Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Well," Jesus sighed, faintly amused. "You're mostly right. However, I didn't have a middle name, and if I did, it would not be 'fucking'. Aside from anything else, fucking really wasn't on my to-do list back then."

Harry just stared at him, jaw hanging loose. Jesus arched an eyebrow. "What? Were you expecting robes and quotes from scripture?" he asked dryly. "Or perhaps a closer resemblance to the works of the Italian masters – which, while superb pieces of art, seem to be of the firm belief that I was about six feet tall, white, and with enviably manageable hair. Not so much."

"The Dursleys always told me that I was going to hell," Harry said faintly, a vague non-sequitur being the best that he could manage.

"Yes, they gave you a rather skewed version of my word," Jesus said mildly. "Not the most skewed I've ever heard – honestly, there's no species like humanity for twisting words, in ways that truly beggar the imagination. That said, unless they buck up their act, I think that's rather more likely to be their destination, than yours, and well-deserved, too."

When Harry looked mildly surprised, he elaborated.

"While I believe that redemption is possible for everyone, and earnestly desire it, you have to want it. And, of course, to accept that you did wrong and are thus in need of redemption to begin with." He clapped his hands, rubbing them together. "Which brings us right back to you. Do you accept that you should not have embraced the Phoenix fragment within you for the purposes of vengeance and mass destruction, possibly mass slaughter, regardless of the consequences?"

Harry just stared at him.

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't have wanted it – or at least, I'm not condemning you for wanting," Jesus said kindly. "We cannot choose what temptations bedevil us, after all. We can only choose what we do with them. And before your mind was evacuated, you were doing a magnificent job of resisting that temptation. Afterwards, well."

Harry still stared at him, so he took a different tack.

"As long was we're alive and incarnate, we walk in both worlds, being neither one thing nor the other," Jesus said. "Your father's people have always been closer to mortal kind than most deities – they live and die in a way that most other gods do not. There's good reason for that, though I'm not the one to explain it. But even so, you are caught between the two, just as I was, and every other demigod has been. It is our burden, but it is also our gift, for it allows us to understand both the heavens and the Earth. That is why I was sent down in the first place, actually, not just to be a Messiah."

"I don't really want to be a messiah," Harry said quietly.

"It's not something you choose, I'm afraid," Jesus said sympathetically. "You can either face up to it and accept that that is how people are going to see you; without letting it go to your head, mind you. Or you can run from it. But believe me, little cousin, that never works in the long run." He smiled slightly. "Besides – I think we both know that you're not the type to run."

"It would probably save me a lot of trouble if I was, though," Harry said sourly.

"Well, that is very true," Jesus acknowledged. "Up to a point."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"In the short term, yes, it would save you a great deal of grief," Jesus said. "In the long term, not so much."

Harry grimaced. "Why are you talking to me, anyway?" he said. "Don't you have more important things to do?"

"No," Jesus said bluntly. "I don't."

Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly, then nodded. "Of course. The Phoenix," he said.

"Your mother, wonderful woman that she is, and the protection she has laid on you are only incidentally relevant," Jesus said gently. "That is to say, all the supernatural aspects of your background are immaterial, because I do not, and will never, have anything better to do than talking to and helping a young person in pain." He leaned forward and gently prodded Harry, to emphasise his point. "You."

A moment later, Harry felt a sudden shift in the space around them, and Jesus looked up suddenly, frowning, as if he was being told something he didn't like. Or to be more precise, Harry thought with a sudden burst of inspiration, it was the exact expression that Ron got when Hermione was nagging him.

"I will admit that there are other things I need to discuss with you," Jesus said. "Which, in my view, are part and parcel of helping you." He rolled his eyes upwards. "Some of our relatives think differently."

"We're being watched?" Harry asked, startled and worried, now on his guard. Now that he looked, he could feel other presences, swirling around on the edge of perception. All of them were powerful, and at least one was vaguely familiar.

"We are," Jesus said, not sounding especially pleased by this. "Currently, the Council Elite of Skyfathers is discussing you. Many of them see you as a threat to be dealt with."

"Dealt with?" Harry asked, hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

"I and a select few others," Jesus continued. "Feel otherwise. We feel that you need help, rather than to be treated as a kind of unexploded bomb. We recognise the sight of someone struggling for their soul, and would rather not shut the door in your face. Most of my fellows want to get your measure, rather than rely on fear magnified tales at second or third hand."

"And why are you, specifically, speaking to me?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"The others felt that, owing to your cultural background, I would be the deity you would be most familiar with outside of Asgard, with the exceptions of Hercules and Athena," Jesus said. "And while the latter is among our number, they also thought that you would be less inclined to see me as a threat. I, for my part, asked to speak to you because I honestly want to help you." He looked upwards and added pointedly, "which I will do in my own way, in my own time, thank you very much."

There was another shift, but the presences receded slightly.

"Now," Jesus said. "You will, at this point, be tempted to start going it alone. Your instinct has always been to shrink away from others, especially those you care for, when you fear that you might hurt them by accident. This is laudable, but a mistake. Friends and family are our greatest strength, their love a greater and more elusive power than any that can be mustered by means natural or supernatural."

"You sound like Professor Dumbledore," Harry said.

"I am not surprised. He is a wise man," Jesus said. "One who took a long and difficult path to gain that wisdom, one that often veered into darkness. Yet he managed to find his way out again, as I am confident that you will." He gestured to Harry. "Walk with me."

"Where?" Harry asked. The landscape was uniformly bland.

"Hmm," Jesus said. "Good point."

And just like that, they were in Kings Cross Station, albeit entirely empty, and far cleaner than Harry had ever seen it.

"Appropriate, I think," Jesus remarked. "After all, you are at a crossroads in your life. What train you take is entirely your choice, one that will affect the rest of your life."

"No pressure, then," Harry muttered.

Jesus flickered a smile at him, then spoke in a reflective tone.

"Friends and family… they are more important than anything. I had family, parents who loved me dearly and raised me well, and siblings – well, half-siblings, technically. A cousin or two as well. As for friends… I had disciples, who would do anything for me, moments of doubt and fear notwithstanding. But they also put me on a pedestal." He smiled wryly. "Admittedly, declaring that I was the Son of God was probably the main reason for that. The various miracles didn't help, and in many ways it was necessary to my mission, cementing my moral authority. However, it was also extremely lonely. By definition, it means that you are isolated. And mark my words, no matter what you say or do, there will always be people, too many people, willing to put you on a pedestal. At the same time, there will be just as many willing to tear you down, whether it is because they think you are unworthy of being on a pedestal in the first place, because they feel that you have not lived up to what they believe you should be, or simply just because. And sometimes, they are several of those things at once."

"Why?" Harry asked. "I mean, I'm familiar with the idea," he added, thinking back to his second year at Hogwarts.

"You would be," Jesus remarked in knowing tones.

"But… why?"

Jesus sighed. "Because it is part of their nature," he said. "They are the point where infernal malice meets heavenly grace and accordingly, they spend much of their lives walking an uneasy line between the two. More to the point, on one level or another, they know it. They are aware of their flaws and imperfections, and often, they either embrace them or strive hard to surpass them – ascetics, for instance, mortify the flesh, hoping to pass beyond the temptations and limitations of their physical forms, and become something purer. They also regard those that they believe to be less flawed, in body or spirit, with reverence, with envy, and even with fear. Whatever the reaction, this leads to the view that such people are outside ordinary human society. Thus, pedestals."

"That… is a much more cynical view than I'd have expected from you," Harry said, somewhat surprised.

Jesus chuckled. "I am aware of the flaws in human nature," he said. "I was born as a human, lived as a human, specifically to understand them. To understand their failings, and to recognise their grace in spite, or even because, of them. After all, what meaning does virtue have if it is not contrasted with villainy? You may as well ask what is light without darkness." He smiled. "Besides – it has hardly as if mortals have the monopoly on flaws and failings. In many ways, gods, demigods, so-called higher beings of one form or another… we are humans writ large. We make so much noise about seeing far more of the universe than humanity, of understanding far more, of being wiser and greater." His smile faded, to be replaced by something more pensive. "But in truth, I wonder if we are not merely more powerful and correspondingly more arrogant. If we are not, in fact, just as flawed as the mortals we stand above – worse, indeed, not having the humility to admit it. Is there grace in our failings, I wonder?"

"Well, the fact you're even thinking about it, helps," Harry ventured.

"Ah, but I was human," Jesus said, raising a finger in the manner of one making a point. "Does that mean that I have a greater perspective on the flaws of the divine and its similarities to humanity, or does it mean that I am limited by a perspective still rooted in my human origins?"

"I don't know," Harry said honestly, a little puzzled.

"'Admitting one's ignorance is the beginning of wisdom'," Jesus said. "Socrates said that. Solomon said something very similar – 'rebuke a wise man, and he will love thee. Give instruction to a wise man, and he will be yet wiser: teach a just man, and he will increase in learning.'" He paused. "Of course, he didn't phrase it exactly like that, and wrote it in Hebrew, but the Hebrew would meaningless to you – you speak English. And the King James does have rather lovely prose. Dodgy translations, at times, but lovely prose." He waved a hand. "Nevertheless, he was known for his wisdom, and was known for it partly because he acknowledged his own ignorance and sought wisdom in the first place."

"So, you're saying that I'm wise because I admit that I don't know?" Harry asked, thinking that this conversation had taken a turn for the utterly surreal.

"Yes," Jesus said simply. "And that is precisely why I, and a select few others who are also of my mind, are not worried about you, the way that many of the others are."

"Um. What?"

"In your willingness to admit your own ignorance, you reveal your capacity to question your own previous actions and convictions," Jesus said calmly. "In essence: you do not take your rightness, and righteousness, for granted."

"Still not getting it," Harry said.

Jesus smiled gently. "You are willing to change your mind," he said. "In my experience, the most dangerous people are those who will not change their mind, no matter what, either through pride, or stubbornness, or simple denial. You are proud, but not haughty. You are determined, yes, but not intransigent. And in these last few years, you have come to accept a great many things. Your expressed desire not to be a messiah speaks to far more than the obvious – as with your decision to reject Chthon's temptations, you do not want to shape the world in your image, or to tear it apart and leave a blank canvas for your own creation. Simply put, you do not believe that you know best. "

"So, I'm not about to go insane and destroy the world?" Harry asked dourly. "Good to know."

"I thought it might be a relief to hear," Jesus said dryly. "However, I wasn't quite finished. There is one thing that could drive you to the point of no return, that could blind you in a way that pride, stubbornness, or a messiah complex won't."

"And what's that?" Harry snapped, irritated.

Jesus arched an eyebrow, then said, tone wry but gentle. "Anger," he said.

Harry flushed a little.

"Anger is a natural condition for the young," Jesus said. "All those hormones, all that pent-up energy, all that frustration at being treated like a child when you consider yourself to be an adult or near enough, all that impatience at having to follow someone else's rules, and all that cast-iron certainty that so many of those around you are idiots, that you could do it all better if only you were given the chance… the latter in particular is a belief that, like cast-iron, is inflexible and tends to shatter when subject to the stresses of pressure and reality. And that is just the case for an ordinary, mortal teenager in the peaceful, wealthy parts of the industrialised world. While you also grew up in those parts, your experiences in these past few years have given you a greater maturity. But they have also given you a great many more reasons to be angry."

He met Harry's gaze, expression serious, and Harry found that he couldn't look away.

"And why shouldn't you be? Your entire life has been a catalogue of expectations and suffering based on things that you had no control over. You did not ask to be born a wizard, much less to Asgard's Crown Prince in mortal form, and a young woman who happened to possess within her DNA the potential for power capable of shaking worlds. You did not ask them to bequeath you their gifts. You did not ask to be marked out as a potential threat to a vicious dark lord by a prophecy, then sealed as such by his actions and malice. You did not ask to survive your parents' murder through your mother's deal with one of the Endless. You did not ask for that the man who indirectly arranged that deal, Stephen Strange, to choose you as his champion against the coming darkness, with all the suffering that entails. You did not ask for your father to go mad as a result of what had happened to him, or for your grandfather to erase his memory and forbid attention being drawn to you for fear of Asgard's enemies hunting you down and your father's memories returning before he was ready, his insanity with it."

Harry tried to look away, but he couldn't, as the calm litany went on.

"You did not ask to attract the attention of Nathaniel Essex, a man whose brilliance is only exceeded by his hubristic belief that the world and all its wonders are for him to use as he wills, who developed such an interest in you that he risked exposure, isolating you from all those who would have raised you with love and care, just to study you unimpeded. You did not ask to be targeted by Voldemort time and time again, with even the mere memory of him as a boy using the very darkest of arts and the body of an innocent to try and kill you, to take revenge for something you didn't even do. You did not even ask to have the gift of Parseltongue, unwittingly bequeathed to you by Voldemort's actions, which alienated you from your peers and made you an object of suspicion for far too long. You did not ask for Dementors to find you a particularly sweet meal, to target you in particular for torment. You did not ask to be a demigod, to develop vast powers that isolate you even further from humanity than you already feared. You did not ask for Lucius Malfoy, HYDRA, Gravemoss, and many yet to reveal themselves, to fear your potential and attempt to strike you down before you achieved your full potential. You did not ask for the Red Room, and others yet to reveal themselves, to try and enslave you, using your power for their own ends, for the Red Room to torture you in the process, for your body to be used as an engine of destruction. You did not ask for it. You did not ask for any of it."

There was silence.

"Even so, you have had to endure all that suffering and pain. You have had to shoulder the curse of the Warrior's Madness, a blight on your House since the founding of Yggdrasil and the price for its great power. And the fact that you have had no choice in any of this – which is why I have not discussed those things that you have had a choice in – makes your anger with what has happened, with the whole world, that bit more toxic, that bit more furious… and that bit more likely to grow into something that will corrupt you, transform you, and consume you, burning away everything that was ever good in you. And all that will be left is a hollow shell, a thing filled by rage and by hatred, one that only knows how to destroy."

"I know," Harry said bitterly, after a long moment. "I didn't ask for that, either. And I tried it and I didn't like it."

"You chose it," Jesus retorted, calm and inexorable. "You were tormented by inconceivable psychic stress, by days of physical and mental torture compounded by six months of memories of your body being violated in some of the most horrific ways possible, of it being used as a weapon to perform the most terrible of deeds. Memories, mark you, that your returning mind instinctively incorporated as if they were your own, despite the fact that they very much weren't. The conflict nearly split your mind in two. Were that not enough, your body was still devastated from being sent into battle against one of the most formidable beings to walk the Earth, and from being nearly consumed by a mechanical intelligence of cold malevolence and endless hunger. You were blinded by pain, but most of all, by rage. In that moment, you could not have reasonably been expected to make a rational choice. But."

