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The Avengers Tower.
Nick Fury sighed, his one eye reflecting the blue light of the holographic prophecy.
"This isn't a fortune-telling stall on the street, Tony," Fury said, his voice heavy with the burden of leadership. "This is a wizard's prophecy. It was hidden in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most secure vault. We can't ignore it."
CLANG.
Tony Stark stood up abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. His tone wasn't just skeptical; it was angry.
"So what?"
Tony paced the room, his gestures sharp. "Just because these backstabbers threw out a scary bedtime story to justify their coup, we have to start doubting her?"
"They just colluded with Hydra!" Tony shouted, pointing at the screen. "They built magical nukes to kill a teenager! They almost killed Cap! They destroyed S.H.I.E.L.D.!"
"And now, just because they call her a 'Dark Witch' to cover their asses, you've already defected to the enemy?"
He pointed to himself, his chest heaving.
"How many times has Hermione saved us? New York. London. Today. She took a magical nuke to the face for us. She has never betrayed us."
"Right now, she's facing a civil war. She needs support. Yet you—the Spy Master—are the first to jump out, planning to stab her in the back because of some ancient poem?"
Fury's jaw tightened. "That's not what I meant, Tony."
"I trust Hermione," Fury said, his voice deep. "But it's my duty to prepare for the worst. We always have to be ready for the End Game."
Tony laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound.
"Your 'preparations' were garbage, Nick! They were completely ineffective! You almost got riddled with bullets in your own car! Your agency was run by Nazis for fifty years!"
"In the end, Hermione had to solve everything by herself!"
"She withstood an Anti-Magic Array! She dismantled three flying fortresses! She defeated eighteen elite wizards and that show-off Tom Riddle!"
"And now, you're starting to waver?" Tony leaned over the table, glaring at Fury. "Are you starting to 'prepare' again? Prepare for what? To build a Hulkbuster for a Witch? To shoot her in the back?"
The meeting room fell completely silent.
Bruce Banner shifted uncomfortably, cleaning his glasses. He hated conflict.
Steve Rogers frowned, staring at the table, deep in thought. He wasn't just thinking about Hermione.
After the battle, Jasper Sitwell—before being arrested—had whispered something to him. He had slipped him a flash drive.
The Winter Soldier.
Steve was in a daze. He was focused on his best friend, Bucky. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Tony found out who killed the Starks. He stayed silent, trying to minimize his presence.
Banner, however, looked up. He was the most grounded of them all.
"Look," Bruce said softly. "The Ministry guys? They tried to kill a kid. They worked with Nazis. That makes them the bad guys."
"Hermione fed Loki to a dragon. She's weird. She's scary. But she's our teammate."
"And," Bruce added with a shrug, "she's really smart. And polite."
Natasha Romanoff finally spoke up, stopping the escalating argument. Her voice wasn't loud, but it commanded the room.
"In any case," Natasha said coolly, "the Ministry of Magic has overstepped. They broke the Statute of Secrecy. They interfered in Muggle wars. They worked with Hydra."
"This is no longer a shadow conflict."
Tony hummed in agreement. "Exactly."
Natasha continued. "If this is truly the start of a Third Wizarding War... and this time it spills over..."
"Then we can't stand aside."
Her gaze swept over Fury. "We are not entitled to remain neutral. If we don't choose a side, we will be wiped out as collateral damage."
"Therefore," Natasha looked at Tony, then at Fury. "It's pointless to argue about the prophecy. Because even if it's true... even if she is the Dark Witch... it's not our place to stop her. We can't stop her."
"No matter how you prepare, Fury," Natasha said grimly, "we only have one option: To support Hermione. Because if we don't, and she wins? We're on the wrong side of a god."
She paused, choosing her next words carefully.
"Hermione... has changed. From the innocent girl in New York... to something unpredictable."
"You could even say... terrifying."
She admitted the feeling they all shared.
"Perhaps it's the Dark Magic," Natasha mused. "But she hasn't hurt us. We shouldn't distance ourselves. We should keep her close."
Keep your friends close, Fury thought. And your potential world-ending threats closer.
Greenwich. The Pocket Dimension.
The air was calm here. The roar of battle was gone.
