Harry stood in the desert as the sun touched the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. He'd spent the afternoon with Jane, sharing historical data and discussing atmospheric patterns. She was brilliant, dedicated, and completely unprepared for what was coming.
He pulled the Resurrection Stone from his pocket and held it up to catch the last rays of sunlight. The stone warmed in his palm, and the world shifted around him.
Spirits emerged from the desert, translucent figures wearing the clothing of different eras. Native Americans who had lived here for centuries. Spanish colonists who had recorded strange lights in the sky. American settlers who had witnessed impossible things.
"Sky god comes again," said a figure wearing traditional Navajo clothing. "The thunder brings him home."
"When?" Harry asked.
"Soon. The wheel turns. The pattern completes."
Another spirit, this one wearing a Spanish conquistador's armor, stepped forward. "Dios mío, the hammer falls from heaven. The earth shakes with his anger."
"Where does it fall?"
The spirits turned as one toward a specific point in the desert, about two miles from Harry's current position. The land there looked unremarkable, just another patch of scrub brush and red earth.
"There," they said in unison. "Where the sky touches the earth. Where the god becomes mortal."
Harry felt his fate-sight stirring, that familiar tingling behind his eyes that warned of significant events. He focused on the patch of desert the spirits had indicated.
The vision hit him like a physical blow.
Lightning split the sky, not natural lightning but something divine and terrible. Energy cascaded from the heavens in a pillar of raw power that made the earth tremble. Something fell from that pillar, something heavy and ancient and mighty.
A hammer.
Harry closed his eyes and reached deeper into his fate-sight, pushing past the immediate vision of the hammer's fall. The desert around him faded as possibilities unfolded in his mind like a vast, intricate web.
He saw Thor first—proud, arrogant, golden-haired Thor—standing before his father in the gleaming halls of Asgard. The young god's face burned with fury as Odin stripped away his powers, his hammer, and his very birthright. The Allfather's voice echoed across dimensions: "You are banished!"
The vision shifted. Harry watched Thor fall through the void between worlds, powerless and mortal, crashing into the very desert where Harry now stood. The god would be confused, vulnerable, struggling to understand his sudden humanity.
But that was only the beginning.
Harry's sight pushed forward, following the threads of fate. He saw Jane and her team finding Thor, the awkward first meetings, the growing connection between the mortal scientist and the fallen god. He saw SHIELD agents swarming the hammer's impact site, their black vehicles and serious faces prominent as they started creating a perimeter around the ancient weapon.
Then came the darker threads.
Loki. Harry's jaw clenched as he watched the trickster god's machinations unfold. The lies whispered to Thor about Odin's death. The deception that would keep the thunder god believing he was forever banished. And beneath it all, Loki's true plan—to prove himself worthy by orchestrating his brother's permanent exile.
The vision showed Harry the Destroyer's arrival, that terrible automaton of Asgardian metal and magic. It would march through Puente Antiguo like a force of nature, its heat-beam turning buildings to ash and people to shadows. Harry saw the main street burning, saw familiar faces—shop owners, waitresses, children—running in terror.
And still the fate-threads pulled him forward.
The Bifrost opening above New York. Ships pouring through a hole in space. The Chitauri invasion that would reshape the world's understanding of its place in the universe. All of it stemming from this one moment, this one exile, this one test of worthiness.
Harry opened his eyes and found himself back in the desert night. His hands were shaking.
"Fucking hell," he whispered to the stars.
The scope of what was coming staggered him. Not just Thor's fall, but the cascade of events that would follow. The formation of the Avengers. The revelation of SHIELD's corruption. The return of HYDRA. Wars between gods and mortals and beings beyond either category.
And at the center of it all, a small town in New Mexico that had no idea what was about to happen.
Harry walked back to his truck, his mind already working through possibilities. He couldn't stop what was coming—the threads of fate were too strong, too interwoven, and he could not interfere too much lest he bring about an even bigger catastrophe. But he could prepare. He could minimize the damage. He could give the people of Puente Antiguo a fighting chance.
