Timeline:
[x] (2012) The Avengers
[x] (2013) Iron Man 3
[x] (2013) Thor: The Dark World
[ ] (2014) Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Guardians of the Galaxy; Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2
[ ] (2015) Avengers: Age of Ultron; Ant-Man
[ ] (2016) Captain America: Civil War; Spider-Man: Homecoming
[ ] (2017) Doctor Strange; Black Panther; Thor: Ragnarok
[ ] (2018) Avengers: Infinity War

Wisps of green magic slowly unfurl from Loki's hand, a devilish grin twisting his lips upward. The image does not calm Tony down in the slightest. He grips his suitcase armor tightly in his hand, every muscle in his body tense and ready to strike if necessary.

He should have come down wearing the suit. It's great to have a portable suit, there's no doubt about that, but the time it takes for the armor to cinch around his body is too long. When he gets back to Earth, he'll need to make it smoother, faster, better.

But he's not on Earth.

He's on Asgard, and he's standing down because Hari asked him to trust her.

And Tony does. He trusts her so completely that it honestly scares him a little. She's a powerful witch, but Loki is a Norse god. Specifically, he's the god of mischief and chaos. Tony knows he has some sketchy shit up his sleeve, he knows that Loki is gonna try to weasel his way out of this deal.

Hari is pretty crafty herself, but Loki has been doing this for so much longer.

They should have tested the truth potion first and subjected Loki to it before any deals were made. It is an oversight that they are going to pay for.

Still, Hari doesn't look alarmed at all. In fact, her arms are crossed in front of her chest, utterly nonchalant and bored. Tony can see her hand touching the holster strapped to her right arm; it won't snap her wand into her hand, not in this position, but her hand still touches the smooth handle. The green magic lazily drifts to her, twisting and turning not unlike the Aether had. Hari cocks an eyebrow at the show, the straight line of her mouth showing just how unimpressed she is with it.

Oh, how he loves her.

The magic suddenly washes over her, seeps into her skin. The sudden movement makes Tony's grip on his suitcase armor tighten, but Hari doesn't show any reaction.

For a few moments, nothing happens.

Tony's eyes dart from Hari who looks unconcerned, to Loki who looks like the cat that got the canary, to Thor who looks breathtakingly confused. The tension is so thick and palpable, and Tony can feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand at attention.

And then the magic bursts out of her, so blinding that Tony flinches back and throws a hand in front of his eyes even as he squeezes them shut. He can vaguely hear Thor cry out in alarm, but the god of thunder is the only one to utter anything.

When the light fades, they're not outside of Loki's cell anymore.

They're in a house. It's a modest house with at least two stories, given the staircase just to the left of him. Pictures litter the cream-colored walls, showcasing a family of three. There's a blond, chubby kid featured prominently in nearly all of the photos. Standing next to the kid in at least half of the photos are two adults, assumedly his parents, and he doesn't recognize any of them. The woman is tall, on the thinner side with blonde hair, and the man is unbelievably obese with a bushy beard that inexplicably reminds Tony of a walrus.

Tony's knuckles turn white on the handle of the suitcase, and his heart starts to pound furiously. A glance at the Asgardians reveals only he and Thor are confused, which isn't comforting in the slightest.

Even worse, Hari is missing.

She was there a second ago, as relaxed as she'd been when she issued the challenge to Loki. He hadn't looked away for longer than a few seconds.

Tony turns towards Loki, an icy hot rage building. He's seconds away from beating Loki over the head with the suitcase when the door suddenly opens.

The family walks into the house, the mother coddling her crying child. Behind them is the walrus-like man, and there's another person, too; a little girl with messy black hair that isn't featured in any of the pictures on the wall.

Tony holds his hands up, ready to assure them that they're not in the house to rob them when the mother and chubby kid just walk straight through them. It's unbelievably jarring, and a tingly sensation crawls up Tony's spine and makes him shiver. It reminds him a little of traveling by portkey.

"What happened?" the fat man snarls. He grabs the little girl by her hair, yanks it back so that she's forced to look up at him. And that's when Tony sees it.

The lightning bolt scar.

Hari.

"I swear I don't know," she cries out. "One minute the glass was there, and then it was gone. It was like magic!"

But this answer doesn't placate the man, who Tony now knows is her uncle. He drags Hari by her hair, through Tony, and opens the door underneath the staircase, none too gently tossing her into the small cupboard.

