After hesitating for a while, Steve finally chose to speak up and cut through Tony and Loki's relentless back-and-forth.

"Uh... look, Tony, it's not that we're unhappy about it, it's just—" Steve's expression was visibly pained.

"Don't you think it's a little... awkward?"

A postwar memorial museum was one thing. Endgame was a battle worth recording in the history books, and even if Tony hadn't built this one, someone else would have eventually, Tony had said so himself. But statues? Actual statues? The perpetually low-key Captain America could not wrap his head around that part.

Tony looked genuinely baffled. "Why would it be awkward?"

Tony could plaster the Stark name across the tallest building in New York without blinking. Even without the Iron Man suit, Tony was extravagant to the bone. From Tony's perspective, putting up statues of the Avengers was about as notable as ordering takeout.

And Loki, standing right there on Tony's side of the argument, was somehow even worse. Loki was every bit as self-aggrandizing. A few years back, when Loki had banished Odin to Earth, taken on his face, and crowned himself king, Loki had commissioned a solid gold statue of himself, several dozen meters tall, and planted it right in the middle of Asgard.

Steve remembered that all at once and went quiet.

Looking at Steve's speechless expression, Tony's mood actually improved. Tony clapped once and spoke with the gravity of someone delivering hard-won wisdom.

"Alright, Cap. Look on the bright side."

"Think about how Mysterio came after Peter, came after all of us. You can shrug it off if you want — but a good reputation? That's not optional for us. It's everything."

"Trust me. Opening now is exactly the right call."

The smear campaign had been exposed, all of it traced back to Mysterio's crew. And riding the wave of public guilt, the Avengers' image had recovered dramatically after getting dragged through the mud online.

But Tony knew how long that kind of goodwill actually lasted. Guilt-fueled adulation burns bright and dies fast. And even now, there were still people online working overtime to tear the Avengers down.

Whose interests those people were serving, Tony already had a pretty good guess.

So call it calculated, call it scheming, it didn't matter. Tony needed to fix the Avengers' reputation before that wave crashed. When ordinary people thought of them, the first word that came to mind had to be justice, not controversy.

A memorial museum, one that put the public directly on the battlefield, let them feel what that war actually cost, was the best way to make that happen.

Steve wasn't a PR strategist and didn't pretend to be. But Steve could read people, and what Steve saw in Tony's expression made one thing clear: there was a real purpose behind all of this. So Steve nodded.

"I trust you, Tony."

Tony nodded back, satisfied, and then Tony's gaze slid, almost involuntarily, past Steve's shoulder.

"...So could you maybe put the shield down?"

"Oh! Right!"

Steve had come in fully convinced Tony had done something reckless behind everyone's backs. The shield had come up fast. Now, nudged by Tony's pointed look, Steve quickly lowered it with a sheepish flush. Not far away, Natasha calmly tucked the gun back into the holster as though nothing had happened.

"Honestly — do I look like someone who goes behind your backs and stirs up trouble?!" Tony demanded.

Everyone nodded at once.

Tony:...

Yang Luoluo couldn't hold it in. She laughed. Then Tony's glare landed on her and she slapped both hands over her mouth, blinking with the most exaggerated picture of innocence she could manage. Tony stared at her for a second and then had to fight down a smile himself.

"Alright. The museum opens in a couple of days, everyone goes together. There'll probably be a fair amount of press there, so think about what you want to say beforehand..."

Tony wrapped up with a few more reminders, then turned around.

And found himself looking directly into several pairs of wide, eager, shining eyes. Harry and the other young wizards were watching Tony with barely contained hope.

Tony's mouth curved. Something a little wicked settled in behind the smile, and Tony let them hang in that hopeful silence for just a beat longer before speaking.

"As for you lot... I ran the numbers. The museum opens while you're still in school." Tony spread both hands in a helpless shrug. "Guess you'll have to wait for the holidays."

The wizards crumpled. One by one they collapsed onto the table like their strings had been cut, faces slack with despair.

Tony walked away grinning.

Teasing kids never got old.

