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85 The Dark Elves
🕑 Added 2025-04-28 18:15:00 +0000 UTCHarry and the gang were having their regular breakfast in Asgard when the morning peace was shattered by the distant sound of blaring alarms. Harry, Natasha, Thor, and Jane barely exchanged glances before springing into action. Thor led the way, Natasha and Harry flanked him, while Jane hurried behind, struggling to keep up with their pace.The corridors of the palace were swarming with Einherjar soldiers.
As they neared the throne room, the commotion intensified. The massive golden doors of the throne room were wide open, and in the center of it all, Odin stood with his spear pulsing faintly with power in his grip. “Send a squadron to the weapons vault!” Odin barked, his eye narrowing as he turned to one of his captains. “Defend it at all costs. Seal the dungeon!”
Einherjar warriors saluted sharply before peeling away.
"Father," Thor interrupted as he and the others rushed toward Odin. Frigga had arrived as well, concern evident in her normally composed features.
Odin turned his lone eye toward the new arrivals, "Frigga. Thor," he acknowledged curtly before shifting his attention back to the Einherjar guards.
"Go!" he commanded. The remaining warriors saluted and immediately dispersed, their heavy boots echoing against the polished floors as they moved to secure the palace.
Odin then turned back to Thor, his gaze hardening. "Thor, secure the dungeons. Ensure that Loki does not escape."
Thor hesitated, his grip tightening around Mjolnir. His eyes flickered toward Jane briefly but enough for Odin to notice.
Before Thor could voice his concerns, Frigga placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Go," she said softly. "I will look after her."
Thor searched her eyes and, after a beat, gave a resolute nod. Without another word, he whirled Mjolnir in a tight arc and took off.
Odin’s expression barely shifted, but Harry caught the subtle clench of his jaw. But Odin said nothing. Instead, he exhaled sharply, turning away as if brushing off the thought.
Odin then turned his attention back to Frigga. "It’s a skirmish," he explained. "Nothing to fear."
Frigga’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "You’ve never been a very good liar, my king."
Odin exhaled through his nose, but the barest flicker of amusement crossed his face. He didn’t argue. There was no point in trying to deceive a woman who had known him for centuries. Instead, he pressed on.
"Take her to your chambers," he instructed, nodding toward Jane. His tone brooked no room for debate. "I will come for you when it is safe."
Frigga held his gaze, searching for something in his weary but resolute expression. "You take care," she murmured.
Odin’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile crossing his weathered face. "Despite all I have survived, my queen still worries over me."
Frigga stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on his arm. "It’s only because I worry over you that you have survived."
For a fleeting moment, the weight of their long years together hung between them. Countless battles fought, sacrifices made, victories won, and losses endured. Then, with a soft sigh, Frigga withdrew her hand and turned toward Jane and Natasha.
"Alright, you two, you know the drill. Follow me."
Jane nodded while Natasha, ever composed, gave a single, sharp nod and fell into step beside her.
Just before she moved, Natasha’s gaze flickered to Harry. In that glance was everything she didn’t need to say aloud: Stay alive. Don’t be reckless.
Harry, standing firm, met her eyes and gave a subtle nod. His lips barely moved, but she knew what he was saying back: You too.
No grand gestures, no parting words. Just the silent, unspoken understanding between the two.
With that, Frigga led the two women out of the throne room, disappearing down the corridor.
Once the ladies had left, Harry turned back towards Odin. "This isn’t just a skirmish, is it?"
Odin’s face darkened. "No. It is not."
"I do not like this." Harry stated.
Odin’s single eye flickered toward him with his unreadable expression. "Neither do I."
The weight of his words hung between them, but Odin did not elaborate. He didn’t need to. The king of Asgard had ruled for millennia, and in his mind, that experience alone meant he already understood the full scope of what was happening.
Before Harry could press further, the flutter of wings echoed through the throne room. A raven descended and perched on the All-Father’s shoulder. It tilted its head before leaning in to whisper something only Odin could hear.
Harry watched as Odin’s expression remained impassive, though the slight twitch of his jaw betrayed that he had just received some troubling news. The king inclined his head ever so slightly, acknowledging the message, before the raven gave a low caw and took off once more, vanishing into the high rafters of the palace.