"But what?" Harry asked, glowering.

"But you still made a choice. You chose to embrace the Phoenix fragment within you, despite knowing that as a defence mechanism, its instinctive response would be to lash out and destroy threats to you, having suppressed it while under the Red Room's torture for that very reason. You did not have any way of knowing how it or you would respond to merging, how the emotion amplifying factor of the Phoenix fragment would combine with the fact that the fragment is fed by emotion, no way of knowing that it would first lash out at everything that ever hurt you, then, as all semblance of rational thought burned away, lashing out at everything it could reach," Jesus said. His tone was calm, gentle, and non-judgemental, but the words still struck. "But what matters is that no matter the circumstances, no matter your ignorance, in your anger you instinctively chose to embrace it."

"I let it go, too," Harry said quietly.

"And you deserve great credit for that," Jesus said calmly. "As you chose to take up that particular sword, you also chose to put it down again. But as we both know, you did not do it alone. This is right and proper, for the love and support of our loved ones is the truest and most precious of gifts. You walked to the edge of the cliff, and it was with their help that you did not fall. But it was only with their help that you did not fall. And even that joint success, of your loved ones and of your own strength of will, was only made possible by a case of impeccable timing."

He looked Harry in the eye. "Make no mistake, little cousin: you were caught as a fledgling Phoenix, one mostly grown, but only mostly. If you had not been caught as early as you were, then even if Strange had plucked all your loved ones from all of time and space, had joined your minds to theirs, they would not have been able to talk you down, because you would be the Dark Phoenix in full. There would not be enough of you left to hear to their words, and what remnants there were would not care even if they could. Your choice, no matter the circumstances it was made in, would have doomed you, and most probably the rest of us with you."

"So what?" Harry asked bitterly. "What's the message?"

"So don't go fooling yourself with the belief that the Dark Phoenix is like the Hulk, something that you can unleash when you are in trouble to defeat or destroy your enemies, before regaining control and locking it away again once its task is done – I know you are considering it, and no wonder," Jesus said evenly. "It is quite the tempting prospect, after all: to be able to unleash a power that makes even your own current powers like nothing as and when you need it. With your current power, you can play with molecules and minds on the other side of the planet. As Dark Phoenix, you can play with reality itself. With that kind of power, you could burn away every bit of evil in this world, leaving only goodness behind. All the good people who died before their time, your mother among them, you could bring them back. You could make it so that they would never have to die at all." He leaned forward, expression far too knowing. "And above all… with that kind of power, no one could hurt you ever again."

Harry looked away and Jesus leaned back.

"But the Hulk is a part of Doctor Banner, a good and kind man. His power can be guided, harnessed," he said. "The Dark Phoenix is not. It is a force of nature corrupted by mortal darkness. Accordingly, it has no conscience, no mercy, and no restraint. It cannot be harnessed and it cannot be controlled. If you become the Dark Phoenix again, you will not be forming a symbiosis as Banner has with the Hulk, or as your mother has with the Phoenix. You will be using your mind, your soul, and everything you are as tinder for a bonfire that will destroy your enemies, yes, but then your friends and your family too. And after that, all that will remain is a hollow shell, a mockery of what you once were, one that unless it is stopped, will destroy everything else because destruction is all it knows."

A chill ran down Harry's spine.

"I don't understand," he said. "One moment, you say that you're not worried about me becoming the Dark Phoenix. The next, you're telling me that I'm tempted, that I might do it just to not be hurt." He eyed Jesus. "Speaking of, isn't that your opposite number's department? Temptation, I mean."

Jesus smiled gently. "It is," he said. "But I know temptation. Do you honestly think that I have never been tempted? I was, frequently. One or two of the incidents were quite famous – one involved a desert. I was offered everything from simple material comfort to the chance to change the way I undertook my mission. Instead of going out and giving people the choice to choose goodness, I could go out, stand on high with all the world kneeling before me, and use my power to make them better, to destroy evil and to enforce good." The smile turned wry. "I was definitely tempted to skip the part with the cross."

His smile saddened. "Many others, of course, never made it into scripture. So yes. I understand temptation. I understand your struggle. I understand resenting being feared and hunted for things that you cannot control, the ingratitude of mankind, and being tempted just to wave a hand and make all of your problems go away. You are not the first demigod to face those problems, nor was I, nor even was your cousin Hercules. More than a few humans could understand the temptation too, your friend Doctor Banner, your godmother Ms Maximoff, and your headmaster, Albus." He paused. "Speaking of demigods, actually, I should introduce you to Rama some time. You'd get along. And Adam, who really is my opposite number, being the Anti-Christ. He knows a little about being expected to destroy the world." Harry just stared at him. "Yes," Jesus mused. "I think you'd definitely get on. Possibly a little too well, actually."

He shook his head. "In any case, let me tell you, Phoenix or no Phoenix, when one of us decides to say 'fuck you all, there is no right, there is no wrong, there are no rules for me', it is not pretty." He looked Harry in the eye. "One thing I also came to understand, one thing that most of us come to understand, and one thing I think you already know but may not yet quite understand… is that embracing your rage; in your case becoming the Dark Phoenix… it is the easy way out. It will not do you good, it will not bring you peace, and it comes at a price that is not worth paying."

He stood up. "By any reasonable measure, you deserve rest. You deserve peace. But sooner or later, I am afraid, you will be tested again. You will face pain, and loss, and many, many things that will make you so very angry. You will face temptation, some obvious and open, and some subtle and sly, which will rock you to your very core. And you will encounter the full burdens of walking in both worlds that you face, being pulled this way and that by competing heritages that will feel like they are tearing you apart from within," he said. "Under that circumstance, it would seem logical to worry, to fear that you would one day succumb to your rage and go down the path of the no return. Many of our brethren do. Right now, they are having a meeting, debating the threat you represent. After all, the power you have at your fingertips is one that is beyond even the Skyfathers and Earthmothers power to destroy, and only with the greatest of guile and sacrifice can it even be contained."

"But you don't," Harry said. "You and whoever these other gods you said agreed with you. Who are they, anyway?" He scowled. "Or can't you tell me?"

"I can, and with the greatest goodwill," Jesus said easily. "Your grandfather, of course. Others of my fellows include Ganesha, Athena, Anansi, Guan-Yin, Hestia, Vishnu, Brighid, Hades, the Zoryas, Isis, Osiris, Thoth, Laozi, Anahita, Amaterasu, and Mother Summer."

Harry blinked in surprise. That was rather more than he'd been expecting.

"More believe in you than you might think," Jesus said, seeing his expression. "Even among beings who are not disposed to believe in anything but themselves. That was not a full list, either."

"So I'm so special that gods believe in me?" Harry said, eyebrow raised. "Wonderful. I'll add it to the pile of unrealistic expectations people have of me."

"Well, I must admit that more than a few are playing the odds based on your personality," Jesus said mildly. "Others believe that you are most likely to become the Dark Phoenix, but they should try and forestall it, because there is no other practical option. But I do. I think that the expectation is very realistic."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because I believe that you can accept your anger, to control it and not to let it control you. Because I believe that you can accept your pain and your loss, and use them as a spur to be kind, not to lash out. Because I believe that when it comes down to it, when you are given the choice to choose what is right or what is easy, to choose to maintain hope or to give in to despair, to choose love or hate…" Jesus said. "I believe that you will control your anger. I believe that you will decide to be kind. And above all, I believe you can change your mind. I believe that, this time and always, you will choose love."

"What if you're wrong?" Harry asked, as Jesus turned to go. "What if I… what if I make the wrong choice? What if this was for nothing?"

The other demigod turned back with a half-smile. "Then at the very least, little cousin, I will know that in this time and this place, I chose to do something right."

OoOoO

"Strange," Ra said slowly. "What have you done?"

"Well, I've been doing quite a lot recently, your featheriness," Strange said, with a dangerous sort of manic cheer. "Which is more than can be said for you."

His gaze swept the lot of them, dark amusement draining from his face. "No, for the most part, you've spent the last thousand years sleeping, squabbling amongst yourselves, or reliving past glories. No wonder so few of you raised an objection to the Celestials' injunction not to interfere in the development of Earth a millennium ago - it hardly represented any great change in your behaviour," he said, tone cold and cutting. "For a millennium and a half before that, few of you paid more than cursory attention to Earth and its inhabitants, and perhaps that was for the best, because when you did pay attention, for the most part, it was anything but constructive."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes, you slew this monster, you sired that hero, and sprinkled those artefacts across the mortal world... but often the monster was your fault to begin with, in many cases the mother of the hero was hardly in any position to consent and siring a hero was more of a convenient by-product than a matter of intent, and the artefacts caused as much harm as they did good, especially since their wielders rarely had a clue what to do with them."

He regarded them all with an unimpressed expression.

"In summation," he said. "Rarely did you ever actually leave the Earth a better place than when you found it. And when you did, it was usually by accident." He stood up. "Now you are concerned about the Earth? Now you care about what happens to it? Now you will get involved in defending it? Why? Well, let's be honest. For the most of you – with honourable exceptions, who know who they are – what motivates this is not a desire to protect the Earth, it is a desire to protect yourselves. And therefore, in your fear and your arrogance, you have blundered into a situation which you do not understand the least part of, and propose a 'solution' that hardly deserves the word, since if you actually engaged your miserable excuses for brains, you would realise that it would actually make things worse and trigger the apocalypse you are all so damn afraid of!"

He looked around at them, expression cold. "So let me make my response completely and utterly crystal clear: How dare you, after spending millennia sitting on your cosmic arses doing nothing, step in now and claim that you know best? You have absolutely no concept of what is in motion, and even less of why! You know nothing!" He swept them all with his gaze. "Thanos. Is. Coming."

Those gods who'd had been about to speak froze. This did not go unnoticed.

"Oh yes, you know that name, don't you?" Strange said with grim amusement. "You've heard the whispers on the star-ways. The stories of gods and demons alike that have challenged him, that he has destroyed, each becoming just one more corpse on the trail of blood and death that he has carved through the ages. He is coming. He is coming to Earth, because that is where the remaining Infinity Stones are, all he needs to achieve true omnipotence and succeed in his true aim: destroying everything that is, that was, and ever could be."

"And if the Dark Phoenix runs free, if your predictions are true, Honoured Sorcerer, then all Thanos will need to do is claim the stones from the ashes of Earth," the Yellow Emperor -remarked mildly. "If we do not resolve this matter satisfactorily, then we will be doing Thanos' work for him."

"You are right, your majesty," Strange said, inclining his head. "On both counts. However, let's think this through, shall we?" He smiled thinly. "I realise that the concept of thinking might be alien to a few of you, but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. Don't worry, it'll stop hurting shortly."

Zeus stepped forward, jaw jutting out.

"Be careful, cousin," Vishnu said in a carrying undertone, as he placed a restraining hand on Zeus' shoulder. "Strange is mad and he is holding an Infinity Stone, one I believe he knows very well how to use. Provoking him would not be wise."

"He's right," Odin said, despite knowing that Zeus wouldn't listen. "Strange is not a man you wish to threaten."

Zeus shook him off and shot a contemptuous look at both Vishnu and Odin. "Unlike the two of you, I have no fear of an arrogant, insane mortal and his cheap tricks," he snarled, before turning on Strange. "You go too far, mortal," he growled. "Remember your place. Before I remind you of it."

Strange's response was lightning fast and came entirely without warning. In a split second, he was on his feet, had raised the Tesseract and spat several words in a language that made reality scream and even gods clutch at their ears. In an instant, pale crystals of frozen time erupted from the floor and engulfed the Olympian, freezing him in place, trapping him like an insect in amber.

"Well, I can hardly say that that was unexpected," Odin said, into the shocked silence, one that swallowed his words.

"Total sucker rule violation," Huginn agreed.

Vishnu simply sighed a long suffering sigh.

Then all went silent as Strange began to descend the stairs from his throne-like chair, footsteps echoing through the endless night, striding into the very midst of the assembled gods. And though many of them towered far above him, more than a few shrank away as he advanced, finally coming to a stop in the middle of the group.

"I am the Sorcerer Supreme," he said, in a low, deadly voice that concealed a barely controlled and mounting rage. "I am the Evergreen Man, the Lord of Time, and I know my place perfectly well. I fight beings like you every single day. I have guarded reality against them for centuries, and for the most part, I have done it alone. For centuries I have stood, and I stand here still, now with an Infinity Stone in my hand. Do you really think that you, any of you, is a match for me?" He spun to take in them all, the Tesseract burning blue-white in his right hand as he did, eyes blazing with rage and something close to madness. "So how dare you? How dare any of you? How dare any of you raise your voices to me!"

The Rock of Eternity shook as he spoke, and more than one god took a half step back, suddenly becoming profoundly aware that they were on thin ice, and what was more, it was creaking.

The silence was now deafening, and Strange smiled coldly.

"I trust that you are all aware of a certain prison in the New World, buried deep under a certain lake, wherein countless horrors and dark gods are imprisoned, so many that their mere presence, limited as it is by their bindings, generates one of the most powerful dark ley lines in the Western Hemisphere?" he said, voice suddenly conversational again. "Yes, I see that from your expressions you are. Some of you may even have seen it up close, in which case, you will recognise the crystal in which Lord Zeus is bound."

Several dozen divine eyes turned to Zeus. More than a few of them showed dawning recognition.

"This is, of course, is not quite the same," Strange remarked. "The crystals of what is variously called the Deeper Well, the Crystal Cave, and Demonreach, are trans-temporal prisons and reinforced by the prison itself, and the fact that it's built on a foundation of one of the largest ley line convergences in the mortal world. As a convenient side-effect, it is itself now the source of what is quite possibly the largest dark ley line in the Western Hemisphere, meaning that if one has the skill to manage dark energy without being corrupted by it, it's really rather useful."

He turned, slowly, looking each and every one in the eye. "Additionally, that prison was built by myself and Merlin. I know exactly how to replicate it, and better, for my mastery of time magic exceeds even his, and in case you hadn't noticed, I am holding an Infinity Stone and I know how to use it. Plus, we based that prison on Agamotto's notes on the construction of this old thing in the Book of the Vishanti."

He tapped an outcrop of the Rock to make it very clear that that was he meant, letting the implications hang in the air, and smiled. "Yes," he said. "We're standing on what is quite possibly the ultimate prison."

