Friday.

Ron Weasley charged onto the bus first, buzzing with excitement, and claimed the entire back row for the group. He settled in beside Harry, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, and Ned Leeds, while Peter Parker and MJ took the two-seater row directly in front of them.

"Thank god Aunt May signed the forms for us. Otherwise we'd have been stuck watching Peter head off without us, and honestly, just thinking about that hurts."

Ron shifted the backpack from shoulders to lap, dug out several bags of snacks, and passed them around, the face of someone absolutely beside themselves with excitement, like a kid on the first day of a school field trip.

Peter took the snacks in a good mood, tore one open, and passed it to MJ.

The enthusiasm made complete sense. Hogwarts had nothing like this, no whole-house group trips, no organized outings. The only chance students ever got was a two-or-three-person jaunt to Hogsmeade, never an entire house traveling together. Ron's reaction was one hundred percent justified.

Harry nodded along vigorously, thoroughly in agreement.

Third year had been different. There had still been the looming threat of the "escaped convict Sirius Black" somewhere out in the dark, and Aunt Petunia's family had flatly refused to sign any permission slips. Harry had been left to watch everyone else leave and then perform a carefully practiced expression of not caring at all.

If it had been like that again this time, the misery would have lasted months.

Draco Malfoy was in a decent mood as well. A rare group outing, destination the long-awaited Endgame Memorial Museum, there was plenty to look forward to. Just as Draco opened his mouth to join the conversation, Flash Thompson came swaggering down the aisle toward them, wearing the most aggravating expression imaginable.

Draco Malfoy:...

His fists went hard. Quite hard.

"Hmph. Just you wait, Parker. If I get to see Iron Man or Spider-Man today, I am telling them everything — every last lie you've told — and everyone is going to find out exactly what a fame-chasing fake you really are!"

Flash dropped into the seat directly in front of Draco, satisfied with the position. Front-row view of Parker's face when the whole thing came crashing down. The mental image alone put Flash in an excellent mood.

Flash was happy. Draco was not.

Draco took a slow breath, crossed both arms, and reclined against the seatback with the unhurried posture of someone who had accidentally boarded a commoner's vehicle and was making the best of it, less school bus, more Malfoy family coach drawn by winged horses.

Then Draco stretched both legs forward and kicked the seat in front. Flash, who hadn't even finished sitting down, lurched sideways with a stumble. Flash whipped around, furious, and then saw Draco's face, and visibly swallowed every bit of that fury back down.

"...What?" Flash managed, sounding thoroughly put-upon.

It wasn't cowardice, exactly. It was just that Draco Malfoy looked, sounded, and carried himself like actual old money in a way that was difficult to argue with. And Flash had done some digging on the Malfoy name after they'd first crossed paths.

What Flash had found was surprising. The Malfoy family didn't hold a formal noble title in Britain, but the name Lucius Malfoy appeared among the business partners of a remarkable number of shops and enterprises. Flash had pulled up a photo. One look was enough: identical pale blond hair, identical grey-blue eyes, father and son like a copy-paste job.

The Malfoys, it turned out, were easily as wealthy as the Thompsons. Probably more so. Flash's parents had made the position clear: do not pick a fight with anyone carrying that surname.

Flash wasn't thrilled about it. But instructions were instructions. So even with Peter Parker walking side-by-side with Draco and the rest, Flash kept the targeting precise, Parker only, everyone else left alone.

Draco had no idea any of that was going on in Flash's head. And honestly, even knowing wouldn't have changed much, just earned a cold scoff.

Yes, the Malfoy family were pure-bloods. Yes, they fell firmly in the camp that looked down on Muggles. But none of that had ever stopped them from doing business with Muggles. How else did anyone think the family had built up a fortune that size?

Draco glanced at Flash, who had turned back around, and spoke without any particular lead-up.

"You go after Peter this relentlessly, do you have a crush on him?"

Flash exploded. Literally launched out of the seat, face going crimson from collar to hairline.

"Who would have a crush on that wimp Parker! I'm warning you, stop saying things like that. If you say it again I'll — I'll,"

Flash ran out of threat somewhere around the second "I'll" and just stayed there, stalled. Draco watched with one eyebrow raised. The people around them were desperately trying not to laugh. Peter's face looked like someone had made him eat something foul.

Flash, humiliated, stormed away from the back row and threw himself into a seat somewhere near the front.

The back row erupted.

Draco looked around at everyone with a perfectly smug expression, face practically broadcasting: well? go ahead and say it.

Peter listened to MJ trying very hard not to laugh right next to him, and felt utterly helpless. A quiet sigh. Then a turn toward Draco.

"Your heart was in the right place..."

Draco nodded.

"Don't do it again."

"?"

...

Aside from that little incident, the journey was genuinely wonderful.

The bus pulled up outside the airport. Mr. Harrington, leading the group, did a full headcount one more time, confirmed everything was in order, and herded the students inside.

A Stark Industries representative met them at the gate and walked them onto the chartered flight. For a lot of the students, this was a first, they moved through the cabin touching everything, curious about every detail, eyes going wide at all of it.

