Author's Note: Certain scenes from chapters 2 to 6 are adapted from Greg Weisman's non-canon Spectacular Spider-Man / Gargoyles crossover script, only without the Gargoyles characters. I did try to put my own spin on the dialogue and such so I wouldn't just be lazily copy-pasting large passages of his, but still, credit where credit's due.

You could always tell when Peter and Gwen were near each other by the radius the crowd made. They'd just about emptied the whole hallway this time – The both of them in such close proximity generated far more nerdiness than the other students could handle.

"…maybe if you'd actually studied for longer than five minutes," Gwen was saying.

"Hey!" Peter held out his hands, innocent. "It's not my fault English is, like, my worst subject. It's all so subjective, and-"

A scoff escaped Gwen's mouth. "Peter, you wrote that Lord of the Flies was 'an uplifting tale of children overcoming adversity.'"

"Yeah, I only read the first chapter."

The remark brought a laugh from her. Which had been Peter's intention. Obviously. But really, he'd take any words he could get from Gwen, no matter how disparaging. Anything beat that days-long silence they'd finally managed to break.

As the pair journeyed down the hall, shoulder to shoulder, Peter's eyes drifted to his phone. The internet was still aflame over the bomb the Daily Bugle had dropped this morning – Norman Osborn was the Green Goblin. Aunt May had still been skeptical, but apparently, the Bugle had gathered enough eyewitness accounts and cell phone footage of the Web-Head's midair duel with Gobby to confirm it. About time.

But Peter clicked his phone screen off before Gwen could glance at it. At the moment, they were scrambling to talk about literally anything else. No need to let Gwen dwell on that nightmare.

"So, uh…" Peter cleared his throat. "…how's Harry been?"

Gwen's eyes were fixed dead ahead. "Good. He's been good."

"Good," said Peter.

"Yeah, good."

There was silence.

"Did you get my texts?" asked Peter (Said texts included, "When R U breaking up w/ Harry?", "R we still an item? :( ", and "On a scale of 1 to 10, how devastated would Harry be if you broke up with him right now?").

"I... did get them, actually," Gwen said. "But Peter, the thing is, I-"

"What have we here?" Harry chose that exact nanosecond to teleport between them. "My best bud chatting it up with my girlfriend. What're you guys up to, planning my surprise party?"

The remark caused a cold, dead silence to emanate. Well… they'd planned a surprise for him.

"I-I was just asking about the English exam." Gwen shrank under her boyfriend's gaze.

Whoa, what the heck? Peter had seen Gwen stand up to Flash, but now Harry was pushing her around? That set off all kinds of red flags.

"Uh, you okay, Hare?" Peter's eyes traveled over the guy. Harry had always been kind of a sickly kid, but now his skin was downright spongy, and his usual sweater vest was soaked in perspiration.

"Oh, I'm good," Harry said with a sudden, mysterious air. "Nothing a little R and R can't fix." The mystery was short-lived, though – The next second, he'd whipped out a pair of rectangular paper cards, one for each of them.

Gwen was the first to accept. "You are cordially invited," she read aloud, "to spend spring break traveling by private jet to Miami Beach for an all-expenses-paid stay at the Osborn Winter Compound."

"A vacation?" Peter did a double take. Wow. He'd swear he'd been getting, like, vaguely sinister vibes from Harry ever since the funeral, but he guessed Harry was still cool with him after all. "W-Wow, thanks, bro. That sounds great. The three of us hanging out. Just like old times."

But that remark made something like amusement cross Harry's face. "Uh, not quite…" He pointed a thumb at three more oncomers – MJ and Kong with Flash bringing up the rear (His cast may finally have been removed, but his leg was still a bit on the stiff side). And in each oncomer's hand was an identical slip of unnecessarily glossy paper.

"Osborn, dude, you rock!" Kong called out, waggling his invitation around.

"Well," Mary Jane said with one of those self-satisfied little smirks of hers, "if you're gonna throw your money around, can't say I mind you tossing some in my direction…"

Flash was the last to reach his new vacation host. "Before you get any ideas, Osborn-" His head titled downwards to meet Harry's eyes. "-this does not make us even for the football thing."

Harry cocked a brow. "So you're not going?"

"I didn't say that!"

