry sat back against the couch, feeling a weight lift—briefly—knowing the twins were both furious and on their way. He’d survive this. Somehow, he always did. And when Fred and George arrived, the Avengers would find out exactly how loud two Weasleys could be.

Harry’s lids were heavy the way they only got when the adrenaline finally ran out. He blinked once, twice, then the world tilted and he collapsed sideways onto the nearest couch—landing squarely between Steve and Bruce like a very tired, disgruntled burrito.

“Christ,” he muttered, words thick. “Homicidal wankers. I’m going to kill that fucking peacock Lucius for laughing as i got cruciod. And—” his voice cracked on the next thought, low and brittle, “—getting tortured for two hours straight isn’t fun.”

Steve’s hand hovered for a second, then settled on Harry’s shoulder. It was an old, careful sort of touch — not much, but steady. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said quietly. “Not now.”

Harry huffed an exhausted laugh that was mostly air. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to—” He let the sentence trail off, staring at the ceiling like he could see other things there. “I just—keep thinking I did something to make it happen. Like I’m the problem.”

Bruce, already half-transformed in expression from scientist to someone who knew the science of scars, shifted closer. “You didn’t cause it,” he said gently. “People do awful things. You survived. That’s not nothing.”

Tony, perched on the armchair with a blanket over his knees because of reasons, snorted. “And if anyone hurt him, they’ve got a date with a repulsor and a lawsuit.” He tried for threatening and got protective instead. “Also: we have snacks. Cookies. If you want to talk, great. If you want to sleep like a dead elf, that’s great too.”

Harry’s mouth twitched. “Cookies are a good idea. You lot have surprisingly good taste.” He rubbed at his face and then met Steve’s eyes. “Thanks. For not—y’know—being weird about it.”

Steve’s jaw softened and his whole posture relaxed, the way someone who’d been trained to hold himself rigid finally allowed his shoulders to fall. “You don’t have to be okay. You’re okay here.”

Loki, who’d been lounging in a way that suggested he’d rather have been anywhere else and was enjoying being here anyway, raised an eyebrow. “Pain does make one…interesting. You wear it well.” His eyes, though, were curious — not cruel. “If you wish, I could procure…distractions.”

“Distractions?” Harry snorted. “Like a sarcastic god with bad habits? I think I’ve had enough of those.”

Thor, booming from the kitchen with something that smelled faintly of roasted meat (and also possibly waffles), padded over and offered a goblet. “Food. You shall eat. Strength shall return.”

Harry accepted the goblet like a drowning man grabbing a rope. He took a careful sip, then another, and closed his eyes. “Fred and George are coming,” he murmured. “They’ll make it worse and better at the same time.”

Bruce smiled a small, real smile. “They sound like a good kind of chaos.”

Tony leaned in, conspiratorial. “We should meet them. I want to know who taught anyone how to assemble an exploding dragon plushie.”

“Do not let him near our merchandise,” Harry warned, half-joking, half-serious, before the exhaustion pulled words away from him. His breathing slowed; sentences came fewer and further between. “Tell them…don’t hug me too hard at first. I’ll survive better if they don’t—”

He didn’t finish. The couch swallowed him and his fingers loosened around the goblet. Steve and Bruce exchanged a look — equal parts concern and relief — and Bruce shifted to make sure Harry’s head was supported. Steve stayed where he was, hand resting on Harry’s shoulder like an anchor.

Tony whispered, loud enough only for the circle of them: “If any more magical antiques try to steal him, I’ll build a Cup-proof box. And then patent it.”

Loki watched the sleeping boy with a faint expression that could almost have been fondness. “Curious creature,” he murmured. “Full of noise and wounds.”

Harry, half-asleep, grumbled something indistinct that might have been a curse or might have been “Fred.” The couch hummed with low, comfortable noise — Thor’s chuckle, Bruce’s soft breathing, Tony’s muttered schematics — and for the first time since the graveyard, the edges of Harry’s panic smoothed just enough for sleep to pull him under.

Outside, the city glittered; inside, a handful of strangers and gods and soldiers kept watch.