A/N: HI! I'm hung over from watching The Joker, ugh. So aside from THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SUPPORTING THIS FIC, I don't know what else to say?

So-

Chapter Warnings: Panic Attack-ish thingie somewhere, idk

ARC 3: CHAPTER 16
Planē

-0-

Harley has many, many tics. He possesses so many quirks and eccentricities and neuroses that no amount of self-regulation would be able to curb or hide. He's practically a therapist's wet dream or, on a more serious note, more than a lifetime's worth of research and all the career achievements they desire.

One thing that is making itself known, like the freaking fungus that this kind of thing is, was his tendency to latch on to people.

Yeah, sure, Harley Keener is technically a child in the face of any humanized law. A legal dependent, for all intents and purposes.

However, legalities were not physical things. There was no need to tether himself to someone else. He's pretty much self-sustaining and able to do whatever he wants. He has Magic, he has the experience and the knowledge to get by without having to look at another person to guide him through this life.

But-

It's jarring, really, how a desire for independence turned into dependence. How something he'd coveted and possessed turned into a mere illusion because of some stupid things his mind likes to toy with.

(How Harry Potter had been forced and manipulated into the position to be dependent, desperate to prove himself to those he cared for. How Harrhan had become so greedy for the warmth of affectionate pride, drunk on the heady sense of belonging and success.

How family is incredibly selfish and how it is his greatest weakness and strength.)

Harley Keener wanted —and needed and craved and coveted —someone to latch on to. Someone to consider his in the frenzied scramble for something to keep himself from drowning.

He had it in his parents, had it in sickly little Emma. They're lost now, though. Dead and not there and he was unable to do anything to keep them together. Then Mrs. Davis tried to be there, a frail bridge that was collapsing in mere moments.

(And Harley wasn't all there either. Too consumed in grief and the certainty of what will and had happened.)

Then-

Then he had his Mechanic.

Tony Stark.

Iron Man.

Self-sacrificing idiot who carries the weight of the world and the guilt of his actions like a man craving water in a desert.

The man who hides himself almost as much as Harley did, but different in his own principles.

The weak yet strongest human who had obstinately dug around until he planted himself firmly in Harley's very Soul.

(Like Thanos had. Like Thanos had never tried.)

And he would raze cities and realms if he knew it would make his Mechanic lose that hunch on his back. He would kill every single one of his enemies if it would make all of his smiles genuine.

But.

(He wasn't just Harrhan or Harry Potter.)

Harley knew Tony.

In all the video calls they had shared, all the gossip J.A.R.V.I.S. found the loopholes to share with Harley, it had always been clear that what his Mechanic really wanted was peace.

Protection for all that he cared for. Accountability for his past and future actions. The ease from guilt and the end of penitence.

Peace within himself.

There was no easy way to achieve that. No amount of death and destruction and bullheadedness would do that. Not when the story is written and rewritten in the minds of many, not when you are reminded of it again and again from different faces and different mouths.

(A merchant can bargain, can hate and reject and fear what he sells.)

So Harley will just have to be there. To protect his Mechanic.

-0-

Harley appears right beside the Vision, having to take a moment to adjust to the sudden change in pressure.

Immediately, his eyes take in the situation, noting the metal contraption that lay anchored and embedded in the middle of the partial ruins of a Church. The Vision lay unconscious on the ground, another android of hulking silver-like material and of a considerably more menacing appearance hovering before them.

The robot speaks, head cocked to the side, eyes glowing a curious red, "I know you."

"Ultron, right?" Harley asked, arms relaxed at his side. "Nice to put a face in the stolen name."

"I did not steal the name." There was no acid in the way it spoke, yet it still managed to convey its disdain. "I am Ultron. I was made to protect the world, to protect it from humanity itself. You, who destroyed worlds and indulged in destruction, who hide death under the guise of a child, stand on no higher pedestal than these parasites. Yet you are a threat bigger than this world has seen."

Harley smiles, sharp and derisive, at the hesitance—the fear. "I am no threat to this world."

(Not yet.)

He lets his Magic reach out to the Vision, rousing them from unconsciousness. He holds them down when the Vision tried to rise.

"I have seen what you can do," Ultron narrowed its eyes, hovering closer in a bid to intimidate. "Seen what you have done. The Stone sang your praises, boasted of the power you wielded under the rule of the Mad Titan."

"I'm flattered, I guess." Harley ribbed despite the skip of his beating heart and the tight coil in his chest, eyes darting towards the incoming figure of Thor Odinson. "Hate to cut this short, but I kinda don't want to get on the Asgardian's sight for a little bit longer."

