Alexei squinted at the figure stepping into his cell, his brow furrowing. His beard was unkempt, his hair wild, but his sharp eyes hadn't dulled in the years of confinement. When the dim light revealed Natasha Romanoff standing there, his confusion turned to a mix of disbelief and cautious hope.
"Natalia?" he said slowly, his voice deep and roughened by years of yelling at guards and singing songs to annoy them. He stepped closer, towering over her, but there was a softness in his gaze—a flicker of the paternal protectiveness that had always lingered beneath his gruff exterior. "What... what are you doing here? Did they lock you up too? You finally mouthed off to the wrong person?"
Natasha rolled her eyes, suppressing a smirk. "Nice to see you, too, Alexei. No, I'm not here because I got caught. I'm here to get you out."
Alexei blinked, then laughed—a deep, booming sound that echoed through the small cell. "Out? This prison? Natalia, you've always been ambitious, but this is madness! Do you know where we are? Seventh Circle isn't exactly a two-star hotel."
"I'm well aware," Natasha replied coolly, crossing her arms. "And I'm serious. Now, get up. We don't have time for your dramatics."
"Dramatics?" Alexei feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "Natalia, you wound me. And here I thought you missed me."
"I didn't miss you," she said flatly, though the slight twitch at the corner of her lips betrayed her. "Now, get moving before I change my mind."
Alexei's laughter died down, and he tilted his head as he studied her. "Wait a minute. This isn't one of those sting operations, is it? You're not trying to butter me up so you can drag me back to some interrogation room, are you?"
"No," she said firmly, stepping closer. Her voice softened, though her tone remained urgent. "Alexei, I need you to trust me. Like you used to."
That seemed to strike a chord. The teasing left his eyes, replaced by something more solemn. He nodded slowly. "Alright, Natalia. If you say so. But I have to tell you, I've grown very attached to this charming little cell. I'll miss it."
Bucky appeared in the doorway, his vibranium arm catching the light. "Less talking, more moving. Guards will be swarming any second."
Alexei turned to Bucky, frowning deeply. "And who's this? Another one of your Red Room friends? He looks like he belongs in a brooding boy band."
"Not even close," Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. "Can we just move?"
"Alexei, this is White Wolf," Natasha said, exasperated. "He's on our side."
"White Wolf? What kind of name is that?" Alexei scoffed. "Are we collecting animals now? What's next? Dancing Bear? Talking Snake?"
"Would you prefer we left you here?" Bucky shot back, unimpressed.
"Hmm, tempting," Alexei mused, stroking his beard. Then he sighed theatrically. "Fine, let's go. But if we're running, someone better tell me where the buffet is. I'll need my strength."
Natasha gave him a sharp look. "Alexei."
"Alright, alright. Lead the way, Natalia."
As they stepped into the hallway, Alexei noticed something strange about Natasha and Bucky—specifically the flicker of magic around them as they moved. His sharp instincts kicked in, honed from years as the Red Guardian. "Wait a second. What's with the disappearing act? Is this... magic? Who are we fighting? Hydra? S.H.I.E.L.D.? The Red Room again?"
Natasha didn't break stride, her voice clipped but calm. "Not your concern. Just follow us and keep quiet."
Alexei huffed, glancing between Natasha and Bucky. "You know, Natalia, I always thought if you came to rescue me, it'd be in a tank. Maybe some fireworks. Not this sneaky, magical nonsense."
"Would you prefer we go back and do it your way?" Natasha shot over her shoulder.
"Maybe! At least it'd be more exciting," Alexei grumbled. "And louder."
Bucky smirked. "Trust me, we've got loud covered."
As they moved further down the hall, the distant echoes of combat reached them—the clang of Vibranium claws, the hiss of spells, and the muffled grunts of guards being taken out. Alexei's brows shot up. "What in Lenin's name is going on out there?"
"Revenant," Natasha replied, smirking faintly.