"Are you getting it now?" he asked, after he was sure that it had sunk in. "Prince Harry Thorson's manifestation of the Phoenix is part of my plan to protect Earth and the universe at large. If you behave, I will inform you of some of the particulars of this plan. And you will not interfere with it for two reasons: First, if you succeeded, then as his learned majesty said, the Dark Phoenix will run free and all of you, and the Earth, will die, because none of you have a prayer of stopping it - or at least, those of you who would have even the slightest chance don't have the faintest idea how. And you will have done Thanos' work for him, and we will all be doomed. Second, you would not succeed. You would instead be bound here, your power leaking out in much the same way, to be tapped by yours truly."

He resumed his place on the throne-like chair. "In short: you will assist in my plans, and you will do so either by actively helping or by staying out of my way. If you attempt to impede me, then the ultimate prison will get a few more inmates, at which point, you will still assist in my plans – by serving as a gigantic fucking battery. Any questions?"

There was silence.

"No, I thought not. Now. Let's discuss what's going to happen next, shall we?"

OoOoO

In the end, the compromise was simple. Harry would learn how to manage the Phoenix within him, and, of course, his temper, while also getting no small degree of mental healing.

When the subject of mental healing came up, Harry consented to the plan of locking away the memories of the Red Son. He also consented to being trained in the same skills so that when he had to use them, he wouldn't have a flashback. It was at this point that everyone, including Harry himself, noticed that he was looking and feeling somewhat better. Not his old self, by any means, but better.

The reason for this was quickly found – those memories had already been locked away, and many of the mental wounds had been dulled, as if they had had years to heal rather than a mere couple of weeks. It didn't take much imagination to work out who was behind it.

"It is the Son's work," Frigga said, effortlessly capitalising the word to leave in no doubt who she meant.

This led to Harry revealing that he did, in fact, have something of a friend in Jesus and expand on the little chat that they'd had. In turn, this led to a case of the usual Avengers style bickering over matters theological, and whether or not Thor and Loki had, in fact, been a bad influence on him or vice versa, with much teasing of the quietly devout Steve.

All in all, life seemed to looking up.

OoOoO

And that turn-up for the books was not restricted to Harry.

Maddie had spent much of the last couple of weeks hovering nervously, unsure of where she stood – though the Avengers, and by extension those of Asgard, extended her unblinking trust after the fact that she had successfully proven Worthy to wield Mjolnir, and Jean, her twin sister (twin sister! She'd never even imagined that there could be anyone like her in the world, the very idea of family had been abstract to her), had been around so often that it was almost like the nigh mirror image that she resembled. And Professor Xavier had helped too, and…

"Everyone's just been so kind," she wailed, bewildered, overwhelmed and on the verge of tears, to Jono who was now inhabiting a cloned version of his original body, on the grounds that while his ability to make his astral form solid was an astonishing one, and it gave him access to a vast breadth of powers that he had only just begun to tap, it also left him excruciatingly vulnerable. Plus, as he noted, it was refreshing to be able to touch things without having to focus on them.

"I know, luv," he said, patting her back for lack of inspiration on what else to do, casting a helpless look at the other person with them: Gambit.

Who, naturally, rose to the occasion.

"And it ain't nothin' less than y' deserve," he said firmly.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," Maddie said, then added, after a moment. "And…"

"Y' ain't used to it," Gambit said quietly. "Because Essex didn' show y' a bit of kindness. Th' way 'e had y' brainwashed, 'e didn' think that 'e needed t' even pretend to care."

Maddie nodded, a little damply. "You did," she said.

"Yeah, well, about that…" Gambit said, looking guilty.

"I know why you did it at first," Maddie said. "I realised relatively quickly."

"Y'… y' did?" Gambit asked, startled.

"I am an Omega class telepath, we spent a lot of time in very close proximity, and while your body is distracting, it is not that distracting," Maddie said dryly.

Gambit stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, before sharing a look with Jono, who'd started choking with laughter, then smiled wryly. "I shoulda guessed," he said. "Why didn' y' say? Or tell Essex?"

Maddie chewed her lip. "Because it was nice," she said, after a moment. "To have someone act like they cared about me."

"Oh cherie," Gambit said sadly. "Ah'm sorry. I really am."

"I know," Maddie said. "You were afraid. You wanted a way out. And it wasn't long after that that you actually did care. Looking back, I see now that you spent months risking everything to try and get me free of Doctor Essex. It is largely thanks to you that I found the courage to make the right choice." She looked down. "You and Harry. My cousin. My…"

"Family," Jono said, filling in the gap as she trailed off, then glanced around. "Where is he, anyway?"

Maddie nodded. "He's still recovering," she said.

"How is he?" Jono asked, then realised that he might have trodden on some awkward territory.

"Getting better," Maddie said.

There was an awkward silence.

"An' speakin' of family," Gambit said bracingly. "I hear that your momma and poppa are comin' to see y' later."

"They don't know about me yet," Maddie corrected him, a little subdued. "Professor Xavier and Mrs Carter are going to explain it to them."

"She was the woman with the fancy laser gun, wasn't she?" Jono said, and Gambit nodded.

"Très belle, et très dangereux," he remarked, in tones of respect. "Like her granddaughter."

"Too bloody right, mate," Jono said, then turned to Maddie. "So, you're meeting your parents today. That's good, isn't it?"

Maddie looked non-committal and nervous.

Specifically, she was nervous of how they'd react once they knew what she'd done, what she'd spent her life doing, being, a weapon for Doctor Essex. Especially when they compared her to Jean – and it was logical for them to do so. After all, they were twins, with the same looks, the same build, the same powers; a perfect case study of nature versus nurture. In one, it had produced someone warm, gentle and unthinkingly kind, someone who had embraced her, Maddie, without blinking, despite knowing very well what she had done and what she was. In Maddie's eyes, Jean was an angel in human form, a standard that she could never possibly live up to, and when her parents saw how the two compared –

"Hey," Gambit said, doing a fair imitation of telepathy. "Stop comparin' y'self to Jean."

"But I'm her twin," Maddie said. "The flawed copy."

"Bullshit," Gambit and Jono said in perfect unison.

"Y' ain't her flawed copy any more than I'm Chief o' the New Orleans Police," Gambit said. "You're you an' she's her. Yeah, y' may have damn near the same genetics, because y' are twins, but y' have different minds, different souls. I'd bet good money that if y' were raised together, you'd turn out different, because y' two different people, not one in two bodies. She was raised t' do good, taught by one o' the most downright decent men I've ever met. Y' were raised an' taught by the biggest damn asshole that I've ever known, an' believe me, cherie, I've known some real big assholes, an' y' know what? Despite all he did t' y', tried t' do t' y', y' turned out a right proper hero. Y' lifted Thor's hammer! I did a bit o' asking, an' the only other people who ever managed t' lift that thing are Thor, his daddy, a girl called Diana who's meant t' be real damn lovely an' brave, an' Captain fuckin' America. Y' in the company o' heroes, an' it's because y' deserve t' be there. An' from what I hear, y' saved y' baby cousin's mind, if not his damn life, with what y' did."

"It went wrong, though," Maddie said quietly.

"And when it did, luv, you went right back in to fix it," Jono retorted. "Even though you had no way of knowing that your friendly neighbourhood cosmic whatsit was going to remove the trigger words in your brain, or that we were going to get help from a bunch of cosmic whatsits, a couple of major league hero types, and the Scary Bugger Supreme."

"Sorcerer Supreme," Maddie corrected, her lips twitching slightly.

"I stand by my choice of words," Jono said. "And even before that, you saved me from life as little more than a floating brain in a jar, taught me how to be a real boy again, gave me the basics on my powers."

"They're right, you know."

All three of them jumped. They had been so caught up in their discussion that they hadn't noticed Jean listening. It might seem puzzling that a skilled psychic tracker like Maddie could miss someone with a presence like Jean's, but the simple fact was that without a certain re-calibration, psychics had trouble sensing Jean in the same way that people in Trafalgar Square had trouble seeing England.

"You've done some amazing things," Jean continued. "You've been braver than I could ever imagine being, faced down things more terrifying than I could even comprehend. You've been through hell and you turned out a hero." She slipped into the seat next to Maddie and slipped an arm around her twin. "And I'm not perfect, Maddie. I make mistakes. I do things I regret. I've misused my powers in the past – and yes, I get angry." Her expression saddened. "You misused your powers because that's how you were taught to use them, what you were taught was right. When I misused mine, I knew better. My family was visiting Harry's, and that cousin of his, Dudley –"

"Him that calls himself the Beast these days," Jono interjected, for Maddie's comprehension, then frowned vaguely. "I wonder what happened to him…"

"Right," Jean said. "Well, he had no powers. He was just an ordinary, mean little boy, who was beating up Harry with his friends. I got angry and I lashed out. Luckily, I didn't do any permanent damage." Her expression turned troubled. "I don't think." She shook her head. "My point is, I could have put him in a coma, even killed him. I misused my powers when I knew better, because I got angry. So you see? I'm not perfect. And it wasn't just when I was a kid, either." She grinned. "I think that Captain America's ears are still ringing from when I yelled at him, poor man."

Maddie laughed softly, then, cautiously, laid her head on her sister's shoulder. She was beginning to be a little more comfortable with casual physical contact, though was a little nervous of initiating it – like all abused children, she feared rejection.

She would not face it from Jean, however, whose maternal streak was all-encompassing, especially when it came to family. She therefore gave her twin a comforting squeeze, sending a reassuring psychic pulse of warmth and affection to her sister. Then, she looked up at Jono and Gambit with an expression that said one thing more clearly than any words, verbal or psychic ever could: 'thank you'.

Both nodded, in Gambit's case, the nod turning into a neat bow, before quietly leaving the sisters to it.

"You're sure they won't hate me?" Maddie asked eventually.

"I'm certain," Jean said.

Maddie nodded, head rubbing against her sister's shoulder. "Okay," she said. "When are they coming?"

"They're already here," Jean said, and Maddie tensed. "They're downstairs, talking to the Professor and Mrs Carter."

Maddie nodded again, sitting up, the hair on one side fluffing up. "I'd better go downstairs, then," she said.

"Not before your hair gets a good brushing you won't," Jean said, amused.

Maddie went pink. "Of course."

OoOoO

Others, meanwhile, were engaged in more business-like matters.

Loki, for instance, had been hunting the Red Room across Eastern Europe and Asia, and had chased most of the survivors down into India. Where, as it turned out, they had promptly linked up with the Indian government, which had been an ally of the old Soviet Union, largely with geopolitical motives on both sides. In this case, the motive of the Indian government was to extract as much of the Red Room's exceedingly useful and often ill-gotten knowledge and technology as possible.

While the likes of Thor would have cared little for this and wrought spine-chilling vengeance on the Red Room wherever they hid, Loki took a more subtle approach. Namely, by taking tea with the Indian Prime Minister.

"Now, Mister Prime Minister, I should first say that I do not intend to intimidate you in any way," Loki said. "While fear can be a useful tool, it is a temporary one. Additionally, I realise that you are not afraid of me. Or at least, not sufficiently to change your course. This I understand, indeed, applaud." This was punctuated with a graceful inclination of the head. "However, there is something you should take into account. You are a devotee of Shakti, I believe?"

"I am," the Indian Prime Minister said. "I presume that this has a degree of relevance."

Loki nodded. "The entity that you know as Shakti is not a goddess. She is an aspect of something much older, and much more powerful. She is one of the Seven Eldest, the beings known as the Endless," he said. "If you do not believe my claim, then I will happily swear it by my blood and power – and as your mystics could tell you, those oaths are closely binding indeed."

"For now, let us continue as if what you say is true," came the measured reply.

"Very well," Loki said. "In that capacity, she has other names. One is Destruction - specifically, in the name of rebirth. Another is the Phoenix. And this is very important, you see, because of one crucial fact. She is Harry's mother. Or to be precise, Harry's mother was a mortal witch, but she managed to invoke the Phoenix, with the secret assistance of the Sorcerer Supreme. In exchange for protecting Harry from Voldemort's wrath, on her death, she merged with the Phoenix. In that capacity, she has acted to protect Harry in the past. It was that protection that brought him back from the dead, something you may have heard rumours of it. It was that power which he used to wreak vengeance on the Red Room, who tortured and tormented him for many months in a deep, dark region of the Spirit World. As you might imagine, she is not best pleased with them. Nor would she be best pleased with those who harbour them."

"Is this meant to be a threat?" the Prime Minister asked steadily, voice carrying barely a tremor.

"Hardly," Loki said. "It is a warning." He leaned forward. "No, Prime Minister, I am not interested in threats. Instead, I have a proposal to our mutual advantage."

"Please elaborate."

"But of course. In our function as Avengers, myself and my brother provide mortal powers and mortal laws with a certain respect, for we are guests on this world," Loki said. "But my nephew was taken. Tortured. By men and women whose superiors, inferiors, and colleagues, have fled far and wide. Many of those who have not suffered unfortunate accidents have chosen your nation, because of old alliances that they still trust to. We are not acting as Avengers now, because they declared war on Asgard. You cannot protect them from us, and you would be well advised not try. However. I, at least, am not quite so blinded by rage as to simply come in and start slaughtering my enemies, extracting my nephew's blood price, without offering a more sensible option."

"And what would that option be?" the Indian Prime Minister asked carefully.

"You are an intelligent man, and you have surely deduced that to harbour the Red Room means the chance to share in the spoils of their knowledge, of their technology, and far more so than in previous cooperative efforts, for they are desperate. Such an advantage is priceless: the Red Room are renowned technologists, among very many other things," Loki said. "They have historically matched SHIELD, the USA - though the extent to which one can be separated from the other is debatable - and HYDRA alike, and unlike SHIELD, with which your nation has an... interesting history, any technology derived from them could be used solely for your nation's benefit."

He sipped at his tea. "In essence, in allowing myself, my brother, and perhaps a few chosen associates, free rein - or, to be perfectly frank, not getting in our way - you feel that you risk such knowledge being lost. I, for one, am hardly so crude. I suggest instead that you use your position of relative trust to claim the knowledge and technology the Red Room have to offer - whether you use deception or force is entirely up to you. Then, you step aside, and we will do what needs to be done. While I concede that you would make a loss in long term technological gain, I think that it will be a comparatively small one."

