Harry was rudely jolted awake as the door to his room burst open while the sunlight spilt in through the curtains Thor had thrown aside with little mercy.
"Rise and shine, Potter! We've got work to do today!" Thor's booming voice echoed off the walls.
Harry groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. His entire body felt like it had been dragged through a war zone. The constant drills, combat sessions, and weapon training had left him sore in places he didn't even know could hurt. He'd long since concluded that the warriors of Asgard were a different breed altogether—freaks of nature, he thought bitterly.
Every muscle ached, and his mind was sluggish from the endless grind. The sheer monotony of it, day after day, had obliterated any sense of time. He had no clue what day it was in Asgard, let alone on Earth. His limbs protested with every movement as he groggily pushed himself out of bed.
Thor, stood by the door, arms crossed with an infuriatingly enthusiastic grin. "Come now, Harry. The enemy won't wait for you to sleep in."
With a muttered curse under his breath, Harry got dressed, pulling on his training gear. As he stepped out into the hall, he saw Lady Sif and the Warriors Three already waiting for him, all far too alert and energetic for this ungodly hour.
"Today, we're training by the coast," Thor announced, his excitement palpable. "At the Shores of Ifing. The rocky terrain will offer a good change of pace from the usual."
Harry stifled another groan. "Great," he muttered under his breath, wondering just how many more bruises this new terrain was going to add to his already battered body.
As they made their way to the waiting carriages, Harry's legs felt heavy, his muscles screaming in protest. Yet, there was no option to stop. No leniency in the Asgardian way. It was push forward or get left behind.
"You look like you could use a few more hours of sleep, Potter," Fandral said with a chuckle, patting Harry on the back. However, even that light touch sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through him.
Harry gave him a sideways glare but said nothing, knowing all too well that complaining wouldn't get him out of whatever brutal routine Thor had planned for the day. He'd learned that the hard way.
Travelling through the city, Harry's grogginess slowly gave way to an appreciation of the sheer beauty of Asgard. The city stretched out behind them in a cascade of golden towers and shimmering bridges, glowing in the early morning light. The architectural grandeur of Asgard was almost surreal, a world of elegant spires that seemed to pierce the sky, and streets lined with intricate carvings of Asgard's history, telling tales of ancient wars and heroic legends.
The roads leading out of the city were flanked by lush gardens, the air sweet with the scent of strange, colourful flowers that Harry had never seen on Earth. Each blossom seemed to pulse with magic, their petals shimmering as though kissed by stardust. In the distance, towering mountains framed the horizon, their snow-capped peaks glittering under the morning sun. Streams of water cascaded down the slopes, catching the light in dazzling bursts of crystalline brilliance.
As they ventured farther from the heart of the city, the landscape began to shift. Rolling green hills gave way to rugged cliffs that overlooked vast, azure seas. The ocean seemed to stretch endlessly into space, its surface reflecting the heavens above like a mirror. The carriage trundled along a narrow path that wound through rocky terrain, the cliffs on either side dotted with wildflowers that clung to the stone, their vibrant colours standing out against the harsh environment.
Ahead, the Shores of Ifing came into view—a stark contrast to the serene beauty of the city. Jagged rocks jutted out from the coast, their dark surfaces worn smooth by centuries of crashing waves. The ocean here was more tempestuous, its waters a deeper, darker blue, with waves that surged against the cliffs with powerful force. Spray from the sea misted the air, filling Harry's lungs with the briny scent of saltwater.
The sky overhead was vast and open, a brilliant expanse of deep blue that stretched forever, dotted with occasional streaks of white clouds. The wind whipped through Harry's hair as they neared the coastline, carrying with it the cool, sharp tang of the sea. In the distance, seabirds called out, their cries echoing across the rocky shores.
As the group gathered at the rugged coastline, Thor's voice boomed with excitement, reverberating through the rocky cliffs. "There will be only two trials today, Potter, and this time we want you to go all out."
Without saying anything, he took his position in the center of the training grounds, he was used to this. The wind whipped around him, rustling his training robes as he planted his feet firmly on the jagged ground.
With a deep breath, Harry extended his right hand, his fingers curling as though gripping an invisible hilt. His voice dropped to a low murmur, speaking words of ancient power that seemed to hum through the air around him. "By ancient oath and starlit flame, come, O blade, by my desire!"
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The air around Harry shimmered with ethereal energy, crackling as if the very fabric of magic itself was bending to his will. Slowly, the spectral form of a sword began to take shape, coalescing from the surrounding light like a star being forged in the cosmos.