"Revenant?" Alexei repeated, confused. "What's that? Some new ghost project the Red Room cooked up?"
Natasha didn't answer directly, her smirk widening as she said, "You'll see."
Bucky shook his head with a low chuckle. "You'll definitely see."
Alexei muttered under his breath as he followed them. "I better. If I find out this is all for show, Natalia, you owe me a drink."
"Focus, Alexei," Natasha snapped. But there was a faint smile on her face as they pressed on, chaos waiting just ahead.
—
The group gathered in an abandoned corridor just outside the prison's eastern wing, where James, Lily, and Sirius stood waiting. James was grinning widely, still adjusting the Invisibility Cloak over his arm, while Sirius brushed off imaginary dust from his robes, clearly pleased with himself. Lily, meanwhile, had her wand in hand, her eyes sharp as she scanned the area for any lingering threats.
"Mission accomplished!" James announced triumphantly, his voice just a touch too loud. "All charges placed and detonated. It was like the fireworks at our wedding, Lils!"
"Less talking, more moving," Natasha cut in sharply, her gaze darting toward the distant sound of alarms.
"Bloody alarms," Sirius muttered. "Would've been easier if you'd let me have a proper go at that Warden."
"We're not here to turn this into a circus, Sirius," Lily said curtly. "The goal was to distract them, not blow up the entire prison."
"Oh, come on, Lily," Sirius said with a wolfish grin. "You have to admit, we had style."
Natasha rolled her eyes, stepping forward with Alexei in tow. "We've got what we came for. Time to move."
Alexei, trailing behind her, looked around at the new faces with wide eyes. "Wait a minute. Who are these people? Natalia, are these your new friends? Let me guess—the posh one with the glasses is the brains, the woman with the wand is the leader, and the shaggy-haired one is... comic relief?"
"Careful there, mate," Sirius said with a mock growl, crossing his arms. "I might take offense to that."
"Yeah," James added, grinning. "I'm the comic relief."
Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can we focus, please?"
Before anyone could respond, a swirling, golden portal opened a few feet away, and Revenant stepped through, his Vibranium claws retracting into his gauntlets as his cloak settled over his shoulders. His eyes, glowing faintly beneath the mask, scanned the group.
"Sorry I'm late," Harry said, his voice carrying a slight echo through the mask. "Had to deal with a few stragglers. Warden wasn't keen on letting me leave without a proper goodbye."
Natasha turned to him, hands on her hips. "All clear?"
"All clear," he confirmed. "So... who's this guy?" He gestured to Alexei, who was staring at him with a mix of suspicion and awe.
"This is Alexei Shostakov," Natasha said, her voice flat. "Red Guardian. Former Soviet superhero. Likes to talk too much."
"And make dad jokes," Bucky muttered, earning a loud laugh from Alexei.
Revenant tilted his head. "Dad jokes, huh? Great. Another Sirius."
"Hey!" Sirius protested, but he was grinning.
Alexei puffed out his chest, clearly unfazed. "Who are you supposed to be? The Halloween ghost?"
Revenant didn't miss a beat. "Call me Revenant. And for the record, I've saved your life at least twice in the last ten minutes. So maybe less sass, more gratitude?"
Alexei raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Thanks for saving me, oh spooky one."
"Good," Natasha cut in, her tone brisk. "Now, let's move. We're heading to the chopper."
Revenant held up a hand, his golden portal still shimmering behind him. "No need. I've got it covered. Portal's open and ready to take us straight to the chopper."
James let out a low whistle. "You know, that's a pretty handy trick. Makes me wonder why we didn't portal straight into the prison."
"I told you," Harry said patiently. "Portals require line of sight or a clear mental image of the destination. Trying to open one inside a high-security prison I've never seen before? Recipe for disaster."
Sirius nodded sagely. "Makes sense. Besides, it's much cooler when you save it for dramatic moments."