...

"I never really noticed before, but now that everyone's gone, this compound is genuinely unsettling when it's this empty."

Ron shook his head.

Everyone had left for the island two days ago. The compound had been handed over to a handful of miserable, school-bound kids who were stuck behind. The food wasn't bad, exactly, but the silence was almost oppressive, so they'd started making the trip to Peter's place every day to mooch meals off Aunt May.

The cooking was questionable. The noise made it worth it.

Peter was slumped face-down on the table with the specific energy of someone experiencing a minor but personal tragedy.

The memorial museum news had come from Harry and the others before the internet buried everyone in promotional coverage. By this point, Peter couldn't have missed it if he'd tried.

Peter really, really wanted to go.

CRASH!

Peter shut his eyes. Took a slow breath. Turned his head the other way and decided, firmly, that the noise had not happened, the vibration in the table had not happened, none of it had happened.

Don't rise to it. Don't rise to it. Don't rise to it.

But the other person wasn't done. A phone materialized directly in front of Peter's face, and then came the voice, the one that could reliably make Peter's teeth itch.

"See this, Parker? I had to go through a ton of people and drop serious cash to lock down a spot at the Endgame Memorial Museum. Bet a broke loser like you doesn't have one. Ha!"

"Okay, sure, the visit date falls on a school day. Not a problem. I'll just have my mom call me in sick."

"And hey, maybe I'll actually run into Spider-Man or Iron Man while I'm there. If I do? I am absolutely exposing every single lie you've told right to their faces."

"You seriously have the nerve to go around telling people you're a Stark Industries intern. That you're friends with Spider-Man. Keep dreaming, Parker. Your little streak of good luck is just about, "

"Quiet! Everyone back to your seats! I have an important announcement."

Mr. Harrington strode in wearing a very serious expression, and Flash Thompson's monologue died mid-sentence.

Flash shot Peter one more glare before dropping back into the seat.

Peter straightened up, quietly relieved, and did his best to ignore the heat of that stare still burning into the side of his face. Focus. Mr. Harrington. Podium.

Right. Spider-Man running into Flash at the museum. Spider-Man, who had class in approximately forty minutes and zero time for field trips.

Peter kept that thought to himself.

Ron leaned in from the next seat, voice dropped low, grin fully audible.

"Okay but genuinely, mate, the amount of attention that guy gives you? I'm starting to think it's a crush."

Quiet laughter drifted over from Harry and Draco Malfoy's direction. Peter went cold from the neck down. The only thing keeping Peter from turning to argue with Ron was Mr. Harrington standing three meters away.

"Quiet! Quiet!"

Two hard slaps on the desk. The classroom settled. Everyone went still, twenty-odd pairs of eyes fixed on the teacher, waiting for the important announcement.

"Ahem." Mr. Harrington surveyed the room with the satisfaction of someone who had finally achieved order. "Class, I have a piece of news for you that I guarantee none of you saw coming. As I'm sure you all know, the Endgame Memorial Museum officially opened just a few days ago, and I imagine quite a few of you have been wanting to visit..."

Mr. Harrington's voice washed over Peter in a warm, soporific tide. Peter had done patrol until well past midnight. Then homework. Then less than four hours of unconsciousness before the alarm. Peter had been planning to use the break period to close both eyes for ten minutes.

Then Flash had happened.

Peter was running on fumes and spite.

His head dipped. His vision softened at the edges. The world started going distant and pleasant,

The classroom exploded.

The cheer hit like a physical thing, loud enough that Peter's reflexes fired before his brain could override them. Peter was half out of the seat before remembering where things were.

If it had been anywhere else, Peter would have been on the ceiling.

Every student in the room was on their feet, cheering, faces lit up like it was the last day of school. The noise was spectacular. Mr. Harrington didn't even try to stop it, just stood at the front, smiling.

"What — what happened?"

Peter blinked the blur away and grabbed Ron's arm.

Ron's expression was somewhere between stunned and short-circuited. Ron swallowed once. Then, slowly, under the weight of Peter's stare, managed to get the words out.

