~ In The Army Now ~

Captain America: The First Avenger

June 23rd, 1943 - Camp Lehigh, New Jersey - Earth - Multiverse – Sector 31.199999-A:

Dawn broke over Camp Lehigh, casting a pale golden light over the sprawling base. Recruits scrambled out of their bunks at the sound of a piercing bugle, fumbling to pull on their uniforms and line up outside the barracks. Harry, already full dressed and impeccably polished, watched with an amused smile as the chaos unfolded. Steven "Steve" Rogers stumbled out last, his belt half-done and his boots unlaced, but his expression was one of pure determination. Colonel Philips stood in front of the line, barking orders.

Harry stood to the side, his uniform crisp and clean, while indicating his new rank. When he had been given his uniform the night before upon arrival, the rank had been that of Major. Harry believed that to be a bit low for his liking, thinking it would hinder his autonomy within the U.S. military. So with a simple transfiguration and a few memory charms, he was officially a Major General. The voice of Colonel Philips rang through his ears. "Today's the first day of your training, and let me make one thing very clear. Most of you will fail. But for those of you who don't, this program will turn you into something this country needs. Now move out!"

The recruits groaned as they were herded toward the obstacle course. Harry simple adjusted his cap and followed at a measured pace, his eyes scanning the group. His gaze lingered on Steve, who was already lagging behind but still refusing to give up. The kid had heard. Harry would give him that.

The obstacle course was a monstrous array of rope climbs, muddy trenches, and walls that seemed far too high for any normal man to scale. Colonel Philips paced along the sidelines, hive voice cutting through the morning air. "You think this is hard? Wait until you're in the field with bullets flying over your heads! Move it, you maggots!"

Harry suppressed a smirk as he jogged ahead to the front of the line. While the other recruits hesitated at the first obstacle, a towering wooden wall slick with morning dew, Harry scaled it with practiced ease. His movements were fluid and almost effortless, drawing awe and a bit of jealousy from his fellow soldiers. He landed on the other side and turned to watch the rest of the group attempt the same. One by one, the group scaled over the wall, some landing on the other side with more dignity than others.

The last up was Rogers. He was struggling, his small frame making it nearly impossible to get a proper grip. He jumped, missed, and promptly fell back into the mud. The bigger recruits who had already made it laughed, but Harry's lingering smile vanished. He quickly strode back to the wall, crouching next to Steve. "Rogers. Get up," Harry said firmly.

"I'm trying, sir," Rogers panted, his voice strained but determined as he fought against the mud to get back to his feet.

"Trying's not enough," Harry replied, extending a hand. "You're going to do it. Now grab on," Steve hesitated for a fraction of a second before clasping Harry's hand. With ease, Harry hoisted him up, giving him just enough momentum to grab the top of the wall. "Now pull," Harry ordered, his tone encouraging but firm. Roger's gritted his teeth and hauled himself over, landing with a thud on the other side. Harry moved around the wall, joining him on the other side. "See? Told you you could do it,"

Steve nodded, wiping the mud off his face as best he could. "Thanks, General,"

Harry grinned. "You can thank me by keeping up,"

The recruits groaned once more. They had finished the obstacle course, and were now ready to begin the next part of the day. A grueling five-mile run through the rough terrain surrounding the camp. Phillips' jeep trailed behind, his voice booming through a megaphone. "If you fall behind, you're out! Keep moving!"

Harry jogged at the back of the formation, keeping an eye on the others. Particularly on Rogers, who was already lagging near the back. The small recruit's breaths were coming in sharp gasps, but he pushed forward, his face filled with determination. Some of the other recruits began to pick up pace, putting some more distance between them and Rogers. Harry picked up his own pace, appearing to Roger's left. Steve was nearly doubled over as he continued to run. "Come on, Rogers. Don't quit on me now,"

"I'm fine," Rogers wheezed, though his legs were trembling.

Harry shook his head. "You've got heart, kid, but heart won't carry you the whole way. Focus on your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth," Rogers followed the advice, his breathing gradually steadying. Harry stayed by his side, keeping the rhythm, and when they finally crossed the finish line, Steve promptly collapsed onto the ground. He was utterly spent. Harry crouched beside him, offering a canteen of water.