"Exactly," Harry said, amused. "Now, everyone through the portal."
Natasha was the first to step through, followed by Alexei, who hesitated for a moment before muttering, "This better not be one of those teleportation tricks where I lose an arm."
"It's not," Harry assured him. "Unless you want it to be."
Alexei shot him a wary look before stepping through. One by one, the others followed, with Lily giving Harry a small nod of approval as she passed.
When everyone was through, they emerged in the clearing where the chopper waited. Its blades were already spinning up, the dull thrum echoing across the otherwise empty field. Natasha, already in the pilot's seat, waved them over hurriedly.
"Get in, buckle up, and stay low," Natasha ordered. "We've still got a ways to go before we're in the clear."
Alexei paused, staring at the chopper with a frown. "Wait. This is the escape plan? A rusty tin can with rotors?"
"Relax, Alexei," Natasha said, rolling her eyes. "The jet is waiting at an airfield a few miles from here. This is just phase one."
"Phase one of getting shot out of the sky," Alexei grumbled, but he climbed in anyway.
Revenant glanced back toward the prison in the distance, where figures were beginning to emerge from the gates. He sighed. "Looks like we've got company. Everyone in. I'll handle this."
Natasha hesitated, but Revenant gave her a reassuring nod. "I'll portal to the jet after I clean up. Go."
With that, she ushered the rest of the group into the chopper, leaving Revenant standing in the clearing as the rotors began to lift the vehicle off the ground. His glowing eyes turned back toward the approaching guards, and a slow, predatory smile spread beneath his mask.
"Let's dance."
—-
As the chopper's rotors whipped up the cold night air, Revenant stood his ground on the prison's battered tarmac, watching it disappear into the horizon. His comm crackled to life.
"We'll be at the airfield in twenty minutes," Natasha said briskly, the sound of the helicopter blades whirring in the background. "Hold them off until then. Can you manage that?"
Harry's mask retracted briefly, revealing a smirk. "Twenty minutes of babysitting trigger-happy guards? Sounds like a blast."
"Just don't die," she added sharply, before cutting the line.
The first wave of guards broke through the smoke from the earlier chaos, shouting orders in Russian and raising their weapons. Revenant let his mask slide back into place and rolled his shoulders, the Vibranium claws extending with a metallic shink.
"Alright," he muttered to himself, stepping forward, "time to dance."
The guards opened fire, bullets ricocheting harmlessly off the glowing golden shield that materialized in front of him. Revenant sprinted toward them, deflecting energy blasts and bullets alike with calculated precision.
One guard with an electrified baton lunged at him, shouting something Harry couldn't quite catch. He sidestepped the attack, grabbing the baton mid-swing and snapping it in two with his claws.
"Sorry, pal," he quipped, shoving the guard backward into two of his comrades, "but I'm not in the mood for group hugs tonight."
Minutes ticked by, the guards growing more desperate as their ranks thinned. A pair of armored trucks screeched onto the tarmac, disgorging reinforcements. Revenant sighed, his claws retracting momentarily as he surveyed the new arrivals.
"Really? Trucks? That's cute."
One of the guards yelled an order, and the group began advancing in a coordinated formation. Harry slammed his gauntlets together, releasing a concussive blast of golden energy that sent the front line sprawling. He didn't have time to revel in the chaos, though. From the corner of his eye, he caught the shimmer of something metallic—an experimental drone.
"Now we're playing dirty," Harry muttered, leaping backward just as the drone fired a pulse of crackling blue energy at him. The blast scorched the ground where he'd been standing moments ago.
He flipped through the air, landing on the roof of one of the trucks. The drone followed, tracking him with a series of rapid pulses. Harry's hand shot out, conjuring a golden whip of energy that lashed through the air, striking the drone and sending it spiraling to the ground in a fiery explosion.
As he landed back on the ground, his comm came alive again, Natasha's voice cutting through the static.