"The teacher just said... our class was selected to visit the museum. Full expenses covered by Stark Industries..."

"...What?!"

➤ Next: Visiting the Memorial Museum (2)

Chapter 150 - Visiting the Memorial Museum (2)

Peter let out a disbelieving shout, fortunately, every single person in the classroom was already losing their minds, so the sound got swallowed right up without anyone noticing.

By then, Ron had caught on too. Eyes going wide, excitement flashing across his face, Ron threw himself into the cheering with zero hesitation and absolutely no apparent intention of explaining anything to Peter.

Left with no options, Peter turned a desperate look toward Hermione. Hermione had to be more reliable than Ron, right?

As it turned out, Hermione was indeed more reliable than Ron.

Catching Peter's look, Hermione quickly reined in the excitement on her face and put on the usual composed expression, unaware that two bright patches of red were still sitting square on those cheeks, giving everything away.

Hermione smoothed her hair and began explaining to Peter with carefully performed calm.

"The teacher just said..."

...

"Students, according to rough estimates, tens of millions — perhaps even hundreds of millions — of people want to visit the Endgame Memorial Museum. But only 1,000 spots open each day..."

Mr. Harrington kept going, face flushed red, joy visible to anyone with eyes.

Flash Thompson had been listening for a while now with still no good news in sight, and couldn't hold back any longer. One hand shot up, half curious, half showing off.

"Sir, so what exactly is this good news? Also, personally, I don't think the spots are as hard to get as you're making them sound. I grabbed one pretty easily, just casually..."

Chin lifted, eyes practically glowing, Flash Thompson was nonetheless working hard to keep the corners of that mouth from curling up. Waiting for the envious muttering to ripple through the class.

But what cut through first wasn't the muttering.

It was Mr. Harrington.

"Flash Thompson, if I were you, I'd go find whoever bought that ticket and get my refund right now."

Mr. Harrington had caught Flash Thompson's little speech the moment he stepped through the door. Now he looked at Flash Thompson with something close to pity. Flash Thompson blinked. The pride on that face slowly, visibly, dissolved into confusion.

"Ah, w-why?" Flash Thompson asked.

That question was apparently all Mr. Harrington needed. A throat was cleared with great ceremony, as though what was about to be said concerned matters of national consequence. The flush crept down to the neck.

"The good news is, "

Then he stopped. Eyes swept the room with theatrical suspense, lingering on each face until the anxious anticipation was satisfying enough.

", out of every school in the entire country, Stark Industries has chosen our class to visit the Endgame Memorial Museum. All expenses fully covered by Stark Industries!"

Dead silence.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

BOOM!

The classroom detonated. Everyone's face flushed with stunned, electric joy, and they let loose cheering so loud it nearly sent a bewildered Peter straight through the ceiling.

Peter: "..."

By the time Hermione managed to fill Peter in on everything, there was no time to process the shock, Mr. Harrington was already calling for order from the front.

"All right, all right, settle down. A few more things before we're done."

A few taps on the desk. The noise gradually died.

"The visit will be this Friday and Saturday. Friday morning, 8 o'clock sharp at school, we take the school bus to Stark Industries and board a private plane from there. Return trip is Saturday afternoon at 3."

"Since this trip covers some distance, I'll be handing out permission slips shortly. Take them home, get a parent or guardian signature, and bring them back tomorrow."

Hearing that, Harry's expression flickered. By rights, their parents were still back in Britain, and it had been Tony Stark who arranged for them to come as transfer students.

Were they supposed to get Tony Stark to sign the forms?

The chairman of Stark Industries personally signing off to approve their participation in a tour that Stark Industries itself was hosting. That was... a little strange, wasn't it?

Peter had clearly arrived at the same thought. The two exchanged a look, faces identically exasperated.

"Maybe ask the teacher afterward, see if Aunt May can sign for you."

"That's probably our only option." Harry nodded.

Both of them turned back to the front. Mr. Harrington was still going strong.