Putting down his cup, he smiled. "You see, the Russians are cowed, for now, and their political establishment is in chaos," he said. "The remains of the Red Room are in disarray thanks to many of its more senior officers taking... early retirement, shall we say. Funding is likely to be limited, as is innovation. On the other hand, with the knowledge of the Red Room to build on, I am sure that your own scientists will be able to do remarkable things. In addition, your assistance in this matter would be greatly appreciated. For one thing, I do believe that a very considerable proportion of your people depend on agriculture, and well: my brother does control the weather. I am sure that he would be happy to return your favour. I am equally sure that the Phoenix, Shakti, would be rather pleased too."

The Indian Prime Minister mulled over this. "This seems to be acceptable," he said. "Though I am sure that your knowledge of the locations of my guests, some of which they have not seen fit to share with us, could prove helpful."

Loki inclined his head. "It will be on your desk in hours, Prime Minister," he said. "Oh, and I feel that you should be aware that at least two of your citizens were formerly Red Room prisoners. One, a young man called Nagraj, Nagraj Shah, managed to make his escape. A police officer, meanwhile, Officer Karima Shapandar, was not quite so fortunate, but is now receiving the best mortal medical care. I believe that this is particularly worth mentioning because we have been looking to expand the Avengers – after all, for all our skills and powers, we seven cannot be everywhere – and the two of them have been identified as very promising candidates."

"I know of the young man you speak of," the Indian Prime Minister said carefully.

Loki nodded. "Leaving aside the manifold advantages of an Avengers branch in your own country, an autonomous one, the utility of which has been demonstrated by Britain's Excalibur team," he said smoothly. "It seems rather unfair and impractical for so many of the emergent superhumans to congregate in the West. Perhaps a suitable first mission, for one or both, would be to direct them to strike against the Red Room that so tormented them?" He paused. "And, of course, keeping busy, taking revenge on those who deserve it, might drive certain thoughts out of Officer Shapandar's time. Such as inquiries of how, after her accident, she wound up in the hands of the Red Room to begin with."

The Indian Prime Minister's eyes narrowed, and Loki smiled slightly. "I will bear that in mind," he said.

"Superb," Loki said, standing and shaking the man's hand. "As ever, Prime Minister, it is a pleasure doing business with you."

"And you, Prince Loki," the Indian Prime Minister replied, not saying that, as ever, when doing business with Loki, he felt the urge to check that he still had all ten fingers afterwards.

OoOoO

All, it seemed, was proceeding swimmingly, and Harry's recovery was continuing apace. While Asgard did not have many therapists, there were a few who specialised in mental healing, combined with Dream's prevention of nightmares, Jesus' sly bout of mental healing, and the support of family and friends, a few regular sessions helped enormously.

While his sense of humour tended to be quite dark and there were periods when he retreated into himself under a cloud of emotional darkness, and he was generally grimmer and considerably more jumpy than before (as Uhtred had found out when he once caught Harry unawares, at the cost of three cracked ribs. Predictably, he shrugged off Harry's horrified apologies and was fine within hours).

In the meantime, Maddie need not have worried about her parents (though inevitably would have done anyway) who, as soon as they laid eyes on her, burst into tears and hugged her. Then, her mother, still tearful, insisted on thanking and hugging a very surprised Gambit and an even more surprised Jono, and Jean for good measure. She would likely have hugged and thanked Harry, but he was still in Asgard at the time.

Meanwhile, the Phoenix power within the feather remained quiescent, despite Odin's close examination of it.

And so did the other pantheons – though one got the general impression that many of them were sulking, in between fear of Strange.

All in all, everything seemed to have taken a turn for the better. And soon, towards the end of September, serious discussions were being had about Harry's return to Hogwarts.

OoOoO

When that subject was brought up, however, the answer was not one to their liking.

"Not a bloody chance," Wisdom said bluntly, without looking up from his papers. Thor and Sirius had chosen to address this matter, and had done so by arranging a meeting with Wisdom – Thor because he was Harry's father, and Sirius both because he was Harry's godfather and because even Wisdom couldn't fob off his older brother forever.

"What?" Sirius asked, beating Thor to the punch.

"You heard me," Wisdom said. "Now unless you have something else to discuss, kindly get out of my office."

"Director Wisdom," Thor began, tone one of strained patience.

"No," Wisdom said, still not looking up. "I could live just fine with the boy when he was capable of blowing up castles, or small towns, if he lost control. When he was just a particularly powerful psychic wizard, with a few incipient demigod genes. Even that protection of his would have been fine if it had just stayed as exactly that: a protection. But now, it's a great deal more than that. Now, if he loses control, it's goodbye to the country, if not the planet. Now, if he has a nasty flashback or something, we're looking at the second coming of the Red Son. No fucking thank you."

"Come off it, Reg," Sirius said. "You must –"

"I must what?" Wisdom asked dangerously, lowering the papers and glaring at Sirius. "Also, as I have told you in the past, Sirius, I don't go by that name any more."

A spasm of pain passed across Sirius' face for a half instant, then his expression hardened. "You answer to it quickly enough," he snapped. "When it's me or that disgusting house elf."

"Kreacher gets a pass because he's old and he can barely live with me going by another name in public. The idea of me giving up the name of Regulus Black completely would probably kill him," Wisdom growled. "You, on the other hand, are trying the last of my patience." He shook his head sharply. "I must nothing, Sirius. There are only two people above me in my chain of command, and you aren't either of them." He turned to Thor. "And neither are you, Thor." His expression softened a little. "Look, I haven't got anything against the boy. I'm sorry about what happened to him, I really am. I've been on the wrong end of torture and mental invasions and…" He sighed. "I know a thing or two about what the Red Room are like. I joined MI13 in the last few years before they were taken out the first time, and I had more than a few run-ins with them. The sort of things they do, the sort of things I saw, I wouldn't wish them on anyone." He paused. "Well, actually, there's a few people I'd wish them on." He shook his head. "A few people, yeah. But an innocent lad, a boy who just wants to do some good in the world? He's the last person who deserves it."

"Then you know that –"

"None of it was his fault?" Wisdom asked. "More or less. He made the call to evacuate his body, left it for the Red Room to use, but it was with a plan in mind, after days of torture, and, frankly, a lot of older and better trained people I know would have made the same call for worse reasons under the circumstances. Besides, having the memories of what they made his body do is more than punishment enough, deserved or otherwise. But."

"But what?" Thor asked flatly.

"But you bloody well know what," Wisdom said, without rancour. "My job is to attend to the defence of the realm against supernatural threats. Your son might not mean to be one, but he's potentially the worst I've run across. Not through malice, but through sheer power and lack of control. I won't pretend to know even a fraction of the lore around the Phoenix, but I know enough to know that it's the kind of power not meant to be held for long, much less by an angry, traumatised child." He sat back. "I can't stop you from taking him to New York, or somewhere else on Earth. But equally, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't do my damn best to prevent him from staying on Earth, and with what I could tell people, my opposite numbers around the world would probably listen."

"This is bullshit," Sirius said furiously. "Harry's got as much right to attend Hogwarts as anyone – more, since he was bloody well killed defending the damn place!"

"No, Sirius, this is reality," Wisdom snapped, getting to his feet. "It might be better for the boy's feelings to go back to Hogwarts, but I am not going to put one boy's feelings ahead of the sixty odd million people who I am sworn to protect!"

"Is it now?" Sirius demanded heatedly, also rising.

"Yes," Wisdom snapped. "It is." He turned to Thor, who had also risen, ready to separate the two brothers, and some of the heat left his tone. "Keep him at home, Thor. In Asgard, with the rest of his people. Teach him about control there, until, like you and Loki, he can keep his powers in check."

"He can, Director," Thor said. "And he has forsaken almost all the power of the Phoenix. He poured it into Laevateinn."

"Liva-what?" Wisdom asked, bemused.

"Laevateinn," Thor said. "It is an ancient artefact, one closely tied to the Phoenix. Once it was a wand. Now… now, it is masquerading as a simple phoenix feather, as it has since I was a small child. It contains the power Harry summoned up. Harry does not have the power to unleash the Dark Phoenix, even if he wished to."

Wisdom folded his arms. "But he's still got some," he said shrewdly. "You said almost all. And unless I'm missing something, that kind of power grows if given fuel."

Thor inclined his head. "Embers," he said. "Little more than the protection he was given to begin with."

"And if he loses it, we're back to square one," Wisdom retorted.

"He only 'lost it' after being tortured for days and having six months of memories of his body used as a fucking puppet for torture and murder," Sirius said. "I'd say that's pretty good reason."

"And it is also something that will not happen again," Thor said.

"You can't promise that," Wisdom said.

"I can reason it," Thor said simply. "Harry has been kidnapped successfully twice. The first time was by the Disir, ancient creatures aided by the arts of the Darkhold, which is now locked away once more. And he was in Asgard anyway, so it would make no difference where he was if the situation repeated itself. The second time was by the Red Room, who in Essex had someone with unparalleled knowledge of Harry, and in Maddie had a psychic more powerful than Harry himself, who caught Harry off-guard. Even then, as you said yourself, he only left his body vacant by choice. He could have unleashed the Phoenix any time he wished while he was being tortured, yet he held out for days." He met Wisdom's gaze. "HYDRA also tried to take him when they were at the height of their power and they failed. The Red Room are being reduced – by the time they rise again, if they ever do, something I think unlikely, Harry will be a grown man. You will know better than I how few organisations, mortal or supernatural, are capable of mustering the kind of power that the Red Room and HYDRA had." He gave Wisdom a pointed raised eyebrow.

"If we're counting SHIELD as puppeted by HYDRA in the equation of HYDRA's power, and the Darkhold too, and effectively Russia and the old Eastern bloc under the Red Room, brief as that was… no mortal organisation," Wisdom said reluctantly. "The American and Chinese militaries, maybe – what they lack in superhuman firepower, they make up for in numbers, resources, and highly sophisticated conventional firepower. SHIELD, if it ever regains its old power, would be up there. And probably Atlantis, if they're even half as powerful as I think they are." He drummed his fingers. "As for supernatural, practically speaking, the big guns are the Fae Courts, the Vampire Courts, and the White Council. The ICW's got power on paper, but not something it can really back."

"And how many of those would have an interest in kidnapping and torturing my son as the Red Room did?" Thor asked, keeping his tone even, despite a brief wobble over the word 'torturing'.

"I'm pretty sure that Weapon X would like to know what makes him tick," Wisdom said. "And they're getting the band back together." He sighed. "But they're not stupid. Because –"

"Because they'll have seen what happens to those who try to harm him," Thor said quietly. "The Vampire Courts do not desire more enemies, and they know to fear my kind." His forehead creased in a frown. "Dracula hates the Phoenix, it is true." He gave Wisdom a shrewd look. "But from what I know, he will also not set foot in Britain. There is another vampire here, I am told. A powerful one, that keeps others out, tolerating only a few transitory White Court vampires that flee as soon as it bestirs itself to demonstrate its displeasure if they out-stay their welcome."

"Since when?" Sirius asked, eyebrow raised.

"A couple of decades ago," Wisdom said curtly. "We call him the Welshman, most of the time. He lives in Cardiff, keeps himself to himself, and usually feeds off the spares from blood banks and any monsters daft enough to chance their arm in South Wales. I think he has some sort of arrangement with Strange, though exactly what it is, I have no idea." He shrugged. "He's powerful enough that Dracula doesn't like to come calling – the two had a meeting which didn't end well for either. Voldemort also tended to avoid that part of the country, after one of his giants got eaten."

Sirius let out a low whistle.

"Anyway," Wisdom said. "Why does Dracula hate the Phoenix?"

Thor explained Dumbledore's tale of his encounter with the Grey Court and the Clan Akkaba and the Phoenix in Vienna at the end of the 19th century.

Wisdom nodded slowly. "That explains it," he said. "But still. Drac can put two and two together, and if the boy's on Earth, he'll make a play at some point. Maybe not on British soil, but he will. And if that leads to the Phoenix…"

"I can face that glorified corpse," Thor said. "I have done it before, and if needs be, I will do it again, and again, and as many times as is need."

Wisdom eyed him, then nodded curtly. "I'm sure you will," he said. "But that leads us to the elephant in the room: gods, goddesses, demons and devils. Where do they factor in?"

"The pantheons of Earth have decided to take a live and let live attitude to Harry," Thor said, with a certain grim satisfaction.

Wisdom raised a sceptical eyebrow. "And they don't fear the Phoenix at all?" he said.

"Not as much as they fear Doctor Strange," Thor said. "Who explained to them that it was his will that Harry possessed some measure of the Phoenix's power, as part of his plans to prepare the Earth to face Thanos."

"Yes, he mentioned the fella in question," Wisdom said darkly. "I suppose that makes sense. But how the hell did he scare them into submission? He's not that strong."

"He's not," Sirius said. "The Tesseract is."

Wisdom stared at them. "You… gave Strange the Tesseract?"

"Lent it to him," Thor corrected. "And frankly, Director, going by past experience, if Strange wishes, he can steal just about whatever he pleases."

"True enough," Wisdom muttered. "And the demons and devils?"

"Have no wish to invite a war with Asgard or arouse the wrath of the Phoenix," Thor said. "I cannot pretend that there will be none that covet the power of the Phoenix, even the embers that Harry possesses still. But they will be wary of trying to claim them. They know that Harry technically invited Chthon into himself this last summer, then banished him. They know that he set reality to rights shortly after." He paused. "And every single other pantheon will come down on them like an avalanche if they even suspect them of making the attempt, for fear of the Dark Phoenix."

"You make some compelling points," Wisdom said. "Though I'll have to look into them myself. And have your oath on them. Right now, though, even if all you say pans out… I'm not quite convinced. Why should I take this gamble?"

Thor smiled thinly. "Because you are a man who likes to have all things under his eye," he said. "Because if Harry transforms into the Dark Phoenix once more, then his being in Asgard will not protect Midgard, Earth, for long. Because if Harry attends Hogwarts once more, you will have a chance to determine Harry's future, rather than simply stand powerless at the sidelines." He leaned forward. "And because Voldemort has returned, with more power than ever before, including the ability to control the mind of all who bear the Dark Mark. Harry is the one with the prophesied power to destroy him, once and for all."

Wisdom's eyes narrowed dangerously. "To be clear," he said, in a slow, soft, deadly voice that set both Thor and Sirius on their guard. "Are you suggesting that I would put a personal motive, in this case, my own fear of what Voldemort may or may not do to me, may use my Dark Mark to do, ahead of my duty to Queen and Country?"