This called for a triple take. Okay, y'know what, inviting MJ to the beach, that made sense. There was a discernible motive there. But Flash and Kong? Really? Flash and-? Oh, wait, Peter knew. Harry was still doing that thing where he sold his soul in exchange for high school popularity.

"Oh. My. Gawd." Speak of the devil, a sudden noise threatened to rupture Peter's eardrums. That'd be Sally. Her voice could pierce the Rhino's hull. "Harry!" She ran towards him, waving an invitation of her own. "I just found dis in my locka, and all I have to say is… you can be my super-dweeb sugar daddy anytime you want!"

Harry looked like he wouldn't have minded accepting a hug from her, but the football player standing guard of Sally changed his tune "You okay with that, Rand?"

But Rand, of course, merely replied with the customary shrug of his oversized shoulders. "S'cool. You can be my super-dweeb sugar daddy, too."

Peter fought down the resulting mental image. "Exactly how many people did you invite?"

"Just a handful," said Harry, turning back to him. "It's a couples thing. Kenny and Glory, Flash and Sha Shan, Rand and Sally, Hobie and Mindy, me and Gwen, oh, and you and Liz, of course."

"They broke up, actually." The words came a bit too quickly from Gwen's mouth.

"You did?" It was Harry's turn to give Peter a double take. "Aw, I'm sorry, bro, I had no idea. Guess I've been…" He faltered. "…distracted lately."

On sheer impulse, Peter placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's cool, dude. I get it."

Harry gave a slow nod. "That's what the trip's for. To clear my head, y'know?" He paused, then glanced back at Liz. "Man, though, you two were great together. What happened?"

There came a silence, during which time Peter fought with all his might not to let his eyes dart to Gwen. "It just… didn't work out, I guess."

"Don't suppose there's any chance you could start over with her-?"

"Nope, sorry, window's closed foreva." Sally seized the chance to butt in between them, and for once, Peter was kinda glad.

Beside Sally, Liz nodded. Her eyes fell on Peter just long enough to send a shudder down his spine. "It's way too late for that," she said. "I'm wiiiith… Jason now." A sudden tug on the arm sent Jason Ionella flying towards Liz's side.

Interesting how her boyfriend just so happened to be the first guy who'd walked past her down the hall while she was talking. Jason didn't exactly seem to protest, though. He was flustered, sure. But he didn't protest.

"We totally fell in love doing the play together," said Liz, hands on Jason's shoulders. "You don't mind if I bring him instead of Petey, do you?"

It took Harry a moment to reply. That might've had something to do with the rate at which Liz's eyelashes were fluttering. "S-Sure. The more the merrier."

"Thanks! You're the best!" Liz surprised Harry with a hug, then scurried off down the hall. After a second, a distinctly disoriented-looking Jason followed suit.

"Yeah." Come to think of it, Harry was a bit disoriented-looking, himself. "I am the best." But soon enough, he'd turned back to Peter. "So, uh, anyways, Pete, if you burned bridges with Liz, you could always ask MJ instead."

"Y-Yeah, guess I could." Peter's gaze returned to Gwen. Her eyeballs were manning their battle stations. "But doesn't she already have a boyfriend, though?"

"Well, she did," said Harry, "but he's in jail now, isn't he?"

"Thanks," spoke up MJ from the sidelines. "I hadn't been reminded in the last five minutes."

"Sorry, sorry," Harry said hurriedly, wincing. "It's just, y'know, you and Pete kinda blew us all away at the Fall Formal." He glanced to his girlfriend. "Remember that, Gwen?"

"Oh, I remember," said Gwen in a voice that wouldn't have been out of place in the mouth of a horror movie villain.

Peter glanced at Gwen again. Then he glanced at Mary Jane. Somehow, that glance ended up lasting a tad longer. "I… guess we could go together. As friends! Just as friends."

At this, Mary Jane opened her mouth… only to be drowned out by the bell.

"Agh, gonna be late…" Harry was forced to run off without another word.

MJ was, too, but not before shooting Peter a look. "Meet me tomorrow after class, Tiger. You and me gotta talk."

"Sure." Peter paused. "Wait, like, a good talk or a bad talk?"

"I'll leave you in suspense."

And with that, Peter and Gwen were alone in the hallway.

Peter gave her a look of apology. "Soooo… what does happen in Lord of the Flies?"

