"Luoluo."

Yang Luoluo had been surrounded by curious students, and Albus Dumbledore rescued her from the crowd. She let out a long breath, looked at Dumbledore gratefully, and asked out of habit.

"What is it, Headmaster?"

"No, no — I'm not the Headmaster. That position belongs to Minerva now."

Dumbledore corrected her cheerfully. Yang Luoluo laughed, scratched the back of her head, and adjusted the title without any fuss.

"Then, sir — were you looking for me about something?"

Dumbledore stroked the beard and dropped a bombshell with complete nonchalance. "I wanted to ask — would you be interested in temporarily standing in as the Hogwarts Muggle Studies professor for a while?"

Yang Luoluo rubbed her ear. "...What?!"

"But, but but but I'm just a Muggle, and on top of that I'm still a student myself, so how could I possibly be a professor? Besides, I'm pretty sure I already revived Professor Charity Burbage..."

"Child, Professor Burbage's psychological wounds may take a very long time to heal. The resignation letter arrived from her not long ago."

Dumbledore's voice carried a note of helplessness.

Professor Burbage had been seized by Death Eaters over the summer and suffered terribly, and in the end was killed by Lord Voldemort's own hand. Though revived, the shadows those events had left behind could not simply be erased.

So the moment of revival, Professor Burbage had darted off at top speed into some unknown corner of the world. Even the resignation letter had come by owl, and the owl arrived half-starved, so one could only imagine how far it had flown.

Yang Luoluo was left speechless.

"Perhaps Muggle Studies would be taught more effectively by a genuine Muggle."

Dumbledore smiled serenely.

Many people likely considered the wizard someone who played by the rules. Very few knew that in youth, Dumbledore had been even more audacious than Harry and the others.

The idea of letting a Muggle teach the class had not come out of nowhere. It had taken root ever since Dumbledore first came into contact with this strange and varied group of Muggles known as the Avengers. The only question had been who the most suitable candidate was.

As things stood now, Yang Luoluo, who had a solid familiarity with the Wizarding World, was clearly that person.

"But..." Yang Luoluo's expression grew complicated, and she was on the verge of declining.

Dumbledore: "There is a salary."

Yang Luoluo: "Well..."

Dumbledore: "A formal internship certificate can be provided."

Yang Luoluo: "Hm..."

Dumbledore: "The benefits and perks for Hogwarts professors are quite generous."

Yang Luoluo: "When do classes start?"

Even with a wealth of life experience behind the wizard, a turnaround that fast still prompted a few seconds of silence.

Dumbledore opened his mouth. "...There's no rush on that front. It will have to wait until Hogwarts has finished its repairs, most likely after Christmas."

Since term had begun, a considerable number of students, with Harry's trio leading the way, had simply not returned to school, given that Severus Snape, widely regarded as a Death Eater, had been holding authority at Hogwarts.

Now that Lord Voldemort had been dealt with, the matter of resuming classes needed to be put back on the agenda.

Yang Luoluo gave a solemn nod. Having agreed, she would prepare properly, after all, she had gone to the trouble of earning a teaching qualification certificate during her university years. It was just a temporary posting, wasn't it? She could handle it.

...

Yang Luoluo returned to the Avengers' side wearing a thoroughly serious expression and submitted herself to everyone's questions.

"You're saying Dumbledore wants you to go be a professor?!"

Feeling the collective stares of disbelief, Yang Luoluo quietly offered a small defense.

"I do have a teaching qualification certificate, I just don't know whether it applies to wizards..." Her eyes slid away guiltily.

She had honestly not planned on agreeing at first. But then Dumbledore had mentioned a salary.

Not that she was particularly driven by money, but who could really turn down being paid?

Ever since leaving with the Avengers, every expense had been covered by Tony Stark. Tony Stark had repeated over and over that these costs amounted to absolutely nothing, that even a few hundred more people could be supported without a problem, but Yang Luoluo still felt a little uncomfortable about it.

She wanted to earn her own money. To spend on herself and others.

Watching the evasive look, Natasha Romanoff reached over and affectionately ruffled her hair. "Since you've already agreed, make sure you prepare thoroughly once we're back."

"Mm!" Yang Luoluo gave a firm nod, but the very next second: "Back? Are we leaving?"

"Mm-hmm." Tony Stark crossed both arms. "Peter Parker's term is starting. And the bald guy's already been dealt with, so there's no real reason to stick around."

Watching Yang Luoluo and Peter Parker both go crestfallen, Ron Weasley drifted over and couldn't hold back. "You can come visit any time you're free, we promise a full welcoming lineup!"

