At that moment, even though the Quidditch match was about to begin, Angelina showed not the slightest trace of nerves. Instead, she sauntered over to Harry. "Hey, Harry, look at you—your robes are a bit crooked."
The corners of Angelina's lips curled up slightly; her voice was soft and sweet, and her eyes shimmered with a playful light.
As she spoke, she naturally reached out her hand. On the surface, she was helping straighten Harry's clothes, but her fingers gently rubbed over the fabric, now and then "accidentally" brushing his shoulder or his arm.
The movements looked casual, but they carried the sly boldness of a young witch who knew exactly what she was doing.
Once she'd finished neatening his collar, Angelina didn't stop. Instead, she rose up slightly onto her toes and leaned in close to Harry's ear.
Her warm breath ghosted across it, laced with the faintest hint of teasing. "Little Harry, when the match is over, how about letting your big sis give you a massage to help you relax? My hands are very good at it, you know~"
As she spoke, she playfully flicked out the tip of her tongue and licked the corner of her lips. That unconscious flash of allure made Harry's heart skip hard in his chest.
He couldn't help thinking to himself, amused, "What a little temptress."
But in the Marvel world Harry was an adult; he'd been popular, and even had a girlfriend. How could a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old young witch hope to get the better of him?
So instead of backing away, he leaned into Angelina's approaching body, taking a step forward. The distance between them vanished in an instant; they were practically pressed together.
It was almost as if he were nibbling on Angelina's earlobe as he murmured, "Then thank you, senpai. After the match, let's find a nice quiet classroom and have a proper talk."
A blush flared across Angelina's cheeks, racing from her ears down her neck. A flicker of panic and shyness flashed in her eyes.
She had never imagined Harry would respond this boldly and directly. Her body trembled slightly, and for a moment she was completely tongue-tied.
Just then, Madam Hooch's voice rang out, announcing that the match was about to begin, neatly rescuing the thoroughly flustered Angelina.
The young witch hurriedly stepped back, suddenly not daring to look Harry in the eye. She spun around and sprinted off toward the Quidditch pitch.
Watching her retreating, almost fleeing back, Harry's lips quirked. "Cute girl," he thought.
He headed toward the pitch as well—but just after he passed through the changing room and pushed open the door that led out onto the field, the scene before his eyes shattered and shifted like a broken dream.
In an instant, the cheers and shouts that had been filling his ears were cut off, as if an invisible hand had simply erased them.
When he looked up, the sky was no longer full of color-splashed flags fluttering in the wind, and the familiar Quidditch pitch had vanished without a trace.
In its place stretched New York City, still blazing with neon under the night sky, and from not far away came the rolling thunder of continuous explosions.
He had crossed worlds again.
Looking back, he saw a portal slowly fading in midair, its golden strands of light dissolving like fireworks, leaving only traces of lingering magic in the air.
Clearly, it was that doorway which had triggered the concept of "gate" and pulled him back from the wizarding world.
There was no time to waste. Harry calmed himself at once, drew his wand, pulled his broom from his pocket dimension, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself:
"Disillusionment!"
Veiled by the spell, he swung his leg over the broom, clamped the handle tightly between his knees, and pushed off lightly from the rooftop. Like a black phantom, he streaked toward the source of the explosions.
The wind howled past his ears, snapping at his robes as he shot forward. In mid-flight, Harry ran through the list of things he needed to take care of in this multiverse.
First, he'd sensed Peter might be in danger, so he'd come to protect him and take care of the explosions.
After that, he needed to deepen his cooperation with S.H.I.E.L.D., cultivate more borrowers inside the organization, visit Gwen's home, and build out the loan-network platform.
Then he still had to go with Tony to Asgard to buy up a massive stock of Uru metal and use that and Vibranium to forge ammunition for the Super Electromagnetic Cannon.
Oh, and the most important part: give that inherently evil god of mischief a serious beating in close combat and let him have a taste of just how powerful the Super Electromagnetic Cannon really was.
Harry's chosen destination was close to where the explosions were happening, only about two kilometers away, so he arrived in no time.
Once there, he couldn't sense Peter's presence anywhere nearby. Clearly, he had gotten here ahead of him.
Harry alighted on the roof of an office building, the biting cold wind roaring past and whipping his robes around him.
He narrowed his eyes, gaze sharp, peering through the layers of smoke to take in the chaos below.
The scene before him was a complete wreck, a stark contrast to the bustle of everyday life.
The streets that had once been crammed with cars and people had become a battlefield.
Explosions boomed one after another, deafening in their intensity. Shrill sirens tangled together with anguished screams to form a tragic symphony.
In the middle of the street, a hulking yellow-green monster was rampaging wildly, its thick limbs lashing out, effortlessly sending parked cars, lampposts, trash cans—anything in its way—flying.
The shops lining the street were suffering one after another. Display windows were smashed to pieces, goods were strewn everywhere, and fires raged through the wreckage, pillars of thick black smoke billowing up to cover the sky.
Soldiers and police officers were firing their weapons at the creature.
Yet weapons that could easily kill a normal human did nothing to it. The bullets struck its rock-hard skin like mosquito bites, failing to cause even the slightest harm.
The gunfire only drew the yellow-green monster's attention, making it leap toward the soldiers and officers in a single bound before slamming down that fan-sized fist.
Wet, sickening sounds rang out over and over. Bodies were swatted away like kites with cut strings, smashing into walls and sliding down to leave long, bloody streaks on the stone.
Mere humans simply couldn't fight something so far beyond human.
Taking in the slaughter before him, Harry's brows knitted tight.
From childhood he'd been taught to protect the Earth. In the face of that grand mission, sometimes, to achieve the ultimate goal of safeguarding the planet, a single human life might have to be sacrificed.
But that didn't mean that when he saw crowds of living, breathing people being butchered by a monster right in front of him, he could just stand by and do nothing.
Especially not when he clearly had the power to stop it.
Like a bolt of black lightning, Harry dove from on high on his broom. Just as the yellow-green monster was about to kill a little girl sobbing by the side of the road, he whipped out his wand and shouted:
"Protego!"
In an instant, a transparent shield sprang up around the crying girl, forming a solid, unshakable barrier that blocked the monster from her entirely.
Thud!
The monster's fist slammed into the shield—and incredibly, the seemingly thin barrier actually withstood a blow strong enough to shatter stone and metal, not letting so much as a scratch touch the girl.
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