"Seventeen minutes. We're making good time, but don't get sloppy."
Harry ducked as another guard swung at him, disarming the man with a quick twist of his wrist. "Define sloppy. Because I think I just reinvented a Michael Bay action sequence over here."
"You're stalling," Natasha replied, unimpressed.
"I call it multitasking," Harry retorted, before delivering a swift kick to another guard's chest, sending him crashing into a nearby crate.
The fight dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Revenant ducked and weaved, his claws flashing as he incapacitated another wave of guards. The air around him was filled with the sounds of gunfire, shouts, and the occasional explosion.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but was barely ten minutes, Natasha's voice returned.
"Ten more minutes. Keep holding them off."
Harry groaned audibly. "Seriously? How far away is this airfield? Siberia?"
"We're cutting it close as it is," Natasha said, her tone clipped. "Do your job."
"Oh, I am doing my job," Harry muttered, watching as another armored vehicle rolled onto the scene. He raised a hand, conjuring a glowing orb of energy that he hurled at the truck, flipping it onto its side in a spectacular crash.
More guards swarmed in from the east, but by now Harry was running on autopilot. His claws danced through the air, slicing through weapons, armor, and the occasional tech drone. He was efficient and relentless, but even he could feel the strain beginning to creep in.
"Five minutes!" Natasha's voice broke through again, this time with urgency. "We're almost there."
Harry let out a long breath, wiping some blood—thankfully not his—off his gauntlet. "You know, I really hope someone's recording this. I'm expecting a medal."
"You'll get silence," Natasha snapped back.
"Classic Natasha," Harry quipped under his breath, tearing through another line of guards.
Finally, the comm crackled again, and Natasha's voice came through, loud and clear.
"We've landed. Get to the airfield. Now."
Harry straightened, letting his claws retract as he surveyed the battlefield. The last of the guards were already retreating, those who were still conscious scrambling to regroup. He raised his hand, conjuring a portal that shimmered in the air before him.
With one last glance over his shoulder, he stepped through, leaving behind the chaos of the prison grounds.
The airfield greeted him with the roar of the jet's engines, its sleek frame illuminated by the floodlights along the tarmac. Natasha stood at the base of the ramp, her arms crossed as she watched him approach.
"You're late," she said, her tone flat but her eyes sharp.
"Had to put on a show," Harry replied, pulling off his mask and letting it retract into his collar. "Wouldn't want them thinking we're amateurs."
She didn't smile, but the faintest twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement. "Get on board. We've got a long flight ahead."
Harry followed her up the ramp, the rest of the team waiting inside. Sirius grinned as he passed.
"Spooky one, how's the babysitting gig?"
Harry dropped into a seat, his exhaustion finally catching up to him. "Let's just say I deserve a raise."
James laughed, while Alexei gave him a grudging nod of approval.
"You're alright, spooky guy," Alexei said. "But next time, maybe leave a few guards for me."
"Next time," Harry replied with a smirk, "I'm letting you do all the heavy lifting."
The jet roared to life, lifting off the tarmac as the team settled in for the journey ahead.
—
The jet hummed steadily, its engines cutting through the clouds, but Alexei's mind was a whirlwind. His fingers drummed on the armrest, tapping out a rhythm as his gaze flicked from Natasha to Bucky, then to the man they called Revenant—Harry. The weight of the situation was beginning to settle on his shoulders, and it didn't sit well.
As the cabin filled with a steady hum of conversation, Alexei couldn't help but speak first. His voice was calm, but there was a biting edge to it.
"I knew you," he muttered, pointing a finger at Bucky without quite looking at him, as if he was seeing ghosts in the fog of his memory. "You were the boogeyman, weren't you? Hydra's own personal nightmare. Always lurking, never aging... I had a few run-ins with you back in the day, didn't I?"
Bucky's gaze remained steady, though there was a flicker of recognition behind those piercing eyes. "Yeah, I remember you," he said, a rough edge in his voice. "Always a few steps behind, always in the shadows, always asking questions nobody wanted to answer."
