Chapter 72

Sirius Black, a proud Animagus, a fearless Marauder, and (on most days) a relatively dignified adult, was currently sprawled out on the ground, looking less like a dangerous wizard and more like a rejected Looney Tunes character. His tail—his gloriously fluffy tail—now sported a giant pink bow, undoubtedly the work of one mischievous god of chaos.

"I hate everything," Sirius muttered, his cartoonishly large eyes narrowing at Loki—who still insisted on being called James Potter despite the overwhelming evidence of his trickster god origins.

His seven-year-old daughter, Lyra, beamed at him. "Daddy, I think pink suits you."

Sirius let out a pained whimper.

Deadpool—because of course Deadpool was here—cackled into the microphone like a gremlin. "Ladies and gentlemen! We are witnessing the downfall of a legend! Sirius 'I'm Too Cool for This' Black has been taken out by the rare and deadly Ribbonae Maximum Humiliationis—a weapon so feared, so deadly, that not even the mightiest of wizards can remove it!"

Sirius made another attempt to yank the bow off, but the damn thing snapped back like it was enchanted with elastic magic. His snout slammed into the ground, sending up a tiny cartoon dust cloud.

The arena roared with laughter.

Marlene McKinnon—Sirius's wife and the woman absolutely reveling in his suffering—clapped her hands. "Alright, everyone, settle down! As fun as it is watching my husband get publicly humiliated, we do have a birthday to celebrate."

Harry Potter, the birthday boy, the king of mischief, and the undisputed MVP of tonight's chaos, grinned from his victorious perch at the center of the arena. He had just successfully orchestrated a prank war so legendary that even Travis and Connor Stoll looked at him with newfound respect.

Harry surveyed the battlefield, the lingering trails of fireworks, the slightly singed Apollo (who had, predictably, gotten a little too enthusiastic with pyrotechnics), and his father—Loki, aka James Potter, aka the man who had legally changed his middle name to 'Mischief' because 'if you're gonna commit, commit all the way.'

Jim (Riyu Jingu Bang), who could only be described as a sentient ball of pure chaotic energy with the face of Jim Carrey, suddenly gasped so dramatically that even Loki looked impressed. "Wait. Hold on. Did someone say birthday cake?!"

Marlene rolled her eyes but, with a dramatic flourish worthy of every trickster god in existence, summoned The Cake.

And what a cake it was.

A towering monstrosity of chocolate, caramel, and pure wizarding craftsmanship that should not have been able to stand upright. The bottom layer was a shimmering pool of liquid chocolate with edible golden phoenix feathers. The second layer? A miniature Quidditch pitch, complete with tiny enchanted players zooming around, occasionally colliding in midair like confused Bludgers.

And the top layer? Hogwarts Castle itself, complete with twinkling lights in the windows and an enchanted Peeves figure trying to moon the crowd.

And smack dab in the middle, written in shimmering golden frosting, were the words:

HAPPY 11TH BIRTHDAY, HARRY!

Harry, for once in his chaotic little life, was stunned into silence.

Loki beamed, throwing an arm around his son's shoulders. "Ah, my boy. Speechless. A rare and glorious moment."

Harry blinked at the cake, then at Loki, then back at the cake. Then he smirked. "Okay, this is kinda awesome."

Marlene ruffled his hair. "You only turn eleven once, kiddo."

Harry snorted. "Technically, I turn eleven every time someone rewrites the timeline, but go off."

Deadpool screamed. "THIS. THIS IS WHAT PEAK COMEDY LOOKS LIKE."

Loki burst out laughing. "He is my son!"

Artemis—aka Lily Potter, aka the only responsible parent in this equation—sighed but smiled. "Just blow out the candles before someone—"

"Speaking of fire!"

Apollo materialized, wearing sunglasses indoors because he was a menace to society. His blond hair shone like a shampoo commercial, and his sleeveless T-shirt displayed his 'sun god physique' to the world.