Gwen's look was, uh, less apologetic. "All the kids go crazy and murder each other."

"Ah ha ha ha… Wow. That's- That's kinda far-fetched."

"Is it, though?"

Thwip, thwip.

Even a backflip through the frisky nighttime air failed to clear Spider-Man's head. And neither did a loop-de-loop around a flagpole.

If Peter didn't know any better, he'd think Harry was trying to torture him and Gwen. Yeah. How dare he try and hook Peter up with the fun, foxy redhead with the creamy skin and the perfectly-shaped lips and the seductive voice and the-?

No, bad Spider-Man! Very, very bad! What was wrong with him? He was in love with Gwen. Gwen. Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy. They just had to power through the next few weeks until Harry was in a better place, and then Peter and Gwen could-

"Gah!" Peter nearly smacked his head against a concrete wall before he managed to fire his next web-line. Stupid duct tape made the trigger less sensitive…

"Peter Parker is, Peter Parker is SPIDER-MAN! Peter Parker is, Peter Parker is SPIDER-MAN!"

The footage was looped backwards and forwards to make it look like Venom was dancing.

Da na-na-na-na, da na-na-na-na-na.

Peter stared at the computer screen for a solid minute. He wondered if it was possible to hang himself with his own webs.

"What's that, Parker?"

"Nothing! Nothing!" Peter closed out the tab before Mr. Robertson could get near. "I was just, uh..."

Mr. Robertson barely concealed a smirk. "Don't tell me you're using the Bugle's computers to look at things you shouldn't be?"

Peter fought the urge to make a quip about Venom's sexy dance moves.

Of course, what he'd really been doing was making the discovery that the internet's memory was somewhat longer than the mainstream media's. Peter even had a bustling cult- sorry, fan community on a little old website by the moniker of the 'Peter Parker is Spider-Man' forum. Its founder and top moderator went by the username "Guess Who?" (though he hadn't logged in since January).

"Say, though, are you good with computers?" asked Mr. Robertson, taking a sip of his coffee. "I know things have been slow around here lately. If selling pictures isn't enough to cut it, we've been looking for a new web designer."

"Thanks, I'll think about it," Peter said, rising from computer chair. "So is the Jolly One here yet?"

"He just went into his office."

"Thanks." Peter braced himself, then marched his way across the newsroom.

En route he crossed the Bugle's newest employee, a withered old glasses-wearing dude with a scraggly beard named Ben Urich (The man, Peter meant. Not the beard. The beard didn't have a name). Currently, the guy was going on to anyone who'd listen about Daredevil, the supposed new vigilante who'd started operating in Hell's Kitchen a few weeks back. Daredevil was basically the same as Spider-Man, except instead of a spider motif, he had a devil motif, and instead of webbing people, he bonked them on the head with a pair of billy clubs.

But Peter pushed past Urich, instead heading straight for the open the office door. Instantly, his ears were inundated with: "-and if you don't bring me my blood pressure medicine in four-point-eight seconds, you're FIRED!"

"E-Excuse me, Mr. Jameson?" Peter nearly tripped over a fleeing Benny-the-copy-boy on his way inside.

Jameson spun in his desk, his mustache quivering with barely-restrained rage. Peter handed him a feeble stack of photos.

Jameson stared at them like they were diseased. "What's this s'posed to be?" He worked his way through the pile in seconds, tossing photos every which way. "Crap, crap, giant crap, crap, crap- Hey." Finally, he reached the very last photo in the stack (Its placement had been deliberate, for the record). "This one." He held the picture out to Peter, a slimy grin on his face.

Reluctantly, Peter looked at it – the one photo in the batch that was of a web-filled sidewalk, complete with Dewolff making an angry face at Spider-Man.

"Looks like the Web-Head had a little accident." Jameson cackled to himself. "The headline writes itself: Spidey Webs His Pants! Guess the freak can't control his powers as well as he thinks he can."

"Maybe his web-shooters just malfunctioned," muttered Peter.

"What are you talking about, Parker?" Jameson snorted. "Spider-Man's webs are organic. Everyone knows that. Now get out of my office! I'm a busy man!"

"Yes, sir." Peter reached for the doorknob, but then he stopped himself. "Wait a minute, I'm not just handing over that picture for free!"

"Geez, kid, it's just one picture," said Jameson, leaning back in his chair. "How much do you want from me?"

