A/N Wow, it's weird to think that I'm so close to the end. Thank you for those who took guesses at the chapter titles. I will get back to you the moment I have some free time to myself that isn't work-oriented. The full list will be at the end of the next chapter, but for now: the clean up (and some banter).

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.

"Are you happy now?" Death asked, dismayed by the display below. He looked at his old friend who raised her nose and sniffed.

"No. You can't understand what you did to me."

Death gaped at her.

"You have to be kidding! After everything? She died for you!" He pointed down at the young girl Annan was supposed to teach and support lying crumpled at the base of the tower.

Pestilence gave him one last sneer.

"She was always going to."

And she was gone.

He sighed. That was a fight for another decade. Perhaps he could approach her father and ask him to intercede. He heard that his father and Old Pestilence bonded through gossip over the disappointment that was their children and joined each other for bridge on a regular basis. Maybe he would see sense.

Now there was something more important. He could explain to War about this one soul.

He alighted on the street, or rather, just below the street next to his Master. He remained on his own plane so young Harry couldn't see him and knelt by the small corpse of his rival's mistress. Really it was Her place.

He waved away one of his reapers and knelt by the girl, a hand on her cheek, waiting for her eyes to open.

A few moment's later they did, a bright hazelnut colour filled with a momentary fear. They flickered about, focusing on the pipe twisting out of her chest and her breathing quickened. Not that she needed to breath. It was a reaction borne of habit.

Her gaze flitted onto him and he smiled gently.

"'Ello."

Those eyes widened.

"You- You're-"

"Yes," he acknowledged. "I'm here to take you somewhere better."

"What about Her?" She asked, her voice high and confused. "Annan. She said…She promised…"

He didn't want to tell her that Pestilence had abandoned her.

"It's my turn now." He told her gently, taking the hand Harry held and helping her to her feet.

She slid out of her body easily, sitting up in her corpse. He helped her pull herself to her feet and she stood looking down on her broken body.

"That's me." She commented.

Death looked between the shell of what she had become and what she was now, slighter, with full cheeks and bright eyes. He noticed a gap between her teeth. She was so young. She was as she was at her happiest.

"Come with me." He invited holding out a hand, which she took trustingly and so he led her to her heaven, a place that shared a remarkable similarity to Rome.

Harry felt the moment her soul truly left her body and sighed. It was over. Nearly. All that was left now was to deal with the rest of her army.

Even then the fight was nearly done. The fighters that saw their leaders passing on the news and many stopped there and then. The rest either fought with a lacklustre air or with a determination that wanted to disprove the truth.

"Nice fire," Tony commented idly as he landed next to Harry who stood watching as the remnants either laid down arms or were taken out.

"Yeah." He replied, noncommittally.

"I thought you said you were going to try and be less destructive next time around." Tony said, kicking at a stray lump of tarmac. When Harry didn't respond, still caught up in his thoughts, he put an arm around the younger man's shoulders.

"Know what we need?" Tony asked rhetorically, "Schwarma."

Harry closed his eyes and collected himself before allowing himself to chuckle.

"What I could really do with is a good chippie. Fish and chips." He clarified after a moment of silence. Tony played along.

"You mean fries."

They settled into the familiar argument. Harry spotted Bruce, de-hulked and already wearing clothes conjured for him by Luna if the Ravenclaw colours were anything to go by. His friend was talking to the bigger man, idly repairing shop windows as they passed. Would Bruce remember Harry wondered, flinching as he realised the guilt Bruce would feel for killing so many, especially a young girl. No matter how twisted she had been. Then again, the manipulation that put her in that position could increase his guilt.

"Look, I can probably find a place that managed fish and fries." Tony was saying but Harry waved him off.

"Nah. There's no point if they aren't good old British ones. Preferably from the Lake District. Slathered in vinegar and ketchup for good measure."

S.H.I.E.L.D agents swarmed the scene to clear up and after a brief call to the Avengers and Wizards alike they left it to them, assisted by a team of American Cover-up wizards which helped with repairs and… other clean up issues.

"So do you heal quickly from all wounds?" Tony asked as Harry finished taping a bandage to the already considerably smaller wound in his abdomen. He shook his head.

"No. I think it is because she caused them. Nothing I did put her down either."

The answer seemed to dissatisfy Tony, a frown creasing his forehead as he responded incredulously.

"So all of this," he gestured at the destruction visible from the balcony they stood on, "Was just for the sake of destruction?"

Harry looked down at the road, where he had fought the girl, now repaired and shook his head again.

"She wanted to kill you. All of you. She knew she couldn't kill me, so she figured she would target my more mortal friends."