Artemis turned slowly. "No."

Apollo pouted. "Wow. Anti-fun. That's what you are."

"I'll light the candles," Hermione offered, crossing her arms, exuding peak Emma Watson energy.

"Define 'light the candles,'" Apollo shot back, grinning.

Annabeth, standing next to Hermione with her arms crossed, narrowed her eyes. "Without burning anything down."

"See, now you're asking the impossible," Apollo grumbled.

Still, with a snap of his fingers, golden flames flickered to life atop the candles.

Harry stepped forward. For a brief second, the chaos, the pranks, the sheer madness of the night faded into something simpler.

His insane, ridiculous, way-too-extra family was here.

Sirius was still grumbling about his tail. Thalia was still glaring at Luke like she was debating whether to murder him before or after cake. Travis and Connor were plotting something sinister in the corner. Natasha and Yelena were taking bets on who would cause the next explosion. And Apollo, ever the attention-seeking disaster, was now flexing dramatically at Thor while whispering, "I'm the favorite uncle."

This—this madness—was home.

Harry took a deep breath, grinned, and blew out the candles.

The moment the flames disappeared, the crowd erupted into cheers. Fireworks exploded overhead in dazzling bursts of magic and mischief.

And because this was Team Lokison, that definitely meant something was about to go terribly, hilariously wrong.

But hey—what was a birthday without a little more chaos?

—

It started, as most life-altering moments do, with an unnecessarily dramatic entrance.

Just as the cheers from Harry's birthday celebration began to die down, a sudden, ominous gust of wind blasted through the Great Hall. Goblets tipped over, streamers twisted violently in the air, and a plate of enchanted cupcakes launched itself directly into Deadpool's face with the force of an Olympic javelin throw.

"WHO THREW THAT?!" Wade screeched, peeling frosting off his mask and licking it through the eyehole. "I SWEAR TO STAN LEE, I'LL—"

But no one was paying attention to him.

Because at that moment, a gigantic, borderline-mythological owl swooped in like it was auditioning for a Cirque du Soleil show.

And this wasn't just any owl.

It was huge—easily the size of a small child—with midnight-black feathers that shimmered like liquid shadow and piercing golden eyes that radiated an aura of judgment so intense that Hermione instantly straightened her posture.

Even Artemis, literal goddess of the hunt, narrowed her eyes and muttered, "Show-off."

The owl looped the loop, performed an aerial barrel roll, then power-dived toward the cake at Mach speeds.

For a brief, fleeting second, there was hope. Maybe it would land gently. Maybe it had basic self-preservation instincts.

Nope.

It body-slammed into the birthday cake like a meteor from the gods, sending frosting, candles, and tiny enchanted Quidditch players flying in all directions.

Silence.

A long, stunned silence.

Everyone just stared at the owl, who, despite faceplanting into a three-tiered chocolate masterpiece, immediately began preening itself like nothing had happened.

Then, with the air of someone who had been to Hogwarts, found it lacking, and came back just to deliver a scathing Yelp review, it lifted one massive talon and dropped a pristine Hogwarts letter right in the middle of the wreckage.

It was The Letter.

The one that changed everything. The one that marked the beginning of a legend.

The one that Deadpool immediately tried to snatch.

"HAHA! CALLED IT! I'M GOING TO HOGWARTS, LOSERS!"

Loki, without even looking, bitch-slapped him with magic.

Deadpool slammed into a stone pillar so hard that it left a Wade-shaped dent.

"I REGRET NOTHING," he wheezed from the floor.

Ignoring him (as one must), Harry picked up the letter with slightly trembling fingers.

He knew this was coming. Obviously.

But knowing and experiencing were two very different things.

He slowly broke the seal, unfolding the parchment as the entire hall held their breath.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards, Winner of 'World's Most Mysterious Grandpa' Seven Years in a Row)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry read it once.

Then twice.

Then, very slowly, he looked up at his parents.

