"I hate this. I hate you."
The Ancient One shook her head calmly. "Again."
Tony groaned. He had been stuck in the same ridiculous pose for what felt like forever, trying to open a portal with the sling ring she'd given him. He could bend magic in a dozen other ways, but this one trick? Impossible.
They were in the training chamber. Three days since he'd arrived here, three days of crash courses, lectures, and spiritual pep talks. He'd even gotten the grand tour. Met Wong, too. Nice guy. Definitely his biggest fan.
"H-How long do I have to keep this up?" Tony panted. "I'm dehydrated, my arm's about to fall off, and I haven't stood still this long since that photo shoot in Milan."
"It's only been six hours, Tony." She was serene, unbothered, and apparently made of stone. "But of course, you should take a break."
"Six hours?!" Tony dropped onto the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. "No wonder this feels like torture. I swear you're doing this just to watch me suffer."
His hand throbbed. The damn sling ring burned against his skin like a cosmic joke.
"When you're rested," she continued smoothly, "head to the library. Wong has prepared the books for you to study."
Tony threw his head back with a dramatic groan. "Great. More homework. Just what every genius billionaire playboy needed. Honestly… I wanna go home."
He regret this already.
And yet, the training has just begun.
————
Fury was ready to pull his gun out and shoot at Gellert fucking Grindelwald, who was sitting behind his desk. His desk!
To top it all off, he couldn't kick him out. No one could.
Hell, no fucking wizard bitch could.
Gellert Grindelwald was under the protection of Tony fucking Stark. No matter what anyone pulled out of their asses, Grindelwald couldn't be arrested. On top of that, he was now a co-worker at Stark Industries and sticking his nose into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work.
Gellert ignored the director, who was seething at him with his one eye. Like he cared. At the moment, he was far too focused on the documents he had found. Super Soldier.
Honestly, he had broken into the director's office just to piss him off—only to stumble upon these papers on the desk. His curiosity got the better of him. Well, no one could stop him from doing whatever he wanted anyway. So he sat down and read.
A mission report. They had found a crashed aircraft and a body inside. Not just any body, but Captain America—Steve Rogers. How was this possible, Gellert wondered.
A man perfectly frozen in ice, possibly alive—and these people were trying to unfreeze him.
On top of that, Hydra would no doubt be very interested in this case. Gellert couldn't allow Hydra to get their hands on the Frozen Soldier. But he also couldn't let S.H.I.E.L.D. have him either.
He didn't need to read the director's mind—or anyone else's—to know what they planned to do with the soldier.
And Gellert wasn't a saint. Goodness, yes, he had given up evil, but he wasn't about to give up an opportunity handed to him on a golden plate.
"What are you doing here, Grindelwald? This isn't your office." Fury kept his voice controlled and calm. "Leave my office and put those papers back on the desk."
"Heh, whatever." Gellert tossed the papers aside like they were trash and rose from the chair. "Your chair is very comfortable, Director."
"I'll email you the address of the furniture company." Fury avoided his gaze. "What is it you want?"
"Oh, nothing. I was just doing my normal routine of check-ins. Don't worry, Director. I'm not here to fight or harm any of your people. We are working together, after all." Gellert smiled politely. "Anyway, I'll take my leave. Apologies for breaking into your office…"
Apology, his ass. Fury knew this man had no regrets about breaking into his office.
As Gellert left the room with that smug look on his face—heavens, Fury wanted to punch it—the door shut, and Fury stormed around the desk. He snatched up the papers and flipped through them, only to curse. Of all the fucking papers!
"Damn it!" Fury slammed the files back onto the table. "Who the fuck left such important papers lying on my fucking desk?!"
Gritting his teeth, he pulled out his phone and fired off a message to his agents. Security was going to have to be tightened.
———
Harry, Hermione, and Ron got their surprise at the welcoming feast three days ago, Remus and Sirius were the new professors. Remus teaching DADA, and Sirius acting as his co-partner in crime. His assistant.
Was that even possible? Apparently, it was.
Snape face look like he was deny his toy, Harry thought he was gonna vomit blood at the spot.
Then again, he heard from others how Snape wanted DADA position, Thank Merlin, His uncle and Godfather were taking the class this year. No way, he be able to breathe around Snape.
"So, your godfather and your uncle are going to teach us," Neville said, walking beside the golden trio. "Are you excited?"
"Remus is good at teaching. I mean, he's helped me a lot with subjects…" Harry trailed off, leaving out the fact that a certain uncle—Dark Lord Gellert—had taught him potions better than Remus ever could. "He's really good."
"What about Sirius?"
"…" Harry had no comment. "Decent."
"What's got you worried, Ron?" Hermione noticed he was being unusually quiet. "I thought you'd be excited for DADA?"
"It's my rat," Ron groaned. "I don't know what's wrong with him! He's been acting so weird, and I almost lost track of him… He looks sick to me."
"Is your rat magical?" Hermione asked.
"No, just a regular rat. We found him in our garden. Percy had him first, and now I do."
"Did you forgot? He told us in second year about his Rat, Hermione"
Harry finally knew what to gift Ron this year. He patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, mate. He'll be fine."
He can't say it to Ron's face but he doesn't care about the rat, something just off about him.
If only he knew.