Odin exhaled through his nose, then turned to Harry as if nothing had happened. "Go help Heimdall. We might have more visitors."
Harry frowned. "What kind of visitors?"
Odin did not answer.
Instead, he simply looked at Harry with that ageless, imperious gaze. The gaze of a ruler who had commanded entire civilizations long before Harry was born. To Odin, explanations were unnecessary. He spoke, and others obeyed. That was the way of things.
"Now," Odin added, his voice brooking no argument.
Harry clenched his jaw. He hated that Odin was clearly aware of more than he was letting on. The old king was withholding information, as always. But arguing now would waste precious time, and Asgard couldn’t afford that.
So, with a final glance at Odin, Harry turned on his heel and strode out of the throne room.
With a flick of his wrist, his battle robes shimmered into existence, draping over him like living shadows. The enchanted fabric settled into place. He took a steadying breath, then brought two fingers to his lips and let out a sharp, piercing whistle that echoed through the vast halls of the palace.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then, the air trembled.
A sudden gust of wind surged through the throne room, rustling banners and causing Odin’s own robes to stir. From beyond the golden spires of Asgard, an ethereal neigh rang out.
A flash of white streaked through the sky, and from the heavens itself, a magnificent Pegasus descended. Its powerful wings, vast and radiant, cut through the air like blades of light. Streaks of silver and gold shimmered across its pristine coat, its mane flowing like spun starlight. The great steed reared back just before reaching him, wings flaring wide, its front hooves striking the air.
Without hesitation, Harry stepped forward, reaching up to grasp the enchanted bridle. He swung himself onto its back. His grip tightened on the reins. "To the Bifröst," he commanded.
The Pegasus whinnied, then, with a single powerful leap, they shot forward.
Wind howled past Harry's ears as they rocketed through the air, the towering structures of Asgard blurring beneath them.
By the time Harry arrived at the Bifröst, Heimdall was already in motion.
The Gatekeeper of Asgard burst into a sprint with a speed and grace that defied human limits, he leaped onto one of the towering archways lining the bridge. Then he kicked off the arch with a force that sent him soaring through the air.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence.
Then—SHRIIIP!
Heimdall’s twin daggers slashed through the air, ripping through the unseen hull of the ship like it was paper. Sparks erupted from the gaping wound was Heimdall twisted the daggers, tearing the cloaking field apart.
The illusion shattered.
A monstrous, jagged-edged Dark Elf vessel shimmered into existence. But Heimdall wasn’t done. He flipped onto the deck, his golden eyes burning with battle fury. Before the enemy could react, he turned and hurled his great sword like a bolt of divine judgment.
SHUNK!
The blade buried itself deep into the ship’s engine.
The result was instantaneous. The ship’s propulsion whined in protest before exploding in a violent surge of energy. The vessel lurched uncontrollably, veering off course. Heimdall didn’t wait. He dashed forward, vaulting off the railing just as the warship lost altitude.
With a deafening CRASH, the vessel slammed into the sea below, sending a towering wave cascading outward. And yet Heimdall landed back onto the bridge in a crouch, completely unscathed.
His sword materialized in his hand, as though answering its master’s call. Rising to his feet, he turned his golden gaze toward Harry.
A silent nod of acknowledgment passed between them. But the moment was fleeting.
A deep, unnatural hum filled the air.
Both of them turned toward the horizon, toward the entrance of the Bifröst Bridge, just as space itself shimmered unnaturally. It was as if reality was being peeled back, revealing something lurking beneath. Then, like a wound tearing open in the sky, a colossal warship began to materialize.
The vessel was massive, easily dwarfing the ship Heimdall had just taken down. Its jagged black hull was a grotesque fusion of metal and dark energy, its surface shifting with eerie, pulsing red veins. Unlike Asgard’s golden, regal architecture, this ship looked like a predator that had crawled out from the void between worlds.
And then came the swarm.
From its underbelly, smaller attack ships detached, screeching forward like a horde of locusts descending upon a field. Their engines howled as they spiraled in formation, ready to rain destruction upon the golden city below.