"There's no such thing as magic!" her uncle snarls as he slams the door shut. And then, ignoring the soft cries coming from inside the cupboard, he stalks further into the house, looking for his wife and son.

Tony stands there, dumbfounded. He shakes his head, dazed and confused, unsure of what he just saw. He knew that she had an unhappy childhood, one that was caused because of her magical inheritance and her intolerant relatives. But, this…

He hadn't expected this.

"What have you done, brother?" Thor demands. His gaze travels from the cupboard, where they could hear sniffling, to his brother, who is watching the events with interest.

Loki merely smirks. "I did as promised," he purrs, sounding quite pleased with himself. "I am viewing her memories to discover what led to this mortal witch becoming Death-Touched. You're all just along for the ride."

"This… this isn't what made her Death-Touched," Tony says faintly. No, Hari had told him what happened. She walked to her death – when she was seventeen. She's a child now.

Loki sneers. "If you think one singular action is enough to win Death's favor, you're not as smart as you think."

Before Tony can say anything, the scene changes. The backdrop of the living room fades, and now he can't exactly tell where they are. Somewhere dark, possibly underground, with stone walls and torches illuminating the room.

Hari's standing in front of a mirror. There's a man with a purple turban to her left, his hand digging into her shoulder as he demands that she tell him the truth. Even as young as she is, Hari stares at the man defiantly, a stubborn tilt to her jaw, her lips pressed tightly together.

Tony doesn't know who's more horrified when the removal of the turban reveals the face attached to the man's head, him or Thor. The god of thunder lets out a muted grunt of surprise, and he mutters something in a language that Tony doesn't understand.

Not that Tony's even paying attention to him. Tony's eyes are focused on Hari. She looks so small, so fragile, and yet so strong. He watches numbly as the man tries to strangle her, as her touch burns him to ash in front of her eyes, as she shivers and has a minor panic attack in the aftermath.

"This isn't right," Tony says. He glares furiously at Loki. "You asked for her to show you how she became Death-Touched. Only you. Why are the rest of us here? This is an invasion of privacy!"

Loki shrugs, unconcerned. "I listed my terms and she agreed to them."

There's something else in Loki's eyes, in the way that he crosses his arms in front of his chest. He's smirking wildly, relishing in Tony's outrage, and there's an unholy amount of glee and pleasure as he takes in the events of Hari's life.

But there's also a glimmer of defensiveness, of self-righteousness that seems out of place.

There isn't enough time to fully break down and analyze Loki's intentions. "Take us out," Tony demands, stalking towards him. "Your deal with Hari doesn't require us to bear witness."

Loki stares at him. "You really think you can make demands of me?" His voice is quiet, almost inquisitive.

Tony opens his mouth to answer, but he never gets the chance. With a flick of Loki's wrist, both the god and his adopted family are gone, leaving Tony trapped. He lets out a scream of frustration, damning Loki and his magic to any Hell that exists.

The scenes keep on changing, shifting all around them, disorienting and assaulting Tony's senses in a way that leaves his temples throbbing.

Hari is a little older now. She's standing atop a statue, armed with nothing but a glittering sword. Not just any sword, no, but the sword that destroyed the Aether. She trembles a little as she slashes at the giant snake.

Tony knows that Hari survives the encounter, he knows this, and yet watching her battling a snake that has to be at least fifty feet long, staring into her youthful, determined face, Tony feels fear viciously clamp around his heart.

His blood is coursing through his veins so loudly. He only has eyes for Hari as she jabs the sword through the roof of the snake's mouth, as she yanks out the fang that pierced her skin, as she shakily stumbles towards the gloating boy and the unconscious girl.

"You'll be with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Hari," Tom Riddle crows.

Hari's arms tremble. Her face is shiny with sweat, and Tony knows that's partly due to the venom coursing through her veins. She laughs, nothing more than a few puffs of air. Tony blinks, taken aback when she smiles at her nemesis. "Perhaps," she agrees softly as she grips the basilisk fang tightly in one hand and grabs the diary in her other.

"What are you doing?"

Hari's smile turns sharper. "I'm taking you down with me." And she plunges the fang into the diary over and over, ink spurting from the puncture wounds like an arterial spray.

And then they're in a graveyard. Hari is with an older boy, and Tony's heart clenches when her eyes go wide with horrified realization.

"I've been here before… in a dream…" she mutters as a shiver rips through her body.

"Kill the spare!"

"Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light connects with the boy's chest, downing him.