At that, Ron Weasley suddenly seemed to remember something, and the mouth twisted sideways. "Fred and George secretly arranged to go back with you lot, that's outrageous!"

Truth be told, Ron Weasley was also wildly curious about all the strange and novel things in the Muggle world. The moment word spread that the Weasley twins were tagging along to study that project replacing electricity with magic energy, the itch had taken hold, the strong urge to go too.

But Harry and Hermione Granger weren't planning to go. Harry had only just reunited with parents and family; of course some proper time together was in order after the war ended. And Hermione Granger had erased all of their parents' memories of Hermione before the war, now there was an urgent need to get back and restore those memories.

With neither close friend going, and the certainty of being mercilessly teased by the twins if going alone, Ron Weasley had no choice but to reluctantly set the idea aside.

Seeing the look of indignant frustration on Ron Weasley's face, even Peter Parker's resentment about the approaching start of term faded considerably. Slinging an arm around Ron Weasley's shoulder like old friends, Peter Parker shot a wink across.

"Same goes for you, come find us any time. We promise a full welcoming lineup!"

The two reached an instant understanding and stood shoulder to shoulder, grinning happily.

Watching the scene, Tony Stark couldn't help but let a warm, fatherly smile spread across the face.

Natasha Romanoff was quiet for a moment. "So Tony Stark really is raising Peter Parker as a child, isn't that right."

Steve Rogers: "...Mm."

...

Elsewhere, Harry quietly sought out Draco Malfoy, who was standing alone in a corner, eyes downcast, lost in some private thought.

Harry held out the hawthorn wand that belonged to Draco Malfoy. "I think I still owe your mother a thank-you."

"What?" Draco Malfoy took the wand. Perhaps because the two of them had almost never stood together this civilly, the expression was confused, and noticeably awkward.

"If Narcissa Malfoy hadn't lied to Lord Voldemort and said I was dead, I might truly have died in the Forbidden Forest."

At those words, Harry pressed the lips together with a flicker of lingering fear.

If the one who came to check had not been Narcissa Malfoy, or if Narcissa Malfoy had told the truth and said there was no death, then even with the protection Loki had left behind, surviving would likely have been impossible.

Lord Voldemort had been defeated by a mother's love yet again.

Draco Malfoy hadn't known any of this had happened. After hearing the explanation, there was only silence.

Perhaps it was the relief of finally having a longtime enemy dealt with, Harry's heart felt infinitely lighter. That, combined with the genuine shift Draco Malfoy's recent behavior had brought about, meant Harry had actually developed an inclination to linger a little longer in conversation.

"Come to think of it, Malfoy — why were you always targeting me?"

The first encounter with Draco Malfoy at Madam Malkin's hadn't gone particularly well, and the conclusion had been firm that this was a child as spoiled by parents as Dudley Dursley. But that had only produced a desire to keep a respectful distance, no intention of targeting Draco Malfoy in return.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, whether at Madam Malkin's or on the Hogwarts Express, had always been the one to come over first, either bragging or mocking Harry's friends. After the handshake was refused, the contempt for Harry's trio had been worn completely openly. That was what had set the two of them on a course of immediate hostility every time they met.

Draco Malfoy stared back in flat disbelief. "You were clearly the one who refused to be friends with me first, alright?"

Though befriending the Chosen One had been a task assigned by Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy had grown up on stories of the Chosen One, and had genuinely looked forward to the idea of being friends with Harry.

Being snapped at left Harry genuinely bewildered. It hadn't occurred to anyone that this was actually the reason behind years of mutual animosity.

"But you were the one who insulted Ron Weasley first." He had been the first wizard friend, even though Draco Malfoy was the first wizard encountered. Draco Malfoy had come straight in mocking Ron Weasley, so how could anyone be friends with someone who treated friends that way.

Draco Malfoy shot back with a look caught between grievance and irritation. "That red-headed Weasley mocked me first!"

That one had burst out laughing right after the self-introduction. A young Malfoy, thoroughly spoiled from birth, was hardly going to take that quietly. Firing back had been the only option.

"That..." Harry thought it over carefully, and only then felt a small pang of guilt.

Come to think of it... hadn't it actually been like that?

"Sorry." The head was scratched; the expression went a little awkward. But the words came quietly all the same. "I apologize to you on Ron Weasley's behalf."

Harry made a quiet internal resolution to tell Ron Weasley all of this once back, because thinking about it now, compared to Lord Voldemort, those old quarrels seemed far too petty.

And Draco Malfoy was now on the same side, more or less. If the friction could be cleared up, so much the better.

This too was something Steve Rogers had passed along: there are no permanent enemies in this world, and no permanent friends, only permanent interests.