Peter Parker's group was conspicuously different. They boarded, found seats immediately, and navigated to the snacks and drinks with the practiced ease of people who had done this a hundred times. Which, in a sense, they had.

This plane was nearly identical to the aircraft they'd taken out to the island before, same layout, same feel. It practically counted as going home.

The flight was about two hours. Snacks, conversation, the time sliding past, and then somehow they were already there, the island rising up below them, the Endgame Memorial Museum waiting somewhere on it.

After landing, the group was walked over to the nearest hotel to drop off luggage, given a short rest, and then the real purpose of the trip began.

The island was packed. Tourists moved in thick streams in every direction, voices overlapping in a constant hum of wonder and admiration. Peter caught more than a few people singing the praises of Spider-Man, and felt the tips of both ears go warm without entirely meaning to.

Then, a moment later, Flash Thompson's voice rose above the crowd, joining in on the Spider-Man appreciation with the completely unearned confidence of a lifelong fan.

Peter:...

Completely numb.

"Bloody hell..."

They finally made it to the front of the Endgame Memorial Museum. Ron stared up at the tall white building and the words came out under his breath. Everyone nearby looked about the same, faces blank with disbelief.

Wait. Wasn't this the base? The one that had been destroyed?

They just... rebuilt it and turned it into the museum?

Flash recovered from the shock first, phone out in two seconds flat, camera swinging to frame both the selfie and the massive "A" of the Avengers logo mounted at the top of the building behind. Several rapid shots. A satisfied examination of the results. Phone away.

Then Flash turned, clocked the stunned expressions on Peter and the others, and laughed.

"Ha! I wasn't wrong calling you a bunch of country bumpkins!"

Completely forgetting that, thirty seconds ago, Flash had looked exactly the same.

Peter let the expression slide off his face and turned back to the group, choosing not to engage. It wasn't that Peter hadn't noticed the frantic selfie session. It just wasn't worth the argument.

Flash, ignored, only got angrier, but Mr. Harrington had already called for quiet, and there was nothing left to do but chew on the taunt that never made it out.

Just you wait. If we see the Avengers in there, you are going to regret this.

!

Then, a ripple of hushed, startled sounds from the students nearby.

Peter looked toward it.

The doors of the Endgame Memorial Museum swung open, and two figures no one had expected stepped through, walking slowly out to face the group.

Both eyes went wide.

➤ Next: Two Tour Guides

Chapter 152 - Two Tour Guides

The newcomers were one tall and one short, one male and one female, walking briskly toward the students.

When the students got a clear look at the man's face, fear spread across every one of them, and they instinctively stepped back,

After all, this was the mastermind behind the Battle of New York. The renowned God of Mischief. Probably not a single person in all of New York—or even the entire country, from the elderly to small children—didn't know that face.

Loki rolled his eyes in annoyance at the reaction, but said nothing sarcastic.

The girl beside him was wearing a white half-mask. She was a newly added member of the Avengers, but she'd been going on missions with the team often enough lately that the public had gotten used to her face.

Sure enough, a student recognized her almost immediately.

"It's the Healer!"

"Oh my god, are the Avengers actually giving us the tour?!"

"Having an Avenger as a tour guide—holy crap, that's way too extravagant..."

"I can't even imagine what kind of life the tourists before us had."

"..."

Listening to the students' jumbled chatter, the polite smile at the corner of Yang Luoluo's mouth stiffened for just a moment.

Long before the news broke that she was a new Avengers member, Tony had asked her to come up with a codename. After racking her brains for several days and coming up with nothing, Yang Luoluo had simply washed her hands of it and told Tony to write down whatever he wanted.

And so she received the codename "Healer", utterly unremarkable, yet efficient.

There was no helping it; the decision had been hers. Yang Luoluo swallowed her tears and accepted it. Loki had teased her about it for days afterward, only backing off after she stomped hard on his foot in fury.

Now, listening to the students' excited chatter, that familiar low chuckle reached Yang Luoluo's ears again. Her smile stayed warm and steady. Behind it, she was grinding her teeth.

You are so dead when we get back. Loki.

She shook it off and quietly winked at Peter and the others, who still hadn't fully come to their senses, then turned to address the group.

"First of all, welcome to the Endgame Memorial Museum. Loki and I will be in charge of your tour today and tomorrow."

Loki nodded, perfectly cooperative.

The museum had just opened, and to draw visitors in, the past few days had been extravagantly dedicated to having Avengers act as tour guides, one Avenger per day. Today was originally supposed to be Natasha's shift, but Yang Luoluo had specifically gone and swapped with Natasha so she could be here for Peter.

In the crowd, Ned noticed Yang Luoluo winking their way. Ned quietly leaned toward Peter and asked:

"Dude, what's the Healer's real identity? Can you tell me? I keep feeling like... I've seen this person somewhere before."