Tony snorted and Harry looked around to see a contemptuous expression on his face.

"Bitch."

Harry sighed, ruffling his hair.

"It's not like that. She…" he paused to find the right words, "she was failed by Pestilence. Used. She truly believed in what she was doing. That it would 'right the balance'. She was so young."

Silence reigned for a moment before Tony joined him, elbows on the railing looking out over the scurrying people on clean-up.

"Will she be trying anything else?"

"I won't know 'til I talk to Death. I've not seen him yet."

Tony checked his watch.

"Shouldn't be too much longer now, then we can go out for food. Is the blood supposed to be a fashion statement?"

Harry looked down at his charred and bloodstained clothes and straightened. He was about to head inside to change but he stopped. There was something he needed to say.

"Thanks." He said shortly, "for getting involved with a battle that effectively boils down to Master of Death drama."

Tony snorted, looking over at him lazily.

"I don't know if you noticed, but it was slightly bigger than a small scuffle. Nobody was going to sit out of that."

Harry nodded.

" I don't envy you." Tony grinned. At Harry's bemused look he continued, "Sifting through supernatural politics. Wonder if your buddy 'Death' has any other skeletons in his closet. Maybe literally."

Harry let a grin come to his face automatically, then considered what he planned to do next. His grin faltered.

"What if I didn't have to?" It was Tony's turn to look bemused. "I may have a way to get out of it." Harry confessed.

"Out of the whole 'Master of Death' thing?" Tony clarified and Harry nodded.

"I haven't confirmed it yet, but I'm pretty sure."

"And you want to." Tony prompted, an inscrutable expression on his face.

Harry nodded and Tony considered.

"Which means no coming back from the dead, and no bad ass black fire?"

"And my own magic will be slightly weaker, without the elder wand." Harry confirmed. "But, I'd get to age again. I'll get to grow old, with my friends, and not have to watch everybody go on without me." It had been harder that he'd like to admit watching friends who'd he'd once been like grow and change without him. More than once knowledge that they would die while he would remain the same had plagued his dreams.

"Sure that's a good idea?" Tony asked wryly, "Aside from the wrinkles, you've died what, three times in the last few months alone?"

"Twice." Harry correctly slightly heatedly.

"More than any of us. Point still stands." Tony waved his reply away.

"If I die again, then it's time." Harry decided, "you can only avoid Death for so long, and I've had more brushes with him than I've had any right to."

Tony's face was stone but Harry could tell that his mind was whirring away.

"As long as you are careful." He finally said with a small nod, moving past Harry to enter his penthouse living room, Harry drifting in his wake. He crossed the room to the bar, reaching the counter to pull a bottle to him. He looked over to Harry who was still loitering in the door.

"You might want to get cleaned up." Tony pointed out as her poured himself a glass. "Want one?"

Harry accepted and quickly ducked down the corridor to find the room Tony had set aside for him to get changed.

Tony sipped at his bourbon, eyes following Harry's exit. He poured his friend a glass and let it sit on the counter as he returned to the window to survey the damage.

If he had immortality, would he surrender it?

He thought how far he went to avoid death, the glow from his arc reactor shining through his Metallica shirt and reflecting on the glass in front of him. It wasn't the same argument, he knew; fighting for survival even when life was short and giving away the chance to live forever. It was effectively a slow suicide. Was it?

He hated philosophical arguments. Empirical science and certainty all the way. But the world wasn't that black and white. It had never been, but he'd been ignoring that up until he'd discovered magic. Or maybe until he'd discovered Harry's secret.

When Harry had died, it had hurt. He hadn't realised how important his visually impaired friend was to him. Not really. Until he'd seen him lying out on a slab. It had been different to the first time, when Fury had told them that he was dead because this time they had a real, tangible body. It gave the whole thing a finality that he hadn't felt when he'd heard the news from Fury. He knew that the way he had acted, expecting him to rise again was crazy, but his need for it had seemed all consuming at the time. Like one of his projects. Next time though, if Harry went through with this, he wouldn't be coming back. He'd just be dead. Maybe if he didn't have the immortality as a safety blanket he would be more careful. Or one of his apparently many enemies would finally be successful. Then again, even when he'd thought he was mortal he'd gone walking into that forest expecting to die.

Tony disregarded the shudder that threatened to run down his spine by downing the rest of his drink. He tried to imagine being told at seventeen that he had to die to save the world. He couldn't, not really. Sure he could make that choice now, but he was an adult, on borrowed time. Harry had been a kid who had selflessly gone unarmed to his death to a man who then proceeded to taunt his friends with the body if what Hermione hadn't said was anything to go by. From the sound of it, this 'Dumbledore' had been planning it for years, grooming Harry to die. Was that why he had gone? Because he'd been systematically brainwashed to do so?