Loki—who had definitely known about this and yet said nothing because chaos was his love language—was grinning like the absolute menace to society that he was.

"Ah, my son," Loki said with genuine pride. "Off to cause trouble in an entirely new location. I'm so proud."

Artemis, meanwhile, was rubbing her temples like she already had a migraine.

"Great," she muttered. "The last thing that school needs is another Potter."

"Oh, don't worry, Mom." Harry tucked the letter into his pocket, eyes glittering with pure, unfiltered mischief.

"I'm not just another Potter."

"I'm the upgraded model."

Cue chaotic applause from the tricksters, horrified groans from the responsible adults, and a slow-clap from Deadpool, who was now sitting upside down on the floor for some reason.

"Oh, Hogwarts is so screwed."

—

The aftermath of the owl's grand entrance could only be described as pure pandemonium—think a fireworks display gone rogue, with extra frosting. The cake was in ruins, frosting flung into every nook and cranny, and the tiny Quidditch players, enchanted to zip around the room, were currently in a confused, dizzying spiral above the heads of the very stunned students. Harry stood in the center of it all, holding The Letter like it was the Holy Grail of chaos, grinning like a kid who'd just discovered a hidden stash of candy. Honestly, that's probably what he felt like.

Deadpool, who had managed to collide with a nearby pillar (because, of course), was now sitting cross-legged on the Great Hall floor, humming the theme to The Twilight Zone under his breath. "What a day! What a day!" he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air as if he'd just seen a Broadway show. "I'm about to get sentimental, people. Harry's going off to Hogwarts. Cue the emotional violin music! I'm like the proud dad... or, you know, the cool uncle who's way too cool for your parents to invite over, but they're secretly thankful he's there to stir things up!"

Loki, who had taken up residence near the far wall, casually stroking his chin like he was pondering the meaning of life, raised an eyebrow at Deadpool. "Oh, you're definitely the crazy neighbor," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I'm the one who secretly stokes the fire." He gestured to himself with mock self-importance. "Yeah, I'm kind of a big deal."

Artemis, who was rubbing her temples in an expression that was half exasperation and half concern, didn't have time for this. "Please, no. If I have to pick him up from some magical detention for something stupid—"

"I'm in!" Deadpool shouted, putting his arm around Loki's shoulders in a display of unexpected brotherly affection. "What's life without a little mischief, huh? You know I'll be right there with Harry when he inevitably blows up the castle. Who else is gonna make sure they have fun?"

"Right," Artemis muttered, her voice laced with dry sarcasm as she eyed Harry, still twirling The Letter like it was the world's most dangerous fidget spinner. "Because Hogwarts is exactly the kind of place that needs more chaos."

"Hey, why else would I be here?" Harry grinned, totally unbothered by his mother's disappointment. "You know, I think Hogwarts could use a bit more of my flair for the dramatic. I'll bring some pizzazz to their very dull little world of broomsticks and potions. Honestly, who else could get a letter delivered like this?"

Loki gave a sarcastic bow, playing along. "Oh, absolutely. I'm sure the headmaster will personally send a thank-you note after your first month—provided there is a Hogwarts left to send it to."

Hermione, still frozen in shock from the owl's entrance, finally seemed to snap out of her stupor. She turned to Harry, eyes wide. "You can't possibly be serious. Hogwarts is—Hogwarts! It's about learning magic, not turning everything into a circus!"

"Who says it can't be both?" Harry shot back, his grin widening. "What's the point of going to school if you don't cause a little mayhem? I'm sure they'll love my brand of 'drama.'" He raised a finger as if delivering a great piece of wisdom. "Right next to *'How Not to Get Killed by Magical Creatures 101.'"

Ron, from his seat, snorted in laughter. "Honestly, I'm more worried about that letter than anything. If that's just the introduction to Harry's Hogwarts experience, I'm scared to see the first class."

Hermione shot him a glare, not in the mood for jokes. "Ron, shush. This is serious."

