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"I can't give you an unlimited supply," Hermione said, her voice turning serious, the playful magic of the moment gone. "It would kill you."
Tony stared at her, the triumphant, post-poisoning euphoria draining from his face. "What are you talking about? You just said it's an antidote."
"It is," she confirmed. "But your body is a Muggle engine, Tony. It's designed to run on gasoline. My potion is the magical equivalent of pure, high-octane rocket fuel. A small amount will give you an incredible boost, clean out the system. But if you keep pouring it in, it will corrode the engine from the inside out. A wizard's body is a natural container for magic; we can process it. Yours can't. Drink too much, too often, and the residual magic will build up in your system and tear you apart on a cellular level long before the palladium ever could."
The room was silent. The simple, brutal logic of it was undeniable. She hadn't given him a cure. She had given him a reprieve. A stay of execution.
"So what I've done," she said, her gaze firm, "is buy you time. Time to find a real, permanent solution." She poked him in the chest, right over his glowing arc reactor. "So get to work, Stark. Don't you dare waste my very precious, very rare unicorn blood by dying of stupidity."
The fight, the arrogance, the despair—it all seemed to drain out of Tony, replaced by a quiet, intense focus. A problem to solve. A ticking clock. This, he understood. A new, determined light was born in his eyes.
Seeing his predicament, Nick Fury stepped forward. "Your father, Howard," he said, his voice a low rumble, "he left something for you. We've had it in a S.H.I.E.L.D. archive for decades. Our scientists could never make sense of it. But maybe you can." He slid a small, encrypted data chip across the table. "This was why I was really here to see you today, Stark."
Tony took the chip, his mind already racing. "What are we waiting for?" he said, his voice full of a renewed, boundless energy. "Let's go."
As Tony and Fury left, a strange, awkward silence descended upon the donut shop. Hermione, Pepper, and Natasha stood there, a bizarre trio in a sea of half-eaten pastries.
"Little Hermione," Pepper began.
"Little Hermione," Natasha said at the exact same time.
They stopped, looked at each other, and then both said, "You first."
Hermione just sighed. "Look," she said, "I have to get back. Classes, you know."
"Can't you skip them?" Natasha asked, a hopeful look in her eye. "We could… go for a drive? I could show you the city."
The offer was tempting, but impossible. I'm not a student in the class, she thought with a surge of exasperation. I'm the teacher. If I don't show up, Lockhart will probably let a pack of werewolves loose for 'practical experience'.
She was trying to formulate a polite excuse when she noticed the small, golden-ball necklace Pepper was wearing. An idea sparked. She reached into her bag and pulled out a simple, elegant metal bracelet, which she handed to Natasha.
"Here," she said with a grin. "A little something I've been working on. It's a prototype personal cloaking device. Bends light around the wearer. I need someone to field-test its durability. You'd be doing me a favor."
Natasha took the bracelet, her eyes widening in surprise. It was a magic item. A gift. After all her professional manipulation, the girl was giving her a gift. A wave of guilt and genuine warmth washed over her.
Seeing the exchange, Pepper's hand went to her own necklace. "I just remembered," she said, a soft smile on her face. "This is the Golden Snitch from your Quidditch match, isn't it? The one Harry caught." She hesitated. "Are you sure you should be giving this to me? Isn't it a team trophy? Won't he be upset?"
"Harry?" Hermione snorted. "He knows better than to have an opinion."
Pepper and Natasha exchanged a look. There was that strange, school-bully-like tone again, so at odds with the sweet, brilliant child they thought they knew.
"Right, well, I really have to go," Hermione said, already opening a portal. "See you later!" She waved and disappeared in a shower of orange sparks.
The two most powerful women in Tony Stark's life were left standing alone in the donut shop. "That child…" Pepper began.
"…is going to give me an ulcer," Natasha finished. Her S.H.I.E.L.D. phone rang. It was Fury.
"Romanoff," his voice was urgent. "Emergency. Coulson's team in New Mexico has a situation. We need the Consultant's expertise."
"What kind of situation?" Natasha asked, already dreading the answer.
"He sent a photo," Fury said. "It looks like… a hammer."
Hogwarts, the Eighth Floor.
Hermione walked down the deserted corridor, her eyes scanning the stone walls. She was on a hunt. She passed a large, ugly tapestry depicting the foolish Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach ballet to a group of trolls. This was it.
She came to the blank stretch of wall opposite the tapestry, closed her eyes, and focused her mind with a singular, intense desire. I need a place to work. A place no one can find. A place with everything I need.
She walked past the wall once. Twice. On the third pass, she opened her eyes.
A door, where a moment ago there had been only solid, ancient stone, was materializing out of the wall. It was a beautiful, dark-polished wooden door with an ornate, wrought-iron handle.
Found you, she thought with a thrill of pure, triumphant joy.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The moment it closed behind her, it vanished from the corridor, leaving only the bare stone wall, as if it had never been.
The room she had stepped into was vast, larger than the Great Hall, and it was a perfect, impossible fusion of her two worlds. On one side stood rows of alchemy stations, bubbling cauldrons, and greenhouse planters filled with rich, dark soil, waiting for her dangerous new seeds. On the other side, a comfortable sofa faced a massive, Stark-level holographic display. And beyond that, the far wall of the room was a floor-to-ceiling window looking out not on the Scottish highlands, but on a calm, turquoise sea under a warm, sunny sky.
This was the Room of Requirement. The Come and Go Room. A magical space that could become whatever its user most needed.
She closed her eyes again, her mind now filled with new possibilities. I need a library, she thought, with every book I read in the Restricted Section.
She felt a strange, humming sensation. When she opened her eyes, one wall of the room was now lined with towering, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled with the familiar, dark-spined tomes she had so painstakingly studied.
A slow, wide, and utterly ecstatic smile spread across her face. This wasn't just a room. This was her kingdom. A place to experiment, to build, to create, far from the prying eyes of Dumbledore, Fury, and the rest of the world. This was where her real work would begin.