Explosions erupted across Asgard’s skyline as the ships opened fire, their dark energy cannons shredding through towers and walls. In the distance, alarm horns blared across the city as Asgard’s defenses scrambled into position. Without another word, Harry kicked his Pegasus forward, launching himself into the fray as the invasion of Asgard truly began.
Harry yanked the reins, urging the Pegasus into a steep climb. The wind howled past his ears as the beast responded instantly, its powerful wings cutting through the sky with breathtaking speed. His fingers flexed, and with a mere thought, the Elder Wand materialized in his grip. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with focus. There was no time for elaborate spellwork, no room for hesitation. This was about speed and precision.
He tightened his grip on both the wand and the reins, kicking the Pegasus into a breakneck pursuit of the enemy ships. They were fast, but Harry was faster.
With a flick of his wrist—BOMBARDA MAXIMA!
A searing bolt of magic shot from his wand, striking one of the dark vessels dead center. The ship detonated instantly, torn apart in a fiery explosion. Shards of twisted metal rained down, but Harry was already moving, banking hard to the right as another ship locked onto him.
He ducked low over the Pegasus’s back, urging it into a spiraling dive. The enemy fighter pursued, its weapons charging with dark energy. Just before it could fire, Harry jerked the reins, sending the Pegasus into a tight barrel roll around the pursuing ship.
Another flick—BOMBARDA MAXIMA!
The ship erupted behind him, the shockwave rattling his bones as he shot forward at full speed.
Through the chaos, Harry weaved between enemy fire, threading through gaps so narrow that a single misstep would have sent him plummeting. Two more tried to flank him. He twisted the Pegasus into a sudden upward climb, forcing them to adjust their trajectory. Before they could compensate, he pointed the Elder Wand over his shoulder—BOMBARDA MAXIMA!—taking out one.
The second enemy ship swerved violently, narrowly avoiding the wreckage of its fallen comrade. It broke off, trying to retreat, but Harry wasn’t letting anyone get away.
He dove, the Pegasus folding its wings for a split second before unfurling them again, sending them into an accelerated burst. The enemy ship’s pilot must have realized too late—it tried to evade, but Harry was already lined up.
BOMBARDA MAXIMA!
The explosion rocked the sky, embers trailing down like shooting stars.
Meanwhile, Asgardian energy cannons along the palace walls roared to life. Beams of pure energy shot skyward, striking at the dark elven ships. Some exploded in midair, while others spiraled out of control, crashing into the distant cliffs or the shimmering sea below. From the lower docks, Asgardian longships rose into the sky, their hulls defying gravity as they surged into battle providing Harry with support.
High above the palace, golden runes flared to life, forming an intricate web of energy as Asgard’s protective barrier began to rise. The shimmering dome of light expanded outward, casting a radiant glow over the palace as it neared completion.
Then—BOOM!
A deafening explosion tore through the palace, sending shockwaves rippling through Asgard. The very ground trembled as a column of fire and debris erupted from within the castle walls. The golden barrier flickered violently. With a sound like shattering glass, the dome faltered, then slowly began to recede, leaving the palace exposed.
Harry’s eyes snapped toward the source of the explosion, heart pounding. Before he could react though, three massive Dark Elven ships broke through the smoke, engines screaming as they hurtled toward the throne room. Their jagged, obsidian hulls cut through the air like predatory beasts closing in for the kill.
“NO!” Harry spurred his Pegasus forward, wand raised, but it was too late.
The first ship crashed through the grand golden archway of the throne room, tearing through the palace walls. The second followed immediately after, its impact sending an earth-shaking tremor through the kingdom. The third ship, slightly off-course, clipped one of the palace spires before plummeting straight into the heart of the throne room.
A colossal shockwave erupted from the impact, sending debris flying in all directions. Flames roared as the shattered remains of the palace groaned under the sudden destruction. Smoke and dust billowed into the sky, briefly obscuring the view before a howling wind from the sea swept it away, revealing the gaping wound left in the heart of Asgard.
Harry didn’t hesitate. He tightened his grip on his wand, eyes narrowing. He leaned forward, urging his Pegasus into a dive straight toward the throne room.