The blade materialized, translucent at first, before solidifying into a silver gleam that caught the light of Asgard's sun. It was a beautiful yet deadly weapon. The blade's length was sleek, tapering to a razor-sharp point, and along its edge, a faint blue glow pulsed, as if the sword itself breathed with life.
Intricate runes were etched into the blade's surface—ancient symbols that shimmered with a soft, star light, speaking of long-forgotten magic and oaths sworn in ages past. The hilt was wrapped in what appeared to be silver filigree, elegant and strong, with swirling patterns that seemed to move under the eye as though alive. Its cross guard flared slightly, the ends carved to resemble dragon wings, each feathered edge gleaming with a pale luminescence.
The blade hovered in his grip, weightless but powerful, humming with raw magic. Harry's fingers tightened around the hilt, feeling the pulse of energy surging through him like an extension of his own soul.
With a swift motion, Harry raised the sword high, the silver blade gleaming in the sunlight like a beacon of power.
Thor grinned, stepping back to give Harry space as Lady Sif and the Warrior Three lined up opposite him. "For the first trial, you will face Lady Sif and the Warrior Three together," Thor announced, his voice booming with anticipation. Harry nodded, his grip tightening on the spectral blade in his hand, its runes glowing faintly.
Sif and the Warriors spread out in a semi-circle, their weapons ready as they prepared to strike. Volstagg, massive and unrelenting, was the first to charge, swinging his great axe in a wide arc. Harry sidestepped, his movements fluid as the blade whistled past him, striking nothing but air. With a swift counter, Harry slashed at Volstagg's exposed side, but the Asgardian's armor held firm. Harry didn't press—this was just the beginning.
Sif was next, agile and deadly, coming at him with lightning speed, her blade aimed directly at his chest. Harry parried the blow effortlessly, sparks flying as their swords clashed. Sif's strikes were quick and precise, but Harry had the advantage of his magical reflexes. He twirled his spectral blade, the runes glowing brighter as he knocked Sif's sword aside and spun to block Hogun, who had tried to flank him.
Hogun swung his mace with brutal force, but Harry's blade met the blow with a shimmering shield of magic. The impact sent a shockwave through the air, but Harry stood firm. With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed Hogun, sending the mace clattering to the rocky ground.
Fandral lunged forward next, his rapier glinting as it stabbed toward Harry's side. But Harry was faster. He conjured a brief shield with his left hand, deflecting the attack, and countered with a powerful upward slash of his sword. The force of the blow sent Fandral stumbling backwards, his balance disrupted by Harry's sudden ferocity.
The fight became a flurry of movement as all four warriors pressed Harry at once. Volstagg swung again with his axe, but Harry ducked low, feeling the rush of wind as it passed over his head. He swept his leg out, knocking the giant off his feet with a surprising show of agility. At the same time, he spun his sword in a deadly arc, forcing Sif and Fandral to leap back as the blade flashed in front of them.
Harry's magical prowess seeped into his movements. Every parry was perfectly timed, every strike calculated, and he wasn't even relying heavily on spells. The runes on his sword seemed to dance as he fought.
Sif launched a final, desperate charge. Her sword came down hard, but Harry caught it with his blade, their weapons locked in a fierce contest of strength. For a moment, it seemed as if they were evenly matched—until Harry's eyes glowed with magical energy. With a surge of power, he pushed Sif back, disarming her with a single, deft twist of his sword.
Breathing hard but unscathed, Harry stood in the centre of the battlefield, his sword still glowing in his hand. Around him, the Warrior Three were either disarmed or on the ground and Lady Sif, though still standing, was weaponless and unable to continue.
Thor grinned as he retrieved a metallic box from the wagon, placing it before Harry with a dramatic thud. The sound echoed across the rocky shore, drawing Harry's attention.
"Now that warm-up is over, Father said this would be a good test of your strength and progress today," Thor announced, his voice tinged with anticipation.
Harry's gaze sharpened as the box began to transform. With a hiss of metal and a faint hum of magic, the box transformed into the towering figure of the Destroyer—a new version of the automaton, its gleaming armour engraved with updated runes, even more menacing than the one Harry had faced in New Mexico.
"Father had some new ones made to guard the vault," Thor explained. "He thought it would be a fitting challenge to see how much you've progressed."
Harry smirked, not at all fazed by the challenge. His body still ached from the previous fight, but he was far from worn out. This, he knew, was where he could let loose—no need to hold back, no fear of hurting anyone. With a short incantation, the rune that had dulled the blade allowed it to become razor sharp.
