The penthouse was quiet when Harry stepped through the elevator doors. The usual faint music in the halls was off, the lights felt too bright, and his head throbbed with a dull pressure, like something was clawing behind his eyes.
He tossed his bag carelessly onto the couch and loosened the collar of his school uniform, his fingers trembling slightly.
"God… I feel like I'm burning," he muttered.
His skin was hot to the touch, like he'd been standing under the sun for hours. Sweat clung to his brow and ran down the back of his neck in thin trails. He stumbled toward his bedroom, hands pressed against the wall for balance.
Reaching his room, Harry kicked the door shut behind him, yanked off his shirt, and let it fall to the floor. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as he crossed to the bed, collapsed onto it face-first, and didn't even bother pulling the covers back.
His vision blurred. His ears rang. His bones felt like they were vibrating beneath his skin.
And then everything went black.
The Next Morning
Harry's eyes shot open.
His senses exploded to life all at once with the sound of birds chirping on the balcony outside felt loud, the ticking clock in the living room echoing like a drumbeat. The sunlight pouring through the curtains was blinding.
He sat up quickly, too quickly, his sheets sticking to his now dry skin.
What the hell was that?
His breath was steady. No nausea. No soreness. Actually… he felt good.
Better than good.
Harry swung his legs off the bed and stood up, expecting the usual tightness in his shoulders from his workouts, but there was none. His body moved like it weighed nothing. His balance felt perfect.
He crossed to the full-length mirror.
His mouth fell slightly open.
Harry had always been fit because of his wealth, trainers, and a need to live up to his father's shadow had ensured that. But this? This was something else.
His muscles were sharper, more defined like they had been chiseled and sculpted overnight. His posture felt straighter. His jawline tighter. His skin clearer. It was like someone had taken the best version of his body and perfected it in secret while he slept.
"What the hell…?"
He shook his head, trying to shake off the growing unease, and stumbled into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet, leaned over the sink, and splashed cold water on his face.
But when he went to lift his hand away but he couldn't.
His palm clung to the porcelain like it was glued.
"What the….?"
He yanked once. No budge. Harder. Still nothing.
Frustrated, he planted his foot against the vanity for leverage and gave it one final pull and the entire sink came with it, ripping out of the wall with a loud, metallic crunch. Water sprayed from the broken pipe as Harry stared, wide-eyed, holding the porcelain fixture like it was made of cardboard.
"…What the fuck is happening to me?"
Harry sat on the edge of his bed, bare feet planted on the cold marble floor, his breath shaky. The destroyed sink in the bathroom was still fresh in his mind with pieces of porcelain now covered with towels like that would somehow undo what happened. The floor was still damp. His shirt stuck to his back, and he hadn't stopped pacing since 8 a.m.
It was now 8:16.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand with every intention of calling an ambulance, or a scientist, or maybe a priest but instead, his thumb hovered over one name.
Peter Parker.
If there was anyone who could help him make sense of this without immediately sending him to a lab or a padded room it was Peter.
He hit call.
It rang twice before Peter's groggy voice answered, muffled by sleep.
"Hello…?"
"Peter," Harry snapped, his voice tight and panicked. "I need you to come over. Now."
"Dude, it's Saturday. You know it's like… early, right?" Peter mumbled through a yawn. "What's even….?"
"I said now, dammit!" Harry barked, running his free hand through his hair. "It's an emergency, Peter. Just get your ass over here!"
And with that, he hung up.
Or tried to.
The phone didn't leave his hand.
He blinked, tried peeling his fingers back but they wouldn't move. The phone was just… stuck.
"Of course," he muttered bitterly, holding up the phone like it had betrayed him. "Why wouldn't this be happening?"
He sighed and sank back onto his bed, hand still clenched around the device.
Two Hours Later
The elevator dinged, and Peter stepped out, hoodie half-zipped, backpack slung over one shoulder, and an energy drink in hand.
He looked around, cautiously.
"Harry?" he called out. "I'm here. What's the end-of-the-world situation?"
"Living room," Harry called, his voice flat but strained.
Peter turned the corner and froze when he saw Harry crouched beside the couch, shirt damp with sweat, his eyes wild.
"Okay," Peter said slowly. "You look like you either haven't slept or just killed someone."
Harry didn't laugh. He stood, walked to the other side of the couch, and without warning, lifted it. The entire couch came off the ground like it was made of foam. Peter's jaw dropped.