"NO! CEDRIC!"

It all happens so fast that Tony can barely keep up. Cedric's unseeing eyes are looking at him. He shivers violently when Hari is tortured, when her body contorts horrifically, when she screams and screams and screams. Voldemort taunts her, yanking her long hair to bring her closer to his grotesque face.

She doesn't stop fighting, though. With every breath that gets more labored, Hari fights. She's terribly outclassed, ridiculously outnumbered, but she's resolved to fighting to her death, if it comes to that. Hari squares her shoulders, bares her teeth, and she attacks.

Her escape is nothing short of miraculous, even with the help of the incorporeal forms of her parents.

The crowd immediately cheers when Hari returns, clutching Cedric's body in her grasp. They don't notice the unnatural stillness in the boy, the way Hari's body shakes with the force of her sobs, and Tony doesn't know how these people could be so blind. How could they watch the events unfolding and not immediately notice that something is so very wrong?

Tony looks around, bewildered, and his eyes focus on the adults. They're as enthralled by Hari's return as the rest of the crowd, all except for the old, wizened man in the gaudy purple robes. Tony knows immediately that this man is Albus Dumbledore. He's read about the life achievements of the late wizard in several of the books that Hari's gotten him, has heard snippets about him from Hari's own mouth.

But Dumbledore takes in the scene with sharp, calculating eyes, and that look alone leaves a bad taste in Tony's mouth.

The scene melts around them just as the cheering turns to shrieks of horror. Hari doesn't look much older physically, but there's a weariness in her eyes that haunts Tony. She's too young, he thinks. Too fucking young to have gone through the horrific events that saturate her short life.

She's cut off her long hair. It's an uneven cut, almost boyish, but it suits her. More importantly, it's too short for anyone to grab.

Her cousin is older, too, his bulk utterly massive. He's taller than Hari by inches, outweighs her by at least sixty pounds, and yet he stares at her as if he's in danger of her. The sky darkens as the sun finishes setting, the very air around them becoming cold and quiet.

"What are you doing?" Dudley demands. He's big and opposing, and there's definitely anger in his voice, but Tony can hear the fear lingering just underneath.

"It's not me," Hari says, her teeth chattering. She looks around wildly, searching for the cause of the unnatural turn of weather. "Come on, we have to go." She reaches out to grab his arm.

But Dudley stumbles away from her. "You better s-stop what you're d-d-doing or I'll tell Dad! You'll be s-s-sorry!" he tries to snarl. He shivers violently, wrapping his beefy arms around himself.

"I'm not doing this," Hari hisses. "Seriously, Dudley, we need to leave! Come on—"

Like a cornered animal, Dudley lashes out. His fist smashes into Hari's face, eliciting a yelp of pain as she crashes to the ground. "Freak!" he bellows. Without a second thought to his downed cousin, Dudley turns and runs into the tunnel.

Hari scrambles to her feet, fixing her skewed glasses. "Dudley, no, you're running right towards it!" she shrieks, pulling out her wand as she chases after him.

Dudley must not see what she's talking about, but Tony can.

A dark, cloaked figure, one skeletal hand reaching out to grab the boy. It looks like Death, like the classical grim reaper. The creature leans down and starts to suck out Dudley's soul, and that's when Tony realizes that they're up against a dementor. He's seen the illustrations in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but the reality of these creatures is far more horrifying than any words could convey.

And there's two of them.

Hari's wand clatters uselessly to the floor. She scrambles for it, glancing at where Dudley has fallen victim to the other one. "Come on, come on," she mutters. "Lumos!"

The wand lights up a few feet away.

Tony frowns, confused. That… that shouldn't be possible, right?

There's not enough time to ponder it. Hari barks out a spell, and the silvery Patronus that erupts from the tip of her wand is exquisite, a beacon of light and hope as it chases off the shadowy creatures.

She runs over to Dudley, falling to her knees as she gently slaps his face and shakes him, worry audible in her voice.

There's a sudden noise, and then Hari turns, pointing her wand at the entrance of the tunnel.

Only she's not in a tunnel anymore. She's still on her knees, wand pointed outward defensively, and there's sweat beading on her forehead, dripping down the collar of a large, baggy shirt.

Tony turns and sees Snape, the dour Potions Master, berating Hari. He hisses out a spell with nary a warning, and Hari sucks in a choked breath, small whines of pain escaping her throat. This goes on and on until she collapses on all fours, gagging.