Alexei chuckled darkly, scratching his stubbled chin as memories came rushing back. "Yeah, you were like a bad dream... the one that never went away." He leaned back, arms crossing. "Hydra kept you in the dark, didn't they? Like some secret weapon they couldn't control. They barely even told us who you were—just that you were the Winter Soldier. The one they sent in when things needed cleaning up... when they needed someone who didn't ask questions."
Bucky gave a stiff nod, his mouth pressing into a thin line. "That was me. Until I wasn't."
Alexei leaned in, almost theatrically. "Well, I guess we could call it 'growing pains'," he said, trying to make light of it with his usual bad dad joke. "I mean, being an immortal assassin with a metal arm has to be rough. I've got the knees of a guy who's had one too many bad nights at a KGB karaoke bar, but I'm sure it's nothing compared to living your life as Hydra's hammer."
A flicker of something like a smile passed over Bucky's face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Yeah, you could say that."
Before Alexei could riff on the situation any further, Natasha's voice cut in, sharper this time, and more direct.
"Speaking of bad situations," she said, her tone biting as she shifted to face Alexei, "you're going to want to know what we pulled you out for. It's bigger than just you, bigger than just any of us."
Alexei raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh, trust me, Natalia, I've had my fill of 'bigger' over the years. Some of it was literal. And by 'literal,' I mean I once had to escape a bunker after a mini-nuke misfire. Don't ask me how, because I can't remember a damn thing about it. But I know 'big,' okay?"
But Natasha didn't laugh. Instead, her gaze hardened as she dropped a bombshell. "Harry—the one you just met—he's Hydra's latest... mistake."
Alexei blinked, confused. "Hydra's mistake? Wait, this kid?" He gestured toward Harry, who was sitting stoically in the seat next to Natasha, his expression as unreadable as ever. "He looks like he could sell you a magic potion for the low, low price of your firstborn child, but a mistake? Really?"
Bucky leaned forward, his voice flat. "They turned him into a weapon. A super-soldier. But they didn't just use their usual serum. They went... further."
Alexei frowned, starting to feel the weight of the words. "Further? How? More than they did to you?"
"Yeah," Bucky replied, his voice dropping to a grim whisper. "Hydra took a six-year-old child, injected him with their serum, and aged him artificially to make him an adult. But that was just the beginning."
Alexei's mouth went dry. "Wait, six? They did what to a six-year-old?"
"Hydra doesn't care about that," Natasha replied, her voice clipped. "They spliced his DNA with Weapon X's—Wolverine. Gave him his healing factor, his strength, but they didn't stop there. They made his skeleton... Vibranium."
Alexei's mind ground to a halt. The name Weapon X hit him like a freight train. He'd crossed paths with Wolverine more than once back in the Cold War. That man was a beast—impossible to kill, impossible to stop. But this? This was different. The horror of what Hydra had done crashed over him like a tidal wave.
"Vibranium?" he choked out. "Are you telling me they coated his skeleton in... Vibranium? They did that to a kid? A child?"
Harry spoke up then, his voice low but clear. "I'm not a kid anymore, Alexei. They did things to me, but they never got to break me. I'm still here."
Alexei's fists clenched. He couldn't even wrap his head around it. He had spent years fighting programs like the Red Room, speaking out against the brutal methods of turning children into weapons, only to hear this... "This is... monstrous," Alexei growled, shaking his head, his voice dripping with disgust. "I fought for years to stop this kind of madness, to stop them from turning kids into soldiers. And Hydra... Hydra took it to a whole new level."
"Yeah," Bucky said softly, the bitterness clear in his voice. "We were just pawns to them. But Harry... he's something else. They turned him into a weapon, but he's not like the rest of us."
Alexei looked at Harry, his gaze softening. "I'm sorry, kid," he said, his voice gruff but sincere. "I really am."
