Harry Potter: The Revenant

Steve blinked a few times, his gaze still unfocused as his mind struggled to catch up with the bizarre reality unfolding before him. The last thing he remembered was… well, not much. The cold, the ice, the war. Then nothing. And now, here he was, in a strange, dimly lit warehouse, surrounded by people who didn't quite match the era he knew.

"Howard?" Steve's voice was hoarse, like someone waking from a long, strange dream. "What... happened? How long...?"

"Longer than you think, Cap," Howard said, a grin stretching across his face, though it was a little too tight. "But we're going to get into that. First, you need to know: this is Gellert Grindelwald. Don't ask any questions yet—just trust me on that part. He's... well, I'm not sure what he is, but he just helped wake you up, so a 'thank you' might be in order."

Steve turned to the man Howard was pointing at, and for a second, he thought he saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes—a flash of something, but it was gone too quickly. The man looked older, almost ancient, with sharp features and an air of arrogance that would have made anyone else uneasy. But Steve, for all his confusion, didn't let it show.

Gellert offered a slight smile, an unsettling one, and inclined his head. "A pleasure, Captain. Though, I must admit, I expected you to be a bit more grateful. You are quite literally back from the dead, after all."

Howard rolled his eyes, but Steve was too focused on Gellert's words. "Back from the dead? What do you mean—how is that possible?"

"It's a long story," Howard said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the weight of the situation. "But you've been frozen for a while, Steve. Decades, actually. We've had some trouble getting you back to normal. But now—thanks to Gellert here—you're... well, more or less alive again. So, what's your first impression? Feel any different?"

Steve sat up, his limbs stiff and slow, like he was waking from a deep, long slumber. The cold of the pod had left an odd numbness in his bones, but beneath that, there was something else. Something... sharp. His mind was clear, but his body was a stranger. His eyes flicked to the edges of the room, and for a moment, he thought he saw shadows move where there shouldn't be any.

The hum of the magic that had filled the room earlier was still reverberating faintly in his skull. It was an unsettling feeling—like the air had changed, and everything in the room had become heavier, somehow.

"Cap?" Howard's voice was tinged with concern, pulling Steve from his thoughts. "You with me?"

Steve's hands gripped the edge of the pod, steadying himself. He nodded, slowly, his gaze sharp. "I feel… different. Like something's not quite right. Like I've been away for too long." His voice trailed off, as though the words weren't enough to describe it.

Gellert's smile widened, his pale blue eyes gleaming with something almost too pleased. "That would be the magic, Captain. You were frozen in a state of stasis. Time had no hold on you, but now... now you're waking up in a world that's not quite the same as the one you left behind. Magic has a way of changing people—sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "I've been gone for how long? How much time has passed?"

Howard shuffled uncomfortably. "A while. Decades, Steve. The war's long over. Things have changed. But we can get into all that later. Right now, we need to make sure you're not... well, about to burst into flames or something."

"Flames?" Steve's head snapped up, his confusion momentarily shifting to wariness. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Gellert's smirk remained, but there was a coldness behind it. "Nothing to worry about, Captain. Not unless you plan on testing me, of course."

"Right," Steve muttered, his instincts still honed despite the years of dormancy. He shifted on the edge of the pod, trying to get a better grip on his bearings. "So... this magic, it can bring people back from the dead?"

"Not exactly," Gellert replied with a tilt of his head. "We didn't raise you from the grave, Captain. We simply repaired the damage, using a combination of rare magical substances. Phoenix essence to awaken the spirit locked in stasis... a bit of manipulation to force the physical body back to a state of health. It's... delicate work."

Howard interrupted before Steve could ask more questions. "Look, we're just glad you're back, Cap. Trust me, you've got a lot to catch up on."

Gellert seemed to sense the growing tension in the room and sighed dramatically. "I'm certain Howard has... well, let's say a unique way of explaining things. You'll figure it out soon enough. Just be aware, Captain, that your return is... a delicate one. Don't expect everything to be the way it was when you left."

