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Greenwich. The Aftermath.
Thor paused at the edge of the golden portal, turning back to give Hermione a look of profound, silent gratitude. He gripped Mjolnir, nodded once to Jane, and stepped through.
Jane instinctively reached out, her mouth opening to say a final goodbye, but Coulson placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Let him go," Coulson said softly. "He has a brother to bury."
VWOOM.
With a final flash of golden light, the portal collapsed into sparks. Thor was gone.
A few moments later, the oppressive weight in the atmosphere lifted. The Convergence ended. The sky, which had been a fractured kaleidoscope of alien worlds, knitted itself back together. The red clouds faded to grey, then to a calm, post-rain blue.
It was as if the apocalypse had simply changed its mind.
But the scars remained. The Royal Naval College was a ruin of shattered stone and alien metal. The wreckage of Dark Elf Harrow ships lay smoking in the Thames. The corpses of the invaders littered the plaza like broken toys.
It was all real.
Hermione stood amidst the debris, stretching her arms above her head until her back cracked.
"Phew," she exhaled, rolling her neck. "Finally done. That was a workout."
The beautiful, powerful Witch of New York had once again saved the Earth from fire and water.
As for where the fire and water came from... well, that was a trade secret.
The Shadows.
Tom "Cruise" Riddle, currently existing in a semi-corporeal state within the folds of Hermione's pocket dimension, watched the scene with a mixture of exhaustion and grudging admiration.
He couldn't help but curse under his breath.
She has it easy, Tom thought bitterly. She just had to stand there, look pretty, and say a few lines. I had to build the entire set in real-time.
While Hermione was busy playing hero, Tom had been the stage manager from hell.
Upon leaving Svartalfheim, Hermione had tossed him the pendant containing the Reality Stone and the Space Stone. Her orders were simple: "Build Hogwarts. Make it scary. Make it real."
It had been a logistical nightmare.
First, he used the Space Stone to forcibly expand the local area, creating a massive Undetectable Extension Charm—a bubble of folded space large enough to house a castle.
Then, he used the Reality Stone combined with advanced Transfiguration to weave the castle out of thin air, anchoring it to the ley lines of London.
Finally, he had to wrangle all those bloody magical creatures Hermione had been breeding in her suitcase—the dragons, the hippogriffs, the spiders—and deploy them like troops.
But the hardest part wasn't the set dressing. It was the cast.
McGonagall. Snape. Flitwick. Even Malekith.
They weren't illusions. They weren't holograms.
Tom looked at the "professors" as they dissolved into mist, returning to storage. He shuddered.
These "actors" were real people. Or rather, they used to be.
They were Dark Wizards—Snatchers, Death Eaters, and criminals—that Hermione had hunted down over the years. She hadn't just killed them; she had harvested them. She used their bodies as raw material. She used the Resurrection Stone and Horcrux technology (perfected on poor Coulson) to stabilize their fragmented souls.
Then, she overwrote their memories. She injected them with new personalities, crafted from her own recollections of her teachers.
They were meat puppets. High-functioning, magic-wielding, soul-grafted zombies with scripted personalities.
Malekith was even worse. He was a one-time-use prop. Hermione had shattered his mind, shoved a temporary soul fragment into him to make him monologue, and then, when the scene was over, she crushed his Horcrux and fed the energy to herself.
Absolutely devilish, Tom thought, shaking his head.
Hermione Granger was ruthless. She wasted nothing. Bodies were resources. Souls were batteries. Enemies were actors in her grand play.
Damn it, Tom thought, a chill running through his phantom form. If you can't be the Dark Lord... then you should be Hermione Granger.
"I want to go on stage too..." Tom sighed, feeling left out. He resignedly went back to cleaning up the magical residue.
However, he had to admit, the performance was a smash hit. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents looked like their brains had been scrambled. The intimidation factor was off the charts.
Just then, Hermione's voice rang in his mind, clear and commanding.
"Tom. How are the preparations for the next scene going?"