Harry gave him a fleeting glance, then nodded. "I don't need your pity, but I'll take your apology."
Natasha's voice cut in again, this time firmer. "We didn't just bring you in for a pat on the back, Alexei. We need you. We're all part of the same team now."
"A S.H.I.E.L.D. team," Bucky clarified.
Alexei looked between them, then let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Okay, okay, let me get this straight. You pulled me out of prison, dusted me off like an old jacket, and now you're telling me I'm supposed to join a team to take down Hydra?" He smirked, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, I've always dreamed of joining a team. I hear the uniforms are snappy, and the snacks are top-tier."
Natasha deadpanned. "You're not a joke anymore, Alexei. This is serious. Hydra won't stop until they control everything."
"I know, I know," Alexei said, his tone dropping. "I've seen their work up close. But you're right. You're all right. It's time to make them pay."
There was a moment of silence as everyone processed his words. Then, Alexei sat back in his seat, the weight of the situation settling in, but there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes.
"Alright, let's take down some Hydra scumbags," he said, his trademark grin creeping onto his face. "But when this is over? We're going to need a drink. Preferably something strong enough to erase all the bad decisions I've made in my life."
Bucky chuckled, though it was a rough sound. "Deal."
And for the first time in a long time, Alexei felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they had a chance to tear down the monsters who had ruined so many lives. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone in that fight anymore.
—
Gideon Adler adjusted his coat as he stepped through the door of the Hog's Head Inn, the familiar scent of aged wood and ale hitting him like a forgotten memory. He could hear the low murmur of patrons near the bar, but his attention was fixed on the back room where Albus Dumbledore awaited him. The tension in the air was palpable. The game was about to begin.
He had made it a point to appear every bit the stranger he was—no grand gestures, no showmanship, no flash of recognition that might betray his true identity. To Dumbledore, he was just another man of power, a mysterious figure with his own motives. There was no room for past allegiances in this new world. The old ghosts of Gellert Grindelwald's name had been buried long ago, but they still had a way of haunting his every step.
Adler's boots made no sound as he crossed the creaking floorboards toward the back room, where the wizard sat, a figure of calm composure even as the years had begun to weigh heavily on him. Albus Dumbledore, master of manipulation, grand architect of plans and counter-plans, was a man whose presence could not easily be ignored.
The moment Adler stepped inside, Dumbledore's eyes flicked up, his half-moon glasses glinting in the low light. The surprise in his gaze was barely masked, but Adler couldn't afford to let it distract him.
"Ah, Mr. Adler," Dumbledore said, his voice warm yet with a hint of something more beneath the surface—curiosity, perhaps, or suspicion. "I was beginning to wonder if you would show up at all."
Adler didn't respond immediately. He took his time, eyes scanning the room, before finally meeting Dumbledore's gaze. There was no rush; the meeting had been years in the making. He sat down across from the man whose reputation had loomed over him for so long. A familiar smile tugged at his lips, one that had once belonged to a man who had been unstoppable, untouchable.
"I didn't expect you to choose this place," Adler remarked, his tone casual. "The Hog's Head, Professor Dumbledore? I had imagined you would prefer somewhere a bit more... grand."
Dumbledore's lips curled into a soft smile. "One must take precautions, Gideon," he replied, the light catching in his piercing blue eyes. "I'm sure someone of your discretion understands the value of... subtlety."
Adler raised an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch for a moment before leaning forward. "Subtlety? Or fear?"
Dumbledore's smile never wavered, but Adler could see the flicker of something—discomfort, perhaps. A hint of doubt, though it was quickly buried under layers of practiced poise. "Perhaps a bit of both," he said, the words flowing easily.
It was then that Adler saw it—the faintest narrowing of Dumbledore's eyes, the way his fingers subtly twitched as if weighing something. It was almost imperceptible, but Adler knew Dumbledore too well to miss it. Something had unsettled him.
