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Washington D.C. The Skies Above the Potomac.
The realization struck Fury like a thunderbolt, but it was too late. The trap was already sprung.
"NOW!"
The command echoed across the encrypted magical frequency.
HUMMMM.
The three enormous Helicarriers—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie—suddenly lit up. It wasn't the cold white of LED floodlights; it was the blinding, sickly blue of pure arcane energy.
From the ventral hull of each carrier, a high-intensity beam of sapphire light shot out. They didn't aim at the ground. They aimed at each other, triangulating perfectly in the air.
BUZZ—!
An eerie, resonant vibration shook the teeth of everyone within a five-mile radius.
The beams connected, forming a perfect equilateral triangle of light. Within seconds, intricate runes—ancient, geometric, and glowing with malice—began to trace themselves in the air between the ships.
It was a Transmutation Circle. A massive, airborne alchemy array covering three square kilometers.
The circle locked into place, exuding a chilling oppression that dampened all other magic in the area. Hermione Granger, hovering in the center with her spectral Phoenix, was instantly caged.
SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!
Space distorted on the flight decks of the three carriers.
Figures materialized from thin air. Not Hydra soldiers. Not Chitauri.
There were eighteen of them. Six on each ship. They wore dark, hooded robes that billowed in the high-altitude wind. Their wands were drawn, held with military precision. They stood perfectly still, their magical cores resonating in sync, feeding the massive array above them.
"What... what is that?!"
Inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. command van, a technician pointed at the monitor, his voice cracking.
"Not just one... there are dozens of them!"
"Wizards... are they all wizards?!"
The command center fell into a terrified silence. They had spent years terrified of one witch. Now, there was a platoon.
Fury's face turned the color of ash. He stared at the screen, then at the trapped girl. His heart sank to the bottom of the Potomac.
We didn't just lose, Fury thought. We were never even playing the same game.
The confrontation.
High above, the lead wizard dissolved into a swirling cloud of black smoke—Death Eater flight—and shot upwards.
The smoke coalesced above the center of the magic circle, revealing a young man.
He hovered effortlessly, his robes finer than the others—acromantula silk, embroidered with silver. His face was handsome, sculpted, and aristocratic. He wore a polite, almost bored smile.
He looked down at Hermione through the shimmering barrier of the cage.
"Long time no see, Hermione Granger," Tom Riddle said, his voice amplified by magic to echo across the city.
The greeting was simple, civil. But it carried the weight of a judge reading a sentence.
Hermione's expression remained unchanged. She floated in the center of the trap, crossing her arms. She raised her eyelids slightly.
"It has indeed been a long time," she replied, her voice calm. "Senior Riddle."
Upon hearing this title, the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents monitoring the frequency were shocked.
Senior?
Steve Rogers, clinging to the hull of the Alpha carrier, frowned. Does that mean he's a student? An upperclassman?
A glimmer of hope rose in their hearts. Maybe they know each other. Maybe he's here to help. Maybe the Ministry isn't actually evil.
Tony Stark, who was currently rebooting his systems on a rooftop, broke the tension.
"What's going on?!" Tony's voice boomed over the comms, sounding like a frantic parent. "Hermione, you actually have an upperclassman? And a guy at that? And he's remarkably handsome in an emo sort of way... Are you two close? Did you date? Why didn't you tell Pepper?! Goodness, are all teenage girls like this? Never saying a word until the ex-boyfriend shows up with a flying aircraft carrier?"
His incessant chatter made him sound like an old farmer discovering his prize cabbage was about to be eaten by a goat.
Hermione: "..."
Fury: "..."
Steve: "..."
Natasha: "..."
Stark, we are literally at war. Please shut up.
The young man ignored the tin man on the roof.
"It's been over a year since we last clashed, Miss Granger," Riddle said smoothly.
Hermione tilted her head. "Yes. The Ministry seems to have been quiet. Recovering, I assume?"
She smirked. "Why haven't I heard about you capturing Dark Wizards lately? Or did you spend the last year crying in St. Mungo's about the nasty curse I hit you with?"
Hearing the gentle but barbed insult, Riddle's handsome face froze. The politeness evaporated. A distinct gloom crossed his eyes.
"Unfortunately for you," Riddle said coldly, "I recovered very well."
"And you?" He gestured to the massive array surrounding her. "You won't have the chance to recover. Because you are going to die here today."
His voice turned icy, filled with undisguised murderous intent.
The hope in the hearts of the Avengers died instantly. This wasn't a reunion. It was an execution.
Hermione didn't flinch. She chuckled softly.
"Senior," she teased, "are you really that bothered that I took the title of 'Hogwarts' Greatest Wizard in a Century'? Jealousy is such an ugly look on you."
Riddle's face darkened completely. The veneer of the Ministry official vanished, replaced by the Dark Lord.
"HERMIONE GRANGER!"
His voice rose to a scream, echoing like thunder.
"MINISTRY OF MAGIC DECREE! TODAY IS THE OFFICIAL EXECUTION OF THE DARK WITCH!"
"ANYONE WHO INTERFERES—WIZARD OR MUGGLE—WILL BE KILLED WITHOUT MERCY!"
He raised his yew wand high.
FIRE.
On the decks of the three carriers, the eighteen robed figures moved in unison.
Their wands lit up.
BUZZ—!
The Alchemy Array flared. The runic cage contracted. The air pressure dropped to zero.
The giant Fire Phoenix behind Hermione—her primary defense—flickered. The array was designed to suppress elemental magic.
POP.
The Phoenix disintegrated into harmless sparks.
At the same time, the main batteries of the Helicarriers swiveled inward. The barrels glowed with complex enchantments.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Countless beams of magical energy shot toward Hermione from all directions. It wasn't just kinetic force.
There were red beams of Incendio. Blue beams of Glacius. Purple beams of Entropy. Green beams of pure Killing Curse energy.
It was an omnidirectional magical bombardment.
Hermione's eyes narrowed.
"Protego Totalum!"
A transparent, spherical shield shimmered into existence around her.
CRASH!
The beams slammed into the shield like torrential rain on a tin roof.
The sky exploded in a kaleidoscope of violent color. The sound was deafening—a continuous, rolling roar of magical impacts.
The shield shook violently. Ripples distorted Hermione's form.
At first, the barrier held. But the Helicarriers didn't stop. They had arcane reactors. They didn't need to reload.
CLICK.
A faint sound, terrifying in its implication.
A crack, like a spider web on a windshield, appeared on the golden surface of the shield.
Then a second. Then a third.
The cracks spread rapidly, glowing with unstable energy.
"DON'T EAT PICKLED RADISHES!"
On the rooftop below, Tony Stark watched the shield failing. He swore loudly, his heart skipping a beat.
"She can't hold that!" Tony yelled. "Jarvis! Reroute all power to thrusters! Get me up there!"
"Sir," Jarvis warned. "The Mark 43 is not rated for magical bombardment."
"I don't care! Go!"
Tony rocketed into the sky, a tiny speck of gold flying into a storm of gods.