The drive back to town took twenty minutes. Harry used every one of them to plan.
xXx
The diner sat at the corner of Main Street and Desert View Road, its neon sign flickering against the darkness. Harry pushed through the front door and found Jane and Darcy still occupying their usual booth, laptop open between them and coffee growing cold.
"You're back," Jane said without looking up from her screen. "Did you find anything interesting out there?"
"You could say that." Harry slid into the booth beside Darcy, close enough that their thighs touched. She leaned into him slightly, the movement completely casual. Their intimacy had developed over the past few nights. "What are you two working on?"
"Jane's trying to map atmospheric disturbances," Darcy said, her fingers finding Harry's thigh under the table. "Apparently the desert's been acting weird lately."
"Weird how?"
Jane finally looked up, her dark eyes bright with excitement. "Electromagnetic anomalies. Gravitational fluctuations. Something's coming, Harry. Something big."
Harry squeezed Darcy's hand. "How big?"
"I don't know yet. But my calculations suggest we're looking at an event that could reshape our understanding of physics itself."
"That's quite a claim, Dr. Foster."
"I know how it sounds. But the data doesn't lie." Jane turned the laptop toward him. "Look at these readings from the past forty-eight hours. The patterns are off the charts."
Harry studied the screen, seeing the scientific proof of what his fate-sight had already revealed. "What do you think it is?"
"I think," Jane said slowly, "that we're about to witness something extraordinary."
Darcy's thumb traced across Harry's knuckles. "Define extraordinary."
"Contact," Jane whispered. "First contact with something from beyond our world."
Harry met her eyes. "And when do you think this contact will happen?"
"Soon. Maybe days. Maybe hours."
"Then we should be ready."
"Ready for what?" Darcy asked.
Harry looked between the two women, weighing his words carefully. "For the possibility that whoever's coming might not be friendly. Or might bring friends who aren't friendly."
Jane frowned. "You think there could be danger?"
"I think there's always danger when unknowns collide." Harry stood up, pulling Darcy with him. "Come on. Let's get some air."
They walked outside into the cool desert night. Darcy immediately moved closer to Harry, her arm slipping around his waist. He pulled her against his side, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
"You're worried about something," she said quietly.
"I'm worried about a lot of things."
"Want to talk about it?"
Harry considered telling her everything. About the visions, the fallen god, and the destruction coming to this quiet town. But how could he explain that he'd seen one of the many possible futures? That he knew Thor would fall from the sky tomorrow night, that the Destroyer would follow, that their world was about to become a much more dangerous place?
"There are things happening that are bigger than what we can see," he said finally. "Changes coming that will affect everyone."
"Vague much?" Darcy looked up at him, her blue eyes catching the streetlight. "Come on, Harry. You've been acting strange lately. What's going on?"
He kissed her instead of answering, soft and slow under the desert stars. She melted into him, her fingers curling in his shirt. When they broke apart, she was breathless.
"That's not an answer," she said.
"It's the only answer I can give you right now."
Darcy studied his face for a long moment. "You're scared."
"Terrified."
"Of what?"
"Of the unknown. Of losing you. Of losing Jane. Of losing everything we've experienced here. But above all else, it's the burden of knowledge that I'm scared of."
She touched his cheek. "Hey. Whatever's coming, we'll face it together. Right?"
Harry kissed her forehead. "Right."
But even as he said it, he knew he was lying. When Thor fell and the Destroyer came, Harry knew he would face it alone. Because that's what he always did. That's what he'd been trained to do since he was eleven years old.
Protect others. Bear the burden. Save the world.
Even if it killed him.
Only this time, he had to take time into account as well. Thor had to change, to become the person his hardships would make him, and he could not act before it happened.