"No," Thor said evenly. "I know your kind well enough, Peter Wisdom, Regulus Black, whatever you seek to call yourself. You skulk in the darkness, doing dark and foul deeds and shrug them off, playing the part of one without principle. But in truth, you are a man of honour, one with one principle that you hold dear, so dear that you are willing to sacrifice all others to preserve it. With you, it is loyalty to your country; its protection is your utmost priority." He sat back. "Do you not think that your country would be threatened by Voldemort, even before he became what he is now? Do you not think that his ability to bypass whatever mental defences you have would be a threat, when in your mind, you hold all the secrets of the defence of Britain? Do you not want the one person destined to destroy Voldemort once and for all in Britain?"

Wisdom eyed Thor, then his lips twisted into a wry smile. "You're smarter than you look," he said mildly. "Then again, you always were." The smile turned into a smirk. "Which is more than can be said for Sirius, anyway."

"Oi," Sirius said, if somewhat half-heartedly.

Thor smiled faintly. "Do we have an accord, then, Director?"

Wisdom considered, rubbing his jaw. "Ah what the hell, I was planning to have a few of my lot at Hogwarts for the Triwizard anyway," he said, nodding. "Keep an eye on proceedings."

"And demonstrate to Fudge and the Headteachers of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, as well as any other international observers, who the real power in these Isles is," Thor said shrewdly.

Wisdom let out a bark of laughter, sounding very much like his brother. "That too," he said casually, before his expression hardened. "Full disclosure, though. I'm not just going to have my lot sit around and keep an eye on the boy, or play therapist. I'm willing to hope for the best, to play the odds, because as you point out, I don't have many other options. Even if I was willing to put a bullet through the boy's head, it wouldn't work." He paused as Sirius growled threateningly and the arms of Thor's chair creaked as his fingers dug into them, arching an eyebrow. "What? You're surprised I considered it? It wouldn't be my first choice, and like I said – I have nothing against the boy. But make no mistake, if I had no other option, I'd do it in a heartbeat and take the nightmares and divine torture vengeance as they came."

The muscles in Thor's jaw bunched. "I'm not," he said. "Surprised."

"But you're still pissed off to hear it," Wisdom said matter-of-factly, nodding as if this was exactly what he expected. "Understandable."

"I am," Sirius said quietly, then snorted. "I thought that I was supposed to be the mad one. Yet after twelve years in Azkaban, I'm practically a fucking vision of sanity compared to you."

"I'm not mad, Sirius," Wisdom said. "Just pragmatic."

"Well pragmatic or not, brother or not, lay a finger on Harry and I'll tear your throat out with my teeth," Sirius said, voice utterly serious.

Wisdom nodded. "I'm not planning to," he said, standing up. "There's no point. All it would do is make matters worse, wake the Phoenix up, and probably ring the bells for Armageddon. No fucking thank you. Only reason I mentioned it is because I feel that it's worth establishing exactly where we stand. I am not letting your boy go back to Hogwarts because I've got a sudden case of the warm fuzzies, nor will I be sitting idle while he wanders around with a ticking time-bomb inside him. I'm doing this because, assuming that everything pans out as you've said it will, you've convinced me that in the grand scheme of things, this is the best choice for Britain. Am I clear?"

Thor and Sirius stood. "You are," Thor said coldly.

"Good," Wisdom said. "Now kindly get the hell out of my office, I have an appointment." He paused. "Oh, and speaking of therapists, though, I can offer you a few good ones. I know that Xavier's the best, but I'd imagine that he has his hands full at the moment."

Thor stopped, seemed to struggle with his emotions, then strode out, saying nothing. Sirius, for his part, just stared at his brother, as if wondering what the hell had gone wrong, before following his best friend out.

The worries of other mortal power brokers, however, were not so easily assuaged, as Harry Dresden soon found out.

OoOoO

Usually, when I get a call from the White Council, I expect it. Why? Because the shit has hit, or is about to hit, the fan in the most spectacular way possible and they either deem it so spectacular that they can't reasonably leave their unwanted problem child out, or they blame me for it and want me to set about clearing it up. Or tie me to my staff and use me as a mop to clean it up with.

Since my teacher-girlfriend's godson had been kidnapped and engaged in a psychic duel in the Nevernever with someone who was his peer, hell, his superior in age, power, and skill, and caused global scale headaches (or, in the case of yours truly, migraines and black-outs while blood ran from various orifices. It scaled based on psychic sensitivity, apparently, which left Bob wondering why it had affected me at all), setting the spirit world on its ear, I'd expect it for that alone.

But that was not it.

After that, he had manufactured his escape, but decided to follow his psychic opponent – a cousin of his, stolen at birth and shaped into a living weapon by one of the most evil bastards I've ever run across – into a collapsing spirit portal to try and continue persuading her to come with him. Then, being exhausted and caught off-guard, he'd been recaptured, tortured and his mortal form had been turned into a living weapon while his mind went to live in a magic feather, courtesy of said cousin who made a righteous choice after managing to muster up some free will, before their plan to restore him to his body as soon as the Red Room's collective backs were turned went horribly wrong. The results had been the assassination of the Russian President, the general upending the geopolitical map of the mortal and supernatural worlds, a fist fight between Thor and the Juggernaut that caused tremors up and down the Eastern Seaboard, and a brutal duel between the so-called Red Son and Magneto over upstate New York, with side effects registering half way across the country. That, by itself, would also have garnered a Council phone call.

But that was still not it. Said godson had, when restored to his body and found that half of it had been turned into something like The Thing meets The Terminator, as well as getting six compressed months of unspeakable horror and black ops mission forced on him, quite understandably gone absolutely apeshit. As a result, he'd transformed into a humanoid abomination whose emergence was heralded by global scale nightmares, and while (or so I was reliably informed) merely warming up, had left permanent craters on the Moon, shrugged off multiple nuclear missiles, ripped a mountain sized hole into the Nevernever several thousand feet in the air, permanently rearranged the geography of mortal and spirit world alike, and been well on the way to becoming a nigh unstoppable cosmic abomination before he'd been talked down.

Look, the Council may have their heads halfway up their asses most of the time, but there was no way in hell that they were going to miss all that.

Especially not since I had a personal relationship with Wanda. While she hadn't exactly broadcast that I was her Apprentice, let alone boyfriend, us very publicly fighting together against the Mabdhara and N'Garai in Chicago a few months back, then at the Battle of London a couple of months later, with some serious and public making out after the first fight, certain inferences could be drawn. And Wanda was well known to be Harry Thorson's godmother.

I was a little surprised that it was Ebenezar, though.

"Hoss," he growled down the phone, after giving the relevant pass-phrase and getting the right one back; standard precautions when fighting a war against the Red Court. That wasn't him trying to be intimidating, by the way. He just generally growled everything.

"Sir," I said, a little frostily. Not so long ago, I'd found out that he was the Blackstaff, the White Council's hitman, their own equivalent of the Winter Soldier, who did the dirty jobs behind the scenes and broke the Laws of Magic that they so sanctimoniously upheld with impunity. Considering that he was my mentor, the man who had taught me that magic, the force of life itself, should be used only for good, that being a wizard was not even mainly about what you could do, but what you should do, whose standard I had held myself to for all my adult life, who had taught me all about that while lying through his teeth all the while, I was a little sore about that.

Sometimes, I wondered if the way I thought about Ebenezar was like how Wanda thought about her mentor, Doctor Strange. I doubted it. While I was angry at Ebenezar, I didn't hate him. Wanda, on the other hand… well, I'm not sure if she truly hated Strange, but sometimes, it got close. Certainly, there was a lot more bad blood between them than there was between me and Ebenezar.

I was not on the best terms with him at the moment, anyway. On the other hand, he was just about the only Wizard on the Council that I was on speaking terms with at all.

"What do you want?" I asked.

I said speaking terms, not good terms. Some wounds don't heal that fast.

"I'm in town. How about a catch-up drink," he said. "Accorded Neutral Territory."

Even if his tone hadn't made it clear, the last three words had. This was not simply my old mentor wanting to catch up and shoot the breeze over a few bottles of Mac's heavenly beer, and bridge a wide rift in the process. This was business.

"Fifteen minutes," I said, then hung up.

It didn't take that long to get to Mac's, less than the fifteen minutes I said it would, but even so, Ebenezar was already there, sitting at a table with two bottles of Mac's pale.

He looked much the same as he had the last time I'd seen him, the same as he always had. Short and stocky and largely bald, with glasses on his nose, he looked like what he was to most of the world – an old Ozark farmer who'd walked all his life and kept his muscles in his old age. Of course, I doubted that many of his mundane acquaintances imagined that he was one of the seven oldest and most powerful wandless wizards in the world, and capable of doing things like setting off volcanoes, triggering earthquakes, and ripping satellites and meteors from the sky.

His oak staff rested beside him, and, despite our estrangement and the seriousness of the occasion, he gave me a quick smile and indicated the chair opposite him. I took it, not smiling. I think I managed a grimace of sorts, but it probably looked forced as hell. He was polite enough not to comment on it.

"Sir," I said, in acknowledgement. "Thanks for the beer."

"Least I could do, hoss," he said.

I nodded. "Somehow I doubt you came halfway across the world to buy me a beer," I said. "Why are you really here, sir?"

He winced a little at that, but I wasn't in the mood for awkward small talk.

"I'll be plain, then," he said. "Some damn strange things have been happening the last couple of weeks."

I snorted. That was the understatement of the century. Ebenezar caught my dark amusement and smiled wryly.

"Damn strange," he repeated. "And dangerous. The Council's put together a decent timeline of events, but it's missing a few pieces. Some quite important ones, as it happens. And we think that you know what they are and where they fit, or if you don't, you can find out."

"If the Council wants me to investigate something that they could find out for themselves by ringing up Avengers Mansion and asking nicely, then I have a two day minimum," I said.

Ebenezar sighed. "Hoss," he said, and he sounded genuinely tired, enough that I felt a twinge of guilt for the snark. "Don't fight me, boy. I'm not your enemy."

"Despite the fact that you once had standing orders to kill me if I put a toe out of line," I said, and regretted it the moment I said it.

"Orders I ignored," the old man said after a moment, voice steady. "We've had this discussion already, Hoss. It's not about me and you and what's gone between us, it's not even about the Council. It's about the fate of the world. First, we've got everyone with a lick of talent in the precognition department screaming random gibberish prophecies and everyone else with the mother of all migraines as part of the spirit world gets turned upside down. Second, Russia seems suddenly set to reconstruct its old empire in a couple of weeks, and every supernatural power in their orbit is either destroyed or brought to heel by a bunch people are calling the Winter Guard, led by a madwoman calling herself the Black Widow, and spearheaded by something with enough power to singlehandedly obliterate four Red Court Dukes and Duchesses, five Counts and Countesses, and two Barons, their retinues and whatever demons they could rustle up. And backing that Winter Guard is a name that we thought long buried: the Red Room. Third, everyone sleeping has nightmares about the world ending in flames, a massive portal to the Nevernever appears in midair over Russia, then later a giant fireball appears in the sky and flashfries one of their larger lakes, and the Moon's left with a new crater – again."

He leaned forward, expression serious. "The Fae aren't saying anything, but they're buzzing around like bees who's hive's just been kicked, in ways that they last did when the Summer Lady went mad. The vampires are in disarray, which is good for us, but also not a good sign, since they have even less idea of what's going on than we do. The wanded lot are screaming about new witch-hunts, and more than a few on the Council agree with them," he said. "And as for calling Avengers Mansion, there hasn't been a word. As far as we know, most of the Avengers aren't even there, and the ones who are won't talk to anyone."

"What about SHIELD?" I asked.

"Fury gave us an edited version that was undoubtedly full of shite," Ebenezar said. "No more dancing around this, boy. We need to know what's happening, and you're the only Council Wizard with contacts on the Avengers and around them."

I thought of about a million snarky retorts, but most of them were about as imaginative and mature as 'oh, now you need me', or 'oh, now you want me to be open and honest', so I resisted the temptation.

"What do you know already?" I asked, and as Ebenezar scowled, I raised a hand. "I'm not asking just to be difficult. It saves time not having to explain things twice." The kid's expression when he'd come back to himself after his mind had been restored ahead of schedule and he'd all the hell the Red Room had used his body to do dumped on him at once swam into the front of my mind, and I was dimly aware that my good hand clenched tight around the bottle of beer, my knuckles whitening as I looked away from Ebenezar. "And there's things I'd rather not discuss. Things that aren't for me to talk about, if I can avoid doing so."

"The Merlin won't like that," Ebenezar said, but in a tone that suggested that he could live with it just fine.

"The Merlin is a crusty old asshole whose heart withered and died from lack of use centuries ago," I growled. "He can go fuck himself."

Ebenezar grunted, but didn't say anything. He certainly didn't disagree. Then, he crisply laid out the Council's version of events. It wasn't too far off what had actually happened, actually.

They'd guessed at Magneto's involvement, for one, though that wasn't too hard to figure out. Aside from missing the details that the Red Son was Harry, that the almighty psychic at the Red Room's disposal was Maddie (they thought that that psychic and the Red Son were one and the same) or her role in events, they didn't know about Essex, and that he'd been most of the way to being a fully fledged version of the creature known as the Dark Phoenix, of course.

"And this isn't the first time that something like this has happened," he said eventually. "Dreams of everything burning, massive psychic disruption, grand scale destruction… its happened before. The dreams were confined to the supernaturally gifted, and the destruction was much more precise and localised, but it has the same stamp. The same power is behind it, even if it has a different wielder, I can smell it."

"When?" I asked, curious, and privately thinking that Phoenix fire probably smelled like wood smoke. Or, you know, burning.

"1897," Ebenezar said. "Emanating from Vienna. A group called the Akkaba, a clan of superhumans of sorts… not Scions, Changelings, Cursed, or practitioners. Not inherently magical at all. A few had some power, but that wasn't what powered their gifts." He shrugged. "Just a group of people born with abilities, which came from who knew where. Back in the day, they used to be called Wonders by some. Or freaks of nature, I suppose."

"Mutants," I said.

Ebenezar nodded. "Almost certainly," he said. "This was back before genetics, of course, and before the X-Gene was discovered by your friend Charles Xavier, so we can't be certain – they claimed descent from some kind of obscure Egyptian god, one they called 'the First One', but mutants is probably what they were."

I blinked a little in surprise as I took this in. Mutation ran in families, that much I could tell; Wanda was a mutant as well as a practitioner, like her father, and her half-siblings had both inherited the X-Gene too, while a whole bunch of Harry's maternal cousins had the X-Gene too. But I also thought of mutants as a very recent phenomenon, dating back to the 20th century at the earliest.