"No way."
"I'm not done," Harry muttered, trying to set it back down.
But the couch didn't go.
Harry's hand stayed glued to it.
"I can't let go," he said, glaring at his palm like it personally betrayed him. "This has been happening since last night. The couch. My phone. The sink." He paused. "I pulled the sink out of the wall, Peter."
Peter blinked. "You… what?"
"I need your help, man. You're the only one I trust with this."
Peter looked at the levitating couch, then at Harry, who is his best friend, eyes filled with fear, confusion, and something else Peter rarely saw in him.
Vulnerability.
Peter slowly set his drink down and nodded.
"Okay," he said simply. "Let's figure this out."
Peter squinted at Harry. He chewed the inside of his cheek like he was trying to piece together a puzzle without all the corners.
"Harry…" he said slowly, "does your dad have a lab here? Like… in the penthouse?"
Harry gave him a look. "Peter, he owns Oscorp. What do you think?"
"So that's a yes?"
Harry rolled his eyes, turned, and gestured for Peter to follow. "Come on, nerd."
The two made their way through a sleek hallway, floors like polished obsidian, and stopped at a biometric door hidden behind a bookshelf. Harry placed his hand on the scanner, and a soft chime sounded before the door slid open with a hiss.
The lab inside looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Clean, cold, metallic. Touchscreens lined the walls, and glass cases housed tech Harry didn't even pretend to understand.
Peter, on the other hand?
His eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. "Oh my god. This is beautiful."
"Focus," Harry reminded, sitting down on the edge of an exam table, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm still freaking out, man."
Peter shook himself out of his trance and got to work. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, snapped a small vial into a blood sampler, and nodded toward Harry's arm.
"You okay with needles?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really."
Peter drew the blood like a pro, then rolled over to a terminal and loaded the sample into the machine. Next, he tapped a few buttons on the wall, and a scanning arm dropped from the ceiling like a sci-fi MRI machine.
"Lie down. Gonna do a full scan," Peter instructed.
Harry sighed, took off his shirt, and laid back. The scanner hummed softly as it passed over his body.
Peter watched the screen closely. His eyes widened.
Then they widened more.
"What?" Harry asked, lifting his head. "What's wrong?"
Peter didn't answer right away. He double-checked the scan, then yanked the blood sample report from the printer. He read, blinked, and read again.
"Holy crap…"
"Peter."
Peter looked up, dazed. "Harry, your body's been completely rewritten. Like on a genetic level."
"English, please."
Peter held up the scan, still stunned. "Okay. So your DNA isn't normal anymore. The spider venom rewrote your genetic code. You're still you, but… enhanced. You've got new proteins, faster regenerative cells, densified muscle fibers. And the talons those are completely new biological structures."
Harry sat up slowly. "So… this is all because of the spider bite?"
Peter nodded. "It had to be engineered. It wasn't just radioactive it was modified. Probably part of some gene-editing experiment your dad was funding through Oscorp."
Harry frowned. "Wait. So you're saying I got turned into a science project because I was bitten?"
"Pretty much."
Peter started listing things off on his fingers.
"You've got Super strength so you can probably lift a car with one hand and punch through steel, Superhuman agility and speed like Olympic-gymnast level reflexes, Wall-crawling ,yes you can stick to walls like an actual spider, A danger response system which I'm calling your 'spider-sense,Oh and retractable talons in your wrists. Because apparently, you're a horror movie now."
Harry stared at him.
"Okay… now explain that like I'm five."
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "Fine."
He pointed dramatically.
"You're strong like the Hulk but smaller and not green."
He pointed again.
"You can jump and flip like an anime character. Naruto-level flips."
Another point.
"You stick to walls. Like, literally. Hands and feet. Spider style."
Another.
"You've got this built-in 'oh crap' alarm that tells you when danger's coming."
Final point.
"And… claws. Because why not. You're Spider-cat now."
Harry blinked. "Oh."
Peter leaned back on the counter, arms folded. "Yeah. Oh."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Harry exhaled, rubbing his face with both hands. "Okay. Okay. So… I have superpowers. That's what we're saying."
"That's exactly what we're saying."
Harry looked down at his hand now calm and steady. "So now what?"
Peter shrugs and Harry and Peter look at each other and at the same time says "BEING A SUPERHERO!" They laugh and dap each other up.