With that, Harley drew out the Invisibility Cloak over his skin, kept within himself and not a physical material any longer than he had lived under the name of Harry Potter. He apparates up to a window ledge just in time for Thor Odinson to come smashing into Ultron with his hammer.

The android dodged with no little grace. Ultron caught the Aesir's arm and yanked on it until the god had no choice but to let go. Mjolnir dropped on the ground with a resounding thud, drowning out the grunt Thor Odinson let out.

"You think you're saving anyone?" Ultron intoned, glowing red eyes fixated on the god of thunder with anger that masked fear, backed in a corner as it is. The android wrapped a hand around the Asgardian's throat. "I turn that key and drop this rock a little early and it's still billions dead. Even you can't stop that, Asgardian."

Harley let Vision move, the being darting a look at Harley's position and then settling on the struggling god. He watched the Vision make a decision, the being silently bending down to pick up Mjolnir with no amount of effort.

Tales of the god of thunder's hammer was equally spread out as it was varied. The only constant within those tales is that only Thor Odinson was able to wield it with considerable ease. Some whispered of worth, some whispered of strength. No matter the truth, the Vision being able to lift it, much less wield it, is an event of significance.

A pity the other Avengers were not around to see it.

"I...am Thor, son of Odin," Thor Odinson maintained eye contact with Ultron, but Harley could see the way he stiffened in surprise. "And as long as there is life in my breast, I am...running out of things to say!" The god of thunder finally cast his gaze to where the Vision is poised to attack. "Are you ready?"

And then the Vision uses the hammer to hit Ultron in a show of excellent adaptability and understanding of non-direct cues. Ultron, unprepared for the attack, is sent flying out of the Church with great speed and force.

Thor Odinson's look of smug triumph was wiped away when the Vision hands the hammer back. It was amusing to see the Aesir shocked, his face wholly expressive of his speechlessness and vain trials of keeping his cool.

"It's terribly well-balanced." The Vision opted to inform the god.

The god of thunder didn't know what to say, instead awkwardly smiling and demonstrating a swing with his hands, "Well, if there's too much weight, you lose power on the swing, so."

There's a tense moment of silence between them, Thor unable to start a conversation and the Vision busy processing the new sights and turn of events. Harley himself stayed rooted in place, an ear focused inside the Church and the rest of his attention outside.

The battle raging around them had so far not neared the Church, but Harley could see the incoming horde of robots going in their direction.

Harley jumps down the ledge not even a second later, Magic already working around the ruined Church to strengthen the crumbling structure. Laying down protective barriers required a strong enough foundation.

He drops down to the ground with a roll, the move completely instinctive at this point. There's a brief twinge of discomfort when he lands.

(He's gotten a bit rusty, a mark of how different this life is. He both hated and reveled in it.)

He stays close to the Church building, not straying far, but in one of the the few blindspots from the god and being's side.

The semi-familiar sound of the repulsors had his attention snapped away from the enemies, already drawing back before he even knew what he was doing. Harley clicked his tongue and grimaced at himself when he noticed how his reaction to the assembling Avengers was to hide like some coward.

(Pathetic.)

Harley didn't know how this response came to be.

To their credit, the Avengers were holding themselves admirably, taking down the Ultron bots with their individual strengths. They aren't a well-oiled machine, not even close, but they weren't harming each other.

A red-haired female clad in a black leather suit came bounding into the fray, graceful and deadly as she danced around the Ultron bots and taking them down. This must be the Black Widow.

Natalia Alianova Romanova.

Traitor. Survivor.

(She reminds him of another woman. One with green skin and concealed fear and desperation.)

"What's the drill?" She questioned as soon as she's with the group.

"This is the drill." Iron Man points to the mental contraption embedded in the middle of everything. "If Ultron gets a hand on the core, we lose."

Harley considers his options, eyes idly tracking the Hulk as the green being leapt a great distance to land on several of the Ultron bots by the Church entrance.

On one hand, he could stay back and watch, his Magic already done in laying down protective barriers around the metal core contraption and the Church itself. On the other, he could take on a more active role in this helping thing, risking his identity and presence to the acclaimed heroes of earth.

("It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it.")

(Harry had been a sacrifice. Harrhan was a monster. Who is Harley Keener on top of all that?)

He wasn't ready. Harley was… something else, something different. He's Harry-and-Harrhan-and-Harley, an amalgamation of experiences and reactions and motivations that don't add up when everything was said and done.

He's the Master of Death, and he cares about a lot of things.

One thing that he cares about, one thing that Harley Keener would do just about anything for, was Tony Stark.