Looking at things now, that had been exactly the right lesson to take.

➤ Next: Legacy

Chapter 84 - Legacy

Draco Malfoy closed his mouth. He clearly hadn't expected the apology to come out so cleanly, staring for a long moment, then finally muttering something under his breath.

Harry barely caught it. Staring at Draco Malfoy in disbelief. "What did you just say?!"

Was that a hallucination? Had Malfoy just, apologized?

"Did Lord Voldemort deafen you, Potter?!"

Already mortified about apologizing in the first place, pushed over the edge by Harry's incredulous questioning, Draco Malfoy yelled it straight out, shame and fury in equal measure.

Getting shouted at was apparently what it took. Harry finally confirmed the apology hadn't been imagined, stunned completely speechless. Draco Malfoy had already snapped his mouth shut in irritation. The two of them stood there facing each other in silence.

"All right, ahem..." Harry scratched at the messy hair, tugged at the clothes awkwardly, and after another long beat reached out a hand, speaking at the same time.

"In that case, let's start over."

"My name is Harry. Harry Potter."

Draco Malfoy looked over in surprise. Harry held the gesture steady, not blinking, watching Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy was astonished to find actual sincerity in those green eyes.

A beat passed. Then the other hand slowly reached out and gripped back, the voice low and unhurried,

"My name is Draco. Draco Malfoy."

...

The Avengers were getting ready to head home.

The Quidditch Pitch happened to be wide open, so Tony Stark simply parked the aircraft there. The casual wealth of it, the total lack of ceremony, it left the assembled wizards staring.

"Once things settle down here, we'll come visit!"

"We'll be ready for you — proper hospitality, guaranteed!"

"You two behave yourselves over there. Don't cause trouble for Tony Stark. Understood?"

"Yes, Mum!"

Amid the reluctant looks from Harry and the others, and the awed gasps from the rest of the wizards, the Avengers boarded the aircraft and flew back to New York.

"Ahh — now that's more like it."

Yang Luoluo sank into the soft sofa, lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the bright overhead lights, and accepted another grape from Loki. She let out a long, satisfied exhale.

The wizarding world had been genuinely fascinating. But it had to be said, compared to the modern world, the wizarding world was remarkably behind the times. Candles and oil lamps every single day. Yang Luoluo was fairly sure her eyesight had actually gotten worse.

"This is so cool!"

"Way more interesting than all that junk Dad drags home!"

The rest of the Avengers lounged around in various states of exhaustion, but the Weasley twins were everywhere at once, bouncing, poking at things, endlessly curious, Molly Weasley's parting warnings already completely forgotten.

"Ah, youth." Natasha Romanoff said, with a sigh.

Tony Stark propped both feet on the coffee table and yawned. "Anyone up for dinner? I think a new barbecue place opened up nearby."

It had become a tradition somewhere along the way, after every major mission, Tony Stark organized a group meal. Officially it was about team bonding. Everyone knew the truth: Tony Stark was just hungry.

The room filled with agreement. Everyone except Bruce Banner, who looked uneasy, turning something over before speaking up.

"Uh, Tony, I think I might have to sit this one out. You know — that idea I've been considering..."

Tony Stark's expression shifted into understanding, the easy smile fading. "...Professor Hulk?"

Bruce Banner nodded.

Honestly, after watching the films Peter Parker had brought back, the footage of a version of Bruce Banner choosing to become Professor Hulk had shaken something loose. Bruce Banner didn't understand why that version would willingly merge with Hulk, become that kind of... thing.

But after the wizarding world, after seeing creatures of every strange and impossible shape moving through the world like it was perfectly normal, the thinking had shifted. So what if one got bigger, stronger, greener? If it meant combining strength and intellect into one, if it meant being genuinely more useful to the team, then maybe Bruce Banner was willing.

It would just take some time. A real conversation with Hulk.

The others listened and understood. The easy mood in the cabin went quiet.

The Weasley twins didn't follow what was being said, but read the room well enough to go still.

Yang Luoluo glanced between Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. The brain was pleasantly sluggish from the long trip home, and it took a moment to catch up. "Professor Hulk? Hmm... actually, Banner, could you hold off for a bit? I think I might have something..."

Every eye in the cabin turned to her at once.

"You have something?" Tony Stark asked, already surprised, and then Loki's voice cut straight over, the corner of his mouth pulling. "Don't tell me your abilities leveled up again."

Yang Luoluo laughed, a little sheepish. Her eyes slid sideways.

"I only just remembered..."

Earlier, after Bellatrix Lestrange's group had grabbed her and dragged her off, Yang Luoluo had blacked out the moment she'd seen Loki and the others arrive.

She'd had a dream.