"This trip represents Midtown High School, which means every single thing you do reflects on Midtown High School's reputation. Bear that in mind at all times."

"And—" a brief, meaningful pause, gaze drifting casually over Peter, ", there's a good chance you'll encounter the Avengers during this visit. I would ask that... everyone please be mindful of their words, and refrain from saying things that shouldn't be said."

From somewhere behind him, a quiet snicker.

Peter pressed his lips together and lowered his head.

Mr. Harrington hadn't named anyone. But Peter knew. The finger was pointing at Peter.

As a member of the Avengers, Spider-Man had training to keep up with, but as an ordinary high school student, Peter Parker didn't exactly have an abundance of free time to work with. So Tony Stark had sorted the problem out directly: an official Stark Industries internship certificate, which let Peter take legitimate leaves of absence to go to the compound for training.

Everything had been fine. Right up until the day Peter accidentally let it slip in front of Flash Thompson that Peter was a Stark Industries intern. After that, Flash Thompson had dedicated every single day, every available moment, to mocking Peter for delusions of grandeur and outright lies.

Then Ned Leeds had stepped in to defend Peter by announcing that Peter was good friends with Spider-Man, which only made things worse. Flash Thompson had gone after both of them even harder, spreading Peter's "lies" all over school. Even Mr. Harrington had ended up half-believing it.

Still, Peter's grades were excellent. Mr. Harrington wasn't going to come down hard on a student that promising. So this was the compromise: a subtle hint, slipped in while the opportunity was there.

Peter slumped forward onto the desk. Grievance welled up, quiet and heavy. The mop of brown curls went slack against the arms. By the time Mr. Harrington walked out of the classroom, Peter hadn't even noticed.

Harry watched Peter for a moment, then slumped down in the same way and kept the voice low. "Peter, try to look on the bright side. What if we run into Tony Stark during the tour? Then everyone will see you weren't making anything up."

A careful glance at Flash Thompson, head bent over a phone, apparently working on a scalper refund. Good. No trouble incoming.

Peter had buried half that face in both arms. A long beat passed before a muffled voice came out.

"...Better not. What if Flash Thompson says something out of line right in front of Tony Stark... Tony Stark's temper isn't exactly what I'd call gentle."

Harry let out a sigh. Yeah. That was a fair point.

...Maybe just find time to throw a sack over Flash Thompson and deal with it that way.

Ron hadn't noticed any of this. Ron was furiously hammering away at a phone with righteous indignation written all over that face. Harry felt the pocket start buzzing, and keep buzzing, pulled out the phone, and found a wall of messages already waiting in their group chat.

[Ron Weasley: I genuinely cannot believe it, Mr. Harrington actually bought Flash Thompson's nonsense?!]

[Hermione Granger: Ugh, I already have a headache just thinking about having to tour the Endgame Memorial Museum with Flash Thompson in a couple of days.]

[Draco Malfoy: Unbearable. So when exactly are we throwing a sack over his head?]

[Yang Luoluo:?]

[Yang Luoluo: What tour? You're all visiting the Endgame Memorial Museum? Don't tell me it's the one Tony Stark just finished building.]

[golden snitch: That's the one. Mr. Harrington said our class got chosen by Stark Industries, full visit, all expenses covered!]

[Ron Weasley: Bet you didn't see that coming, we get to go to the Endgame Memorial Museum too!]

[Yang Luoluo: What are the odds. I have a feeling Tony Stark specifically picked your class...]

[Hermione Granger: Honestly, same. Out of every class in the entire country, how is it possibly a coincidence that ours got chosen?]

[Yang Luoluo: Anyway. Flash Thompson really does take every single chance to make Peter's life miserable.]

[Yang Luoluo: Don't worry about it though, we've been over at the Endgame Memorial Museum these past few days. I've already sorted it out with Wanda Maximoff and Pietro Maximoff. When the time comes, we are absolutely getting Peter's payback.]

Harry tucked the phone away, satisfied.

Suddenly, the tour couldn't come fast enough.

➤ Next: Heading to the Memorial Museum