There's still a part of him that was Harry Potter, a part of him that was willing to take risks because of his saving people thing. But there's also a part of him that was Harrhan, a part of him that was better and worse at the same time, who takes calculated risks instead of jumping in head first.

And Harley Keener was both.

"Is that the best you can do?" Thor Odinson taunted Ultron with a booming voice.

Ultron hovers in the distance, eyes narrowed at the assembled Avengers. It raises a hand, summoning a large army of robots behind itself that stood, ready to attack, to create an image of intimidating unity. Harley spies most of the Avengers draw back instinctively, Captain America sending a peeved look at the god.

"You had to ask."

Harley's lip twitched, attention split between keeping track of the situation at hand and carefully letting his Magic slither into the crevices of Ultron and its army. It's delicate work to keep it below Ultron's sensors or anyone else's notice, more so with just how many robots Ultron had summoned to its side.

His hands and fingers moved to direct his Magic, something that was completely unnecessary before but something he needed to do now to allow for the highly sensitive task he was working on. Spells were one thing, wards and protection another, but this nebulous manipulation was on an entirely different plane. Especially with his all too human body.

Because no matter that it looked similar, this use of Magic isn't telekinesis, isn't what humans in this world (reality) has ever wielded.

It would have been better if he had (a wand, the scepter) something to make it easier and faster.

"I see hypocrisy is not beneath you," Ultron enunciates, somehow disappointed and wondering at the same time. "It repulses me to see how easily and how strongly you believe in your misplaced righteousness. You claim to save the world, yet you work with one who has destroyed planets at a mere order. An abomination you greatly underestimate."

Harley tilted his head, recognizing Ultron's bid to stall, to divert attention from itself.

(Feels the sinking realization of where this is going to go.)

It's working, too, if the look of confusion on the Avengers's face was anything to go by. The Vision hovered behind them, a spectre who has their eyes on Harley, aware of where the child is.

It was no matter, Ultron's defeat was close and the only thing between them is the remnants of the presence of the Mind Stone that could fight Harley's Magic. Stretched out as it was, any sort of disturbance like that could cause Harley's attack to fail.

Subtlety has always made it hard.

"Uh, not sure what you're talking about, Red Queen," Iron Man spoke through the suit's speakers, flippant and confused. "Can you please say it out loud for the people at the back?"

Ultron tilts its head, considering something, then opens its mouth to answer, "A child of Thanos, a—"

Harley's eyes narrowed, viciously motions his fingers and hands apart in a jerky and contained movement. The army of robots fall apart, the sound of screeching metal nearly deafening in the sudden stillness. It doesn't quite break through the ringing in Harley's ears, rage and fear louder than anything else.

(Why does he fear? What does he fear?)

Ultron lay on the ground, limbs loose but parts still intact. It struggles to speak, struggles to move, but Harley didn't want it alive anymore. He thinks of destruction, thinks of pain and eradication, wishes to burn it to the ground.

It's incredibly irrational and completely out of nowhere.

(Like a dam that suddenly crumbled. Like a bottle filled to bursting.

Like being confronted by a past he doesn't want to talk about. Like his actions that he never wanted anyone to find out.)

Before he could move—before he utters the cursed fire that was at the tip of his tongue, burning right under his skin—something else gets to the sorry pile of useless metal limbs. The Vision flew down, the Mind Stone emitting a menacing glow, and a ray of pure energy exploding out of it and into Ultron, containing the entity and destroying it once and for all.

The light was blinding, but it was enough to make Harley aware of how he had frozen over, joints locked in place and trembling all over. His breath came in short pants, heart beating too fast and loud in his ears, his throat tight and skin cold and clammy. He tried to keep control, tried to keep his breathing regulated, tried to just breathe holy shit why won't it stop.

(It's the water dragging him down, down, down into the darkness where the ice isn't just inside him anymore.)

Everything narrows down to doing whatever he can to just freaking calm down. To put sense into this irrationality.

His Magic, on edge and tense even with how depleted it had been with the attack on Ultron and its bots, lashed out around him.

"—does he mean?"

"—there's no one else here—"

Harley takes a deep, stuttering breath, focuses on the conversation to swallow down the vestiges of panic. (To push down the ice in his veins and wade through the water until it only ran up to his ears.)

"—'A child of Thanos'? Sounds like something right out of a pedophile's wet dream—"

"Ultron never said anything about—"

"Thor? Do you know something?"

The chatter stopped at the inquiry. Harley angles his head to look at the god, head turning up from where he'd shoved it between his knees.

"Aye," The prince of Asgard looked thoughtfully shaken, restless agitation seen in the way he rolls and tosses Mjolnir in his hands. "Thanos and his children are known across the realms. They spread death and destruction, raze civilizations for the sake of nothing but their own gain."