"Control your emotions! Discipline your mind!" Snape snarls.

And Tony wants to knock some sense into the dour man because what the fuck does that even mean? Can't he see that this is something that Hari is struggling with, that she doesn't understand how to proceed?

He watches as Snape rips into her mind, as the pain and force of it sends her to her knees. Hari clutches at her head, breathing hard and sweating.

Snape shows no mercy.

"Legilimens."

And then Hari's standing next to a different man. Tony vaguely recognizes Sirius Black, the wrongfully imprisoned ex-con he'd read about in one of the history books. Hari's godfather. They're side-by-side, whipping out spells at a couple of death eaters.

"Nice one, James," Sirius says after Hari disarms one of them.

Hari turns to him, surprise and hurt on her face.

They're both taken by surprise when a curly haired woman viciously slashes her wand in a fatal arc, hissing, "Avada Kedavra!"

That poisonous green light hits Sirius square in the chest. He's still smiling as his body tips backward, as he passes through an arch, as he disappears.

Hari's face quickly morphs into devastation. She reaches forward, almost lunging towards that mysterious arch, but someone holds her back, pulls her away as her arms outstretch.

The scream that rips free from her throat brings tears to Tony's eyes. It doesn't sound human anymore, animalist and primal in its agony, piercing Tony's heart. He didn't think she could scream any worse than when she'd been tortured in that graveyard.

Tony was wrong.

A spell whizzes past Tony's head. He flinches instinctively, turning to see who had thrown the spell. He gasps when he sees it's none other than a younger Draco Malfoy. Draco's face is wet with tears, but his lip is curled upwards in a snarl, something dark and feral in his eyes.

They're in a bathroom now. Hari and Draco duck and exchange spells furiously, destroying the sinks and stalls around them.

Draco starts to mutter a curse, but Hari is faster. Her spell slices across Draco's chest, surprising the both of them into inaction. Draco glances down at the hit she landed. Blood blossoms across his white shirt; his hand reaches up to touch it, shaky, and he glances back at her in equal parts disbelief and irritation.

Draco collapses onto the wet floor.

Hari nearly drops her wand. She stares in horror at the damage her spell had caused before she leaps towards the downed boy, her hands reaching out to try to stem the bleeding. Draco gasps in pain.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Shite, I'm sorry, I… I didn't know!"

Draco throws her a withering look, rolling his eyes even though the movement then causes him to grimace.

Tony honestly has no idea how they managed to raise two kids.

Snape's appearance throws Tony for a loop. Hari is pushed aside as Snape sets to work healing Draco. For a moment, she stares as Draco's flesh knits back together.

Then, before anyone could say anything, Hari turns around and runs.

When the memory changes, they're standing on a tower. The night breeze ruffles Draco's hair, but he keeps pointing his wand at Dumbledore. His hand is shaky, but his face is resolved.

Tony's eyes flicker to where Hari is standing, obscured and unmoving.

"You don't understand," Draco cries. "I have to do this. He'll kill her if I don't."

Tony doesn't know who Draco's talking about, but he knows the desperation on the blond's face. Still, Dumbledore tries to talk Draco down, tries to reason with him, and to Tony's surprise, it actually works. Draco starts to put his wand down.

The next few moments are a blur. More Death Eaters arrive, including Snape, and any hope of turning Draco dies with it. Dumbledore begs Snape, his eyes beseeching.

Snape kills him.

Tony watches the spell leave Snape's wand, watches as the older wizard is blasted off the tower, and yet something doesn't feel right.

Draco is pale, disbelieving, as if he hadn't really expected Dumbledore to be killed. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he glances at Snape, equal parts relief and uncertainty on his face. Hari is devastated, following them to the grounds and confronting them by herself.

"Murderer!" she shrieks at Snape. "Fight back, you coward!"

Snape remains impassive. He stares dispassionately at her, effortlessly blocking her attempts at retribution. With a hand on Draco's shoulder, he leaves Hari in a sobbing heap on the floor.

Tony stares at Snape with narrowed eyes. As much as it pains him to admit, this is a prime opportunity to kill Hari and get away with it; why not kill her when she's vulnerable? Why leave?

Hari's sobs eventually fade, and the next thing Tony knows, she's running through a forest. Ron and Hermione are by her side, keeping face as they're chased by multiple assailants. They dodge spells with an efficiency that is well-practiced, ducking around trees and feinting this way or that way.