"I mean, it's Harry we're talking about here," Deadpool interrupted with an exaggerated eye-roll. "It's not like we were expecting him to be normal about it. Chaos runs through his veins like—uh—let me think. Like coffee in my system. Makes everything run a little faster, a little smoother, but at the risk of a heart attack."

Artemis sighed deeply, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I'm trying so hard not to lose it right now, but I'm this close to... to... I don't even know. But if you cause one thing to explode—"

Harry shot her a sly look. "Noted. No explosions—well, unless they're really, really necessary."

"I'm going to regret this," Artemis muttered under her breath.

"You'll get over it," Harry teased, clearly enjoying the whole thing way too much. "I'm a natural born disaster. You should be used to this by now."

The entire room went silent when Harry dropped the next bombshell. "Oh, by the way," he said, turning to look at Deadpool with a wicked grin. "I think I'm gonna bring Wade with me."

"DO IT! DO IT NOW!" Deadpool screamed, jumping to his feet and raising his arms as if he were giving an Olympic athlete's pep talk. "You think Hogwarts isn't ready for this?! Ha! The magical world's about to get a lesson in fun, folks! I'm talking pranks, I'm talking chaos, I'm talking—wait, is there a secret passage into the kitchens? If not, there will be one. You have my word."

Artemis's face fell. "I've made a huge mistake."

But it was too late—Deadpool had already started stuffing his face with a pile of candy as though this was his last meal. "I'm doing this for the kids. They need me. And Hogwarts definitely needs me."

Harry, clearly reveling in the trainwreck, looked over at Artemis with an innocent face. "Don't worry, Mom. What's the worst that could happen? Worst case, the entire school explodes. No big deal, right?"

"I'm going to end up in therapy after this," Artemis groaned.

"Come on, Artemis," Deadpool said, now lounging back in a chair, "Where's your sense of adventure? We're going to Hogwarts. We'll shake things up a little. For the children."

"Great," Artemis muttered. "This is how the magical world ends—not with a bang, but with one insane Potter and a homicidal mercenary."

And so, with a grin, a promise of madness, and an owl that would probably need therapy after that entrance, Harry Potter's journey to Hogwarts began—not with a moment of reflection or quiet anticipation, but with a chaotic spectacle of magic, mayhem, and the feeling that absolutely nothing would go as planned. And to be honest? That sounded about right.

At least it wasn't boring.

—

The Hall was alive with a buzz of chatter, a dozen or so conversations overlapping as everyone tried to wrap their heads around the owl's dramatic entrance. Meanwhile, Harry was in his element, basking in the chaos he'd stirred up. He stood in the center of the room like the king of a very weird, very unpredictable castle. And beside him? Well, there was Jim, aka Riyu Jingu Bang, aka Harry's "staff" (not the weapon, the guy). Jim was looking more like a human tornado than a person, his staff twirling, splitting into different shapes, and creating a symphony of sparks for no particular reason other than to add more absurdity to the situation.

"So here's the plan," Harry said, leaning in as though he was about to reveal the greatest secret of all time. "We get Wade into Hogwarts... but instead of sneaking him in as a student or whatever, I'm thinking we turn him into an animal."

Jim blinked, his face lighting up like he'd just heard the funniest thing anyone had ever said. "An animal? What, like a... like a pet?" He paused, and his grin stretched wider. "Oh, no. Wait. I know what you're thinking. A really weird pet, huh?"

"Exactly!" Harry's eyes gleamed with the excitement of a guy who's already plotting his next four steps. "Not just any pet. We turn him into something that'll make the Hogwarts caretakers reconsider their life choices."

"A talking pet!" Jim's voice went up an octave in pure excitement. "You're a genius, Harry. A talking animal will definitely mess with their heads."

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "A cat. A really weird, chatty cat. You know, the kind of cat that sits on the desk during class and makes sarcastic comments about everything Professor McGonagall says."