Clearly I'd been wrong about that. But still, entire clans of mutants…

Ebenezar caught my expression and smiled wryly. "Caught me by surprise too, when I heard about it," he said. "I thought that there had to be some magical explanation, but there wasn't. There's probably been a few more mutants encountered by the Council than we ever realised – psychics in particular are close enough to magical that it can be hard to tell them apart at first glance." He shook his head. "Even still, Xavier could probably tell you how rare they are, and before modern times, they didn't tend to gather. The Akkaba were one of the very few exceptions. There's rumours of others, one in the Himalayas, but there's only one other that we know of, a bunch that call themselves the Askani."

"Psychics," I said, and Ebenezar looked up at me sharply.

"You've met them?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Professor Xavier was trained by them."

Ebenezar grunted. "Makes sense," he said. "A psychic as strong as him, they'd have found very interesting." His brow creased in a frown. "Though I am rather surprised that they let him go."

"I somehow doubt that they had much choice in the matter," I said. Charles Xavier was a pacifist, first and foremost. However, this did not mean that he was a pushover - he'd treated my pyrophobia after a particularly creative Black Court minion, a Renfield, roasted my left hand through my then heat permeable shield with a homemade flamethrower, and a few other issues besides.

In the process, I got a real feel not just for how strong he was, but how deft. I'm a powerful Wizard; on a good day, I'm in the top 50 in the world for raw power (stamina and precision are still works in progress), I'm absurdly stubborn, and I've had enough experience at resisting mental intrusion that it takes more than your average psychic predator to get one over me. Xavier, though, could have crushed my mind the way I would crush an egg, defences or no defences. And while I hadn't seen him in a fight, the thousands upon thousands of demon corpses found within a couple of dozen miles of Bayville without a mark on them told their own story.

In other words, pacifist or no pacifist, Xavier could play hardball. And if he had his wits about him, I really doubt that even a clan of middle-weight psychics could do anything to stop him coming and going as he pleased.

Ebenezar nodded an acknowledgement, then waved a hand, dismissing this line of discussion. "The Askani are strange, but mostly harmless," he said. "They're probably just about powerful enough to get representation under the Accords if they really wanted, but they're not interested. They keep their bloodlines going, stay on the lookout for new psychics to recruit and add some new blood, and keep their heads down."

"What about the Laws?" I asked. "Do they apply to them?"

Ebenezar grimaced. "So long as they don't step on our toes, we don't step on theirs," he said.

I nodded. "So the Akkaba," I said. "What do they have to do with anything?"

"They'd annoyed Dracula," Ebenezar said flatly. "And he wanted to make an example of them. All the oldest and most powerful members of the Grey Court were in Vienna, ready to take down the survivors of the Akkaba at their leisure. Then Albus Dumbledore stuck his nose in, tried to help out the Akkaba. According to him, they rejected him, said that they had something up their sleeve, and tried to kill him for good measure."

"They were going to try and summon something to deal with their vampire problem," I said, following the train of thought.

"They succeeded," Ebenezar said. "That night, we had burning dreams, sensed a massive psychic disruption, and the first Wardens on the scene found a nasty mess: every vampire in Vienna, not just Grey Court, was burned to ash, and all the Akkaba that had been part of the ritual went the same way. The only survivors were Dracula, who got out in time, a couple of the Akkaba who hadn't been involved, and Dumbledore."

"Why not ask him about it?" I asked.

"Took us a while to figure out he was there," Ebenezar said. "Whatever they summoned burned hot enough to scour away any real traces we had to work with, and truth be told, we were mostly trying to figure what the hell they'd summoned and where the hell it had gone. Eventually, we realised that whatever it was, it had gone home. We didn't even think to look for someone who'd been around for the ritual and who'd survived, not for years. When we finally found out he'd been there, he'd had years to get his story straight. He said that he'd interrupted the ritual, summoning a demon of some sort, one he didn't recognise. He tried to banish it anyway, and succeeded, but not before it performed the task it had been summoned for and destroyed its summoners while he was banishing it."

"And you didn't buy that," I said.

Ebenezar snorted. "You're the investigator hoss, but I know bullshit when I hear it," he said. He shook his head. "He was wanded, the darling of the magical worlds, and it wasn't a current investigation, so the Council had to drop it. In any case, Kemmler was becoming a problem around then, so we had bigger problems to worry about." He leaned forward. "I've said my share, hoss. Now it's your turn."

I grunted and nodded acknowledgement, then paused before I began. "Out of curiosity," I asked. "And I do want to know, sir, really. You know that the kid was heavily involved. So why come to me rather than Albus Dumbledore or one of his staff? Someone who knows Thor, who taught him when he was mortal, and teaches his kid, I mean."

Ebenezar looked sour. "The staff aren't saying a thing," he said. "Not even that Snape fella, and he's usually not short of something to say about Thor and his boy, usually bad." He scowled. "Dumbledore, meanwhile, is even less open than he used to be," he added.

I raised an eyebrow, and Ebenezar's scowled deepened.

"He sent a letter, too," he said.

"'Dear Arthur.

As I am regrettably detained by prior engagements, this missive will have to serve as my answer. As Headmaster of Hogwarts School, I am, of course, privileged to have a certain insight into the private lives of my students and my parents. However, I must regrettably remind you that I am also obliged to respect their privacy and keep their confidences.

If I come across a matter that I deem to fall under your purview, then I will, of course, immediately inform you, as I did on my appointment of my new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, whose skills lie on the border between my skills and your own. Until that time, unfortunately I have little else to inform you of. If you wish for me to provide you with the contact details for Mister Odinson, then I would be delighted to put you in touch.

Regards,

Albus."

The scowl cracked slightly, revealing a hint of amusement.

"'P.S. I almost forgot. There was, in fact, something rather important that I wished to tell you: I have finally found the recipe for the eel pie that you so enjoyed last time you visited. The hint of garlic is, I believe, the secret. You will find it attached. Enjoy!'"

I nearly spat out a mouthful of beer. As it was, I managed to swallow it before I committed the grievous sin of wasting the ambrosia that is Mac's beer, then burst into appreciative laughter. It was quite possibly the politest and funniest way of telling someone to fuck off that I'd ever heard. The fact that the recipient was the Merlin, a man so conscious of his own dignity that I could well imagine him worriedly standing in front of a mirror before a meeting in his Gandalf lite robes and saying, 'Does my butt like fat in this?', made it that much better.

Ebenezar's own lips were twitching and he let out a reluctant chuckle.

"I'm guessing the Merlin didn't like that," I said, once I'd calmed down.

"I thought he was about to have a stroke," Ebenezar agreed, smiling slightly. "Especially since the letter read itself. Aloud." His lips twitched again. "And started listing ingredients for eel pie."

I might have let out a small giggle. Then, I sobered up. Ebenezar was here to talk about what had happened, which inevitably meant discussing the Dark Phoenix.

"That's why we're talking to you, Hoss," Ebenezar said. "No one else who knows anything will talk."

I sighed. "Fine," I said. "But not here. And I'll only talk to the Senior Council – if I see Morgan anywhere near this, I'm not saying a thing. Also, I don't want him anywhere near the kid."

"Hoss," Ebenezar said warningly. "The Merlin won't like that."

I folded my arms and glared back. "And I can't find the words to tell you how little I care, sir," I said.

Ebenezar sighed. "I know," he said, with strained patience. "My point, boy, is that while he'll probably agree with limiting it to the Senior Council, he won't respond well to being ordered around by a buck-shee young wizard. Especially not you."

I glowered at him, then grimaced, letting some of my anger and truculence fall away. "Fine," I said. "Recommend it to him. Put it however you have to so that it turns out that way, because believe you me, sir, if this information gets into the wrong hands, he'll have a lot more to worry about than me."

Ebenezar eyed me. He was one of the few people who could look me in the eye without worrying about a Soulgaze, and knew me better than almost anyone. He could read what my eyes were saying. He nodded slowly. "I'll bear that in mind, hoss," he said, then gave me a pointed look. "Speaking of mutants and your associations with the Avengers… what are you up to with Wanda Maximoff?"

I opened my mouth, then hesitated, thinking before I spoke – I know. Shocking, isn't it? Had to happen sometime, though, I suppose.

"Is that Ebenezar asking," I asked carefully. "Or Wizard McCoy?"

"Oh hoss," Ebenezar sighed. "What have you got yourself into now?" He shook his head. "That woman is dangerous."

"So am I," I said. "So are you. So's just about any wizard worth their salt, and plenty of people without a lick of magic."

"Neither of us is damn near to a walking, talking violation of the Seventh Law," Ebenezar said.

"No, you're just a walking, talking violation of all of them," I snapped.

Ebenezar went red with anger. I met his gaze unflinchingly, and for a moment, the air was heavy with pulsing, dangerous power. The rest of Mac's clientele, all of whom recognised me, and most of whom recognised a heavyweight wizard in Ebenezar, began to scuttle towards the door. Mac himself was already halfway towards us, and arrived in moments, raising an eyebrow.

"Problem?" he asked.

Mac is a man of few syllables.

There was another dangerous moment, then Ebenezar sighed. "No, no," he said. "Another two beers?"

Mac looked from him to me, and back again, before nodding and going to get some more beer.

"This little meet-up isn't going quite as I hoped," Ebenezar said eventually, staring at his beer. It was clear that he didn't mean the intelligence gathering part of it.

"Nor me," I said after a moment, contemplating my own bottle. Then a smile tugged at my lips. "We've had worse, though."

Ebenezar let out a rough bark of laughter. "Aye, laddie, haven't we just," he said, and as if on cue, the two of us relaxed, the tension draining away. "I suppose I had that one coming," he remarked after another few moments.

I said nothing.

"You and her…" he began.

"We're seeing each other," I said, then added, as Ebenezar nodded resignedly. "And I'm her apprentice."

Ebenezar choked on nothing, and stared at me wide-eyed.

"No, I'm not joking," I said. "Apparently, Strange was feeling a bit mortal a few months ago and decided that Wanda should take an apprentice." I shrugged. "Apparently, I was at the top of the short list. Dating was kind of an after-thought." I folded my arms. "And before you say anything, I know about her history with Chthon, and I've met her dad. Twice."

Ebenezar's eyes didn't look like they could go any wider, but they certainly gave it a good go.

"Hoss," he said, in a strangled voice.

"Magneto's not that bad once you get to know him," I said, shrugging. "Terrifying, sure, but friendly enough."

Ebenezar sighed again. He'd been doing that a lot today – though not without reason, I had to admit. "Hoss," he said tiredly. "You don't know what you've done."

I looked puzzled.

"Doctor Strange picked you out for a reason," Ebenezar said. "And it wasn't just about your skills. Yes, you're the most powerful and talented wandless practitioner of your generation. Yes, you've got a combat record that puts Wardens with centuries under their belt in the shade. But you aren't the only talented and powerful young wizard out there with some combat experience. There are plenty of Wanded and Wandless practitioners out there – not all of the latter on the Council, either – who would fit the bill."

"Then why?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"Part of it, I'd imagine, is that you're far more familiar than most with the temptations of dark magic," Ebenezar said. He shook his head. "I won't say you're not qualified, because you are, you more than are. But there's more to it than that."

"Like what?" I asked.

"There's bad blood between Strange and the Council," Ebenezar said.

"The thing with Wanda?" I asked. "I already know about that."

"No. That's not even close to the start of it. This bit of bad blood that goes back a long time, long before either you or Ms Maximoff was born." He snorted. "Hell, it was around even before I was born."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Strange isn't a team player," Ebenezar said. "He never has been."

"Gee," I said. "What a shocker. What a crime."

"Don't be childish," Ebenezar said quietly, and I felt a hot flush of shame and embarrassment. "All Wizards have their secrets. But Strange has more than any I've known or heard of, and he got them by violating the Sixth Law time and time again – it's one of the things he's famous for." He grunted. "Now, granted, that one's a Law not so much because it's intrinsically dark magic, but because the side-effects if someone screws up while time travelling can be more horrific than any of the other Laws. Except for the Seventh, of course. Not many see much of that." He gave a thin smile. "Though you've probably seen as much of that as any Wizard on the Council."

I nodded. Chthon, aside from being an Elder God and a gigantic back of dicks, was what was called an Outsider – that is to say, he was from outside this universe, living in the space between realities. He wasn't native to it, technically speaking, having been banished long ago by his siblings, but he'd adjusted well enough. And as he'd demonstrated, a mere fragment of his power acting through someone was like a weight on thin ice – as it pressed harder and harder against our reality, pushing through, more and more cracks appeared. Eventually, it would break through entirely and all that ice would shatter into fragments. In the meantime, it could duel the most powerful of Earth's Skyfathers to a draw, set reality to randomise, and cause the steady collapse of all known borders of time and space. If he'd been on Earth much longer before he was banished, then everything that was, had been, or could be, just… wouldn't. It would all be gone.

"The Sorcerer Supreme has a certain latitude with the Laws, as do their apprentices," Ebenezar said. "The latter in particular has been a problem in the past – some of history's worst Warlocks are ex-Apprentices gone to the bad. But Strange takes it to a whole new level. He meddles with history and, nearly as bad, he meddles with not just our world, but the mortal one as well. You probably think that the White Council doesn't step in during mortal political disputes because it doesn't care."

"The thought had crossed my mind," I remarked.

"Well, it's not true," Ebenezar said forcefully. "I can see why you would: your mother thought the same thing."

"She did?" I asked, surprised.

"Oh yes," Ebenezar said, and smiled slightly. "You're so much like her, hoss. She liked to point out the loopholes, the grey areas in the Laws, the way that Wizards could abuse mortals without breaking the Laws and the Council wouldn't lift a finger." The smile widened. "Believe me, boy, the Merlin and his faction find you irritating, but it's nothing to how infuriating they found your mother." His smile faded. "Then, she started dabbling in black magic. Took up with the likes of Raith."

"What, and you think that one leads to the other?" I demanded. "Question the Council and the status quo and go bad?"

"No," Ebenezar said. "God knows the Council needs questioning – in private, mind. Keeps 'em honest, or as honest as they'll get. But if you want to overturn the status quo in the Council, and you can't do it from inside…"

"Then you're going to turn to the Council's enemies," I said quietly. It made sense.

"Your mother was a brilliant woman," Ebenezar said. "Brilliant, passionate, and infuriating and infuriated in equal measure. She wanted the Laws of Magic to focus on justice. I can understand the point. But where does it stop? You overturn a dictator, fine. There are a lot of Wizards on the Council who remember what the United States did to the Natives, what the European powers did to Africa, Asia, and South America, what Japan did to much of Asia, and countless other atrocities. Don't they deserve justice? Don't you think that a lot of people might object to the US for its past crimes and current foolishness? What would you do if the White Council turned against the US? Would you stand with it?"