Ned frowned, racking their brain, but couldn't figure out where that nagging sense of familiarity came from. Beside Ned, MJ also seemed to be quietly turning something over in their mind.

Peter looked at the two of them helplessly.

They'd all hung out together several times. Yet neither Peter nor Yang Luoluo had ever mentioned her Avengers identity to them, saying it out loud always felt like showing off.

So Ned still thought of Yang Luoluo and the Healer as two completely different people. MJ too. MJ was a Blip survivor who had only met Yang Luoluo recently, so MJ had never made the connection.

Peter pulled the two aside and murmured something. A moment later, Yang Luoluo felt two stunned stares land on her from across the room.

She figured Peter had told them. She gave the two a friendly smile, then let her gaze drift, and settle for one quiet second on Flash Thompson.

So this is the one who's been bullying Peter. Just wait. I'm making you pay for it today.

She pushed down the irritation, curved her lips into a smile, and led the students into the museum. On the way in, just out of sight of the group, she sneaked a pinch at Loki's lower back.

Loki turned to look at her, genuinely incredulous. Clearly not wanting the students to catch it and ruin his cold, imposing image, he asked without a sound:

What are you doing?

Yang Luoluo raised her eyebrows at him, just as silently:

That's for laughing at me earlier.

Loki took the hit without a comeback and obediently shut his mouth. With nowhere else to put his irritation, he transferred it entirely onto Flash Thompson, who was completely oblivious and gazing around the entrance in excitement.

So you're the one bullying Spider-Kid, huh. You're finished.

Flash, who had just stepped through the doors and felt a sudden chill crawl down the spine for no reason, gave a small shudder and thought nothing of it, still marveling sincerely:

As expected of a Stark Industries memorial museum. The air conditioning is seriously impressive.

Everyone had expected something eye-opening the moment they walked in.

What they got was not quite what they expected.

The vast hall was filled with roaring artillery fire and billowing smoke. Ferocious alien creatures came stampeding toward them. The students who'd just stepped through the doors went deathly pale, half a second away from turning and running.

Tourists already inside the hall saw the reaction and laughed, conveniently forgetting they'd been just as pathetically terrified when they first walked in.

A kind-hearted tourist spoke up quickly. "Don't worry, it's all fake. See those drones up there?"

The tourist pointed toward the ceiling. The students choked down their panic and looked up, and noticed that above the massive, grotesque Leviathan warships, about a dozen drones were hovering, going steadily about their work.

"All of this is projected by the drones. Apparently it's based on what actually happened during the Endgame."

The tourist kept explaining. Even knowing the whole scene was fake, the students still couldn't help flinching a little as the alien creatures charged toward them.

At the back of the group, Yang Luoluo quietly eased the main doors shut, cutting off any chance of retreat. She grinned with satisfaction. She knew it would get them.

"You've been watching this for days now." Loki glanced over at her, voice exasperated. "Aren't you tired of it?"

Using drone projections to scare incoming tourists was an unspoken guilty pleasure that all the Avengers shared. Every day, the highlight was watching visitors tremble on their feet, on the verge of tears.

As for the projection technology itself, Tony had bought it from Mysterio, who was already in prison. Tony wasn't going to steal someone's tech. Legitimate channels only, of course.

Mysterio never actually saw the money, though. The moment it was transferred in, it was seized right back out again, compensation for destruction of public property and malicious defamation.

So after putting on that whole performance, Mysterio had walked away with nothing. No money. No technology. Just a very long prison sentence, largely of Mysterio's own making.

When the news got out, every single Avenger celebrated by eating several extra bowls of rice.

The hall display was just the appetizer, a tiny fragment of the full battle. Once the initial terror wore off, the students' attention started drifting. Yang Luoluo and Loki steered the group around a corner toward the next stop.

"You should have let me tell them what those monsters were," Loki said, still faintly disgruntled.

Yang Luoluo took a slow breath and rolled her eyes at him, keeping her voice low.

"So your plan was to stand in front of a group of minors and walk them through exactly how each of those monsters prefers to kill people, how many they've killed, and the specific details?"

Loki nodded with great satisfaction. "I guarantee no one knows more than I do."

After all, he had spent time under Thanos.

He had completely missed her point, and from the look on his face, he was genuinely considering doubling back to give the tourists the full rundown. Yang Luoluo clenched her fist, then let it go.

She should have known by now. An alien god and an ordinary person simply did not share the same thought process.

Without another word, she took Loki by the arm and walked him firmly toward the next stop, giving him zero opportunity to sneak back. Loki curled his lip and let it go.

"What do you think Luoluo's plan is?" Ron Weasley leaned in close to Harry, checking first that Peter was out of earshot.

They knew the goal, teach Flash Thompson a lesson for what Flash had been putting Peter through. The actual plan, though, they still had no idea.

Harry shook their head. "No idea. Let's find a chance to go ask her in a bit."

"I guess that's all we can do."

Ron Weasley sighed. Every insult that had ever come out of Flash Thompson's mouth aimed at Peter, Ron was done hearing them.

➤ Next: VR Experience Hall