Steve didn't need to hear it twice. He stood up slowly, testing his legs, the sensation of unfamiliar strength making him hesitate for a moment before he spoke. "Whatever's going on here… I need to know. Everything. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that there's always a bigger fight ahead."

Howard's eyes gleamed with a strange mix of excitement and concern. "That's the spirit. You're going to need it, Steve. Because the world you're waking up to is nothing like the one you remember."

Steve glanced at Gellert, his eyes hardening. "I'll take my chances. But if anyone tries to put me back in the ice, it won't be for long."

The quiet tension in the air thickened. Howard's nervous chuckle broke the silence, but the weight of what was happening hung heavy in the room. Whatever future Steve Rogers was going to face, it wasn't going to be easy. But as he stood there, breathing in the strange new world around him, he was ready for whatever came next.

—

Peggy Carter paced back and forth, eyes sharp as a hawk's, her mind running a mile a minute. You'd think, after all these years, she'd get used to the constant chaos and high-stakes situations, but no. It was like her brain had decided that stress was its new best friend. Right now, she was juggling more problems than a circus clown with a dozen spinning plates—most of them all crashing to the ground at once.

"Bucky, Natasha," Peggy started, voice cool but laced with the authority that made her an absolute nightmare to argue with, "Keep pushing Harry. He's stronger than anyone gives him credit for, but that doesn't mean he can't end up in the 'oops' pile if we're not careful."

Bucky and Natasha, who were both way too good at looking like they were about to leap into action without a single word of protest, exchanged a glance. Both had been training Harry for what felt like forever, but Peggy's reminder about "mental discipline" was exactly what Harry needed to hear. Sure, he could bench press a tank at this point, but controlling that power was a whole other story.

"Got it, Peggy," Natasha said, giving Harry a look that could strip paint off a wall. "He's tough, but he's still learning to keep that rage from exploding."

Peggy nodded. Natasha was right. Harry was a ticking time bomb with a cape—minus the cape. But, if anyone could keep him from detonating, it was Bucky and Natasha. They were practically born with an uncanny ability to teach people how to stay calm when everything around them was on fire.

Turning her gaze to the other members of the group—James and Lily, who were still recovering from their magical coma-induced nap—Peggy's tone softened just a hair. She was all about tough love, but she wasn't blind to the damage these two had endured.

"James, Lily," she said, her voice still commanding but with a touch of warmth, "You two have been through hell and back. I know it's been... a lot. But we can't afford to go easy on you. I'm trusting you both to get back to full strength. And I'm not talking about just your magic. We need you both sharp. Bucky, Natasha—help them out."

James didn't flinch, but Peggy could see the weight in his eyes. It wasn't the same as when he was an Auror, in his prime. But if there was one thing she knew about James Potter, it was that he wouldn't quit, no matter how much his body hated him for it. Lily, too. If anything, she looked even more determined to prove she was ready to jump back into the action.

"We'll be ready," James said, his voice calm, but Peggy didn't miss the faint tremor. They had a long way to go, but she wasn't going to sugarcoat it.

Sirius, standing next to them, shifted his weight, a weary sigh escaping his lips. Peggy raised an eyebrow. He looked like someone who'd just had a conversation with a dementor—and probably not for the first time. Azkaban had done a number on him, but Peggy wasn't about to let him slide by just because he'd spent years locked up in a soul-sucking hellhole.

"Sirius," she said, her gaze steady, "I know Azkaban's been the world's worst vacation spot, but you've been a Hit-Wizard. You've got the chops. Now it's time to shake the rust off. We need you back in top form. Don't let me down."

Sirius, looking a little worse for wear but still with that mischievous glint in his eyes, gave a half-hearted shrug. "I'm good, Carter. Don't worry. I'll be fine. Just... give me a minute before I start pulling off the impossible stunts again."

Peggy just shot him a look that said don't even try it.