Tom straightened up, switching to professional mode. "Don't worry, Boss. Everything is ready. With the assistance of the 'Ministry of Magic' liaison (Tom Marvolo Riddle Senior) and the Hydra script... all the actors are in place. We're just waiting for Alexander Pierce to make his move."
The World.
The exposure of the Celestial Convergence hit the global news cycle like a meteor.
For the second time in two years, Earth had been invaded by aliens. And for the second time, the World Security Council had done absolutely nothing but watch.
Public opinion, already sour from the attempted nuke on New York, turned venomous. The WSC was branded as useless, a group of old men watching the world burn from their ivory towers.
In contrast, the Witch was trending.
Last time, during the Chitauri invasion, she had been a hooded figure, a mystery. This time, the cameras caught everything. Her face. Her power. Her army of dragons.
The image of a teenage girl commanding monsters and staring down an alien warlord went viral instantly.
"Long Live the Witch!" "Magic is Real!" "Hogwarts Admissions When?"
The internet exploded. A cult of personality formed overnight. People began to worship the power of magic. Some even started establishing fringe religions, hailing Hermione as a new deity.
Of course, the fear was there too.
Pundits on cable news screamed about the threat. If wizards exist, and they have dragons, what happens if they decide to rule us? Is the Witch our protector, or our future overlord?
Panic and adoration mixed into a potent cocktail.
But one thing was universally agreed upon: Thor looked weak.
The God of Thunder, an Avenger, had been ragdolled by Malekith. He had accomplished nothing. It was the Witch and her "Professors" who saved the planet. The Avengers' stock plummeted. The Witch's stock soared.
The Bus. 30,000 Feet.
Hermione was oblivious to the religious schisms she was causing. She was currently trapped in a window seat, being assaulted by a very enthusiastic hacker.
"Hermione! Hermione!"
Skye was practically vibrating. She held Hermione's hand with both of hers, her eyes shining like high beams.
"You're really a wizard? Like, a wand-waving, potion-brewing, dragon-riding wizard? Wow! That is so cool! That is the coolest thing that has ever happened!"
Skye looked like she had discovered a new continent. Unlike the rest of the team, who treated Hermione with terrified awe, Skye treated her like a rockstar she had just met backstage.
"So," Skye rattled on, ignoring Hermione's exhausted expression. "Can you conjure stuff? Like, anything? Can you conjure a unicorn? Or a pizza? A unicorn eating pizza?"
Hermione sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Skye, I'm tired. I just fought a war."
"I know, I know! You were amazing!" Skye squeezed her hand. "But seriously, I want to learn. Can I apply? Is there an online course? I want to be a Hacker Wizard! I could cast spells with code! Avada Kedavra.exe!"
Hermione's lips twitched. Hacker Wizard?
"Skye," Hermione interrupted, pulling her hand back gently. "I regret to inform you that magic is genetic. It's a bloodline. You can't learn it by hacking the mainframe."
"Huh? Bloodline inheritance?"
Skye paused. The excitement drained from her face, replaced by a puppy-dog look of devastation.
"So... I'll never have the chance? I'm just a Muggle?"
She looked at Hermione pitifully. "That sucks. That really sucks."
Hermione looked at the girl. She saw the Inhuman DNA dormant in her cells, waiting for the Terrigen crystals.
It's alright, Hermione thought. You have other bloodlines. You're going to shake the earth without a wand.
But she couldn't say that yet.
The next second, Skye bounced back. Her resilience was incredible.
"It's okay!" Skye clapped her hands, her grin returning. "Even if I can't cast spells, I can still be your number one fan! I'll run your fan club! I'll moderate the subreddit!"
The energetic hacker lunged forward and hugged Hermione tightly, burying her face in Hermione's shoulder.
"Thank you," Skye whispered, her voice muffling against the fabric. "For saving us. For being real."
Hermione stiffened for a second, then relaxed. She patted Skye's back awkwardly.
"You're welcome, Skye," Hermione murmured. "Just... don't make me a fan page, okay?"