In it, a woman of extraordinary grace sat beside a stream, long ink-black hair spilling across the ground. What stopped Yang Luoluo cold was the lower half of the woman's body, not legs, but an enormous white serpent's tail, its scales threaded with slow-moving lines of gold light.

A thin mist veiled the woman's face. Yang Luoluo couldn't make out the features, but felt, inexplicably, immediately, a deep and wordless sense of familiarity.

The woman with the human torso and serpent's tail reached down and gently lifted a lump of yellow clay from the bank. The hands worked it with practiced ease, just a few turns, and a human shape appeared.

The woman set the clay figure down and reached for another piece of clay. The figure left on the ground shuddered, arms and legs twitching, and then, it breathed. It stood. A dark-haired, golden-skinned person, suddenly real, suddenly running, spinning in joyful circles.

The woman's hands never stopped. Clay figures came to life one after another, all of them chattering, all of them calling out in a language Yang Luoluo had never heard, and yet understood completely.

They were calling out: "Mother."

After a long while, perhaps tired, the woman clapped both palms softly together, brushing off the last traces of clay. Then turned.

Turned toward Yang Luoluo.

Lips moved without sound.

Yang Luoluo read them.

Child.

The word didn't surprise her. Of course it didn't. This was their creation deity, after all.

"Why..." The sacred warmth settled around Yang Luoluo like something she'd always known, and she felt calm, but curious. "Why me? Nuwa..."

Why did she have the power to bring people back? Why could she heal? Why had Nuwa chosen to give these gifts to her?

The mist still hid the expression, but Yang Luoluo could feel that the woman was smiling.

Then a warm fingertip pressed gently to her forehead. Something poured in, scattered and vivid, a rush of impressions, and a soft voice spoke close to her ear.

"Destiny."

Yang Luoluo blinked. "Is there something I'm supposed to do?"

Another smile. "Follow your heart."

Before Yang Luoluo could press further, a powerful pull seized her from behind. In the last second before the vision blurred out completely, she caught a glimpse of the woman raising a hand in farewell, something almost playful in the gesture.

The next second, she woke up.

"...So you just walked into a pottery shop, pinched a vase out of clay, and now you can resurrect people?!"

The disbelief in the room was loud enough to rattle the walls. Yang Luoluo nodded, embarrassed.

According to what Nuwa had poured into her mind: a fragment of divine legacy had, by some cosmic accident, merged into a particular lump of yellow clay. That clay had traveled through various hands over time until it ended up in a small pottery shop. Yang Luoluo had wandered in that day on a whim, picked up that exact lump of clay, and spent an afternoon pinching an extremely ugly vase, at which point the legacy had quietly made itself at home in her.

That vase was still sitting on the table back home.

"God." Tony Stark pressed two fingers to the forehead and rubbed. "That's really... something."

Loki stared at Yang Luoluo with an unreadable expression, as if trying to see through her and measure the sheer depth of her luck. After a long moment, gave up and reached over to ruffle her hair. "...Not bad."

Even the God of Mischief was at a loss for words.

"So what's this method of yours, exactly?" Peter Parker crowded in with open curiosity. Bruce Banner, very invested in the answer, quietly perked up.

Yang Luoluo scanned the room and let her gaze settle on the Weasley twins. "I might... need to try it on someone first."

Both twins felt the collective attention land on them before they'd processed what that meant. A chill went down their spines. They took a step back in unison and grabbed each other.

...

"You're seriously going to smear that mud on my face?" George stared at the small lump of clay in Yang Luoluo's hand, looking deeply opposed to the idea. Fred stood beside George with an equally crinkled expression, as if it weren't clay at all but a live slug.

"Not on your face. Relax, it'll be fine." Yang Luoluo smiled and held it up, then pressed the clay firmly against the left side of George's face. A few drops ran down and splattered a small brown mark on the floor.

"Oh — that is disgusting!" George tried to pull away, but Loki, catching Yang Luoluo's look, grabbed hold and kept George perfectly still.

"Don't move, don't move!" Yang Luoluo called out, one hand braced against George's head, the other already gathering white light around the clay. "If it goes crooked that's on you!"

Crooked. What goes crooked?

Something clicked in Fred's mind. Eyes going wide, leaning in as close as possible to see.

Yang Luoluo kept shifting her gaze between Fred and the glowing patch of light, expression so focused and serious that the whole room went silent without anyone deciding to.

Then Yang Luoluo exhaled, a slow, full breath, and lowered both hands. The white light dissolved.

Everyone looked.

There, where the clay had been, was a brand-new ear. Fresh. Pale. Whole.

➤ Next: Hulk (1) — The Conversation