"Well..." Peter's eyes met his shoes. "Aunt May and I have been stretched thin lately. A little extra wouldn't hurt."

He already knew the answer before it flew out of Jameson's mouth alongside all the spittle. "Do I look like I'm made of money, Parker? You want extra? Then how about you take some pictures of that Oscorp ceremony thingy that's going on today?"

"The one for Harry's mom?" said Peter. "I was already planning on going."

"You come back from it with pictures of the supervillain that attacks it, and then we'll see about getting you 'a little extra.'"

"Sure thing, JJ-" Peter did a double-take. "Wait, how do you know a supervillain will attack it?"

"Oh please, I know the drill by now," said Jameson. "It's a fancy party for a shady company. Some bad guy in a stupid costume will attack it for whatever reason, and then Spider-Man will show up, probably collaborating with him, and you need to be there to take pictures of it."

"Come on, we don't get supervillains that often."

"Hand over your money or face the wrath of THE GRIZZLY!"

Pedestrians were sent fleeing through the streets as a gigantic man tugged on a lady's purse. He was actually in incredibly good shape, and his eyes were a striking emerald color, but these qualities were somewhat overshadowed by the fact that he was dressed from head to toe in a brown bear costume, with his head inside the bear's mouth like it was eating him.

"Lemme guess-" Thwip. "-the grizzly bear's your spirit animal?"

A strand of gray goop hit the Grizzly in the back of the neck. He spun to snarl at the costumed do-gooder hanging on a nearby building. "Spider-Man! How dare you interfere? I will rip the marrow from your bones-"

"No, wait, I've got it." Spidey sprang off the building and over the Grizzly's head. He landed behind him and delivered a sweeping kick to the guy's legs, his mouth running the whole time. "You missed your convention, so you got mad and decided to snatch a purse?"

"YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME?"

Spidey ducked a claw-swipe. "Hey, does a bear-? Well, I'm sure you'd know the answer to that one." He fired his webs... only to hear a click instead of a thwip. Oh yeah, Spidey's web-shooters were currently being held together with duct tape, and consequently, they jammed every third time. Spider-Man remembered this fact right in time to receive a full-on Grizzly tackle.

"I really hope you wash this thing regularly," said Spidey, yanking his face out of the Grizzly's fuzzy chest.

"I want nothing more than to taste your flesh!" The Grizzly wrapped his arms around Spidey and squeezed.

"How 'bout a taste of spider-punch?"

Crack. Spidey slammed his fist into the Grizzly's gut. The Grizzly roared with pain, releasing Spider-Man and tumbling backwards.

"Wait, didn't Chameleon use that line once?" said Spider-Man. "Eww, now I feel dirty. Dirtier than from wrestling with you, I mean."

The Grizzly, however, didn't seem to have heard him. He was too busy rolling around on the sidewalk. "AGH! You broke my freakin' ribs!"

"Really?" Under the mask, Spider-Man blinked. "I mean, I didn't pull my punch, but don't you have super strength or something?"

"No! Oh God, I need a hospital..."

"So... So you're telling me..." Spidey's voice shook. "...you don't have any superpowers at all? You're seriously just a regular dude in a bear costume?"

Grizzly gave a feeble nod.

Spidey snickered. Then he burst into hysterics.

"It's not funny!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Without further ado, Spidey webbed the Grizzly up and slung him over his shoulder. "So, uh, if it doesn't give you powers, why the bear costume? You weren't actually on your way to a furry convention, were you?"

"I don't have to answer that."

Okay, if that was the most fearsome supervillain Spider-Man had faced since Norman's death, he couldn't say he shared Jameson's optimism about the Oscorp ceremony getting attacked. Which was a good thing, really. Supervillains attacking people was bad. In fact, Peter was kind of hoping his web-slinging career would be smooth sailing from here on out. Heck, he'd already rounded up the last of the Pumpkin-Heads, seeing as without Gobby to direct them, they were less an elite army and more a bunch of misguided teenagers.

The only problem was a lack of supervillains didn't sell many pictures. Ah, well, maybe Peter would take Robbie up on that web designer job after all. Frig, he was gonna have to learn HTML, wasn't he?

"Pete! Glad you could make it."