It reminds Tony of his first time exercising with Hari, when she randomly threw tennis balls at him and forced him to dodge them. Watching how wickedly fast a spell could travel puts things into perspective.

Ron is the first to get captured, falling to the floor as metal chains wrap around his ankles. Hari and Hermione keep running until they can run no more, until the enemies begin to circle them and close in.

Hermione turns her wand to Hari then, successfully hitting her right in the face. Hari lets out a pained grunt as she drops to the ground. Her face immediately begins to swell until her features aren't immediately recognizable, until her tell-tale lightning bolt scar is easily obscured by the expanded skin of her forehead.

Still, even without the lightning bolt scar, Hari isn't exactly unknown, and when she's taken to an extravagant manor that Tony's father would've approved of, Bellatrix is waiting, smirking, eyes alight with the knowledge that she would make her master very happy.

Draco is brought in to identify Hari, and Tony lets out a small sigh of relief every time Draco denies it being her. His father pressures him, urges him to take another look, double check, be absolutely certain, but Draco is firm in his resolve to not out her.

"I can't tell," he says even as his eyes flicker to where the lightning bolt scar would normally be.

It's a different kind of bravery, but no less valid.

Still, Tony isn't exactly surprised when Draco tries to capture Hari later. He understands how torn Draco must have been, to believe so whole-heartedly in a cause and then discover that it's not what he thought it'd be, to not have a choice but continue fighting for a side you don't believe in because the alternative is death.

Tony doesn't know what he'd do, if his mother's life was on the line and the only way to save her was to commit terrible atrocities.

"Why didn't you tell your aunt it was me?" Hari asks. She stares at Draco's wand, but doesn't make a move to defend herself.

Draco swallows, but stays quiet. The two cronies on either side of him are encouraging him to bring Hari to Voldemort, but Draco only has eyes for Hari.

The choice is taken out of his hands when Hermione disarms him. It devolves quickly then, with the aggressors scrambling once Hari has reinforcements. Ron chases after them, screaming, but the victory is short-lived.

"Run! Run, the bloody idiot cast Fiendfyre!" Ron comes barreling from around a mountain of books. His freckles are visible against his pale face, and he grabs a hold of Hari and Hermione and pulls.

The fire is so hot that Tony can nearly feel it himself. It consumes everything in its path, and it's by sheer luck that Ron stumbles into broomsticks that they can use. Draco is climbing a mountain of books, the fire steadily creeping up. He, too, will be consumed if he can't get to safety.

But Hari goes back for him.

She spots Draco hanging for dear life, and she turns around. She calls out to him and extends a hand.

He takes it.

They leave the burning room behind, and when they crash onto the floor, they're not enemies. They're kids who just cheated death, who lay on the cold floor panting, who reach out and grasp each other's hands because yes, holy shit, they're still alive.

The moment dissipates quickly.

Tony watches as Draco scrambles away, as he runs down the hall and doesn't look back.

Hari lingers on the floor for a second longer before hauling herself to her feet. There's still work to be done.

"You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live forever."

"My Lord…"

There's a bang as a body crashes to the floor.

"Nagini, kill."

Hari can't see what's going on, but still she pinches her eyes shut. As the snake strikes and Snape's body bangs against the wall, Hari brings her hands over her ears and curls in on herself, flinching.

When it's all finally over, when Hari carefully peels away her shaking hands, when she's absolutely certain that Voldemort is gone, Hari goes to Snape. Tony stares hard at the bloodied man, at his labored breathing.

Hari also stares for a moment, but then she's leaping into action. Her hands try to stop the bleeding, and she looks around to see if there's anything she can use to help.

But there's no helping Snape. Tony knows this, Hari knows this, and more importantly, Snape knows this, too.

"Take them," Snape whispers as his tears turn silver.

Hari's eyes widen and she turns to her shocked friends. "Give me something. Quickly, a flask, anything." She puts the offered flask against his cheekbone as she collects the tears.

"Take them to the pensieve." Snape's voice is hardly more than a garbled whisper. He coughs, sending blood misting over Hari.

She slips the vial into her pocket. There's nothing else to be done. Still, Snape sucks in small, labored breaths, and Hari flinches with each gurgle.

Tony dislikes the dour man, and yet he can't help but pity him. This is a slow way to die, a painful way to die. Flecks of bright red blood rest vibrantly against Snape's pallid, grey complexion.

Hari slowly reaches for his hand. She takes it with her own, holding onto it tightly. Snape glances at her almost disinterestedly. "I don't like you," she tells him.

