Son of the Storm

To Asgard

"Are you ready?" Thor asked.

They were standing on the roof, because while Tony had objected volubly to the idea of an Asgardian sigil being permanently burned into any part of Avengers Tower, he'd been persuaded that the gravel could be sacrificed. And it looked badass, an argument which carried the day. Tony had surprising hidden depths, but he was still impulsive.

Harry gulped. "As ready as I'll ever be," he said nervously.

"Don't sweat it kid," Tony said casually. "We've all been invited. Apparently Odin having a newly rediscovered grandson means that all the A-List of the Nine Realms and beyond has been invited, which, naturally, includes Earth's Mightiest Heroes."

"You really like that title, don't you?" Clint said, raising an eyebrow.

"What can I say? I love the truth."

"Particularly when it makes you look badass."

Tony shrugged in silent acknowledgement.

Harry had paled. "What?" he whispered. Thor sighed and Loki suddenly smacked his palm against his forehead and began cursing volubly under his breath. This was one thing he'd forgot to prepare Harry for.

"Tony," Pepper said. "You shouldn't have said that."

"What?" Tony asked, saw Harry, thought again, and winced.

"Dad? What does he mean?"

"I'll explain later," Thor said, looking up. The sky was darkening. "Get ready. Here comes the Bifrost."

Harry, underneath the thoughts roiling in his mind, felt a thrill deep in his stomach and grinned at his father, who grinned back. He was going to Asgard. He was going to a place that four years ago had been nothing more than myth. He was going to a place that he'd read stories about growing up. And as something deep within him whispered, he was going home.

The clouds began to rotate, dark, throbbing with power and crackling with multi coloured lightning, then, in a half instant, the beam of the Bifrost roared downwards, enveloping them in a sheet of rainbow coloured light. As it did, Harry felt his father clutch him close with one arm, and Jane with the other, and then he giggled when he saw Jane's half fond, half exasperated look. She noticed and spared a moment to roll her eyes in an expression that said, 'yeah, yeah, laugh it up kiddo'.

That gave Harry a warm feeling inside, and not for the first time, he realised that he was well and truly part of the group.

Then they shot up the Bifrost.

And such sights Harry saw. Before Jane and the Avengers, not one mortal in a thousand years had seen the splendour and glory he saw, the wonders of the universe, of stars being born and dying, of galaxies whirling and flowing around one another in an eternal, ineffable dance proscribed by the nature of the universe itself, planets of diamond, stars of ice, worlds of crystal, worlds of water, worlds of aether and worlds of fire.

And behind it all, he could have sworn that he saw the shape of a face, a face drawn of the universe, a face of creation incarnate.

Then, on impulse, he opened what Loki had called his Third Eye, the True Sight or more simply, the Sight. It allowed you to see through every disguise, every mask, revealing everything as it truly was and searing it on your mind forever.

And for a moment, a shining moment, he saw… he saw something impossible to truly describe with words, especially in a language based on a proto human origin that boiled down to three purposes. A) to discover the good fruit, b) to avoid the big hairy things with teeth, c) to get laid.

Those who have seen an English city on a Saturday night might suggest, and rightly so, that little has changed.

But as for what Harry saw, it defied true description. That said, a reasonable facsimile can be constructed.