"You finished," Harry said simply. "That's what matters,"

Steve looked up at him, his blue eyes bright despite his exhaustion. "I'll do better tomorrow,"

Harry's grin widened. "I know you will,"

After a short break, the recruits were led to a makeshift ring where they would undergo hand-to-hand combat training. Philips stood at the edge, arms crossed. "This isn't about brute strength," he said. "It's about skill, adaptability, and not getting your ass handed to you in a fight," The first pair of recruits stepped into the ring, trading clumsy punches until one of them landed a lucky hit.

Harry watched with mild amusement before stepping forward. "Mind if I demonstrate, Colonel?"

Philips raised an eyebrow but stepped aside. "Be my guest,"

Harry turned to the recruits, scanning the group. "Rogers," he called, motioning for the smaller man to join him. Rogers blinked in surprised but quickly stepped into the ring. Harry smiled at him, his stance relaxed. "Alright, Rogers. Show me what you've got,"

Steve hesitated for only a moment before throwing a punch. It was wild and uncoordinated, but Harry dodged it with ease. He stepped to the side and tapped Rogers on the shoulder. "Good effort. Try again," Steve tried again, and again, each time improving slightly. Harry offered advice between strikes, his tone calm and encouraging. "Keep your stance balanced. Use their weight against them," Finally, Steve managed to land a hit, a solid jab to Harry's ribs. The other recruits erupted in cheers, and even Philips looked impressed. Harry grinned, stepping back and bowing slightly. "Not bad, Rogers. Not bad at all,"

That evening, Harry sat in his quarters, reviewing the day's events in his mind. He had seen raw determination in Steve that reminded him of himself in his younger years. The kid had potential, and Harry was determined to see him succeed. There was a knock at his door, and when he opened it with a wave, he found Peggy Carter standing there. Her arms were crossed with a smirk on her lips. "Heard you were showing off during combat training,"

Harry chuckled from his desk. "Just teaching the recruits a thing or two,"

Peggy raised an eyebrow. "Including Rogers?"

"Especially Rogers," Harry replied. "He's got more grit than most of them combined. Just needs a bit of guidance,"

Peggy studied him for a moment, her expression softening. "You believe in him,"

"I do," Harry said simply. "And I think you do too,"

Peggy smiled, a rare warmth in her features as she examined him. "Maybe I do," With that, she turned and walked away. As she left, Harry leaned against his hands on his desk, watching her go. The days ahead were going to be challenging, but he looked forward to them.

June 24th, 1943 - Camp Lehigh, New Jersey - Earth - Multiverse – Sector 31.199999-A:

As dawn broke over Camp Lehigh, Harry Potter was already awake. His room was dimly lit by the soft glow of magical screens projected from a sleek, enchanted device sitting on his desk. The reports scrolling across the displays were from Potter Incorporated, sent directly from his executive board. Despite being miles away, Harry's influence on his company was ever-present. He leaned back in his chair, sipping a steaming cup of tea conjured with a flick of his wrist, his emerald eyes scanning the numbers and summaries before him.

The company was thriving. New medical innovations, sustainable energy solutions, and experimental technologies were rolling out of their labs faster than the board could approve them for production. However, Harry's personal notes were still necessary. Reduce prototype costs for the automated healing pods by 15%. Harry muttered to himself as he scribbled a note into the air with the tip of his finger. A faint shimmer carried his words to the ether, where it would appear on his assistant's desk back at the headquarters.

It wasn't just business decisions. Harry also took time to review the philanthropic projects his company spearheaded. The Potter Foundation was an orphanage fund in New York City that had just received its first shipment of advanced blankets that provided warmth in cold winters and a cooling effect during summer heatwaves. The board's suggestion to increase investments in war bonds, however, caused Harry's lips to thin. "This war isn't about profits," he murmured, shaking his head and making the proposal for rejection. His company's focus was to aid, not exploit.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," Harry called without looking up.

As she had the night before, Peggy Carter stepped in. She was dressed impeccably in her olive-green uniform, her hair pinned back in a style that somehow made her look even more elegant. She held two cups of coffee, one of which she extended to Harry with a small smile. "You've been at it all night, haven't you?" she asked, setting the cup down on his desk.

Harry chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "Guilty as charged. Potter Incorporated doesn't run itself,"

Peggy leaned against the edge of his desk, her arms crossed. "I don't think I've ever met someone who can balance managing a global company and military training,"

"Well. I've had a bit of practice over the years," Harry said, standing and stretching. "Though I must say, it's nice having good company to distract me now and then,"

Peggy arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is that so?"