Peter was shaken from his thoughts by the door swinging open. Out stepped Harry, who ushered Peter into his bedroom. The two of them had their hair brushed all tidy and were decked out in their nicest suits. One's suit was a bit nicer than the other's, though. No points for guessing whose.

Peter took a look around the bedroom. This place had been Harry's, Gwen's, and his old haunt for years. It had everything – shelves lined with books and comics, a gigantic bed, and an even bigger TV surrounded by every video game console known to man. A separate shelf held Harry's extensive video game library, every last one of which had been played to 100% by Harry and Peter. Harry's favorites were the Ratchet & Clank games, though Peter had always been more of a Spyro guy himself.

"I saw your balcony," said Peter. "It looks really, uh..."

"Not exploded?" offered Harry.

"Yeah. That."

"Mom wanted everything fixed up as soon as possible," said Harry. "So there wouldn't be too many, y'know..." His eyes darted away. "...reminders."

There was silence.

Peter took a breath. "Harry, listen, Spider-Man's one of the good guys. He's saved Liz, he's saved Gwen, he even saved your dad from the Vulture. Even at its worst, the Bugle's never accused the guy of murder. I'm sure Spider-Man didn't want your dad dead."

"Yeah, I guess..." Suddenly, Harry grabbed Peter's shoulders. "Pete, you know Spider-Man, right? You take his pictures. Can you ask him to meet me? I just want to talk."

Of course, Peter's first impulse was to say no way José, but he couldn't help but sense the urgency in Harry's voice. "I'll see what I can do."

The smile returned. "Thanks, bro."

Peter glanced back to the doorway, where he could hear the faint hum of conversation from outside. "Almost time for your mom's ceremony to start. How you feeling?"

"Good," Harry said immediately. "Bad. I don't know." He sighed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I almost can't believe my dad really left me the company once I'm eighteen." And until then, his mom would be running things for him, hence her inaugural ceremony here. "But it's gonna be beyond stressful, y'know?."

"Harry?" Just then, Harry's mom stuck her head through the doorway. "Honey, it's time to start."

"Coming, Mom."

After that, Peter left Harry's room and slipped into the humongous crowd filling up the penthouse. The top floor looked like it'd never seen a pumpkin bomb eruption, and it was packed to the brim with nothing but old dudes in suits… with one important exception.

Peter caught sight of a certain blonde. He'd recognize that dress anywhere – It was the same one Gwen had worn last Valentine's Day (courtesy of one Mary Jane Watson). Peter waved at her, but Gwen just frowned. He'd have loved to have a few words, but the ceremony chose that moment to start.

At the head of the crowd, a ginger man adjusted his glasses, then cleared his throat into the mic. Peter recognized him as Donald Menken, A.K.A. Mr. Green-Goblin-Red-Herring.

"It is my deep honor," he began, deadpan as always, "to usher in a new era for Oscorp. An era heralded by a new mind brimming with potential. The mind of none other than Oscorp's new CEO, Mrs. Emily Osborn."

Harry's mom stepped up to the stage amid applause.

Aaaaand that was the last interesting thing to happen for the entire rest of the ceremony. Sheesh, Peter wished Jameson had been right. A supervillain attack would've at least livened things up. After approximately an eternity and a half, the long-winded speeches finally died down and the partygoers were allowed to mingle.

Peter, of course, jumped at the chance to dive headfirst into awkwardness. "Gwen!"

She turned and gave a strained smile. Her cheeks were already reddening. "Hi, Peter."

"Hi." Peter creased his hair, smearing gel all over his fingers. "So…"

"So."

"So."

"Talking with Pete, are we?" Even that exchange had been enough to make Harry's envy-sense tingle. He promptly inserted himself between the other two.

"Wh- Why wouldn't I talk to Peter?" Gwen shrank under his gaze.

"Harry, Harry!" But before Harry could reply, his mom ran up to the group. "Stand up straight and smile, honey. I want you to meet someone."

"Really?" Harry corrected his posture, though his hand remained firmly stuck to Gwen's. "Who?"

"An incredibly wealthy philanthropist," said Harry's mom, blinding them with her teeth. "Gives more to charity than everyone else in his income bracket combined. He's won the Nobel Peace Prize twice. And-" She whispered this next part: "-I think he wants to invest in Oscorp, so be nice." She held out her arms towards the man walking towards them. "It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say this is the greatest, most selfless human being in New York. I want you to meet... Wilson Fisk."