Knowing possible futures was a boon, but it was also a massive burden.
xXx
The next morning, Harry drove to the hardware store on the outskirts of town. He bought rope, flashlights, first aid supplies, and enough bottled water to last a week. The elderly owner, Mr. Rodriguez, gave him a curious look.
"Planning a camping trip?"
"Something like that."
"This time of year? Gets cold in the desert at night."
"I'll manage."
Harry loaded his purchases into the truck and drove to the grocery store. He bought non-perishable food, batteries, and a stack of emergency blankets. Then he stopped at the pharmacy for antibiotics and pain medication.
By noon, he'd made similar stops at three more stores, spreading his purchases around to avoid too much attention. The last thing he needed was rumors about the strange newcomer stockpiling supplies.
He was loading cases of water into his truck when Jane appeared beside him.
"Emergency preparedness?" she asked.
"Boy Scout motto."
"Be prepared. I remember." Jane leaned against the truck bed. "Though I don't remember you mentioning you were a Scout."
"There's a lot you don't know about me, Dr. Foster."
"I'm starting to realize that." She watched him secure the water with bungee cords. "Harry, what's really going on?"
"I told you last night. Things are changing."
"That's not good enough anymore." Jane's voice carried a note of steel. "You've been asking pointed questions about my research. You've been scanning the desert like you're looking for something specific. And now you're stockpiling supplies. So I'll ask again: what's really going on?"
Harry straightened and met her eyes. "What would you say if I told you that tomorrow night, someone's going to fall from the sky?"
"I'd say you're either psychic or you know something I don't."
"And if I told you that person would be followed by others? Others who might not have humanity's best interests at heart?"
Jane's expression shifted from skepticism to concern. "I'd say you should tell me everything you know."
Harry shook his head. "I can't. Not yet. But I need you to trust me on this."
"Trust you to do what?"
"To be ready. To help people when things go wrong. To keep Darcy safe."
"What about keeping you safe?"
Harry smiled grimly. "I'm not sure that's possible anymore."
Jane stared at him for a long moment. "You're serious. You actually believe someone's going to fall from the sky tomorrow night."
"I don't believe it. I know it."
"How?"
"That's the part I can't tell you."
Jane crossed her arms. "This is insane."
"Maybe. But you'll be watching the sky tomorrow night anyway, won't you?"
"Yes."
"Then you'll see for yourself."
xXx
Harry spent the afternoon making rounds through Puente Antiguo. He stopped at the police station and had a careful conversation with Sheriff Martinez about emergency procedures. He visited the fire department and casually asked about their response times. He even stopped by the small medical clinic to chat with Dr. Alvarez about mass casualty protocols.
Everyone was helpful, professional, and completely unaware that their town was about to become the center of an interdimensional incident.
That evening, Harry found Darcy waiting for him at his motel room. She'd brought takeout from the diner and was sitting on his bed, legs crossed, picking at a container of fries.
"Jane says you've gone paranoid," she said without preamble.
"Jane says a lot of things."
"She also says you know something you're not telling us."
Harry sat down on the bed, leaning against her. "What do you think?"
"I think you're scared of something. And I think you're trying to protect us from it." Darcy turned to face him. "Which is sweet and all, but I'm not exactly helpless."
"I know you're not helpless."
"Then why won't you talk to me?"
Harry took her hands in his. "Because some things are too big for talking. Some things just have to be lived through."
"That's cryptic as hell."
"I know."
Darcy squeezed his hands. "Are you in trouble? Legal trouble?"
"No."
"Mob trouble?"
"No."
"Alien trouble?"
Harry's pause was just a beat too long. Darcy's eyes widened.
"Oh my God. You're serious about the falling from the sky thing."
"Darcy—"
"No, don't 'Darcy' me. You actually think aliens are coming. Tonight."
"Tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night." She stared at him. "And you're not crazy."
"I don't think so."
"Prove it."