Jim raised his hands in dramatic fashion. "Yes! A cat! But not just any cat, right? We need something iconic. Something... memorable."

Harry's grin stretched across his face. "A fire-breathing cat," he said. "With a really bad attitude. You know, the kind that judges you the second you walk into the room. Basically, Wade, but with more fur."

Jim's eyes practically sparkled. "I'm so in. I could get him the sassiest tail, maybe some glowing eyes. Fireballs included. The works."

At that, Deadpool—who had been lurking in the background, as usual, like an over-caffeinated raccoon—suddenly lunged into the conversation. "Hold on," he said, raising a finger in the air like he'd just cracked the code to life itself. "Did I just hear 'pet'? Because I've got to say, I have always had a thing for the furry life. And I think I'd look amazing as an animal. I mean, I've got the moves, the looks, and the... well, the attitude."

Harry glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "If by 'attitude' you mean 'constant chaos and sarcasm,' then yeah, I guess you'd make an excellent animal. Especially if we're sticking with the fire-breathing theme."

Deadpool smirked and wagged his finger. "See, that's what I'm talking about. Who needs a stupid magic wand when you can shoot fireballs from your paws? And have a sarcastic quip for every spell thrown my way?"

Jim threw his hands up. "Yes! That's the kind of energy we need. A magical, immortal, fire-breathing, talking cat with a sarcastic streak a mile wide."

At that, Hermione, who had been quietly observing the madness unfold, finally stood up. She crossed her arms, her eyes flashing with that sharp intelligence and no-nonsense attitude that could only belong to someone who had, in fact, read every single book in Hogwarts' library and probably found half of them lacking.

"You can't be serious," Hermione said, her voice high and incredulous. "This is supposed to be Hogwarts. You can't just turn Wade into some... talking animal!"

Harry raised an eyebrow, a perfect image of mischief. "What, Hermione? You don't think this is going to spice up the curriculum? Imagine Professor McGonagall trying to give a lecture while Wade's up there making snarky comments about her Transfiguration spells."

"Please don't," Hermione groaned, slumping back into her chair. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're going to cause? This isn't how things work at Hogwarts!"

Deadpool, who had been quietly processing this, threw his hands up. "Well, if you're not going big, what's the point? Am I right, folks?" He looked at the table and winked. "We're talking about Hogwarts, people. Not some tiny little classroom. This is a school of magic. It's got potential."

Jim, in his usual over-the-top style, was twirling his staff around like he was auditioning for a role in a magical Broadway show. "Wade as a fire-breathing, sarcastic, magical kitty? I'm seeing this all over my magical future, guys. I'm even picturing the merch already. Wade the Cat. 'I'm the snarkiest, fire-breathing feline in the world'—I can hear the theme song now."

"Hey, I could totally have a theme song," Deadpool said, leaning in, suddenly serious. "And it could be a super catchy one. You know, something with a good beat—maybe something that involves tacos."

"Why tacos?" Hermione muttered, rubbing her forehead like she was trying to stave off a headache. "Just... why?"

"I'm not gonna apologize for my deep love of tacos," Deadpool said, hands on his hips in a stance of defiance. "You try eating my diet of questionable food and see if you don't crave a good taco."

At that moment, Apollo—who was clearly having the time of his life—walked into the room like a human ray of sunshine. If sunshine had a permanent smirk and a flair for drama.

"Did someone say 'questionable life choices?'" he said, his voice so full of mischief it practically sparkled. Apollo, always the first to get on board with any kind of chaos, flashed a grin that could melt the hardest heart. "Because as the greatest and coolest uncle in the history of the universe—" He shot Thor a look, who was sulking in the corner, clearly under the misconception that he could somehow be Apollo's equal. "—I'm fully committed to anything that involves pure, unadulterated mayhem."

Harry grinned like a Cheshire cat. "We're still working out the details, but yeah, we're making Wade a talking, fire-breathing cat. With attitude."