Smoke and fire churned into the sky as the aftermath of the crash still smoldered. The moment he neared the broken palace, the sounds of battle reached him. Metal clashing against metal, war cries and screams echoing through the great halls of Asgard.
The throne room was a warzone. The Einherjar clashed with the Dark Elves in brutal combat, golden armor flashing as blades met blackened weapons. Bodies littered the once-pristine marble floors, blood staining the golden pillars.
And at the center of it all stood Malekith.
Harry’s eyes locked onto the Dark Elf leader just as Malekith raised his hand. In his palm, a small, blackened sphere pulsed ominously. Malekith flung it toward the golden throne, and the instant it made contact—
BOOOOM!
The explosion swallowed the throne in an instant, warping space around it. The golden seat of Asgard’s rule disintegrated into nothingness, consumed by the abyss. The very air around the explosion twisted unnaturally, leaving behind a gaping void where the throne once stood.
Harry’s grip tightened on the reins, his rage boiling over. Without hesitation, he swapped the Elder Wand for his curved sword and launched himself off the Pegasus mid-air. He twisted as he descended, sword raised high, aiming straight for Malekith.
But before his strike could land—
A massive hand shot out from the side, intercepting his blade.
Harry barely had time to react as a hulking Kurse stepped into his path, its massive, armored form towering over him. The monster’s molten-red eyes gleamed with malevolent fury, and its thick, rune-etched armor shimmered with dark energy.
The Kurse barely flinched as Harry’s sword bit into its shoulder. The creature reached forward, grabbing Harry by the throat.
Harry barely had time to struggle before he was launched across the throne room. He crashed into a broken column, the impact sending cracks spider-webbing across the stone. Pain shot through his back, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself back onto his feet.
Through blurry vision, he saw Malekith watching, an eerie smirk on his face. The Dark Elf leader gave a short nod to the Kurse, then gestured toward his soldiers.
"Move forward," Malekith commanded. "Find the Aether."
The Dark Elves surged past Harry, heading straight into the palace.
Harry groaned as he pushed himself up from the rubble, rolling his shoulders to shake off the impact. Dust and debris clung to his battle robes, and he casually dusted them off as if the blow had been nothing more than an inconvenience. His emerald eyes locked onto Kurse’s molten-red ones, his grip tightening on his sword.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Harry lifted his curved blade, pointing it directly at the hulking beast before him. "Just you and me now," Harry said, his voice steady, unwavering.
Kurse let out a low, guttural growl. Then, without hesitation, the beast reached to his side and gripped a massive broken pillar. His fingers dug deep into the stone, and hoisted it over his head.
Harry barely had a moment to brace himself before Kurse hurled the massive chunk of stone straight at him. The sheer force of the throw sent cracks rippling through the ground beneath Kurse’s feet, the air howling as the pillar rocketed toward Harry like a battering ram.
But Harry didn’t move.
He exhaled sharply, adjusting his stance. The runes along his sword’s curved blade pulsed with an ethereal white glow.
As the pillar neared him, Harry twisted his grip and slashed.
A single stroke.
A flash of white light.
The pillar split cleanly in two.
The massive stone halves crashed down on either side of Harry, missing him entirely as he stood firm, sword still raised in his follow-through stance. Dust and debris billowed around him, but he remained untouched, eyes still locked onto Kurse.
The Kurse prowled forward, his burning eyes locked onto Harry like a predator assessing its prey. Then, he swung his massive fist like a warhammer.
Harry barely had time to react. He cast a protego silently, throwing up a shimmering magical barrier between them. But the Kurse’s strike shattered the shield easily, sending magical shards bursting into the air like broken glass. Instinctively, Harry parried the blow with his sword. But the sheer force of the blow sent a shockwave through Harry’s arm, rattling his grip on his sword. His muscles tensed, absorbing the impact, but the beast was relentless.
Another swing. Then another.
The Kurse attacked with a speed that defied his hulking frame, each strike coming with the force of a battering ram. Harry barely ducked under a vicious haymaker, the wind pressure alone ruffling his robes. He twisted to the side, dodging another brutal backhand, but the beast never relented.