"Well, no," I said, blinking. "I mean, I'm American. All my friends, all my stuff, they're here."

"Exactly," Ebenezar said bluntly. "What do you think that leads to?"

"Civil war," I said quietly. "The Council falls apart."

"Or?" Ebenezar asked, prompting me. "How would the Council bring all these nations to heel?"

"By seeking power," I said promptly, like I was a student again.

Ebenezar nodded. "The Laws stand as written because they do one thing above all," he said. "Restrict power. The Wanded Statute of Secrecy, and other laws, they do the same thing. More complex of course, because there's a lot more of 'em than there are Council members, and they have their own nations. But the point is the same: while a practitioner can do harm if they get creative with their magic, there's only so much harm they can do without breaking the Laws." He looked grim. "And Strange blows that all to pieces."

"How?" I asked. "I mean, I know he's been involved with the Avengers – a lot – and Wanda mentioned that he's been involved with SHIELD, but…"

"The Sorcerer Supreme is meant to be the guardian of reality, stopping those things that would slip through the gaps. They deal with the greater Demon-Lords; the dark Gods; the worst Warlocks, the Dark Lords and Ladies; and most of all, the Outsiders," Ebenezar said. "That's what they're given their powers for."

"They're meant to be all defence," I said, catching on. "Strange is different, he thinks that the best defence is a good offence."

Ebenezar nodded. "I've never seen any evidence that says that he neglects his protective duties," he said, a little grudgingly. "The same way that when it comes to things done, for the most part I've only heard good about Wanda Maximoff. She deals with the sort of things that need dealing with, and she's picked up on more than a few burgeoning talents, pointed them the Council's way. In her case, the main worries are about what she could do, what her father has shown himself capable of."

"I've seen him fight. Believe me, sir, I don't need any persuading that he's dangerous," I said, interrupting.

"It's not just his powers, hoss," Ebenezar said, but left it at that. "Worse, though, is what she could be. With her connection to Chthon – one she didn't ask for or deserve, I know – she's an ever present risk for use as his avatar on this plane. As it is, her powers can set reality on its ear without any help from him."

"Maybe that's why Strange took her in," I suggested. "To teach her how to defend herself and deal with it."

Ebenezar inclined his head. "Maybe," he said. "Probably, even – turn a potential threat into a great asset, that's Strange all over." He shook his head. "My point, hoss, is that Strange has powers that the Sorcerer Supreme was never meant to have, uses them and the ones that he is meant to have in ways that they were never meant to, meddling freely in the world on an unthinkably vast scale. He's collected more power than any one man was ever meant to have and he only managed that by steering clear of the Council, most all organisations of practitioners, anyone who might have stopped him." He looked at me. "And that's why you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, boy. The Council will see you as Strange's pawn, will worry about what he intends for you, whether he's going to use you as a weapon against the Council – he's never made any bones about his dislike for it."

"Well, I'm not planning to be a weapon, if that helps," I ventured.

"I believe you," Ebenezar said simply. "But many won't. And even if they do, they'll say that that doesn't matter, that Strange arranges matters so neatly that you'll do what he plans without even knowing that you're doing it."

"I…" I began, then stopped and grimaced. I'd met Strange. I'd seen him at work. I had no way of knowing if those fears were wrong or not. Then something struck me. "If he's capable of manipulating someone like me that much, isn't he capable of manipulating the entire Council the same way?" I asked.

"That's the part they wouldn't like to consider," Ebenezar said. "Though they'd probably say that there's too many of them to manipulate all together."

I rolled my eyes at that and Ebenezar nodded.

"It's bullshit," he said bluntly. "But it helps them sleep at night." He leaned forward. "Now listen to me. When you go up in front of the Senior Council and tell them that you're Maximoff's new Apprentice, and tell them what you saw, what you know… bear what I've told you in mind, Hoss. Fear can make people do some damn fool things."

"Like serve me up on a platter for the Reds?" I suggested sourly.

"Aye," Ebenezar said. "Very much like."

I sighed. "Well if they're going to panic about me being Wanda's apprentice, I don't even want to think about how they're going to react to what I've got to tell them," I said.

And I didn't. I'd been wary of it before. Now, I was positively dreading it.

OoOoO

As it was, when that debrief final took place in one of the White Council's older and stonier meeting rooms at the headquarters under Edinburgh, the Senior Council took my explanation of events in stony silence.

"So," LaFortier said – in English. All the Senior Council spoke it, and it was begrudgingly agreed that it would save time if Ebenezar didn't have to translate for me. "Tell me, Wizard Dresden. Why did you not think to involve the Council in the search for the boy?"

"I brought up the subject early on," I said. "Loki said that he'd prefer not bringing someone else in, and Wanda concurred. Since the two of them and Albus Dumbledore were already involved, plus Charles Xavier, and all the resources Asgard could bring to bear, I figured that they had their bases covered."

"Do you know why he would not have wished for Council involvement, Wizard Dresden?" the Merlin asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe they thought that a Warden might get a little excited and have an accident with their sword." I looked him in the eye, breaking contact just as a Soulgaze was about to begin. "I can't imagine where he'd have got that idea. I mean, it's not like a Warden would ever do anything like trying to goad someone who they'd rather have dead than alive into a fight so that they could claim self-defence… now would they?"

The Merlin was completely expressionless, but I could see a slight tightening of the muscles in his jaw. A couple of years ago, shortly after I'd started the war between the Council and the Red Court (short version, a Red Court noble with a grudge tried to kill me at a party, half-turned my girlfriend, and did it all in such a way as to mean that it didn't break the letter of supernatural law. I got angry and burnt her house down with her inside it), he'd tried a couple of methods of serving me up on a platter for the Reds, dead or alive, after they'd made that a condition of ceasing hostilities.

As it turned out, that was only because they didn't think they were quite ready for a war yet, but either way, the last of the Merlin's attempts had been to send Morgan, a senior Warden and my former parole officer, with whom I had enjoyed a long and fruitful mutual hatred, to provoke me into attacking him. Since Morgan is a great deal older, more experienced, and more or less as powerful as I am, if not more so, and I was angry and not thinking straight, he'd have killed me in pretty short order if I hadn't seen through it.

Suffice it to say, the Merlin didn't like being reminded of that.

"Yeah, if I had to guess, for some unaccountable reason, I don't think that any of them really thought that the White Council would be fair to a kid in a bad situation," I continued, mock-thoughtful. "Funny thing, that."

"Your point is made, Wizard Dresden," Ebenezar said, tone bland. But his expression carried a hint of warning: don't push it. "Do you have any closing remarks, before the Senior Council discusses this?"

I glanced up at the Merlin. The muscle in his jaw was twitching in earnest. "I do," I said. "All the things that went on proved a couple of things. First, if you go after Harry Thorson, you'll be pissing off the Avengers, Wanda Maximoff, SHIELD, Albus Dumbledore, Charles Xavier, Magneto, Asgard, Strange, and at least four of the Endless. And probably both Queens of Faerie, too, since they got invested in taking him back from the Red Room."

"That," Ancient Mai pointed out, with the swiftness of a bug collector impaling a new specimen. "Was before he embraced the power one of those Endless gave to him, which, if you inform us correctly, was only ever intended for protection, not to be used. The motivation of the Queens was most likely to be seen to be doing something after a Prince of Asgard was held and tortured on territory that both claim."

Ancient Mai is a very small and very old Chinese lady, whose hair is done up in a bun with jade combs, and looks like a Court extra from a movie set in Imperial China. She also scares the living daylights out of me.

"Which still leaves a lot of very powerful people," Wizard Liberty, a tall, regal looking black woman said. As far as I could grasp, she, Listens-To-Wind, and Ebenezar formed one faction of the Senior Council, while the Merlin, Ancient Mai, and LaFortier formed another. The Gatekeeper made up the seventh vote. He was the odd one out. A mysterious wizard who was tall enough to look down on me – and I can look down on some guys in the NBA – he had a metal false eye, a hood that usually covered his face, and an attendance record even worse than mine. This was because, according to Wanda, his job was very demanding – the Outer Gates, the borders of reality that I had previously thought merely metaphorical were, in fact, real physical objects, on the very far edges of the spirit world.

This meant that his main job was fighting Outsiders, things like Chthon (though, mercifully, orders of magnitude weaker), acting as a border guard against the horrors of the Outside. Wanda knew him quite well as a result, since their jobs overlapped a lot of the time; for the most part, she and Strange dealt with those things lucky or strong enough to slip through the cracks elsewhere.

He was present today, and true to form, hadn't spoken yet. Neither had Listens-To-Wind, mind you, but he mostly seemed attentive and ready to speak. The Gatekeeper, on the other hand, was unreadable, mostly because his face was cast in shadow by his hood.

"Wizard Liberty is right, Ancient Mai," Listens-To-Wind said. "We're already fighting a war, and we can't afford more enemies; enemies, might I remind you, who include among their number important allies against the vampires. If we try and push this, then we'll be in the same position that we were over Wanda Maximoff thirty years ago, but far worse. There'll be all the people who were lined up against us last time, and a good deal more besides."

"If the boy turns the planet to ash, then enemies will be the least of our worries," LaFortier retorted. "The Wanded communities will stand with us on this, as will the Queens of Faerie, and I believe that a number of Fury's superiors at SHIELD will be willing to overrule him. Even the vampires could be persuaded to make common cause with us on this, considering what happened to a vampire court the last time this Phoenix entity ran loose."

"Stand with you doing what?" I asked, and all of them turned to me, expressions mildly surprised, or somewhat affronted, that I had spoken up.

"Informing Asgard that we recommend Prince Harry Thorson stay in Asgard to recover from his experiences," Ancient Mai said.

"For how long?" I asked. "I'm asking because they'll ask me."

Ancient Mai's lips thinned. "Indefinitely," she said.

I snorted.

"Does something amuse you, Wizard Dresden?" the Merlin asked, voice icy cold.

"Nothing," I said. "Except the fact that that little recommendation has got to be backed up by a threat that you'll do something if they don't do what you ask, right? But what are you going to do? The only things you can do are things that'll make you more enemies; the ones you just admitted that you don't need. Also, keeping him in Asgard is a flawed strategy for three reasons."

"And what would those be?" the Merlin asked, voice cold and silken. I couldn't restrain a shiver as a cold feeling ran down my spine, and shook myself, before raising three fingers.

"First," I said, ticking off one finger. "Being on Earth, his friends down here, they keep him grounded." I ticked off a second. "Second," I said. "The power of the Phoenix is stored in an artefact that's in Asgard's most secure vaults, under their capitol. All you'll be doing is ensuring that he's right on top of it, night and day." I ticked off the last finger. "Third, I don't think you get the kind of power I'm talking about. There is no minimum safe distance. The last time a Phoenix host went rogue, it ate an entire galaxy. Here or in Asgard, if he goes Dark Phoenix again, then we are still screwed, and the first we'll know about it is when we're turning to ash. And can I make a point?"

"You have already made several, Wizard Dresden," LaFortier said, glaring down at me coldly, beady eyes staring out of deep sockets. "Each more insolent than the last."

"But not necessarily wrong, for all the tone of their delivery," Listens-To-Wind said mildly. "Wizard Dresden is the only Wizard of the Council who can claim to know Harry Thorson, or have a close association with the Avengers. While his attitude towards the Council could do with some improvement, his thoughts are well worth listening to."

LaFortier sneered, and was about to riposte, doubtless with something ridiculing my intelligence and/or judgement, when something unusual happened.

The Gatekeeper spoke.

"There have been two attempts to bind the Endless on Earth in recent history," he said. "In 1897, it was Destruction, the Phoenix, which was summoned. She destroyed those who summoned her, sparing only the host she was summoned into. Dream, Morpheus, was summoned in 1913. He spent much of the 20th century in captivity, and on his escape, trapped the son of his summoner, his jailer for much of that time, in a curse of eternal waking, never quite breaking free of his nightmares. Both were summoned with rituals derived from the Darkhold. Both responded ruthlessly to attempts to bind and control them, attempts which ultimately failed." He looked around at his colleagues. "There may well be magics that can successfully bind one of the Endless, to exorcise their power – if Wizard Dresden is correct, then all that remains within the boy are those embers that were intended for his protection in the first place. But does any among us know those magics? No. Of course not. And as for attempting to destroy him outright…" His gaze swung to me, both eyes, dark human and pale metal, glittering.

"That doesn't work," I chipped in. "He's been hit by the Killing Curse, attacked by a full grown dark wizard, bitten by a basilisk, stabbed through the heart, possessed by an Elder God, had half his body blasted off by Magneto, been hit by a gigantic lightning bolt by Magneto, infected by some kind of nanotech virus… the moment it looks like he's in critical condition, the Phoenix steps in, one way or another. Sometimes, it's by sending a phoenix – the bird – to cry on the wound or something like that. And sometimes, it's by possessing him and obliterating everything that even looks like threatening him. Which is leaving aside the fact that even when he wasn't in charge, his body was capable of going ten rounds with Magneto, and when he was in charge, he took on a psychic who was older, more powerful, and one hell of a lot more skilled than he was, and kept her at arms length for long enough for the Avengers to home in on the disruption. And a couple of months ago, I personally witnessed him kick Chthon out of his head. He had help that time, sure, but still: he takes a licking and he keeps on ticking."

"What are you saying, Wizard Dresden?" The Merlin asked.

"I'm saying, honoured Merlin," I said. "That you could take him. But it wouldn't be easy, and when you did, even if he didn't reach for the Phoenix on his own, because he's a kid and panicking, She'd step in all by Herself, because She's his freaking mom. Best case scenario, you've got Asgard and a whole bunch of other powerful people mad at you. Less bad scenario, you recreate the exact problem you're trying to avoid. Worst case scenario, you've got one of the Endless mad and out to make your life hell because you hurt her little boy. So leave him be. Let the freaking sleeping dragon lie. And don't conveniently forget to mention some monster gearing up to go after him if you hear about it in the hope that they'll take each other out or something like that." I paused, and though I hated to do it, decided to throw them a bone. "And if you do that, well… the kid's crazy powerful now, and he's only getting stronger. The Phoenix doesn't like vampires, we know that much, he's really freaking good with fire, and according to Thor, vampire hunting is considered a fun day out in Asgard – in short, I'm pretty sure that the kid isn't going to be a fan of the vamps. One way or another, if you, if we, leave him be now, let him get his head straight, then we might have a really powerful ally against the vampires a few years down the line."