Next up were the Tonks family. Ted and Andromeda, both healers by trade, had the kind of wisdom that made Peggy respect them almost as much as she respected her own tactical genius. But even healers needed to know how to fight, because magic and medicine could only take you so far. And if there was one thing Peggy knew, it was that Hydra wasn't interested in playing fair.

"I'm trusting you all to be ready for whatever's coming," she said to Ted and Andromeda. "This fight's not just about healing—it's about survival. Be prepared."

Ted nodded seriously, as did Andromeda. They knew the deal. But it was young Tonks, still only twelve but with a fire in her eyes that was anything but childlike, who stepped forward next.

"I want to train, too," Tonks said, her tone like someone asking for permission to be awesome. "I can't go on missions yet, but I want to be useful. I want to help."

Peggy raised an eyebrow, about to shoot the idea down. "Tonks, you're too young to—"

"I can handle it!" Tonks said, cutting her off before Peggy could finish her sentence. "I may not be able to run into battle just yet, but I can train, right? I mean, I've already learned how to change my hair color. How hard can it be to learn how to punch bad guys?"

There it was. The familiar look of sheer determination—and no small amount of defiance. Peggy sighed. She'd been expecting this.

"Alright, you can train. But don't even think about taking a mission until you're older," Peggy said, rubbing her temples. "And no wild stunts, or I'll send you back to your parents, capisce?"

Tonks's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Capisce!"

Just as Peggy was about to turn her attention back to the team's schedule, Lily, ever observant, spoke up. "What's on your mind, Peggy? You look... tense."

Peggy frowned, the weight of the situation settling over her like a dark cloud. "It's Grindelwald and Howard," she muttered. "They were supposed to be here by now. And they're not. We need them. I need them."

Lily's face hardened. "Howard was supposed to bring—"

"I know!" Peggy snapped. "I know what he was supposed to bring, and I know Grindelwald was supposed to lead this mission, but he's nowhere to be found. I don't trust him. He's always been unpredictable. And now he's gone... again."

The room grew quiet, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. They had no idea what was happening, but Peggy could feel it in her gut. Something wasn't right. And whatever it was, it was going to hit them hard.

With a sigh, Peggy glanced around the room. They were a team, but this time, they might be on their own. And that thought? It didn't sit well with her. Not at all.

The clock was ticking. And with every second, things were getting worse.

—

Meanwhile, in another part of the facility, Phil Coulson and Billy Koenig were stuck in what could only be described as an absolute nightmare. And no, it wasn't an alien invasion or another Hydra plot (though those were still on the table). No, today's horror was a pint-sized, 5-year-old powerhouse of willpower named Rose Potter.

Now, to be fair, they'd been given instructions, which were basically: "Don't let her set anything on fire, and please try to keep the tantrums to a minimum." As vague as that was, Coulson had taken it seriously—after all, it's not every day you're tasked with babysitting a child raised by Albus Dumbledore (or as Rose referred to him, Grandpa Dumbledore). From the way she said it, you'd think Albus had personally taught her to throw fireballs and demand nothing less than a unicorn-puppy hybrid as her next pet.

"She's not that bad, right?" Billy whispered, glancing sideways at Coulson, who was trying not to panic as Rose marched in front of them, a pink tiara perched precariously on her head. She'd somehow found the tiara, even though Coulson was pretty sure there was no tiara in the approved babysitting supplies list. But then again, this was Rose Potter. Rules were more like suggestions.

Rose was currently inspecting the room with the look of someone who'd just discovered a new planet—and her first order of business was apparently to rearrange everything. Which, if you didn't know, meant everything that wasn't nailed down or actively glowing had a high chance of becoming part of an impromptu castle construction project.

"I demand the finest strawberries from the garden," Rose said, hands on her hips like she was the queen of some faraway land where strawberries were a currency.

"Uh, Rose, sweetie, we don't have a garden," Billy said, sounding more like a guy trying to defuse a bomb than a babysitter. "How about we get you a snack from the kitchen?"

"Not good enough," Rose said with a dramatic eye-roll that made Coulson seriously wonder if she'd been taking lessons from a very snarky teenager. "I want the garden strawberries. And I'll wait here." She flopped down dramatically, somehow managing to arrange herself on the couch like an ancient queen reclining on a throne.