The Destroyer's molten eyes glowed, and without warning, it unleashed a beam of pure energy straight at Harry. With a flick of his wrist, Harry conjured a shimmering shield of silver magic, deflecting the blast into the sky. The beam dispersed into the clouds, lighting up the Asgardian horizon in a flash of brilliance.
The ground trembled as the Destroyer charged forward, its steps leaving craters in the rocky terrain. But Harry was already moving. He leapt into the air, summoning a gust of wind beneath him that propelled him over the automaton's head. With a twist of his hand, he fired a volley of magical blasts, each one striking the Destroyer's armour with deafening force.
The automaton staggered but did not fall. Its chest plate opened, revealing the fiery core within. Another beam of energy shot out, but this time, Harry didn't dodge. Instead, he met the beam with one of his own, a powerful surge of emerald light that crackled with energy as it collided with the Destroyer's attack. The two forces clashed mid-air, creating a shockwave that sent waves crashing against the rocky shores.
Harry's eyes narrowed. He wasn't here to play defence.
Summoning his full strength, Harry raised both hands, his sword glowing brighter as he called upon his magic. The runes on his blade shimmered, feeding off the magic coursing through him. He unleashed a devastating surge of energy that split into multiple streams, striking the Destroyer from all angles. The automaton faltered, its metallic body shaking under the relentless assault.
With a roar, Harry charged forward, his sword cutting through the air like lightning. The Destroyer raised its arm to block, but Harry's blade sliced clean through the armour, severing the limb in one clean stroke. Sparks flew, and the Destroyer reeled back, its molten core exposed.
Harry didn't hesitate. He thrust his sword forward, driving it into the core of the automaton. The runes on the blade flared to life, channelling Harry's magic directly into the Destroyer's heart. The automaton shuddered violently, its molten core flickering as the magical energy overwhelmed it. With a final, ear-splitting crack, the Destroyer collapsed, its armour shattering into pieces.
The battle was over.
Harry stood victorious, his chest heaving from the exertion. He glanced down at the remains of the Destroyer, now nothing more than broken shards of metal scattered across the shore.
Thor let out a hearty laugh, clapping his hands. "Well done, Potter! You've come a long way since our first encounter with this beast."
Harry gave a small smile, lowering his sword as the runes dimmed. "Thanks. But I have a feeling there's still a long way to go."
Everyone clapped in approval, their applause echoing off the rocky cliffs of the shores. As the cheers died down, "You did well today" a regal voice cut through the air.
"My queen!" the warriors exclaimed in unison, bowing low as Frigga, Queen of Asgard, appeared at the edge of the training ground. Frigga smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Please, rise," she said. "If you all are done for the day, I would like to take my favourite student for his lessons."
Harry straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow, and offered Frigga a respectful nod. "Of course, my queen," he said, bidding his fellow warriors goodbye. Thor clapped him on the shoulder with a proud grin, while Lady Sif and the Warriors Three gave him approving nods.
As Frigga turned, Harry followed her, and they made their way toward the carriages waiting by the edge of the shore. Their destination: the Plains of Ida, a sprawling expanse of land where Frigga often took him for their magical lessons.
The journey from the shores to the plains was a breathtaking one, showcasing the unparalleled beauty of Asgard. As their carriage moved away from the coastline, the terrain shifted from rocky cliffs to rolling hills, where golden fields stretched as far as the eye could see. The sky above was painted with hues of soft pink and amber, the ethereal light casting long shadows across the landscape.
Harry leaned back, allowing himself a moment of peace as the wind brushed against his face. The air here was different—crisper, purer, imbued with magic that hummed just beneath the surface of the world. In the distance, the towering mountains of the Plains of Ida came into view, their peaks dusted with glistening snow, and the majestic trees that dotted the landscape glowed with a faint, otherworldly light.
"You've made impressive progress, Harry," Frigga remarked, her voice thoughtful as she gazed out at the scenery. "But there is still much for you to learn."
Harry glanced at her, grateful for the shift in the atmosphere. His muscles were sore from the physical trials of the day, but the promise of learning magic from Frigga always sparked a sense of excitement in him. This was what he had come to look forward to the most; unlocking the mysteries of magic under the guidance of its most powerful sorceress.
As the carriage came to a stop at the edge of the plains, Harry stepped out, the vast openness of the Plains of Ida unfurling before him like a golden sea.