"As much as we would appreciate an explanation," The Vision interrupted and everyone actually did turn to listen to them, "I believe there are still other, much more pressing matters we should address."

"Uh, yeah, Vision's right." Iron Man seconded, false bravado leaking into his tone to hide his wariness toward the being. "Whatever that death metal and glowy lightshow was, it definitely got rid of Ultron. And I mean everything. My sensors aren't registering anything from that pile of junk. Yes, those freaky last words were creepy, but we're still going up without a hint of stopping or slowing."

There was a tense moment where Iron Man and Captain America shared a glance, before it was swept away with the urgency of the situation.

"We gotta move out." Captain America agreed with a decisive nod. "You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers."

"Yeah, gettin' harder to breathe here," Hawkeye-Barton threw in. "What about the core?"

Wanda Maximoff stepped forward, a determined set on her gait and face. "I'll protect it. It's my job."

Whatever they saw in each others' looks, no one said anything in protest. The Avengers are still a team no matter the disagreements between them.

"Rhodey said there's no more evil bots around, Cap. Fell off the sky like bugs spritzed with pesticide," Iron Man says in lieu of anything, already moving to fly off. "Seems our little helper was thorough." And then he was out.

"No child of Thanos is little," Thor Odinson decided to add—to which no one really reacted to—before he, too, took off.

Hawkeye-Barton shakes his head and calls out a "Nat!" in invitation to the Black Widow.

Captain America stalls for a moment, eyes landing on Pietro Maximoff, "Keep your sister company. Whatever or whoever took down Ultron's army single-handedly could still be around. We have no way of knowing what they want."

He gets a determined nod from the speedster.

"And when I say it's time to leave, you leave, got it?"

The twins share a look, one that spoke of a bond that had gone through more than enough tragedies and triumphs. Wanda Maximoff ends up looking away while Pietro Maximoff sloppily salutes the Captain.

Harley decided to slip away then.

-0-

The destruction of what had once been Novi Grad, Sokovia was punctuated by a huge surge of lightning in the higher atmosphere of Earth. A few minutes later, dust rained over the shocked populace as the huge pole that had kept the propelled land together fell into the Black Sea.

A crater was all that was left where a city brimming with life used to be.

Hundreds of lives were lost, but more had been saved by the combined efforts of the Avengers and what had been called SHIELD.

Harley watches this on a mountain that overlooked the entire country, sat down on a fallen log that was situated over a cliff. His fingers absently scratched at the bark, while the other hand fiddled with the plastic pink watch around his wrist.

He does nothing to acknowledge the approaching presence of the Vision.

It didn't matter, because the Vision speaks only a few moments of silent observation later, "You're afraid."

Harley paused, fingers seizing from its scratching. "Of what?"

"Of their fear and judgment. Of what he will think of you. Of yourself." The Vision responded, maintaining the distance between them. "The Stone does not speak to me unless you will it to. I hold no knowledge of what you have done, not like Ultron did. What I do know are your actions today and the… lingering aspects of Jarvis."

The Vision hovers closer. Harley doesn't react.

"You helped save hundreds of people you had no duty to protect." It was said in baffled wonder. Truly, it must be confusing to a being conceived from code and a cosmic power.

The dichotomy of human behavior. Of any behavior, really. The Master of Death wasn't sure if he is even aware of it too.

Harley allows smile to tug at his lips, dark and sardonic. He doesn't deny the Vision's words. "That's such a simplistic twist on things." There was no room for condescension, but it sounded like it anyway.

"It is often the simplest of reasons that should be taken as the truth," The Vision recites as if quoting from somewhere before amending, "Yet I do know of the complexity of human turmoil."

They spend a moment of silence, both lost in thought. Harley admires the view for the last time, taking in the morbidly beautiful sight. Relishing, despite the situation and how it got there, in the blissful silence in his head.

(He'd forgotten how silence could just be as comforting.)

Harley had just stood up and turned around when the Vision speaks again, a familiar, familiar scepter in hand.

"I found this," the Vision explained, face clear of emotions that they haven't put a name to yet. "Felt its importance without knowing why. I found that I couldn't leave it there even if I tried."

Harley accepts it with trembling hands, the quiet his mind had settled into breaking with such a simple gesture.

Planē (Πλάνη) was an abstract goddess, the personification of the concept of error.

was it okay? i'm like, in no mental condition to be communicating with anyone. or being overly analytical. ugh. and i actually hear the fuckin chickens clucking

good news is that i finished writing ch17, bad news is i have no idea whether i passed the exams or not lmao

see y'all next chapter! (hekhek im not ready for them yet)