Billy exchanged a glance with Coulson. "Okay, you go try to negotiate the garden strawberries, and I'll see if I can get her a juice box… maybe that'll tide her over?"

Coulson gave him a thumbs-up, though it was obvious that neither of them had any idea how they'd gotten into this situation. Dumbledore had left the child in their care, after all, and while Coulson was used to dealing with all sorts of high-stakes, world-saving missions, this was an entirely new level of stress.

Rose's eyes narrowed as she watched Billy head toward the kitchen. "And no funny business," she warned him in the most serious voice a 5-year-old could muster. "I'm watching you."

"Right," Billy muttered under his breath. "I'm dealing with a toddler who thinks she's the boss of everything. Totally normal."

Coulson just sighed and gave Billy a sympathetic look. Then he turned to Rose, who was now making sure her tiara was perfectly in place.

"So," Coulson started, trying his best to be engaging without sounding like he was reading from a parenting manual, "tell me about your favorite adventure. Did Grandpa Dumbledore take you on any fun trips?"

Rose's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, Grandpa took me to this huge tower once. It was really tall, and we went up to the top, and I saw the whole world from there. He promised me I'd get to turn it into a giant playground."

"Uh, sure," Coulson said, trying to process what she just said. "Did you get to play with any cool toys there?"

"Only magical ones!" Rose replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "There were flying books, and these talking mirrors, and there was a dragon who gave me advice. He told me not to trust people who don't wear hats." She frowned, clearly deep in thought. "Except for Grandpa. He always wears hats."

"Good advice," Coulson said, nodding solemnly. "Now, uh, how about we—"

Before he could finish, Rose clapped her hands together. "I want a flying broomstick!" she announced, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "And I want it now!"

Billy, just returning from the kitchen with two juice boxes in hand, froze mid-step. He was a trained agent, but he was not prepared for this.

"Rose, you can't—" Coulson started, but it was already too late. The young witch had already conjured up what appeared to be a miniature broomstick from thin air, hovering slightly off the ground.

Billy stared at the broomstick. "Is that... a thing she can just do?"

"Apparently," Coulson said, trying to keep his cool, though his voice had a slight tremor. "I'm gonna need backup."

The terrifying thing was that Rose just grinned at him, completely unfazed. "You should probably stay out of the way."

—

The hum of the facility's main hall echoed with the sound of boots hitting the ground as Grindelwald and Howard Stark walked side by side, their arrival drawing the attention of everyone in the training area. Peggy, who had been pacing and reviewing the strategies for the team's next move, looked up, only to freeze mid-step as her gaze landed on Howard—and the man beside him.

For a moment, her heart stopped. The world seemed to blur and slow as her eyes locked onto the familiar figure. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. But there, standing in front of her, was Steve Rogers. The Steve Rogers she'd lost—the Steve Rogers she'd buried—was standing there, alive, with a look in his eyes that screamed, I've been gone too long.

"Peggy," Howard said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "You look just like you did when I last saw you. You haven't aged a day."

Peggy blinked, her breath catching. "Howard… this… he—"

"Long story," Howard cut her off, holding up a hand before she could dive into the whirlwind of emotions rushing through her. "But yeah, Steve's back. Apparently, a combination of some Stark ingenuity and a little help from a certain magical friend—" he gestured toward Grindelwald, who was standing nearby with his arms folded, looking disturbingly pleased with himself—"managed to bring him back. After a little… nudge."

Peggy's mind was still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions. There was Steve, alive, and somehow just as frozen in time as she had been. There was that same jawline, those eyes, that captain swagger. It was like no time had passed at all, and yet so much had changed.

"Steve…" Peggy breathed, her voice shaking as she took a few hesitant steps forward.