"Philips is quite the talker," Harry said with a smirk. Peggy shook her head in amusement. Harry grabbed his jacket, opening the door to his study. "Come on, Agent Carter. The recruits are waiting, and Philips will have my head if I'm late," With that, the two made their way to the training ground. The morning's first exercise was designed to build trust and camaraderie among the recruits. A makeshift rope bridge was constructed over a muddy trench, and the recruits were tasked with crossing it while carrying a heavy crate of supplies. The catch? They had to do it as a team, with one blindfolded member relying solely on their comrades for guidance.

Harry stood to the side with Peggy, watching as the recruits stumbled and shouted over each other. Rogers, still struggling to find his voice among the louder, more assertive recruits, hesitated before stepping forward. "Let me try leading this one," Steve offered, his voice firm despite his smaller stature.

The other recruits exchanged doubtful glances, but Harry clapped his hands sharply. "You heard the man. Rogers is taking point. Now move,"

Steve's voice, though not loud, carried conviction as he directed the team. He paired the most physically capable recruits with the blindfolded ones, guiding them step-by-step across the bridge. By the time the entire group reached the other side, they were muddy and painting...but victorious. Harry approached Steve with a grin. "Good work, Rogers. You seem to understand that leadership isn't about shouting the loudest. It's about inspiring others to trust you,"

Steve smiled, nodding his thanks before turning back to help another recruit clean the mud off their face and uniform. Peggy, standing beside Harry, nudged him with her elbow. "He's coming into his own," she said.

Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful despite his smile. "He's got what it takes. He just needs someone to believe in him," Peggy smiled, joining Harry and the other recruits in their walk to the next training exercises. The recruits were sent to the shooting range. There, targets had been set up at varying distances. Some stationary. Others rigged to move unpredictably. Colonel Philips barked instructions as the recruits loaded their rifles and took positions.

From the side, Harry and Peggy examined the recruits' stances and the way they held their rifles. Some definitely had more experience than others. Harry watched as the recruits fired in turn, offering pointers when needed. When it was Steve's turn, Harry stepped forward, standing just behind him. "Relax your grip," Harry advised. "And don't focus on the entire target. Pick a single point and aim for that,"

Steve adjusted his stance and fired. The first show missed, but the second grazed the target. By this fourth shot, he was hitting the outer rings. "Not bad," Harry said, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Keep practicing, and you'll get there," Peggy, observing from the sidelines, tilted her head as she watched Harry interact with the recruits. His patience and encouragement set him apart from Philips' brusque style, and she couldn't help but admire the way he brought out the best in people.

Later that night, after the recruits had settled into their bunks, Harry returned to his quarters. The magical screens were still active, displaying updates from his company. He reviewed the progress of their latest medical innovation - a regenerative salve that could heal wounds in minutes - and approved its deployment to field hospitals across Europe. He also checked in with his executive team via a magical communication link. A translucent figure of his COO, Hannah Deveraux, appeared before him.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," she greeted. "We've finalized the partnership with the British prime minister to supply enchanted gear to the Allies,"

"Excellent," Harry replied. "And the humanitarian projects?"

"The Potter Foundation is expanding to cover additional cities, and we've begun production on the self-sustaining greenhouses for rural areas,"

Harry nodded, satisfaction flickering across his face. "Keep me updated, Hannah. Remember...profit margins are secondary to impact," As the call ended, Harry leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips. Despite the chaos of training and the looming threat of war, he felt a sense of purpose. Potter Incorporated was thriving. Rogers was growing into a leader. And, though he wouldn't admit it to himself just yet, his moments with Peggy were becoming the highlight of his days. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now... Harry allowed himself a rare moment of peace.

June 26th, 1943 - Camp Lehigh, New Jersey - Earth - Multiverse – Sector 31.199999-A:

The barracks at Camp Lehigh were quiet, save for the occasional creak of a bed or the distant murmur of voices from the night patrol. Steve Rogers slept soundly, his breaths even and calm. But Harry Potter law awake in his separate quarters, staring at the ceiling as faint green light flickered across his eyes. His mind was not on the present. Instead, it stretched across the tapestry of possibilities, peering into fragmented visions of the future. His fingers twitched with nervous energy as he tried to piece the images together.