Snape almost smiles at that, nothing more than a twitch of his lips. "The feeling… is mutual," he grits out.

"But," Hari continues, "you are one of the bravest men I've ever known."

That seems to surprise Snape. He wheezes and coughs. "Don't… mock… me…"

She squeezes his hand. He doesn't shake her off, though Tony isn't sure that's because he won't or because he can't. "Thank you for saving my life," she tells him. "I should've said this a long time ago, and I'm sorry I didn't." She glances away, and Tony can see how shaken she is.

"Look at me," Snape whispers. When she does, he says, "You have more than your mother's eyes."

Hari bites down on her lower lip. Her eyes become wet and glossy with tears. She clears her throat. "Professor, what would I get if I added powered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Snape shakes his head, the movement not terribly big. His dark eyes are clouded over. "…oh, Lily… forgive me…"

Hari shushes him, still clasping his hand. "It's the Draught of the Living Dead, sir." When he doesn't answer, she says, "Where can I find a bezoar?"

"…goat…" His breathing becomes more labored, his chest slowly stuttering to a stop.

"What is the difference between aconite and wolfsbane?"

But Snape doesn't answer this time. His eyes are slightly open, unseeing, a little twist of his lips suggesting something of a smile.

Hari swallows audibly. "Sir?" she whispers. "P-Professor?"

Nothing.

She shakily reaches over and closes his eyes. Her hand rests against his face, trembling a little. The silence is overwhelming, thick.

But then Hari stands up. When she looks at Ron and Hermione, her face is hard, determined.

She follows Snape's orders, takes those silvery memories to the Headmaster's office so she can view them in a pensieve. Ron and Hermione want to view them with her, but she refuses. They don't try to argue her.

It's weird, viewing a memory within a memory. Still, Tony pays rapt attention, and with every revelation of Dumbledore's manipulations, with every truth that comes to light, Tony feels a deep, seething rage grow.

He knew that Dumbledore had betrayed her. Death had said so that night when it warned them of Thanos. Tony couldn't have prepared for how deep that betrayal cut to the bone. It was Obadiah-level of betrayal, and the thought if it makes Tony sick. He knows intimately what it's like to have someone you love double cross you in this way, set you up to be killed.

Because although Dumbledore hadn't hired a terrorist group or donned a bastardized suit, he had actively planned Hari's death. He'd known this entire time that Hari wasn't meant to survive the endgame.

Bitterness threatens to consume him. He knew that he and Hari were a lot alike, but this… it's uncanny.

Is this because they're both Death-Touched?

Hari walks out of the Headmaster's office, her moves stiff and mechanical. Ron and Hermione are waiting for her. Silence descends upon the three friends. Hari's face is open, expressive, and one look at her reveals her plans to give herself over to Voldemort.

"There's a reason I can hear them, the horcruxes. I think I've known for a while, and I think you have, too."

"I'll go with you." The offer pierces Tony's chest in ways he didn't expect.

"No." Hari smiles sadly. "You need to finish it."

But Hermione violently shakes her head. She leaps to Hari, enveloping her in a strong hug. "No, it's not fair!" she cries. "We've… we did all of this so you could live! This… we can find another way! I can look something up, figure something out—"

"There's no time." Hari hugs Hermione back with equal ferocity. The silent tears that stream down her face fucking kill Tony. Her acceptance of her fate, her willingness to die for an undeserving world… Hermione's right.

This isn't fucking fair.

"Please, please," Hermione begs, her pleads punctuated with every sob that leaves her mouth.

"I love you," Hari says. She plants a wet kiss to the side of Hermione's head. "Forgive me."

"Hari—"

Hermione doesn't see it coming, can't see it coming, but Tony does. He can see the look in Hari's eyes, the desperation marring her beautiful face.

"Stupefy." Hari gently lowers Hermione's stiff body to the floor. She tucks a few bushy curls away from her face and stands. Ron is staring at her like he's never seen her before. "Are you going to get out of my way, or do I have to go through you too?"

For a moment, Ron doesn't say anything. When he does finally talk, his voice is thick and raspy. "I… I have so much I need to say to you," Ron confesses. "I need to fix things between us, but I don't have enough time. I need more time, Hari."

Hari's eyes widen, and Tony understands why she's shocked. From what he's seen of their friendship so far, they're not the type to go into deep discussions. They slap band-aid apologies over bullet holes and call it good.