"An impassioned argument, Wizard Dresden," LaFortier said. "But if I may ask one question before the Senior Council votes on the matter of Harry Thorson… would you not say that your testimony is potentially biased?"

"Biased how?" I asked.

"Harry Thorson's godmother is Wanda Maximoff, correct?" LaFortier said.

"Yeah," I said. "So what?"

"You are in a relationship with her, are you not?"

"Point of order," Liberty said. "Wizard Dresden's private life is not relevant to this discussion."

"Point of order," Ancient Mai said emotionlessly. "Since he is the Council's only witness to events, and apparently its sole source of advice, it is potentially relevant."

I ground my teeth. "Yes, I am," I said.

"What form does that relationship take?" LaFortier asked.

"We go on dates. We have fun. And in between romantic nights at home in-front of the fire, she teaches me magic as her apprentice," I snapped. None of the Senior Council looked surprised, which told me that Ebenezar had decided that it was best to tell them before I… did something like this, I suppose. "And my testimony in the kid's favour isn't based or conditional on us dating or her teaching. It's based on common sense and common decency, you should try them sometime."

LaFortier went white with anger, compounding his resemblance to a recently reanimated corpse.

"Wizard Dresden," the Merlin said, voice warning. I grudgingly accept your point, it said. But I don't like you and if you get smart with me one more time, I will make your life a misery. "You have been invited to speak in front of this Council, not given a license to exercise your capacity for insolence. Wizard LaFortier's line of questioning was relevant and your reply was out of order. You will apologise."

I ground my teeth again, but at a slight nod from Ebenezar, I gritted out an apology.

"And," I added. "I swear by my power that everything I have said is, to the best of my knowledge, true." I glowered at LaFortier, who glared back. Of the Merlin's faction on the Council, he'd always liked me the least, apparently being convinced that I was a threat to the Council. Being apprenticed to/dating the daughter of Magneto and heir apparent to Doctor Strange, two of the men who the Council liked least – and in the case of Strange, outright feared – had probably only confirmed that suspicion in his eyes. "Is that sufficient?"

"It is," the Merlin said firmly. "Thank you, Wizard Dresden. I believe that Captain Luccio would like your assessment of the threat posed by the newest forms of mortal weaponry, which you have unique experience with."

Taking this blatant dismissal for what it was, I left the room, hoping that the Council wouldn't do anything stupid.

OoOoO

As it was, I needn't have worried.

I underwent two hours of extensive debriefing by Captain Luccio, a leathery Italian woman with iron grey hair, the sinewy build of a blacksmith, and enough scars from centuries of heavy combat experience against the Council's many enemies to prove that she'd earned her rank in battle and make me disposed to respect her.

That respect grew somewhat, as she proved that unlike most of the Council, she was living in this century, not the last, or even the one before that, asking me the sort of brisk, no-nonsense questions I'd expect from someone like Coulson or another senior SHIELD Agent. As we spoke, she made copious notes in what looked like a form of shorthand.

After she was done, she stood up and nodded to me, the sort of nod that one would accord a junior but respected colleague, which left me staring in shock for a second before I returned it. The attitude I had come to expect from Senior Wardens was less 'respected colleague', more 'ticking time-bomb'.

"Thank you, Wizard Dresden, that was very helpful," she said, English fluent and inflected with her native Italian. "Intelligence reports from the Venatori or SHIELD are all very well, but they are no substitute for a seasoned combat Wizard's experience on how they respond to magic."

"'Seasoned combat wizard'?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

She smiled wryly. "Dresden, you have seen more combat than many wizards a century older than you, and more than a few of my Wardens," she said. "If you did not have such a poor relationship with the Council as whole, then I would offer you a job. You are more than qualified."

"Uh, no offence, but hell no!" I said. "I'd rather," I began, then paused. The following words, 'french-kiss a Red Court vampire' probably wouldn't go down well with the Captain of the Wardens. I coughed. "I mean, I don't think it would work."

Luccio looked amused at my unconvincing verbal gear-shift and nodded. "I happen to agree with you," she said. "You have had bad experiences in the past, and they have soured you. But we are not your enemy, Dresden."

I glanced back towards the meeting room. "Please explain that to LaFortier," I said. "And Ancient Mai. And the Merlin. And above all, freaking Morgan."

"They think you are dangerous," Luccio said. "And that much is true. They believe that you are a threat to the Council, but I do not."

"You… don't?" I said, surprised. "I was under the impression that all the senior Wardens thought I was the next best thing to Darth Vader."

"Many do," Luccio said. "Even most. But not all." Her lips twitched. "And the younger Wardens and many of the other Wizards of your generation think that you are… cool."

Oh, that's all I needed, to be idolised by a bunch of baby Wardens. "Great," I said aloud. "Morgan probably thinks that I'm corrupting the youth."

"Quite likely," Luccio agreed. "And don't rule us out yet, Dresden. There may yet be a career for you as a Warden. I know that you have made a career fighting dark creatures. As a Warden, you would have the chance to hone your skills and work with others to do so more efficiently."

I stared at the brisk, tough, and frankly, likeable woman, who'd treated me with more decency than anyone on the Council other than Ebenezar and his cronies. Then, my imagination superimposed the image that had haunted my nightmares throughout my early adulthood, one that still occasionally came back to haunt me in the early hours of the morning: an implacable shadowy grey-cloaked figure wielding an ice-bright razor-sharp sword, coming for my head.

I closed my eyes briefly and fought down an instinctive shiver. "Some bad experiences," I said. "Stick with you."

Luccio met my gaze, looking at me in a way that seemed uncomfortably like she was able to see right through me, then nodded slowly. "I understand," she said.

I nodded. "And you may do good things, Captain, but you do bad ones too," I said. "You kill children. Maybe they're Warlocks, maybe they're beyond the point of no return, maybe it's a necessary evil… but they're still children. And necessary or not, it's still an evil."

"You think that Morgan enjoys what he does?" Luccio asked, tone quiet but intense. "That I enjoyed it, when I was in his place?"

I looked back at her, and got many things – one of them a sense that this woman could quite comfortably kick my ass. "I could believe that Morgan did," I said. "You? I don't know you, Captain. That said, you don't seem like the type."

"But Morgan does," Luccio said.

"He spent half a decade following me around, waiting for the slightest excuse to cut my head off," I said flatly. "He dragged me out of a burning house, yeah, but considering how he's behaved since, I'm almost inclined to think that was only because he wants the pleasure of killing me himself. So yeah, I can believe it." I met her gaze briefly. "And even if you didn't enjoy it, Captain, even if you hated every moment of it, you still did it. I can't be a part of something like that."

"Do you think that the Avengers do not do similar things?" she asked, in tones of genuine inquiry.

"Murder people?" I asked. "I'm sure a few of them do. But do they kill kids? No. Hell no. That's a line, Captain, and it's one that even the Winter Soldier didn't cross. And it's not one that I'm going to cross, either."

Luccio stared at me hard for a long time, then nodded. "You are sincere in your convictions," she said. "I can respect that. But beware, Dresden: the more you get drawn into the orbit of the likes of Stephen Strange, Loki, and the Black Widow, the more you will find yourself questioning where those lines are, and which ones you are willing to cross." She stood up. "Thank you again for your assessments: with the taste of the Red Court in particular for mortal weaponry, this information can mean the difference between life and death for many Wizards."

I'm not often short of words, but this time was one of them, so instead, I just returned her nod, a little deeper. Thankfully, not a moment later, a trainee Warden knocked on the door and announced that the Senior Council would like to speak to me, having made their decision: they were, grudgingly, going with a strategy of live and let live.

Though frankly, after the conversation I'd just had, it didn't leave me as relieved as it should. After all, while I'd saved one kid who'd been in a bad place from having the sharp sword of the White Council's justice coming after him, he'd been well-enough protected anyway. And there were plenty of others without that protection who wouldn't be half so lucky.

OoOoO

Harry, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of this and was talking a walk. Not alone, mind you. This was partly because Jesus' words about valuing friends and not pushing them away rang in his ears, and partly because various friends and family wouldn't let him go anywhere alone.

While Carol, who'd previously been limpet like in her attachment to him, had been nigh literally dragged away to go back to school (Harry, for his part, was having the relevant homework sent to him and being tutored by his father, uncle, and godmother, to ensure that as and when he did go back to Hogwarts, he wasn't behind), she had ensured that Uhtred took her place.

While less snuggling was involved, Uhtred was taking that directive and his oath as Harry's Sworn Sword incredibly seriously, having felt that he had failed Harry by not being there – this in spite of the fact that Harry had irritably pointed out, then briefly demonstrated by making him fall asleep for five minutes, before forcibly waking him up, he wouldn't have been able to do much against Essex, let alone Maddie. Uhtred had set his jaw and prepared to argue until Diana defused the situation.

"Harry, Uhtred is your friend. He cares about you. Additionally, he has a sworn duty to you, whether you like it or not," she said. "Uhtred, Harry is not a child and needs space to breathe. Additionally, he is correct – against a powerful mortal psychic, you would not have been much help even if you had been there, and would likely have suffered in much the same way that he did. And you could not have known that there would have been danger, for even those far older and wiser than you did not foresee what would happen. Now, I would much prefer it if the two of you behaved as young adults, rather than snapping wolves."

Freki and Geri, now present once more, looked up, letting out slightly offended whines.

"My apologies," Diana said, addressing them. "You two are, of course, far better behaved."

Both wolves, mollified, settled down. While they followed Harry around now that he was in Asgard again, much of their attention was occupied by the fact that, after an incident with a couple of the bitches in the royal hunting pack, they now had cubs/puppies (the terminology was still up for debate). Whatever they were referred to as, the meanderings of these small, adorable bundles of fluff provided their fathers with much to keep an eye out for, and much raising of spirits for everyone else – especially as they had been quickly toilet trained.

Harry chuckled as one of the puppies nosed at his ankles, looking up at him with hopeful expression that telegraphed a desire for treats and/or attention, and gave it a scratch behind the ears. The puppies were coming to an age where they would be old enough to find owners of their own. One boisterous little male had adopted Uhtred, while a graceful young female had seemed to similarly attach herself to Diana – though most of them seemed inclined to attach themselves to Diana.

Harry, meanwhile, didn't especially feel inclined to own a dog, or even a wolf-dog – he already had an owl, Hedwig, who had fussed over him after he'd got home, and then spent the next couple of weeks hopefully presenting him with dead mice in an attempt to speed up his recovery. The puppies seemed to notice this, so didn't really latch onto him.

One, however, had been taken home by Carol – not for her. She already had a rather grumpy cat called Chewie. No, it was for her uncle.

OoOoO

"Well," O'Neill said slowly, staring at the large fluffy thing bouncing around his feet. He was standing on his own two feet again, having begrudgingly decided to have the Serum in his DNA activated. This didn't change much, other than remove a few lines and add a little muscle, but the differences went far beyond skin-deep. "I have always wanted a dog."

"I know, right?" Carol said, smiling winningly. "And aren't I such a good niece for getting you one?"

"It's not Christmas or my birthday," O'Neill said, tone unchanged. "It's not even Thanksgiving."

"Make that amazing niece."

"Uh-huh. Now, where did this puppy come from?" O'Neill said.

Carol looked shifty.

"And how old is it?"

Carol looked even shiftier.

"Carol Susan Jane Danvers..."

"Agh, not the full name," Carol said, making a face. "He's eight weeks old."

O'Neill stared at the puppy. It was up to his knees. "Eight weeks."

"Yup."

"What kind of dog are we talking here?"

"I'm not sure if this is exactly a breed," Carol said. "But it's half Asgardian hunting hound, half..." She coughed. "Wolf."

"Wolf."

"Either Freki or Geri," Carol said. "They're Odin's wolves, and one night, they and a few of the female dogs got a little frisky."

O'Neill gave her a flat look. "Half wolf. Half Asgardian wolf," he said.

"Yeah."

"How am I going to play fetch with something like that?" O'Neill asked. "Uproot a tree and get a tank to drag it along behind?"

"On the plus side, you'll never have to worry about intruders again."

"Yes, Carol, because it would eat them."

"He wouldn't," Carol said. "Well. Not whole, anyway."

O'Neill sighed. "Look, Carol," he began.

"They're really loyal, and Freki and Geri, they're total softies," Carol said hurriedly. "He won't be any trouble and like you said, you've always wanted a dog."

"Carol, if he runs off, I will be dragged along behind like the cans on a wedding car," O'Neill said. "I try to take a stick from him, he pulls back, I lose an arm. I do not want to be the cans on a wedding car. I do not want to lose an arm."

"That's why I brought this," Carol said, producing a collar, grabbing the puppy. "Its magic," she continued, trying to put the collar on the squirming fuzzball. "Really neat magic: it restricts his strength unless you're in danger."

"I've seen Freki and Geri, you've shown me pictures," O'Neill said. "Superpowers or no superpowers, they could still swallow most dogs whole."

"Well, you can teach him not to," Carol said.

"I... oh, look, give it here," O'Neill said, taking the puppy with a grunt of effort and grabbing it by the scruff of the neck. "Behave," he said sternly. The puppy stopped, if only because it was staring, fascinated, at him. "Collar," O'Neill said, without looking away. Carol handed it over, and, puppy under arm, he attached the collar. The puppy let out a happy bark.

"So, you want to keep him?" Carol asked.

"I'm thinking about it."

"He's bonded with you," Carol said in a sing song voice. "Look at the look on his cute little face."

"I've seen that look on your cute little face, it never stopped me telling you that you couldn't have more ice cream," O'Neill said, but he wasn't looking at her.

Carol smirked and played her trump card. "That hot Major you've been working with, Major Carter. I hear that she likes dogs," she said.

"She does?" O'Neill asked, surprised, then glowered at his smirking niece. "Fine," he said. "I'll take him. If you stop looking so smug."

"I'm just happy for you, uncle Jack," Carol said, the picture of innocence.

"And I'm the Queen of Sheba," O'Neill muttered, and looked the dog over. "Part wolf, huh?"

"Yup."

"That dog, in Call of the Wild... Buck. He was part wolf, right?"

"I think so," Carol said suspiciously, then her eyes widened. "Oh, you're not thinking..."

O'Neill grinned. "Bucky it is."

"Grandpa Steve is going to have a fit, you know that."

"The look on his face will be worth all the Christmas presents I never got," O'Neill said. "Now, I think I'd better go get a leash. And stop it with the smugness."