A soft chuckle escaped Dumbledore's lips. "You have a sharp tongue, Mr. Adler," he said. "But I must admit, I hadn't expected you to bear such a... striking resemblance to someone I once knew."
Adler froze, his heart skipping a beat as he caught the undercurrent of Dumbledore's words. A flicker of recognition? A flash of the past? He could feel it in the way Dumbledore's gaze lingered on him—too long, too intense.
The moment stretched taut between them, the tension thick enough to suffocate.
Dumbledore shook his head slightly, as though dismissing a thought. "But of course," he continued, his voice calm again, though a hint of hesitation remained, "that's preposterous. The man you remind me of—he could never have been so... youthful. Even if he had managed to get his hands on an age-regression potion, the core of his magic would be far too weak by now."
Adler's eyes widened imperceptibly. Gellert Grindelwald. The name, like a shadow, hovered between them.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his hands folding neatly on the table before him. "No, it couldn't be him," he said softly, almost as if convincing himself. "Not unless... But no. That would be impossible. After all, the only known Philosopher's Stone is with Nicholas Flamel, and even Gellert would not have been able to acquire such a thing, brilliant as he was." He paused, as if searching for the words. "No. I know Gellert too well. He could never have deceived me so thoroughly."
Adler fought the instinct to smile. The Dumbledore of old—the brilliant, arrogant man who thought he could outwit anyone—had already convinced himself that this man in front of him was not his old friend. Not Gellert.
The thought of it amused Adler, but only for a moment. He kept his expression neutral, watching Dumbledore carefully, noting the way the old wizard's eyes flicked over him once more, as if trying to reconcile the image before him with memories of a past that no longer seemed to fit.
"Well, it seems we've cleared that up," Adler said, leaning back in his chair and giving a small, deliberate nod. "But I suspect we both know that the past isn't always as clear-cut as we'd like to think."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, though his gaze was still searching. It was almost as if he couldn't help himself, as if the likeness between Adler and Grindelwald still gnawed at him, even though his mind had rejected the possibility.
The silence stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts, but Adler remained patient. He was prepared for this. Dumbledore's mind was sharp, but even the sharpest blades could dull with time.
"So, Mr. Adler," Dumbledore finally said, his tone warmer now, but with that same undercurrent of scrutiny. "What brings you to my humble establishment?"
Adler's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. The game was on, and Dumbledore would have to play it, whether he wanted to or not.
—
As the silence stretched between them, Dumbledore studied Adler with a newfound intensity. The resemblance to Gellert Grindelwald was unmistakable, though Adler had clearly taken care to present himself as someone entirely different. The piercing eyes, the sharp intellect, and that underlying presence—all of it mirrored the man Dumbledore had once called a friend and, in some ways, a rival. But the Dumbledore sitting before him had spent decades since those days, his mind honed by both personal triumphs and regrets. And in those decades, he had come to understand that appearances could be deceiving.
"Tell me, Mr. Adler," Dumbledore finally broke the silence, his tone calm but searching. "Your methods seem... unconventional, even for someone of your talents. I've heard whispers about your recent recruitment of Alastor Moody. Quite the move, I must say. What exactly are you planning?"
Adler didn't flinch, though he felt the weight of Dumbledore's gaze. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the table as he considered his words carefully. His eyes gleamed with an almost predatory focus as he began to speak.
"Moody is... invaluable," Adler said with a thin smile. "His instincts, his ability to read situations—it's something you can't teach. We need someone like him on our side as the Hydra-aligned wizards spring up across the globe. They're coordinated, methodical, and dangerous in ways the public hasn't even begun to realize."
Dumbledore's sharp gaze flickered momentarily. "Hydra, you say?" He leaned forward, the air around him crackling with subtle magic. "A dangerous organization, indeed. But what is your role in all of this, Mr. Adler? Surely, you're not in this for mere... political gain?"