Bucky Barnes with a metallic black-and-gold arm. Steve clad in a star-spangled suit, a circular shield slung across his back, standing beside a man with red goggles and wings. A red-haired woman in a sleek black outfit, pistols in hand, flanking a man wielding a bow. A towering purple figure clutching a golden gauntlet that radiated a terrifying power. The images blurred and dissolved, leaving Harry with more questions than answers. With a frustrated groan, his emerald eyes dimmed. He sat up, rubbing his temples.

"Long night?" came a calm, accented voice. Harry looked up to see Peggy Carter standing at the foot of his bed, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. She was dressed in her olive-green uniforms, her hair slightly tousled from the night air.

"How did you..." Harry began. He glanced out toward the main barracks past the doorway, noticing it was empty. The other beds were vacant.

"Cleared them out," Peggy provided simply. "We all woke up to the sound of yelling and glowing green light coming from your room. I assumed a fight had broken out. Imagine my surprise when I found you levitating above your bed,"

Harry blinked. "Levitating?"

Peggy nodded, crossing her arms. "Glowing green and muttering something under your breath. Care to explain?"

Harry sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I was...seeing things. Future things,"

"Future things," Peggy echoed, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.

Harry hesitated. "It's a magical ability. Inherited from my family. What we call 'family magic'. Sometimes it's contained in a grimoire passed down through generations, but for me, it's instinctive. I was trying to determine whether my plans for...the serum would work,"

Peggy studied him, her sharp mind processing his words. She knew he had some sort of 'magical' power to him, given he had done some pretty questionable acts in his time here. But seeing real magic was something she would have to see to believe fully. "And...did you see anything useful?" she asked.

"Flashes. Nothing concrete," Harry admitted. "But what I did see...let's just say it left more questions than answers,"

"What kind of questions?" Peggy pressed.

Harry managed a small smile. "Ones I can't answer. Not without risking the timeline,"

Peggy gave him a long look, her keen gaze searching his face for any hint of deception. Whatever she saw, it seemed to satisfy her, and she softened. "You really are full of surprised, aren't you?"

"I try," Harry replied, returning her smile. He noticed her eyes flicker downward, and it took him a moment to realize she was staring at his bare chest. A few distinct scars lined his torso, indicating years of combat. He cleared his throat, amused. With a flick of his fingers, the sheets wrapped around him and transformed into a crisp, tailored uniform.

Peggy blinked, startled by the sudden display of magic, but quickly regained her composure. "Handy trick,"

"Has its uses," Harry replied, standing. "Let me handle the troops," Harry stepped into the chilly night air, Peggy following close behind. In the central square, the troops were lined up in various states of disarray. Barefoot, in boxers, some still clutching their blankets. At the front stood Colonel Philips, his expression one of barely contained fury. Dr. Erskine looked on curiously beside him.

"My men are telling me you were floating above your bed, glowing green, and muttering names," Philips barked. "What the hell is this all about, Potter?" Harry raised a hand, murmuring a spell under his breath. A subtle wave of Obliviation magic watched over the compound, erasing the memory of his earlier display from all but Peggy, Erskine, and Steve.

"You called them out here for a surprise training exercise, Colonel," Harry said smoothly. "To test their endurance and patience under unexpected circumstances,"

Philips blinked, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion. A look of clarity overtook his features as he turned to the troops, his voice snapping like a whip. "All right, troops! You heard me. Surprise training exercise. Move it! No prep, no complaints!" The soldiers groaned but obeyed, shuffling toward the training grounds. Harry watched them go, a faint smile on his lips.

"That was...efficient," Peggy remarked.

Leaving Philips to oversee the 'exercise', Harry led Peggy, Steve, and Erskine into the camp's main building. Once inside, he waved his wand, cleaning the mud from their boots and conjuring a small table surrounded by comfortable chairs. A concealment charm shimmered in the air, ensuring their conversation would remain private. "So..." Harry began, pouring wine into four glasses. "Now that we're comfortable, let's talk,"

Steve looked on in shock, still reeling from the displays of magic he had just seen. "What's this about?" Harry raised a hand, summoning a bottle from across the room with a simple summoning charm. It soared into his grasp, and he set it down gently on the table. With another wave, he conjured his Patronus. A shimmering Thestral that prowled the room before bowing to Peggy and vanishing. Steve's jaw dropped. "That...that was real,"

"Very real," Harry confirmed. "And there's more. But first, drink. You're going to need it,"