"Have you finished reading the tomes on magical cores and affinities?" Frigga asked.
"Yes, but it still doesn't tell me how to yield magic better." Harry replied defeatedly.
"Wizards, like the Aesir, do not borrow Magic, we are born with it. In your fight with the Automaton just now. I noticed you were strained not because of the physical toll on the body but because of your magic. I also saw you were hesitant about using your magic. Why is that so?" Frigga asked.
"Because, if I spend my magic, my reserve will finish. And I won't be able to use it again" Harry replied honestly.
Frigga laughed and facepalmed. "No wonder your magical progress has been slower than the other aspect of combat. Here I was thinking you were unsure of how to control your magic or access your magic due to your previous education being with wands,"
"I don't get it," Harry replied confused.
"Harry, do you think that the amount of magic you can do in your lifetime is finite?" Frigga asked.
"No" Harry replied.
"Then why do you think that the amount of Magic you can do in a day is fixed?" Frigga asked.
"Because of magical exhaustion," Harry replied.
"And don't you get physically exhausted too" Frigga asked.
"I do" Harry replied.
"Yet, why do you still train every day."
"So that I can grow stronger," Harry replied.
"Exactly, and that is why you train magically too. Your magical core doesn't have a limited capacity. It is like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger and more potent it becomes. Now, Let's start with you doing magic that will exhaust you to the bones.
Frigga led Harry to a flat, open area where the grass swayed gently in the breeze. "Here, we will begin," she said, her tone both commanding and reassuring. "Today, we will push your magical core to its limits. Only through exhaustion will you truly understand the boundlessness of your power."
Harry nodded, a mixture of trepidation and excitement bubbling within him. "I'm ready," he said, bracing himself for what was to come.
The first exercise began with simple yet intense spellwork. Frigga instructed Harry to cast a series of complex incantations to conjure and manipulate elemental forces—flames, water, wind, and earth. Harry, already familiar with these basics, quickly ramped up the difficulty. His hands were coursing with raw, unfiltered magic. Each spell was designed to push his magic, to test his control and endurance.
He summoned towering walls of fire that danced and roared, sending waves of heat through the air. Streams of water burst forth, crashing against the flames in a spectacular display of steam and mist. Winds howled and whipped around them, lifting debris and swirling dust. The earth itself trembled as he commanded it to rise and form rocky barricades.
Frigga's voice was a steady guide amidst the chaos. "Focus, Harry. Control, not just power. Your core responds to intent as much as to strength."
The sun began its slow descent, casting an orange hue over the landscape. Harry's breaths came in laboured gasps, sweat dripping from his brow. But he pushed on, driven by the realization of his own potential. Each spell drained him further, his movements growing more erratic as he struggled to maintain control.
As the sun dipped lower, Frigga shifted the focus to more intricate magic. She had Harry create intricate, floating glyphs and symbols in the air, each one representing a different magical concept. Harry was required to maintain these symbols while simultaneously performing other tasks—crafting barriers, conjuring illusions, and manipulating forces all at once. His magical core felt the strain, but Frigga's guidance helped him balance the demands on his power.
Frigga's voice was a constant presence, guiding him through the exercises. "Remember, Harry, magic is not just about strength. It is about harmony and flow. Let your core expand, let it feel the exhaustion and then recover stronger."
As dusk approached, the sky was a canvas of deep reds and purples. Harry's energy was waning, his once-vibrant spells now flickering with less intensity. His magical core was stretched to its limits, every bit of power feeling like it was being drained. But Frigga wasn't finished. She set up one final test—a conjuration of a massive, swirling vortex of pure magical energy.
"Channel everything you have left into this," Frigga instructed. "Push past your limits, beyond what you think is possible."
Harry closed his eyes, focusing every ounce of his remaining strength into the vortex. The energy crackled and surged, creating a whirlwind of shimmering light and raw magical force. The effort was nearly overwhelming. His body shook, and his vision blurred as he poured his remaining reserves into the vortex.
The sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the sky darkened, stars emerging one by one. Frigga watched with a mixture of pride and concern as Harry finished the final exercise. The vortex slowly dissipated, its energy spent. Harry sank to his knees, gasping for breath, his magical core feeling empty yet inexplicably lighter.
Frigga approached him, her expression warm and approving. "Well done, Harry," she said softly, kneeling beside him. "You have pushed yourself beyond what you thought possible. Your magical core has been tested and will now understand its true capacity."
Harry looked up at her, exhaustion and exhilaration mixing in his gaze. "I didn't realize... that it could be like this," he said, his voice hoarse.
