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"In that case — farewell."
She gave a light wave, and a ball of fire materialized out of nowhere, hanging suspended in the air.
Tony spoke up. "Extremis soldiers aren't afraid of fire. That won't work."
Hermione gave him a flat look.
"This is Fiendfyre. As long as my magic holds, it never goes out."
The fire serpent swallowed Killian whole. His screams cut off sharply, smothered by the flames.
Moments later, Hermione called the fire back. Nothing remained on the deck but ash.
A fire soldier, burned to death by fire. Tony opened his mouth, felt the urge to say something, and closed it again.
Rhodey stood nearby. He'd watched the whole thing. He couldn't quite find words for what he was feeling.
It was only now that he placed the green light he'd seen earlier.
That was the instant-kill spell from the Battle of New York. The one she'd used on the Chitauri.
He stared at Hermione. This girl. She looked like she wouldn't hurt a fly, and she was walking around with that in her back pocket.
"Tony." Rhodey couldn't help himself. "If you had backup this good, why didn't you call her sooner? Do you know how hard we were just fighting out there?"
Tony gave a tired smile. "You think I didn't want to? She does whatever she feels like. If Killian hadn't been stupid enough to push things this far, we'd probably still be sitting in a cell."
---
Night settled over the city. New York's neon lights pulsed against the dark.
Stephen Strange stepped out of the hospital and exhaled.
He raised his wrist out of habit, checking the watch there. The hands pointed to eleven o'clock.
Christine's probably already asleep.
He said it quietly to himself, not quite to anyone.
The watch was hers. A gift. Every time he saw it, something in him steadied , a small, reliable warmth at the end of a long day.
He picked up his pace and turned into a narrow alley. It was a shortcut to the parking lot, dim and quiet, but it saved time.
A shadow stepped out from the corner.
"Hey. Hand it over."
The voice was rough. The man holding the knife was large, and he held it like he knew how to use it.
Stephen's pulse jumped. He looked up, took stock, kept his face calm.
A mugging.
He hadn't expected this. But he didn't panic.
"I don't carry cash," he said, his voice even.
"Save it." The man jabbed the blade toward him. "Everything valuable. Now."
Stephen sighed. He could already see how this was going to go.
He reached into his pocket and held out his wallet. The man snatched it, flipped through it — a few credit cards, barely any change , and his expression curdled.
"This is it? You're joking."
His eyes dropped to Stephen's wrist.
"The watch. Take it off."
Stephen's chest tightened. That watch wasn't replaceable.
"It's not worth anything," he said. "Just a keepsake."
"I said take it off."
The man stepped forward and grabbed for it. Stephen pulled back instinctively, trying to keep it out of reach.
They grappled. Stephen was tall, but he was a surgeon , long hours in the OR, not a gym. It didn't take long. The robber got him down, pinned him to the ground, and Stephen fought with everything he had.
CRACK!
The watchband snapped. The knife found his wrist.
Pain, sharp and total.
"Ah—!"
Stephen curled around his wrist, gasping. He could feel it. The tendons. Something was wrong with the tendons.
The robber ran. He made it to a corner away from the cameras and stopped.
He stood very still. His eyes were empty.
Like something had been switched off behind them.
A green flash. Then silence.
High above, Hermione listened to the screaming below. Then she turned and disappeared into the night sky.
---
Hogwarts. The Quidditch Pitch.
Wind. Driving rain. Thunder cracking across the sky, lightning splitting it open.
Another year, another match. Scarlet and gold on one side. Green and silver on the other. The stands were packed, the whole school out in the downpour, shouting themselves hoarse.
Hermione sat in the stands in her raincoat, eating snacks at a relaxed pace.
She wasn't playing.
Not that she didn't want to. It was more that... no one would play with her.
Two years ago, she'd been banned from using her signature equipment after things got a little out of hand during a match. The item in question: Cyberpunk 2077.
Last year, after the whole Chamber of Secrets business, she'd switched to a standard broomstick. Didn't matter. Her reputation as the Witch had gotten so bad that opponents spent the whole game watching her instead of the Quaffle, too scared of what she might do after the final whistle to actually play.
This year was something else entirely.
The moment the other houses heard Hermione was on a team, they all withdrew. Every single one.
The school had quietly pulled her aside. If she played, there might not be a Quidditch season , one team wasn't much of a tournament.
So for the sake of everyone's enjoyment, Hermione had graciously agreed to sit this one out.
The whistle shrieked.
The match was on.
Without Hermione in the game, Slytherin finally had room to breathe. They shook off the restraint and got back to their roots: playing dirty.
Angelina was first in the air, already surging ahead.
Marcus grinned and came in from the side, full speed, the wind screaming around him as he drove straight for her.
"Angelina, look out!"
Harry's shout cut through the rain.
Angelina was a split second from being sent flying , and then Hermione stood up in the stands.
Marcus's eyes found her. His body locked up. He braked so hard he nearly pitched off his broom entirely.
Angelina shot through the gap, snatched the Quaffle, and put it straight through the goalposts.
"Gryffindor scores!"
Lee Jordan's voice rang out over the pitch. The Gryffindor stands erupted.
The Slytherin side was completely silent.
Marcus stared at Hermione, his jaw working.
Hermione stretched, settled back into her seat with a smile, and went back to her snacks. Perfectly serene. As if nothing had happened at all.
Slytherin: ...
Play resumed.
A few minutes later, a Slytherin Beater lined up on an incoming Bludger. He sighted down his bat. Drew it back.
Hermione pulled out her wand.
The Beater saw it. Every muscle in his body went rigid. His brain, briefly, stopped functioning.
THUD!
The Bludger took him square in the face.
He dropped out of the sky on the spot.
➤ Next: I'm Feeling Conflicted, My Patronus Changing Ten Times a Second Makes Perfect...
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