"It's fine," Hari says.

Ron shakes his head. His eyes are wet and glossy, and his voice breaks when he talks. "It isn't fine, Hari. It never was. You didn't deserve the way I treated you, and I never really apologized for any of it. Not properly, at least. I guess… it's so fucking stupid because we're in a war, but I always assumed we'd have more time. I never… I never thought it would come to this, Hari. I never considered that… that I'd have to live in a world without you in it." He lets out a deep, shuddering breath. The tears keep falling, but he doesn't make any effort to brush them away or hide them. "And now, all I can give you is this shitty, d-d-deathbed apology, and you… you deserve more than that. I should have been a better friend to you, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't."

Tony swallows thickly, his throat tightening painfully. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't witness this private, tender moment between friends.

Hari's lower lip trembles, and then she's throwing her arms around Ron. She lets out a watery laugh, shaking her head. "You're not as bad a friend as you think," she says thickly. "There were times where you really hurt me, yes, but you know what else I remember? I remember a boy who invited me into his family when I had none. I remember a boy who made me feel like I belong when all I'd ever felt like was an outsider, a freak. I remember a boy who sacrificed himself so that I could keep going."

Ron's eyes are pinched shut as he squeezes Hari, letting out a muffled sob. "I don't want you to go," he admits. "Please, stay."

Hari continues as if he hadn't spoken. "I need you and Mione to look after each other, okay? You know how she forgets to eat when she's absorbed in a book, and there are times when you have to be dragged in from the pitch." Her voice falters, just for a moment. "J-Just because this is the end for me doesn't mean it's the end for you, too. I want you guys to live. Get married, have kids, see the world, grow old. Do everything I won't get to, okay?"

It's with those words that the reality sinks in. Tony stares as Ron all but collapses in her arms, his fingers tightly gripping the fabric of Hari's jacket. Hari rips herself from his grasp, walks away as Ron buries his face in his hands and breaks. She squeezes her eyes shut, devastation written across her face, but she walks away.

She walks to her death.

Tony follows her the entire way. The Forbidden Forest is as dark and imposing as the name implies, but Hari walks swiftly into it. Tony watches as she turns the stone thrice, watches as the ghostly imprints of her family comfort her, watches as she goes to Voldemort with her head high and a smile gracing her face.

It's over quickly. Tony still can't stop himself from flinching when the spell connects. The world suddenly gets brighter, almost blinding, not unlike when Loki cast the spell. For a moment, Tony thinks that maybe the presentation is over. Maybe Loki's finished playing his twisted game. Maybe he can wrap Hari up in his arms, hold her close to him because he doesn't know how the fuck she's still sane after the bullshit he's seen.

But it's not over.

They're in a train station, oddly enough. It's utterly devoid of people, washed of any color. Hari is laying on the floor, naked, and Tony immediately averts his eyes. He's seen her naked plenty of times, yeah, but she's only seventeen here, and the thought of laying his eyes on her is just unequivocally wrong.

She gasps, and he cautiously turns towards her. She's clothed now, though he doesn't know how, and she's looking underneath a bench. Curious, Tony walks towards where she's kneeling.

There's a grotesque-looking child curled underneath the bench. It lets out pitiful moans, shivering and curled in on itself.

"Well done, Hari," Dumbledore says. He stands there, watching her with a quiet sort of pride.

Tony hates it. He loathes this kind, grandfatherly exterior. It feels cheap, false, nothing more than a façade. How dare Dumbledore look at her with such sincerity when he basically orchestrated her death? How dare he?

"Professor." Hari's voice is flat, disinterested. She's still kneeling by the mangled, grotesque child.

"You can't help, Hari." Dumbledore sounds almost sorry. Tony doesn't buy it.

Hari ignores him. With one deft movement, she reaches down to pick him up. The deformed child groans, one malformed hang reaching out to grasp at Hari's shirt. She cradles the child close and closes her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers to the child.

Tony doesn't know what she's apologizing for. Neither does Dumbledore, who says, "Hari, my brave girl, you have nothing to be sorry for." He shuffles closer to her, but Hari takes a step back.

"You used to tell me that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," Hari says. She turns angry eyes on Dumbledore. "Where was his help?"

Dumbledore seems at a loss. "I… my dear…"

"Tom Riddle was a child, once upon a time. You could have done something for him, but you didn't. You knew the kind of home life he had, the kind of treatment he received from Muggles. How could you stand back and do nothing? He was a child that needed your help, and you abandoned him! It's no wonder he turned out the way he did!"