Frigga smiled gently. "Magic is boundless, as long as you are willing to push beyond the limits you set for yourself. You have learned that today."
"What a splendid display of magic," Odin's voice rumbled from behind them.
Startled, both Frigga and Harry turned, finding Odin standing tall, regal as ever, his one good eye gleaming with approval.
"My king," Frigga greeted him with a graceful bow.
"All-Father," Harry greeted, bowing respectfully. Despite all the time spent in Asgard, he still felt the awe that came with being in Odin's presence.
Odin walked closer, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he admired the aftermath of the training session. "If you wouldn't mind, Frigga, I would like to take a stroll through your garden with your pupil. I have much to discuss with him."
Frigga smiled warmly, a knowing look in her eyes. "Of course, my king. Take your time."
Odin gestured for Harry to join him, and they began to walk side by side through the garden surrounding the training grounds. The vibrant flowers and the soft hum of the evening air offered a calm respite from the intensity of Harry's magic exertions.
"You fought well against the newer version of the Destroyer. And, as I overheard, at limited power," Odin began.
"Thank you, All-Father," Harry responded, inclining his head in respect.
Odin studied him with a critical but warm gaze, the wisdom of centuries behind his words. "I see you've been applying our lessons well. How is your progress The mind palace I instructed you to build?"
Harry hesitated for a moment before answering. "It's going well, I think. I had built the foundations before I had come to Asgard, your guidance has allowed me to expand that space. However, I'm having trouble with instant access to knowledge. I find myself sifting through memories and information too often. It slows me down in battle and in decision-making."
Odin gave a knowing nod as if he had expected the challenge. "A mind palace is not simply a mental construct for storage, Harry. It is the fortress of your consciousness, the stronghold where your thoughts, memories, and instincts converge. Right now, it may feel rigid, like a library where you must search for what you need. But in time, it will become second nature, as fluid as casting a spell or lifting your sword."
Harry nodded, but his brow furrowed in thought. "It's... difficult to make that shift. To go from consciously sorting through information to just knowing."
Odin gave a short, approving grunt, his expression stern but not unkind. "That difficulty you feel is the mind's resistance to growth. Much like your muscles ache after rigorous training, your mind must be exercised and strained for it to adapt. With time and persistence, you won't just store memories—you'll organize them instinctively. Your thoughts will flow like the rivers of Asgard, clear and swift."
Harry's gaze dropped to the ground as he absorbed Odin's words. "I understand the theory, but in practice, it feels like there's always too much information. In the heat of battle or moments of stress, I find myself losing focus, scrambling through my mind for the right piece of knowledge."
Odin's expression softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. "That is because you still see knowledge as separate from yourself. You treat it as something to be accessed, rather than something that flows within you. The palace you are building is not merely a place for storage; it is meant to become a part of you. The more you strengthen it, the faster it will respond. Eventually, you will no longer need to 'search' for answers. They will rise to the surface effortlessly, guided by your instincts."
Harry looked at Odin, his curiosity piqued. "Is that how you do it? With all the knowledge you've gathered over the centuries... do you ever forget?"
Odin chuckled softly, the sound rich with amusement. "I forget many things, young wizard. But what I need is always at my disposal, because I do not cling to my memories—I trust them. That is the key to a true mind palace: not just storing knowledge, but trusting it, allowing it to serve you without hesitation."
Harry's mind whirled with the implications. He had always seen his mind as something to be mastered, a tool to be sharpened and organized. But Odin's words suggested something deeper—an intrinsic connection between himself and his thoughts, one that required faith in his own abilities.
"Think of it as breathing," Odin continued. "You do not consciously instruct your lungs to fill with air every time, yet it happens. In the same way, your mind palace will function. At first, you must build it deliberately. But once it is strong, it will operate beneath your awareness, ready to provide you with what you need, when you need it."
Harry nodded, understanding the essence of what Odin was teaching him. "I'll keep working on it."
"Good," Odin replied, his voice filled with approval. "Remember, the mind is the greatest weapon we possess. Hone it well, and no enemy, no challenge, will ever truly overpower you. Moving on, have you completed your readings on the Invasion of Svartálfheim?" Odin asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I have examined the tactics employed by Bor in the great wars," Harry said, his voice thoughtful. "But I have a question not regarding Bor but about the Asgards' reliance on Einherjar. They're an elite force, no doubt, but I wonder… with the nine realms so vast, and the threats ever-growing, is it really enough to rely on just one army to maintain peace? It seems like a small force to protect and police such a large expanse."