Hermione sat on a conjured throne, sipping tea. Luna Lovegood was braiding the mane of a Thestral nearby.
Tom "Cruise" Riddle materialized, dusting off his robes. He looked smug. His face beamed with barely suppressed excitement.
"How was my performance?" Tom asked, preening. "Did you see the monologue? 'The official execution of the Dark Witch!' It was Shakespearean!"
He seemed to have found a new calling. The thrill of manipulating the world from the shadows, of playing the villain in a scripted play—it was intoxicating.
This is much better than being a Dark Lord, Tom thought. Being a Dark Lord is stressful. Being a Crisis Actor is fun.
Moreover, although the script demanded he lose, he got to play the Ministry—the very institution he despised. Making them look like incompetent, tyrannical fools was his dream come true.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You were a bit hammy, Tom. 'Specially made alchemical motherships'? Really?"
Before Tom could defend his artistic choices, Luna tilted her head, looking at him with her large, unblinking eyes.
"But Tom Cruise," Luna said dreamily, "you look like a bad guy. Your aura is full of Wrackspurts. And you smell like old socks."
Tom's smile froze instantly.
Ouch.
Coming from anyone else, he would have cast a Cruciatus Curse. But Luna... she spoke with such natural innocence that it was impossible to get angry. She was immune to intimidation because she didn't seem to perceive reality in a linear fashion.
He coughed awkwardly, looking away. He knew how to deal with brooding types like Helena Ravenclaw. But Luna? She was a variable he couldn't calculate.
As for Hermione?
Tom glanced at her. She was calm, collected, and terrifyingly efficient. He silently dismissed any lingering thoughts of charming her or usurping her.
She doesn't care about handsome men, Tom thought. She cares about power. If I try anything, she'll turn me into a ferret and feed me to the dragon.
"Cough... that's not important," Tom changed the subject abruptly.
"Seriously, Hermione," he asked, leaning against a pillar. "Why go to all this trouble? Why create this elaborate factional conflict?"
"With your current power—and the Infinity Stones—you could simply sweep across the board. You could establish order tonight. You could rule the world by breakfast. Why the theater?"
Hermione set down her teacup. She smiled, the expression sharp and insightful.
"Direct rule is simple, Tom," Hermione lectured. "But it has drawbacks. If I declare myself Empress of Earth, all eyes focus on me."
"Every discontented rebel, every ambitious usurper, every hero with a shield... they all target me."
"Even if I win, I have to govern. I have to deal with resistance. My subordinates will grow lazy or resentful."
She paused, her eyes gleaming.
"But what if I deliberately create two camps?"
"The Ministry of Magic versus The Dark Witch."
"I make them hostile to each other. I make them regard each other as heretics. Existential threats."
"The conflict shifts from 'The People vs. The Tyrant' to 'My Side vs. Your Side'."
Hermione stood up, pacing slowly.
"I only need to exist as a symbol. A flag. Essentially, it becomes a civil war."
"To protect themselves, to further their own interests, people will naturally choose a side. S.H.I.E.L.D. will choose me. The purists will choose the Ministry. Hydra will scatter."
"They will fight for 'themselves.' They will strive for 'their cause.' They will desperately try to eliminate the enemy."
Hermione's voice was flat, yet it carried a chilling understanding of human (and wizard) nature.
"Which of these two approaches is more motivating, Tom?"
"Fear of a distant tyrant? Or hatred of an immediate enemy?"
"Which one makes them willing—even fanatical—to serve me?"
She smirked.
"Although in essence... both camps are actually me. Both sides work for me. I control the Ministry through you. I control the Rebels through myself."
"I am playing both sides, so that I always come out on top."
Tom stared at her. A look of genuine admiration—and fear—crossed his face.
"Creating your own enemy to consolidate power," Tom whispered. "Divide and conquer. It's... Machiavellian."
"It's efficient," Hermione corrected.
"Isn't the latter much more fun?"
Luna hummed from the corner. "It sounds like a game of Gobstones. But with people."
Hermione patted Luna's head. "Exactly, Luna. Exactly."
"Now," Hermione turned back to Tom. "Get back to the Ministry. You have a war to lose."