"Fireballs?" Apollo said, his voice practically dripping with excitement. "Because if it's fireballs, I'm all in." He clapped his hands like a kid who just got told it was time for ice cream. "You know what? I'm gonna go ahead and say that Wade the Magical Fireball Kitty is officially my favorite thing to ever happen in this century."

Jim, now practically bouncing on his heels, looked to Apollo and said, "You got it! Fireballs, sass, attitude. I'm thinking maybe a dash of immortality just for fun?"

Deadpool raised his hand. "Wait a minute, I'm not just a fireball-throwing kitty! I'm Deadpool! I have a brand to maintain!"

Harry just shrugged. "Don't worry, Wade. You'll still be the star of the show. Hogwarts won't know what hit it."

And with that, Hogwarts was officially going to get a magical pet that would make every enchanted painting rethink their life choices. A fire-breathing, snarky, talking cat—Deadpool style. Just another day in the most chaotic school of magic on the planet.

—

Harry was pretty sure Diagon Alley had just become the most chaotic place on Earth. Not that it had ever been particularly serene, but with his aunt Artemis (looking suspiciously like a mortal version of a Greek goddess, in the best way possible) and his "uncle" Loki (disguised as a mortal named Atreus, but Harry knew better) walking beside him, everything had suddenly gone from "crowded magical shopping district" to "Lord of Chaos' Saturday afternoon trip to the mall."

And then there was Deadpool—no, Catpool, prancing around like an actual kitten who'd been gifted too many Red Bull cans. Harry wasn't sure if the Merc with the Mouth (now covered in fur, but still loud and entirely obnoxious) was going for cute or just wrecking things for the pure hell of it.

"So," Harry muttered, adjusting the strap of his wrist holster where Jim—the sentient, shape-shifting staff-turned-wand—was casually chilling. "We just need books, right? No robes, no fancy hats. Maybe a broom if I'm feeling extra rebellious."

Artemis, in her mortal form, gave him that calm, patient smile, the kind that made her look like she'd definitely just tossed a magical lightning bolt somewhere off-screen. "Just the essentials, Harry. Keep it simple. No need for robes, you can shape-shift whatever clothes you need, and the books should be a straightforward task."

"Right," Harry agreed, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the piles of random magical junk along the alley. It was seriously starting to feel like an over-ambitious flea market on steroids.

Deadpool—or rather, Catpool—had already sprinted up to a broomstick shop, his paws pressed against the glass like a kid at a candy store. "Oh my god, look at that one!" he practically purred, tail flicking with excitement. "I could cause so much trouble with that thing, Harry. You know, testing its durability… on people… while we zoom around causing chaos. Think about the headlines. 'Mad Catboy Saves the Day (or doesn't).'"

"Do not buy a broom," Artemis ordered, her voice dangerously smooth. "If you so much as think about flying near me, you'll wish you were a mouse instead of a cat. And trust me, I could make that happen."

Deadpool—Catpool—did a flip to land on his back, paws in the air like a drunk gymnast. "Pffft. Whatever. The broom would be way more fun. And you can't stop me, Auntie Artemis." He blew a raspberry at her.

Harry grinned. "I'd love to see that happen. I'd totally watch the Auntie Artemis' Avenger movie." He turned to his "uncle" Loki, still disguising himself as Atreus. "What do you think? Should I just get a broom for the hell of it? Y'know, for when the inevitable apocalypse happens and we need to zoom around with a shiny new toy?"

Loki—Atreus—raised an eyebrow, his voice smooth and amused. "It's tempting, but I think you've got bigger plans than an overpriced cleaning tool that only works in the air." He glanced around, taking in the alleyway's mayhem with a mischievous smile. "Let's just focus on the mission. No need for flight when you've got… well, everything else."

Jim—Jim—suddenly made a dramatic boing noise, jerking Harry's arm with enough force to make him stumble. Jim's form, disguised as a simple wand, shuddered as if waking up from a nap. "Oh, come on, kiddo!" Jim shouted in a tone that could only be described as ridiculously enthusiastic and a little too Jim Carrey. "Brooms? Brooms are for amateurs. Why don't you just let me handle the flying part? I've got moves, baby. You won't even need a broom when I'm around!"

