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The air above Manhattan tore open with a final, violent shriek. From the cosmic aperture, the Leviathan emerged: a colossal, armored creature, its segmented hide covered in thick, green-and-black armor, its jaws gaping, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. It was a terrifying, biological warship, and its arrival signaled the true scale of the Chitauri invasion.
"What the hell is that thing?!" Tony roared, swerving his damaged armor to avoid a cascade of falling debris.
"I believe that is the Leviathan Hermione described," Steve said grimly, raising his shield. He looked at Tony, putting aside their arguments for the sake of survival. "Orders, Stark. Give the orders."
Tony didn't hesitate. "Barton, get high, stay clear, report targets. Thor, you're our only chance at closing that hole—summon everything you've got and hit the portal! Iron Man will hold the low altitude blockade. Captain, Natasha, you clear the ground. And Hulk!"
The green giant lumbered up, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with rage.
"Hulk," Steve commanded, meeting the monster's gaze, "hit it hard!"
The Hulk let out a terrifying roar and launched himself toward the giant, flying whale-monster.
The Avengers fought with courage and skill, but the enemy was a tide. Tony's repulsor blasts were effective, but the Chitauri poured through the portal faster than he could kill them. "Jarvis, energy check!" Tony yelled, his armor sparking from a near-miss. "Twenty-seven percent, sir. Structural integrity failing."
On the rooftop, Thor was pushing his power to its absolute limit. He held Mjolnir high, calling down bolt after bolt of blinding lightning, but the effort was draining him. His breathing was ragged, his arms shaking, and the lightning, which had once been effortless, now came only with a burning, physical pain. He could only watch, helpless, as the Chitauri continued to stream through the stable portal.
Down below, Steve gritted his teeth, a painful, burning laceration across his side where an energy blast had grazed him. He was tired. Natasha was a blur of efficiency, but the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming them.
The worst was the Hulk. After a fierce, brutal brawl, he had managed to tear the Leviathan's armored plating, but the endless fire from the surrounding Chitauri gliders finally pinned him. He was on his knees, roaring in frustrated pain, unable to move.
Despair spread like a cold fog across the battlefield. Civilians huddled in their crumbling buildings, their initial hope in the superheroes fading into a terrified acceptance of the apocalypse. It's over. We're losing.
High above the chaos, at the pinnacle of the Chrysler Building, the Ancient One stood with her hands clasped, watching the devastation unfold. The air was thick with the smell of ozone, burnt asphalt, and death.
Hermione hovered beside her, her expression grim. "Master Ancient One," she said, her voice strained. "We can't just watch this. They're being overwhelmed. They're losing. The collateral damage is reaching critical mass."
The Ancient One's ancient eyes, clear and calm, remained fixed on the battle. "They are fighting a necessary fight, Hermione. They are buying time. They are unifying the populace. This chaos is a crucible." She looked at the young witch. "But the chaos is now exceeding its purpose. The balance is broken. Go. Enforce it."
With a curt nod, Hermione shot into the air, a final farewell to her patient mentor.
She soared over the battle, casting an amplification spell on herself. Her voice, clear and sharp, cut through the noise of the fighting and the screaming sirens.
"Thor, you noble idiot! What are you doing? You're the God of Thunder, not a glorified battery! Stop wasting your power!"
The God of Thunder looked up, confused, spotting the small, black-robed figure above him. He recognized the tone instantly.
"Why, is it kidney deficiency?!" she taunted him, borrowing the phrase from the original text, giving it a devastating delivery.
Thor, breathing heavily and visibly drained, could only manage a wry, exhausted smile. "Summoning the full force of the heavens is more taxing than a mere brawl, little witch! I am spent!"
"Then let someone else take the wheel!" Hermione snapped. She raised the dark, Uru-metal wand, pointing it at the swirling, darkening sky. She wasn't calling down Asgardian power; she was channeling the pure, raw energy of Ancient Magic she had acquired beneath Hogwarts.
"Tempestas Elementa!"
The sky above Manhattan didn't just cloud over; it twisted. A vast, terrifying vortex of black, unnatural thunderheads formed instantly, crackling with an immense, primordial energy. Lightning bolts, thick as tree trunks, began to lash down, not random strikes, but controlled, surgical spears of energy that vaporized the Chitauri gliders in massive bursts of sound and light.
The alien swarm, which had seemed unstoppable, began to fall like blackened rain. Even the armored shell of the Leviathan was briefly stunned by the sheer, overwhelming power of the elemental assault.
"But it's not enough," Hermione muttered, her eyes narrowing as the numbers still poured through the portal. She waved her wand again, channeling the power of the Ice Core within its Uru housing.
The temperature plummeted instantly. The air crystallized into a thick, magical sleet. The wind howled—not a warm wind, but a high-pitched, icy shriek. The Chitauri, mid-flight, were instantly flash-frozen into grotesque, crystalline statues of ice and chitin, their bodies rigid and suspended in the air. The sky became a silent, glittering gallery of frozen alien art.
She wasn't done. With a final, furious movement, she brought her wand down.
"Ignis Exterminans!"
A torrent of black and crimson fire—a consuming, magical inferno—erupted from her wand. It swept through the sky, engulfing the frozen Chitauri. The intense heat instantly vaporized the ice, and the subsequent, chaotic reaction consumed the alien biology in a blaze of noxious smoke. The magical flames didn't extinguish; they spread, leaping from one target to the next, cleansing the entire Chitauri swarm from the sky in minutes.
In the center of the city, the elemental purge was absolute. Lightning, ice, and fire—three fundamental forces, wielded with a terrifying, absolute control, had annihilated the invaders. The sky was clear. The portal still glowed, but no new enemies emerged.
The battlefield was silent. The Avengers were left staring up at the small figure in the black robe, their minds reeling at the sheer, overwhelming power she had just unleashed.