Peter had to stop his jaw from dropping. The man who approached them was... How could Peter put this? He was a bald guy in a white suit. Only it'd be more accurate to say he was ten bald guys in a white suit. Peter's first impulse was to run to the buffet table and grab food while there was still some left. Before this moment, he hadn't known human beings came in XL. Or more like XXXXXXXXXXXL. What on earth had happened to this man? Had he been bit by a genetically-altered whale?

…Okay, time to reign in the wisecracks. Something told Peter the Peace Prize-winning philanthropist didn't deserve them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, young man." Fisk extended a beefy hand for Harry – complete with fingers the size of fire hydrants. "I see much potential in you, Mr. Osborn."

"Oh no, the pleasure's all mine, sir." Harry accepted the shake, a move Peter didn't envy. Poor guy's fingers were gonan get crushed into powder. "I hear you do great things."

"I think of myself as more of a middleman," said Fisk. "I merely give resources to others so they can do great things. It's companies such as Oscorp that truly advance the world."

"Companies with your resources?"

Fisk smiled. "Perhaps."

"Mr. Fisk?" Out of nowhere, a calm, deep, distressingly familiar voice hit Peter's ears. With a growing sense of dread, Peter turned to see yet another man in a suit approaching them. This one, while not as big as Wilson Fisk (not even remotely), wasn't exactly tiny, and with that balls-on-the-floor voice of his, he was the absolute blackest white guy Peter had ever met who was actually a black guy.

"L. Thompson Lincoln." Tombstone extended an albino hand to shake. "It's an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

Ugh, if Fisk accepted that handshake, Peter was gonna hurl. Tombstone filed his teeth down to points! How did the whole world not instantly know he was evil?

Fisk's hands remained firmly at his sides. "I have nothing to say to you." He turned away.

Okay, score some respect points for the fat guy.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way." Tombstone retracted his hand like an embarrassed cat. "I can't imagine why you would."

"Gee-" The words flew out Peter's mouth before he could stop them. "-maybe it's got something to do with that criminal empire you run in your free time?"

Gwen audibly gasped. The eyes of Tombstone, Fisk, Harry, and Harry's mom all snapped towards him.

"You seem familiar." Tombstone's eyes narrowed. "I know who you are."

Peter went even paler than him.

"That Daily Bugle photographer," said Tombstone. "The one who takes pictures of Spider-Man. I suppose it makes sense that you'd think the worst of me, given your place of work." He turned back to Fisk. "But I assure you, what the Daily Bugle printed about me was nothing short of slander. My involvement in the Valentine's Day brawl was an unfortunate accident, which Frederick Foswell capitalized on. The man is desperate to regain the glory of his Silvermane expose. And as any of the many, many criminals recently put away by Spider-Man will attest to, the 'Big Man' of crime was the late Green Goblin."

"Those words might be better spent on that federal agent tailing you." Fisk pointed to a man at the edge of the crowd, who immediately made an effort to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping.

Tombstone snorted, straightened his suit, and walked away.

Behind his back, Peter mouthed, "Oh SNAP." He turned to Gwen, grinning like a maniac. "Looks like Wilson Fisk eats a lot of things, but Tombstone's BS isn't one of them."

Gwen was gaping at him. "Wh-What? Why do you care so much about that Lincoln guy?"

"Oh, uh..." Peter's eyes wandered towards the ceiling. "Guess with all the effort the Bugle's put into flushing his name down the toilet, it's kinda hard not to."

Just as Fisk was beginning to walk away, Peter scurried over to his side. "Excuse me, Mr. Fisk, sir?" Fisk took an idle glance at him. "I just wanted to say, sir, it's nice to have a rich guy around here who isn't corrupt. Tombstone could learn a thing or two from you."

Fisk smiled at him. "I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment." And with that, he walked off.

Well, Peter didn't have time to kiss Fisk's butt (The universe would have its heat death before he'd finished). He walked back towards Harry and Gwen… but before he could get near, his spider-sense blared like mad. "What the-?"

There was the sound of shattered glass, followed by screams from the partygoers. Something round and orange landed at Harry's feet.

"Get down-" Peter's feet moved before his brain even realized it.

The bomb made a distressingly familiar shrieking sound as it exploded.