Harry stood up and walked to the window. The desert stretched out under the darkening sky, peaceful and deceptive. "I can't prove it until it happens."
"Then we wait."
"We wait."
Darcy joined him at the window, slipping her arms around his waist from behind. She tightened her hold around him and leaned her face against his back. "Whatever happens, we're in this together. Right?"
Harry covered her hands with his, squeezing gently. "Right."
But even as he said it, he was already planning how to keep her away from the impact site. How to keep her safe when the Destroyer came. How to make sure she survived what was coming.
Because Harry Potter had learned long ago that the people he cared for had a tendency to die protecting him. And he'd be damned if he let that happen again.
"You're thinking something," Darcy said softly, turning him around. She cupped his cheek, her eyes filled with concern.
Harry's lips pursed, and he did the only thing that came to him in that moment.
Darcy's arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her, and she pressed herself against him. Their lips moved together, and she could feel his uncertainty in the way he kissed her.
She had questions, but she knew he didn't want to answer them. He needed reassurance, a sense of calmness, and something to ground himself into reality. Fortunately, she knew exactly what to do to give him what he wanted.
Darcy began moving backward, forcing Harry to keep up. Their kiss had grown hungrier, neither wanting to pull away from each other.
As Darcy fell back onto the bed, Harry followed, his weight pressing against her, their lips never parting. The kiss deepened, and it felt as if they were both trying to anchor themselves in this moment.
Her hands slid from his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging gently to urge him closer. His breath hitched, a soft groan escaping his mouth as he responded, his lips parting to taste her more fully. The uncertainty she'd felt in his kiss moments ago was melting, replaced by a raw, unspoken need that mirrored her own.
"Darcy," he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough, laced with a vulnerability that made her heart ache. She didn't answer with words. Instead, she arched her body upward, pressing her hips against his, feeling the heat of him through their clothes. The friction sent a spark through her, and she gasped softly, her fingers tightening in his hair.
"Shh," she whispered, her lips brushing his jaw as she kissed a slow path to his ear. "I've got you." Her voice was soft but firm, a promise that she understood what he needed—to lose himself in her, to let go of whatever doubts haunted him. She nipped at his earlobe, earning another low groan, and his hands found her waist, gripping tightly as if she were his lifeline.
Harry's lips found hers again, hungrier now, his tongue sweeping against hers in a way that made her toes curl. She could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flexed under her touch as he shifted to press himself closer. Her hands moved to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward with a quiet urgency. He broke the kiss just long enough to help her, pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it aside. She reached out, feeling the warmth of him under her touch.
His hands slid under her shirt, calloused fingers grazing her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She lifted her arms, letting him peel the fabric away, and the cool air against her skin was a stark contrast to the heat building between them.
"Darcy," he said again, his voice almost a plea as he kissed down her neck, his lips hot on her skin. She tilted her head back, giving him better access, her hands roaming his back, nails digging in just enough to make him hiss. "Fuck, I need you."
"I'm right here," she breathed, her hands moving to his jeans, fumbling with the button in her eagerness. He helped her, his movements quick and unsteady, and soon they were both free of the last barriers between them. The sight of him, fully exposed, made her pulse race. She reached for him, her hand wrapping around his length, stroking slowly, sensually. His head fell forward, a ragged moan tearing from his throat as he braced himself above her.
"Fuck, Darcy," he gasped, his hips jerking into her touch.
She smiled, a little wickedly, and guided him closer, her legs parting to welcome him. "Soon," she teased, her voice husky with want. She pulled him down for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, as she guided him to her entrance. The first press of him against her made her gasp, her body arching instinctively.
"Please," she whispered, her hands cupping his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Harry, please."
That was all he needed. He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch, the fullness, made her moan softly. He groaned, his forehead resting against hers as he fought for control, his breath hot and uneven.
"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice breaking with the intensity of it. "So fucking good."