Harry couldn't help it—he laughed. "I knew you'd get jealous of a broom. Classic."

Artemis shot him a side-eye. "Focus, Harry."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. He had no idea how the world had managed to keep it together with this much chaos on one shopping trip. He glanced at Catpool, who was currently rolling around on the floor in an over-the-top display of dramatic suffering. "Alright, let's go get some books and pretend we're normal for five minutes, yeah?"

With that, Harry marched into the nearest apothecary shop, leaving behind a trail of confusion and a few broken jars in Catpool's wake.

The shelves were filled with bizarre ingredients that definitely didn't come with instructions. Troll bogies? Seriously? Who needs troll bogies? Harry grabbed a jar anyway, just because it seemed like something Snape would have demanded he keep on hand.

"Don't ask me about it," Harry muttered under his breath as Loki stepped up beside him, his fingers trailing across the dusty shelves. "I'm just here for the basics—Transfiguration stuff, maybe a bit of herbology, and definitely something to annoy Snape with."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you can find something that will make even his greasy hair stand on end."

Deadpool—or Catpool, but let's be honest, same difference—was still a blur of insanity in the background, knocking over a few jars, but somehow managing to land in a perfect "cat loaf" position without breaking anything. "I'm totally helping, guys! I'm like, the best assistant in the universe. Do you need an elf or a werewolf to assist with anything? I've got both on speed dial."

Artemis' smile was tight, but not unkind. "Catpool, if you break one more jar, I'll turn you into a real cat. A very small one."

"Oooh!" Deadpool bounced to his feet, rubbing his paws together like a toddler. "You're so good at threats. That was a threat, wasn't it? I'd love it if you just said the word and I became a real kitten. More cuddles!"

Harry just shook his head, grabbing a few more books off the shelves. "Alright, alright. Enough of this madness. Let's wrap this up. Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology. Books. Done. Get out before—"

"—before Catpool tries to ignite something?" Artemis finished for him, casting a pointed glance at the ridiculous creature currently rolling around on the floor with a suspiciously flammable-looking jar.

"Exactly." Harry grinned. "You know me so well."

Loki gave a low chuckle. "Let's finish this before I start enjoying the chaos too much."

As they finally left the apothecary, Harry couldn't help but think to himself: Normal, huh? Yeah, right. With his dysfunctional family, normal was definitely out of the question. But at least the day hadn't been completely ruined by a broom… yet.

And hey, if Jim had anything to say about it, that broom was about to meet a much more hands-on approach than anyone was expecting.

—

After the madness of the apothecary shop—where Catpool had somehow convinced the entire store that it was "bring-your-own-chaos day"—Harry thought the worst was over. Artemis had been nursing her temples, Loki had gone off on some tangent about the nature of fate (which Harry tuned out because it was 90% just Loki flaunting his superiority complex), and Catpool, well... Catpool had been doing Catpool things.

Which, in case you're wondering, means absolute disaster. But nothing Harry couldn't fix with a couple of charm words and a swift metaphorical kick in the behind. Artemis had that look in her eyes, the kind you get when you're about five seconds away from drawing a line in the sand. Harry was pretty sure it said, "Don't you dare bring chaos into another shop today, Potter."

Then, as if the universe was playing some cruel joke, Harry saw it.

The Snowy Owl.

Now, Harry had seen plenty of owls in his life. Hedwig had been an absolute gem, right? But this owl? This one wasn't just any owl. It was majestic, it was perfect, it was... divine. Its feathers were so white that Harry could've sworn it was made from the leftover light of the moon itself. And those eyes? Dark, mysterious, and intense, like they could see straight through him. Or maybe that was just the last remnants of a bad hangover talking. Regardless, Harry needed that owl.