Adler allowed a smile to form on his lips. "No, not for politics. This goes far beyond that. I'm working with SHIELD—yes, you heard that right—SHIELD, the American organization. They've recently turned their attention to these rogue wizards and their increasing activity. They're more organized now than ever before, collaborating with various dark forces across the world, including Hydra. This isn't just a matter of local skirmishes anymore. This is an international threat that needs immediate action."
Dumbledore's brows furrowed as he processed the information, his mind working quickly through the implications. "SHIELD? That is certainly... unexpected." He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "I take it you're not simply gathering these people for the sake of personal vendettas or political maneuvering. But what is it that you hope to accomplish by involving yourself with such an organization?"
Adler's smile faded into something more serious, and his tone lowered, a hint of steel beneath the surface. "What I want, Professor Dumbledore, is to stop the spread of this madness before it's too late. I've seen firsthand what these rogue wizards are capable of when they have the backing of a global organization like Hydra. Their reach is far more dangerous than you might realize. They've already infiltrated key positions in various governments, and their magic, when combined with Hydra's technology, could be catastrophic."
Aberforth, who had been listening silently from his position behind the bar, grunted in response, shaking his head in disbelief. "Hydra? The same ones who've been causing trouble in the Muggle world? How are wizards supposed to go up against that kind of threat?"
Adler turned to Aberforth, his expression hardening. "I've been around long enough to know that we don't fight these battles with conventional methods. Magic alone won't be enough, especially against the technological advancements of an organization like Hydra. But combining our strengths—that's what we need. We need wizards like Moody who are skilled, yes, but we also need the practical know-how of organizations like SHIELD to counter Hydra's influence. The two forces together have the potential to turn the tide."
Dumbledore's eyes darkened, his mind racing through the possibilities. "And what makes you think this... SHIELD organization will be any different from the others you've worked with? There are those who seek to use power for their own ends, Mr. Adler. The line between hero and villain is often blurred, especially in times such as these."
Adler leaned forward, his voice low and resolute. "I understand your reservations, Professor Dumbledore. You've spent your life walking the tightrope between good and evil, knowing full well that the difference is often a matter of perspective. But I'm not here to play the hero. I'm here to stop the real monsters before they destroy everything."
Dumbledore sat back, still skeptical but unable to completely dismiss the earnestness in Adler's tone. "I see. And you believe that by involving Moody and SHIELD, you can prevent this... Hydra-led uprising from reaching its peak?"
"I do." Adler's gaze hardened. "The time for waiting is over. Hydra is already in motion, and if we don't act now, we risk losing everything. I'm not asking for your approval, Albus. But I am asking for your support in this fight."
Dumbledore studied him carefully, the weight of the years of experience he had accumulated reflected in his piercing eyes. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke. "You've chosen a dangerous path, Mr. Adler. But I cannot deny the gravity of what you've described. There are forces at play that none of us can fully comprehend. I suppose... if your intentions are as noble as you claim, there is merit in your efforts."
Adler nodded, a small, satisfied smile curling at the edges of his lips. "Noble or not, the world is changing, Professor Dumbledore. And if you won't help me, then I'll find another way."
Dumbledore's gaze softened, but there was no mistaking the wariness in his tone. "Be careful, Mr. Adler. Even the most well-intentioned of plans can unravel when one is too certain of the outcome."
With that, Adler rose from his chair, his coat flowing as he moved. "I'll keep that in mind. But for now, I have a world to save."
As he turned to leave, Dumbledore's voice stopped him. "You've grown into a man of great ambition, Mr. Adler. But remember—there are always consequences for the choices we make. Whether they are good or bad, they will shape the world in ways we cannot foresee."
Adler paused, his hand on the door. "Consequences are inevitable, Professor Dumbledore. But it's the choice to act that defines us."
With that, he stepped out into the cold night air, leaving behind the echoes of a conversation that was far from over.
---
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