Steve, for his part, looked a bit disoriented, but he stepped forward too, as if to close the distance between them. "Peggy, I… I thought I lost you too," he said softly, his voice as familiar as it had always been, though with an edge of weariness that hadn't been there before. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

But before they could get caught in that moment, Bucky's voice rang out from across the room.

"Steve?" Bucky said, his tone flat but with a hint of disbelief. The other members of the team—Harry, James, Lily, Ted, Andromeda, and even young Tonks—had stopped what they were doing, watching the scene unfold. But it was Bucky who stood frozen, staring at Steve with an expression that could only be described as a mixture of confusion and cautious hope.

"I—I thought you were dead," Bucky's voice cracked just slightly.

Steve's eyes darted toward Bucky, his brow furrowed. The tension in the room thickened, as if the entire team was holding their breath.

"Bucky," Steve said, taking a step forward, and there was something raw in his tone. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know... they told me you were dead. That mission... I—"

"You don't have to explain," Bucky cut him off, his voice thick with emotion. "You were frozen for seventy years. We all thought you were gone, Steve. But here you are." He took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. "And me… I'm still here. With a new arm, too. Seems like I'm just full of surprises these days."

Peggy blinked, glancing at Bucky's new metal arm, her breath catching once again. He looked like himself, but there was something new there—something different. And as much as it shocked her, she was relieved to see Bucky looking like Bucky, strong and solid as ever.

"You're all here," Steve said softly, his gaze sweeping over the group. He looked a bit overwhelmed, as if he was seeing everything through the lens of someone who'd missed decades of history. "How… how long has it been?"

"Longer than I care to admit," Bucky replied dryly, though there was a warmth in his tone that Peggy wasn't sure everyone else caught. "But now that you're back, maybe we can finally do something about Hydra, huh?"

Howard smirked. "That's the plan. But first, Peggy has some questions. And I imagine you all have a few of your own."

Steve took a deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides. "I think we've got a lot of catching up to do. Starting with... you," he gestured to Peggy, his eyes softened by a kind of longing she hadn't seen in decades. "I had no idea you were still—"

"Serum," Peggy interrupted quickly, still trying to catch her breath. "I took a version of the Super Soldier Serum. Howard's formula," she added with a faint smile, her eyes flashing to Howard, who gave her a wink. "Don't ask for the details, Steve. You don't want to know."

Steve's brow shot up, a mix of surprise and curiosity on his face. "You're... super?"

"Don't get too excited," Peggy said with a huff, "I'm still me—just with a bit more stamina. And I'm not the one who's been frozen for decades."

Steve gave her a dry grin. "Fair enough."

Just then, Natasha stepped forward, her sharp eyes never leaving Steve's face. She tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow. "So, Steve Rogers—thawed out and ready to jump back into the fray? No rest for the weary, huh?"

"Not when Hydra's still out there," Steve said, his gaze hardening. "If they thought they could keep me in that ice forever, they've got another thing coming."

Bucky smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. "Glad to have you back, old friend. Let's take down Hydra."

And just like that, the tension in the room shifted. The team was complete, even if they were still getting used to this new dynamic. But with Steve Rogers back, Peggy's confidence returned in full force.

This was the team they'd been waiting for.

And now, together, they would take on Hydra—and whatever other dangers the world could throw at them.

—

The training room was buzzing with its usual chaotic energy. People were throwing punches, breaking a sweat, trying to push their limits without wrecking anything important. Fists connecting with pads, the sound of someone getting knocked down, and the steady rhythm of feet pounding the floor. Steve Rogers was watching it all, but his mind wasn't really on the fight. He was still processing a lot—like how his best friend Bucky had been turned into a Hydra weapon for decades. And now, here he was, in this room full of kids. One of 'em was Harry.

Harry was a complicated case. He had the body of an 18-year-old, all muscles and height, with that "I could probably bench press a tank" vibe. But then, you looked at his face... it still screamed "kid who got stuck in a grown-up's body." And if that wasn't jarring enough, the whole Hydra-experiment-gone-wrong thing wasn't exactly making him feel any better about it. Steve, being the guy who'd seen his share of messed-up mind control, felt for him. He really did.