No. That was a stupid idea. Harry was just that person. The person who would do what ever he could to save his friends. Harry spoke of that man fondly. It was his tone of voice when the name came up. Tony was sure that there was more to the story that he would never know, but he didn't think he could forgive or like a man that could send a child to the slaughter. If he wasn't dead, Tony would have made his displeasure known, whether it be by some robot havoc or, if that failed due to magical and electricity incompatibility, a good right hook. Simple and to the point. And muggle enough for magic to be taken by surprise if the inherent arrogance he read about wizards from the stories he had heard held true.

It would be selfish to ask Harry to not do it. But he was selfish. It was one of his defining attributes. Or so most people thought.

He sighed, downing the rest of his glass. He could no more ask Harry to continue as the Master of Death than he could let the nuclear weapon hit Manhattan. Or abandon Pepper when she needed him.

"Are we ready to go?"

He turned to see Bruce, now appropriately dressed in a blue shirt and tan trousers, coming out of the lift. Tony hadn't seen him after the battle, but Harry had mentioned that his friend Luna was taking care of him. Said witch was standing next to him looking no more ruffled than normal. Her hoodie had been changed back to her brown jacket and she was idly examining the stitching in the sleeve.

"Clothes transfiguration isn't as easy as it looks." she informed him airily.

Tony remembered seeing her fight and had to shake his head at the marked difference between the two attitudes. He recognised the stick she had twisted her hair up with and raised his eyebrow at the casual use of her wand. He looked back at Bruce to answer the question.

"Not yet. Natasha still doing her make up probably."

"If by make up you mean reporting to Fury." the agent in question said wryly, entering the room in casual attire from the balcony, followed by Tony's favourite archer and less favourite soldier boy.

Tony looked at her incredulously.

"What's this about a report? Last time we just went straight for schwarma, kit and all!"

"There is a protocol." Rogers pointed out and Tony just tutted.

There was a series of cracks and a cluster of wizards now stood in the centre of his living room.

"You Americans are a pain in the arse to deal with." Ron huffed, flopping onto a couch to the admonishment of Hermione, who batted him affectionately around the head.

Two of the wizards were still wearing their hoodies.

"May want to get rid of those." He pointed out. "Little point wearing disguises if you then wear them out with your face uncovered.

"Good point." Hermione said, "Finite Incantatum."

She repeated the charm for George who grinned.

Tony looked around at the nine other people in the room.

"The restaurant is going to hate us." He observed with a devilish grin, which was reciprocated on George and Clint's face. Hermione just looked anxious.

"Oh, I don't want to be any trouble. I should get back to the kids anyway-"

"Don't be silly 'Mione." her husband chastised. "I already dropped them off with Mum. She'll only just have got them to sleep and into bed herself. It'd just be plain ungrateful to wake her up twice in one night."

"I suppose." Hermione fretted.

"We could just get take-out." Bruce pointed out.

"Spoilsport." Tony returned and Bruce shrugged.

"Take-out sounds good." said Harry from the entrance to the corridor. His friend was looking a lot better for cleaning up, not quite so beaten up, though there were still some faint red lines on his face.

"Hey mate!" Ron grinned, pulling himself up from the sofa to clap Harry around the shoulder. "Nice-going."

Harry's smile was small. "Yeah."

"So take-out, what do we have?" Bruce said, sitting on the arm of a sofa.

"We have take out all the time!" Tony protested.

"But if we go to a restaurant," George said, "we won't be able to do this." With a flick of the wand, the various take-out menus Rogers had collected came flying out of their prospective drawer and onto the low table in the middle of the room.

"But waiters do that for you." Tony pointed out dryly.

George tutted and turned to Harry.

"We spoil these muggles you know. Not even impressed by an act of simple levitation anymore. I ask you!"

"We can't really talk about magic in a public restaurant." Clint pointed out, "Or any of the battle really. I still want to know what happened on your ends."

"Fine." Tony conceded, taking a whole sofa for himself. "Your drink is over there." he told Harry who thanked him.

It was at that moment that he realised what was sitting on the table next to the collection of menus.

It was the small cage Death had brought with him, containing a small, white and very dead mouse.

"What are we going to do with the ex-mouse?"

A/N Has anyone ever played the 1970's game Sorcerer's Cave? Cause I created my own 'Tardis' card that really screwed me over at the end...