It had been a week since Harry had put Nick Fury in his place, and the Avengers were still adjusting to his presence.
Or rather, adjusting to the fact that Harry was something beyond their comprehension.
Natasha had started watching him even closer, like a cat stalking an unpredictable storm. Bruce, fascinated but cautious, avoided direct confrontation, instead running tests from afar. Steve had taken a "wait and see" approach, carefully observing Harry without outright challenging him.
And Loki?
Loki was far too entertained.
But all of them would soon realize that their most dangerous wildcard hadn't even arrived yet.
And when he did—
He would be obsessed.
It happened late one night.
Harry had been standing on the balcony again, staring out at the New York skyline, feeling the weight of something unseen pressing against his skin. It had been happening more often. Something on the edges of his perception. Something broken and unfinished, pulling at him.
And then—
He felt it.
Movement.
Not normal movement. Not the footsteps of an assassin or the controlled steps of an agent.
Something else.
Something familiar.
Harry didn't react outwardly. He simply waited, allowing the presence to reveal itself.
And then, like a shadow slipping into existence—
A figure stepped forward.
Tall. Dark-clad. A metal arm glinting under the dim city lights.
The Winter Soldier.
Harry finally turned his head, locking eyes with the ghost of a man who shouldn't exist.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
And then—
Something shifted.
Bucky Barnes was known for many things. He was a ghost story, a whisper in the dark, a relentless force bred for war. He had spent decades moving through the world unseen, untouched, untethered.
But the moment he laid eyes on Harry Potter—
Something snapped.
The world tilted.
And suddenly, nothing else existed.
An Unbreakable Stare
Steve was the first to find them.
When he entered the room and saw Bucky Barnes—his best friend, his lost brother—standing only a few feet away from Harry, he expected tension.
What he did not expect was absolute obsession.
Bucky's entire body was rigid, his breathing steady but sharp, like a predator who had just scented something he could not ignore. His steel-blue eyes were locked onto Harry with an intensity that Steve had never seen before.
And Harry?
Harry was calm.
Almost too calm.
His glowing emerald eyes remained fixed on Bucky, his expression unreadable, but there was something there. A thread of curiosity. A pull of fascination.
Steve's confusion only grew. "Buck?"
Bucky didn't react. Didn't even acknowledge him.
His entire focus was on Harry.
Steve stepped forward cautiously. "Bucky."
Slowly, very slowly, Bucky's gaze flickered to Steve—just for a second—before immediately snapping back to Harry.
And then—
"You're real," Bucky murmured, his voice quiet, almost awestruck.
Steve blinked. "What?"
Bucky took a slow step closer. "You shouldn't be real. But you are."
Harry didn't move. Didn't step back. If anything, his glowing eyes intensified.
"Neither should you," he replied.
Bucky stilled.
The air shifted.
And then—
Something like recognition flickered across his face.
"Ah," Loki drawled, stepping into the room, his lips curling in amusement. "So the assassin finally makes his appearance."
Bucky ignored him.
Steve, however, didn't. "Loki, do you know what's happening?"
Loki smirked. "Oh, I know, Captain. But the better question is—do they?" He gestured toward Harry and Bucky, his expression filled with knowing delight. "Because this—this is fascinating."
Steve scowled. "What is fascinating?"
Loki hummed. "Tell me, Captain—how does it feel when something calls to your soul?"
Steve stiffened.
And in that moment, he understood.
This wasn't just interest.
This wasn't just curiosity.
Bucky knew Harry.
Or rather, something inside him recognized Harry in a way that neither of them fully understood.
Bucky finally broke the silence, his voice lower now, rougher.
"I remember you," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Harry's.
Harry tilted his head. "No, you don't."
"I do." Bucky took another step forward, almost unconsciously. "Not here. Not… now. But I know you."
Harry's fingers twitched. His magic curled around him, unseen but felt.
"Explain," Harry said.
Bucky's jaw clenched. "I can't."
Steve watched—not as Captain America, but as James Buchanan Barnes' best friend. And for the first time, he saw something that made him… wary.
Not of Bucky.
But of Harry.
Because Harry wasn't reacting like someone being stalked. He wasn't reacting like someone confused or afraid.
No.
Harry was intrigued.
And that?
That was dangerous.
Later, when the others had left, when Steve had finally managed to pull Bucky away, Loki found Harry once again staring out over the city.
"That was interesting," Loki murmured, stepping beside him.
Harry exhaled. "You knew, didn't you?"
Loki smirked. "I suspected."
Harry's fingers tapped against the balcony railing. "He's drawn to me."
"Yes." Loki's smirk faded. "And I don't like it."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Loki turned to face him fully, his sharp green eyes narrowing. "Because he does not understand what he is drawn to."
Harry held his gaze. "And you do?"
Loki stepped closer, his voice lowering. "I know what it means to be connected to something beyond mortal comprehension. I know what it means to be claimed by a force greater than yourself." His gaze darkened. "And I do not share well."
Harry blinked. Then—
He laughed.
Loki scowled. "What?"
Harry shook his head, amusement flickering in his glowing eyes. "You're jealous."
Loki's expression twisted. "I am not!"
Harry smirked. "You are."
Loki huffed, turning away. "Ridiculous."
Harry's smirk didn't fade. "Then why does it bother you?"
Loki hesitated.
Because he knew.
Harry wasn't just another mortal. He wasn't just a wizard, or a Stark, or even a hero.
He was the Master of Death.
And Loki?
Loki did not intend to share.