But Steve wasn't the kind of guy who'd just sit back and wait for someone to open up. That's not how he worked. So, without thinking too much about it (which, in hindsight, was probably a bad idea), he decided to go talk to Harry.

He walked over to where Harry was leaning against the wall, looking like he was deep in thought about whether the wall might suddenly develop an existential crisis or if he was gonna have to solve it himself. Classic Harry move. The guy wasn't sparring. He wasn't part of the action. Nah, he was the observer. The "I'm too dangerous to actually participate, but I'm gonna watch and make sure no one blows up" kind of guy.

"Hey, kid," Steve called, voice sounding rougher than he intended, like it usually did. "Got a minute?"

Harry turned around, his face unreadable. Of course it was. The kid had mastered the art of the "I'm emotionally closed off, don't bother me" stare.

"Sure," Harry said with a shrug that made Steve think maybe the kid was trying too hard to seem detached. Like, he didn't want anyone to know that, under all that, he might actually be a mess.

Steve motioned toward a quieter corner, away from all the noise, the chaos, and definitely away from the rest of the team who might overhear something serious about the kind of trauma the kid was probably trying to bury.

Steve didn't sit down. He wasn't here for a cozy heart-to-heart. He just leaned against the wall, watching Harry. After a few seconds, Harry met his gaze. For a guy who probably had more emotional baggage than a suitcase store, Harry had this intensity about him. Like, he knew how to keep his feelings under lock and key—and wasn't about to let anyone in.

"So," Steve started, scratching the back of his neck like an old Brooklyn guy who didn't know how to deal with feelings but was gonna try anyway. "I heard about... you know. Hydra. The experiments. All that crap."

Harry gave a small nod, like he was too tired to argue with it or fight back. He was just... accepting it.

"It was a mess," Harry said, voice steady, like he'd said the words a hundred times before. "But I'm not the only one. I'm just... lucky, I guess. I'm back with my family now."

Steve's stomach twisted. He didn't know what it felt like to have your family ripped away and then put back together in some weird, broken version of what it once was. But he knew the feeling of losing people. His best friend Bucky, for instance. He'd lost him to the war, to Hydra. And even now, Steve was still fighting to bring him back from all the crap they'd put him through.

"I get it," Steve said, voice softer now, even though his Brooklyn accent was still there, like it always was. "My best friend—Bucky—he was... made into something else. Brainwashed, used as a weapon. But I found him again. And we're still figuring it out."

Harry didn't say anything at first, but Steve caught that flicker in his eyes. For a second, there was something in there. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was just curiosity. Who the hell could say?

"It's not easy," Steve continued, his voice low. "Hell, I've been fighting Hydra, fighting my own demons, and I'm still trying to figure out how to handle it. But, Harry..." He looked the kid dead in the eye, his tone getting firmer. "What I do know is, you get to make your own damn choices now. You don't gotta be anyone else's weapon. Not anymore."

For a second, Harry's face softened just the slightest bit—like someone who didn't know how to take a compliment, but wasn't about to shut it down either.

"Thanks, Steve," Harry said quietly. "I... it helps. Hearing that."

Steve let out a soft laugh. "Don't mention it, kid. I mean, you're not on your own here. You've got a team now. And if you ever need to talk—or hell, just grab a burger—come find me, alright?"

Harry's lips twitched, almost like he was trying to fight a smile. For the first time since he'd joined the team, Steve saw a little flicker of something—maybe even a glimpse of the kid he used to be, the one buried under all the trauma and the Hydra crap.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, the first hint of lightness in his voice. Like, maybe he wasn't so alone in this after all.

"Good," Steve said with a nod. He turned to head back, but then he paused. "And if you ever need a new shield—"

"I'm not carrying your shield," Harry shot back with a grin.

Steve snorted. "Tough crowd."

As Steve walked away, he caught Harry's eyes one more time. And for once, it felt like the kid wasn't carrying the whole damn weight of the world on his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to find his place here. One step at a time.

---

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