"Look at that one," Harry muttered, unable to look away from the magnificent creature. It perched serenely in the window of Eeylops Owl Emporium, like it knew it was the most beautiful thing in the shop. Which, spoiler alert, it totally was.

Artemis, who was trying her best not to throttle Catpool, didn't even look up. "Harry, you already have a pet. And I think I just witnessed Catpool steal an entire shelf of potion ingredients. Let's just get out of here."

"No, no, no," Harry protested, still fixated on the owl. "Look at it! It's not just an owl; it's like... a mystical prophecy wrapped in feathers. It's calling to me."

Loki, who was standing there with his arms crossed, looking like he was auditioning for a role in some overly dramatic play, finally spoke up. "You do realize that an owl is about as likely to bring you messages of doom and gloom as it is to deliver your morning coffee, right?"

Harry gave him a look that could only be described as burning. "Dad, please. I'm not just getting an owl. I'm getting THE owl. You'll see."

And then—because Harry had officially reached the point of no return—Deadpool, who was currently dressed like a Christmas tree in the middle of June and twirling an oversized foam finger that read "#1 FAN", jumped into the fray. "Oooooh, snowy owl! This is like if you took Batman, turned him into a bird, and gave him feathers! You need this in your life, Harry. It's the sidekick you didn't know you were missing!"

Artemis groaned, muttering something about how if one more thing in her life had the word "chaos" attached to it, she might just disappear into thin air.

But Harry? Harry was sold.

He marched up to the counter, the owl still glaring at him with judgmental intensity. Behind the counter was a bright-eyed, glitter-drenched witch who looked like she had recently discovered the concept of "too much sparkle."

"Hello, darling!" she said, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "I see you're eyeing the special one. You won't regret it. She's a treasure."

"Yeah," Harry said, doing his best impression of someone who had all their life choices together. "I'll take that one. The Snowy Owl. The diva one."

The witch blinked, clearly taken aback. "Oh, her? Well, she's a little... particular. Very picky about her food, you know? Only fresh fish. No chicken, no turkey. And if you don't say the right password before she takes off, she'll literally refuse to deliver any messages. Zero tolerance for bad vibes."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so, like, she's basically the owl version of a pretentious celebrity?"

"Exactly!" the witch chirped. "But with more feathers and less public drama."

Harry grinned. "Sounds perfect. Where do I sign?"

And that, folks, was how Harry Potter—who was definitely not about to make another impulse purchase—walked out of Eeylops Owl Emporium with the Snowy Owl in tow.

Artemis, who had been side-eyeing the entire transaction, couldn't help herself. "Are we seriously doing this?" she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.

Loki, who had conveniently wandered off to a nearby broomstick shop and was now returning as if he had a personal stake in the situation, gave a dramatic sigh. "Ah, yes. The great Potter family tradition—acquiring chaos one pet at a time."

Catpool, who had suddenly materialized beside Harry like some kind of caffeinated ninja, grinned wickedly. "Dude, I knew you'd do it! I can already picture it. You'll be like the most epic duo. You and your owl—Hedwig—crushing evil one fish snack at a time!"

Harry froze. "Wait. Hedwig? I don't know, man. It just... feels right."

"See? I knew it!" Catpool crowed, pulling out a bag of questionable-looking snacks. "Hedwig, the owl! It's perfect! And now, Harry, you're officially the bird guy."

Loki, hands in his pockets, gave a slow, calculating smirk. "Oh, yes. Perfect indeed. It's going to be... interesting."

Artemis, now fully in "I-can't-believe-I'm-still-here" mode, threw her hands up in defeat. "I'm going to regret this. You all are terrible influences."

But Harry? Harry was already grinning, holding Hedwig's cage like it was the Holy Grail.

"Alright, let's go grab a butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron. I've got a feeling... things are about to get interesting."

And as they left the shop, the owl let out a hoot so indignant, it might've just been the beginning of Harry Potter's real chaos.

----

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