As the night deepened, Harry shared a carefully curated version of his story. His upbringing, the war in his magical world, and the loss that drove him to seek out the serum. He spoke of his company, Potter Inc., and its mission to bridge magic and technology for the betterment of humanity. Peggy listened intently, her gaze softening as Harry recounted the loss of his friends at Hogwarts and the destruction of his home. Steve, meanwhile, looked equal parts awestruck and overwhelmed. "And that's why I'm here," Harry concluded. "The serum is my chance to reclaim what I've lost. To become...whole again,"

Erskine nodded thoughtfully. "I'll see to it that you have your chance, Harry. You've earned that much,"

Peggy reached across the table, her hand brushing his. "You're not alone in this. Remember that,"

~ Omake - The Great S'mores Debate ~

It was one of those rare evenings at Camp Lehigh when the air was filled not with barks of orders or the clatter of boots but the soft murmur of conversation and occasional laughter. The recruits had been given a reprieve after a particularly grueling day of training, and the mood was surprisingly light. A makeshift fire pit had been set up in the center of the camp, and a group of recruits gathered around it. The flickering flames cast warm, golden light across their faces. Among them were Steve Rogers, Harry Potter, Peggy Carter, and even the typically stern Colonel Philips, who loomed nearby with his arms crossed, pretending he wasn't interested in the camaraderie.

"What in God's name are these?" Philips barked, his tone skeptical as he watched one of the recruits skewering a marshmallow with a stick.

"They're s'mores, sir," Steve answered earnestly. He was holding his own stick, marshmallow hovering precariously close to the fire. "It's a campfire tradition,"

"Seems inefficient," Philips muttered, but he didn't leave.

Harry, seated next to Peggy with a marshmallow roasting steadily, smirked. "Inefficient? Colonel, you're missing the point. S'mores are about bonding. Nothing brings people together like burnt sugar and melted chocolate,"

"Burnt sugar?" Peggy arched an eyebrow. She held a stick of her own, though her marshmallow was still pristine. "That sounds...questionable,"

"It's a cultural experience, Agent Carter," Harry teased. "And one I insist you try,"

Steve chimed in, his marshmallow now perfectly golden. "You have to get it just right, though. Too close to the fire, and it burns. Not close enough, and it doesn't melt properly,"

Another recruit - Johnston, a broad-shouldered man with a sharp wit - snorted. "Rogers, you're overthinking it. Just light it on fire and call it a day,"

Harry leaned back, grinning. "And there's the great s'mores debate. Golden perfection versus chaotic combustion,"

Johnston's marshmallow burst into flames as if on cue, and he waved it around dramatically before blowing it out. "See? Efficient,"

Peggy looked skeptical, but finally leaned closer to the fire, holding her marshmallow with precision. "If I'm going to try this, I'm doing it properly,"

"Atta girl," Harry said, watching her with amusement. The next few minutes were a flurry of activity. Graham crackers were passed around, chocolate bars were snapped into neat pieces, and marshmallows were squished between the layers with varying degrees of success. Steve's s'more was pristine, his meticulous nature showing even in dessert assembly. Johnston's looked like a melted disaster, though he ate it with gusto.

Peggy took her first bite with the cautious precision of someone sampling a foreign delicacy. The marshmallow stretched into a sticky string as she pulled back, and a smear of chocolate appeared on her cheek. Harry couldn't hold back a laugh. "You've got a little..." he gestured vaguely at his own cheek.

Peggy, ever composed, reached up to wipe it off, missing the mark entirely. Harry leaned closer, his tone mock-serious. "Permission to assist, Agent?"

"Granted," she said dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. Harry used his napkin to gently clean the spot, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. Peggy's eyes met his, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them.

"Potter!" Philips' voice cut through the moment like a whip. "Are you conducting a tactical operation or making goo-goo eyes?"

Harry leaned back, utterly unruffled. "Both, sir. Multitasking is a skill,"

The recruits erupted into laughter, and even Peggy couldn't suppress a chuckle. Philips rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about "damn Brits" but didn't push the issue. As the night wore on, the group around the fire grew more relaxed. Stories were exchanged, jokes were made, and for a brief time, the weight of war seemed to fade. Harry leaned back against a log, his gaze drifting toward the stars. Next to him, Peggy was laughing at something Steve said, her earlier skepticism about s'mores replaced by genuine enjoyment. The simple fun of s'mores allowed Harry to think of the future. Life was good for the time being.