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and they both moaned at the sensation. He began to move, slow at first, each thrust measured, as if he wanted to savor every second. But the hunger between them grew, and soon his pace quickened, his hips snapping against hers with a rhythm that made her head spin. She met him thrust for thrust, her nails raking down his back, urging him on.
"Harder," she gasped, her voice raw with need. "Harry, don't hold back."
He didn't. His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving her higher, her moans growing louder as the pleasure built. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound mixing with their gasps and groans, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire. His lips found her neck again, sucking and biting, leaving marks she knew she'd wear proudly tomorrow.
"Darcy," he groaned, his voice tight as he thrust deeper, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place. "I'm—fuck, I'm so close."
"Me too," she panted, her hands clutching his shoulders as she felt the coil inside her tighten. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."
He didn't. His movements grew erratic, desperate, and she could feel him trembling above her, his breath hot against her skin. She reached between them, her fingers finding her clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. The added sensation sent her spiraling, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. She cried out his name, her body clenching around him, and that was enough to push him over the edge.
"Darcy!" he gasped, his voice breaking as he came, his thrusts slowing but not stopping as he rode out the pleasure. They clung to each other, breathless and trembling, their bodies slick with sweat as they came down from the high.
For a moment, they just lay there, his weight still pressing her into the mattress, their breaths mingling as they tried to catch their air. She ran her fingers through his damp hair, her touch gentle now, soothing. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, and there was something raw and unguarded in his gaze.
"You okay?" she asked softly, her thumb brushing over his lower lip.
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "More than okay," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her gently. "Thank you."
She smiled, pulling him closer, their bodies still tangled together. "Anytime," she whispered, and she meant it. In that moment, with him in her arms, she knew she'd given him what he needed—a moment of peace, of connection, of reality. And she'd take it, again and again, for as long as he'd let her.
xXx
The next day crawled by with painful slowness. Harry checked his supplies three times, reviewed his mental map of the town's evacuation routes, and tried to act normal around Jane and Darcy. It was harder than fighting Voldemort had been.
At least with Voldemort, he'd known exactly what he was facing, and there was no moral dilemma involved.
Evening came at last. Harry positioned himself on a hill overlooking the town, the same hill where he'd first seen the spirits. Jane and Darcy were at the observatory, instruments trained on the sky. Harry could see the lights of their equipment glowing in the distance.
He checked his watch. 11:47 PM.
The night was clear, stars brilliant in the desert sky. A light breeze stirred the sage brush. Everything was peaceful, normal, and mundane.
It was too much tranquility, and unsustainable too, as mere seconds later, the sky exploded.
Light erupted overhead, not white or yellow but every color at once—a rainbow bridge spanning the heavens.
Harry's jaw tightened. The Bifrost had opened.
Harry felt his fate-sight flare to life, showing him the scene playing out in Asgard. Odin's final words to his banished son. The rainbow bridge activating. Thor's fall beginning.
The light intensified, becoming almost too bright to look at directly. Harry shielded his eyes and watched as a figure tumbled through the cosmic tunnel, falling toward the desert below.
Thor struck the earth two miles away with an impact that shook the ground beneath Harry's feet. Dust and debris exploded outward in a perfect circle.
The rainbow light faded, leaving only stars and silence.
Harry was still staring at the impact site when the second object fell.
It came like a meteor, a streak of silver fire across the night sky. But this wasn't random space debris. This was Mjolnir, the hammer of the gods, following its master into exile.
The hammer hit the desert with a sound like thunder, a boom that echoed off the mountains and rattled windows in town. A crater opened in the earth, and from its center came a strange, pulsing light.
Harry smiled grimly as he watched the light fade.
The god had fallen. The hammer had landed. And the real game was about to begin.
In the distance, he could see headlights racing toward both impact sites. Jane and Darcy, no doubt, driven by scientific curiosity and completely unaware of the danger they were about to face.
Harry started down the hill toward his truck. He had work to do.
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