Harry pivoted, trying to find an opening but Kurse gave him none.
Every strike forced him back. Every attempt to parry sent shockwaves up his arms. Harry gritted his teeth. Dodging wasn’t going to win him this fight. He needed to turn the tide fast.
With a flick of his fingers, Harry channeled his magic and cast Bombarda at Kurse’s feet. The ground beneath the hulking warrior erupted in a small explosion, sending dust and debris into the air. Kurse staggered, momentarily off-balance.
That was the opening Harry needed.
In a flash, he lunged forward, driving his curved sword deep into the Kurse’s abdomen. The enchanted blade sliced through armor and flesh with ease, the glowing runes searing against the monster’s darkened skin. But instead of a roar of pain or a sign of weakness the Kurse didn’t even flinch.
Harry’s eyes widened.
Kurse’s monstrous hand shot out, fingers closing around the sword’s hilt holding it in place.
Locked in a deadly struggle, Harry gritted his teeth and tried to pull the blade free, but the beast’s grip was unyielding. The runes on the sword burned brighter, crackling with power but Kurse remained unfazed, his fiery eyes gleaming.
The battle became a vicious contest of strength and sheer will. Harry gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands, pulling with every ounce of his strength, but the Kurse refused to let go. The blade, still lodged deep in the monster’s abdomen, was now the center of a brutal tug-of-war.
Frustrated, The Kurse took a more direct approach, he reared his head back and slammed it forward in a brutal headbutt.
CRACK!
The force sent a sharp jolt of pain through Harry’s skull. His vision momentarily blurred, his ears rang, but he didn’t let go. He clenched his teeth, refusing to yield an inch.
Kurse grunted in irritation and headbutted him again. And again. Each blow sent shockwaves of agony through Harry’s head, splitting his skin open. Blood trickled down the side of his face, dripping onto his battle robes. But Harry remained steadfast, his grip tightening on the hilt.
With a primal scream, Harry pulled on his sword with all his might, the runes on the blade glowing white-hot. Slowly, the enchanted steel cut through Kurse’s armored torso, slicing from his abdomen all the way up through his shoulder, cleaving straight through his monstrous heart in the process.
The Kurse let out a guttural, choking growl as the light in his red eyes flickered. His massive body trembled, his grip weakening. But Harry wasn’t about to take any chances.
In one fluid motion, he pivoted and brought his sword around in a deadly arc. The blade, still glowing with magic, sliced clean through Kurse’s thick neck.
The monstrous warrior’s head separated from his body, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. A moment later, the rest of him crumpled, the lifeless husk collapsing under its own weight.
Harry stood over the fallen Kurse, blood dripping from his sword, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. His head throbbed from the earlier blows, and his vision swayed for a moment. But he had won. He wiped the blood from his face, steadied his grip on his sword, and exhaled.
This was the state when Odin strode into the throne room. His lone eye swept across the battlefield, taking in the bodies of the fallen Einherjar, the wreckage of Dark Elven ships, and the corpse of the the Kurse lying at Harry’s feet.
Odin’s grip tightened on Gungnir, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of acknowledgment as he took in Harry’s bloodied form and the still-glowing runes of his sword.
But there was no time for words. No time for anything else.
Odin turned to Harry, his voice edged with urgency.
"Frigga."
Harry’s heart pounded.
Without hesitation, he wiped the remaining blood from his face, tightened his hold on his sword, and bolted toward Frigga’s chambers.
Comments
Dova
I see what you mean but it would be a very OP thing because of the venom or next to useless if it was destroyed like in canon after the horcruxes
Josh
You almost missed the perfect entrance for the Sword of Griffindor. Just because HP is not in his original universe, doesn't mean he's no longer a true Griffindor! Would the ancient magic's of the Goblin Swordsmiths be able to pierce the barrier between universes? It has much potential for a solid plot device, in keeping with the original authors world building and myths. For example, if the death stick can resurface between universes, why not the Sword of a true Griffindor when in need?
NoirXK
Whoo! Nice action! Hope Natasha can keep Frigga alive. Thanks for the chapter can’t wait for the next one!