Odin's expression remained thoughtful as he gazed out over the horizon. "It is a question many have asked before you, Harry. How can a single army hold back the tides of chaos across nine realms, each with its own challenges and threats?"
Harry nodded. "I've seen war on Earth, and I've fought in battles where the numbers seemed endless. It's hard to imagine that a relatively small force could be enough to keep peace across such a vast domain."
Odin stopped walking, turning to face Harry with a grave expression. "You speak of numbers as though they alone decide the outcome of wars. But there is a lesson you must learn, one that goes beyond the field of battle."
Harry listened intently, sensing the weight of the words to come.
"When I was younger," Odin began, "I, too, believed that victory lay in overwhelming force. I relied heavily on sheer numbers—armies of Einherjar, Valkyries, and soldiers from across the realms. But there came a time when I learned that strength is not just in the many, but in the few. In the quality of each warrior, and their ability to act as more than just a soldier."
Harry furrowed his brow. "What do you mean by that?"
"The Einherjar are not merely soldiers, Harry. Each one is trained to be a leader in their own right. They are warriors, yes, but also protectors, tacticians, and diplomats when needed. Every individual must be able to stand alone if necessary, to be the strength of many. In Asgard, we do not rely on the quantity of our forces, but on the quality of each warrior. Thor is a prime example. He alone can determine the tide of battle by being on the field as you know."
Harry was quiet, absorbing the lesson. "But what happens when the others do stand alone? Surely, there must be limits to what one soldier can do."
Odin's face grew sombre. "That is true. Even the mightiest can fall if they face an enemy beyond their strength. I learned this lesson the hard way, during a battle that nearly cost me everything." Odin's expression darkened. "I underestimated my foe, thinking my legions could stop her rampage. I believed their numbers would overwhelm her. But the foe was more powerful than I could have ever imagined. She cut through my Valkyries as though they were nothing."
"The lesson I learned from that battle," Odin continued, "was that even a single warrior, when they possess true strength, can rival armies. It is not about the numbers, Harry. It is about the quality of each individual. If the soldier is strong enough, they can tip the balance of any conflict."
Harry frowned, still struggling to reconcile the idea. "So… you're saying it's not about how many soldiers you have, but how capable each one is. That a single Einherjar could be as effective as a whole battalion."
Odin nodded, his voice softer now. "Yes. The Einherjar are not just warriors—they are Asgard's shield and sword, capable of more than brute strength. They are trained to fight, to think, and to act with wisdom. And that is where their true power lies. Numbers can win battles, but individuals of true strength and wisdom, they are what win wars."
Harry's mind raced, thinking back to all the battles he had fought—both in his world and here. He realized how often he had relied on sheer force, on numbers, without considering the deeper meaning of strength. His thoughts shifted to his own role, and how he had always been a piece in a larger puzzle, but now he was beginning to see that even a single piece could change everything.
Odin smiled, noticing Harry's deep contemplation. "You are on the path to understanding, Harry. The power you wield, both with your magic and in your heart, can shape the fate of many. But never underestimate the value of the individuals who stand with you, nor the strength that lies within yourself."
Author's Note:
Comments for Chapter 41: Sometimes, I wish that instead of a web novel this was an animated series. In my head, this chapter had always been about Harry levelling up. But writing that was more difficult than imagining it. The training montage has an awesome soundtrack. Thor and Harry and the others. It felt so epic in my head. When it came to writing it though, I was like how do I translate what's in my head to a Word document? 😅 Instead of doing the time-lapse. I chose to highlight the three things that he was training in, physical training with Thor and friends, magic with Frigga and strategy with Odin. I won't be exploring much of Asgard here though. That is because I can't time-lapse it to show all the fun things Harry and Thor have been up to. We will explore that in Thor 2. Until the next chapter, happy reading. 😊
I have a P. A.T.R.E.O.N with the name Bivz643, if you guys are interested in reading ahead. For now, you can read ahead to chapter 72 of this fanfiction. In that chapter, Tony and Harry go to the Mandarin's lair. There is only one tier for $5 with the benefit being access to the library and that I will be posting 2 chapters per week there. I understand that not everyone can become a Patron and support me monthly. However, if you'd still like to read ahead, you can do so by getting the PDF version of the 4th and 5th arc of "A Wizard in the MCU" for $3 each at P. A.T.R.E.O.N. shop
Anyway, see you all next week. Happy reading.