Tony's eyes widen in realization. Hari's not just talking about Voldemort, or what's left of him at least, but also her. Dumbledore had abandoned her, too.

"You were stronger than Tom," Dumbledore says quietly.

Hari glares furiously at him. Tears spill down her cheeks, but her voice doesn't shake despite the enraged anguish it holds. "You don't get to do that," she spits out. "You don't get to judge our pain or what we became as a result of it, not when you've failed us."

Dumbledore's eyes widen. "Hari…"

"No, Professor. I don't need you to speak right now, I need you to listen." She holds out the small child. "This is what your inaction caused."

"I'm sorry," Dumbledore whispers. Tears fall down his aged, wizened face, and he looks away.

"You look at us," Hari demands. "Don't look away. Voldemort, Snape, me. How many other children have you failed? How different would everything had been if you'd just listened?"

"Please," he pleads. "I… I am only human, Hari. I've made some grave mistakes, but… I never intended to just…"

Hari cradles the child close. She stares at the man as he cries, but she makes no move to comfort him. "You hurt me," she says plainly. "You pretended to care about me meanwhile you were orchestrating my death this entire time. How… how does that make you any better than what Voldemort became?"

Dumbledore flinches as if struck. "I did care about you, Hari," he says quietly. "But… I couldn't care solely about you. Don't you understand? If I allowed myself to get too close to you, so many lives would have been lost. I'm… I'm truly sorry for the hurt I caused, Hari."

Hari lets out a sharp bark of bitter laughter. "Why are you here?" she demands. "Of all the people that could've greeted me, why you?"

The old man shrinks in on himself. "…it was a selfish old man's folly," he tells her. "I had wanted to see you again." He sighs, glancing at the child in her arms. "Do you intend to move on?"

Hari cocks an eyebrow. "I have a choice?" She snorts. "I must be really dead."

That twists the proverbial knife. Dumbledore looks wounded, but Tony can't find it in him to feel too sorry. Still, Hari's face crumbles a little, a mix of anger and guilt warring within her.

"You do," Dumbledore says quietly.

Hari sighs. She rubs a hand over her face, looking years older, world-weary. "What will happen to him?" she asks, rocking the child.

Dumbledore swallows. He hesitates before lifting his arms. "I don't know," he admits. "But… but I will see what I can do."

Hari eyes him distrustfully, not that Tony blames her. She stares at the child in her arms before—

—the world starts spinning violently. Tony doesn't know what's happening, looks around in alarm right before there's a peculiar swooping sensation, as if a roller coaster just crested over the top and is making its descent.

Tony lands on the floor, his suitcase armor digging into his ribs underneath him. He feels nauseous, the world still spinning a bit. When he glances around, he sees that he's back in front of Loki's cell. Thor leans over to help him, easily hauling Tony to his feet.

"Fuck, Point Break, warn a guy," Tony groans, clutching onto the Asgardian in hopes that his stomach contents don't get reacquainted with the outside.

Thor eyes him worriedly. "Are you ill, Stark?"

"It's a side effect."

Tony turns to Hari. She's standing right there in front of them, pale, her eyes bloodshot, but otherwise none the worse for wear. She offers him a small, tired smile.

"Are you okay?" he asks, pushing off of Thor and making a few shaky, unsteady steps towards her.

She meets him half-way. "Easy," she warns. "Being saturated in that much magic when you're not used to it can be very unsettling."

Tony pulls her into his arms, squeezing her with almost everything he has. He wants to take her back to their room and barricade themselves in it, wants to keep her safe from everyone else. She hugs him back just as tightly, her fingers trembling. He's kind enough not to say anything.

"Well, that was certainly enlightening."

Loki's voice grates on Tony's ears. He turns to glare hotly at the god. "That suitcase," he threatens, pointing to it, "has an appointment with your fucking face."

Hari squeezes his arm. "A deal's a deal," she tells Loki, looking at him expectantly. "I've upheld my end of the bargain, now it's time for you to uphold yours."

There's a heartbeat of silence, the tension in the air rising astronomically. Tony knows what Loki's going to say before he even says it. He can see it in the curl of Loki's lip, the twitch of his brow.

"No."

A/N: Hope you guys liked this update! It's longer than usual, but I hope you don't mind that. Tomorrow is my birthday, so maybe drop a comment as a present? :D