Chapter 198: Inner Demon

[Third Person's PoV] 

At Lizzy's House:

When Peter and the others arrived at Lizzy's house, they waited patiently as she stepped ahead to unlock the door. The evening air was still, the faint sound of distant traffic the only noise around them.

Felicia stood off to the side, her arms crossed, one hand clutching her elbow, her lips pressed together in a tight line. She gazed at the house before them, her eyes distant, lost in thought. The house seems to have brought some rather unpleasant memories. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a familiar warmth envelop her hand. She glanced down, noticing Peter's fingers wrapping around hers. Her gaze trailed up his arm until her eyes met his profile, watching as he casually bantered with Harry. He hadn't even glanced at her, but the small, unconscious gesture of affection sent a ripple through her chest.

Felicia's lips curled into a soft, loving smile as she stared at him, her heart skipping a beat. She looked back down at their joined hands and slowly opened her palm, intertwining her fingers with his. The simple connection felt grounding, but at the same time, it stirred something deeper in her.

'He's not making this any easier...' Felicia thought, trying to suppress the growing smile tugging at her lips. She didn't want to give away how much his touch meant to her, how much he complicated everything.

A few steps away, MJ and Gwen exchanged silent glances. Their expressions said more than words could, especially given MJ's abilities. The telepathic link between them hummed with tension.

*"We really need to sit down and talk about this,"* MJ's voice echoed in Gwen's mind, the weight of her words carrying an unmistakable seriousness.

*"Tell me about it,"* Gwen mentally grumbled. *"It's like watching my own husband fall for someone else, right in front of me."*

MJ shot her a teasing look. *"Did you seriously just call Peter your husband?"*

Gwen rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. *"It was just an example!"*

Before their silent banter could continue, Lizzy's voice rang out, drawing everyone's attention. "Bienvenido a casa, Allen!" she called, holding the door open wide. The group stepped inside, the soft glow of the living room light beckoning them in.

---

At Kamar-Taj:

Far away in the mystic halls of Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One glided gracefully through the dimly lit chamber, her fan covering her mouth as she surveyed the room. Peter, Felicia, Harry, Gwen, MJ and Lizzy sat cross-legged on the floor, their eyes closed, attempting to center themselves in meditation.

"As cliché as this may sound," the Ancient One began, her voice smooth and deliberate, "learning to use your energy—whether it be magic, chi, or any other form—requires a harmony with the universe. But more importantly, it requires harmony with yourself."

A stifled snicker broke the silence.

Smack!

Peter winced as the Ancient One's fan sharply tapped the back of his head. He opened one eye sheepishly, only to find her staring down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Focus," she admonished, her tone firm but not unkind. "The mind must be clear. Energy is about focus, about mental clarity. An unfocused mind leads to chaotic results. Misfire a spell, and it could harm you or others. Energy flows through everything. Whether you call it magic, chi, or something else entirely, it is about connection. The stronger the connection, the more control you will have over it."

She walked towards a low table and gently placed her fan upon it before turning back to the group. "But theory alone is not enough. Let's see how well you can apply it."

Raising her hand, the Ancient One gestured for them to stand. "Each of you will attempt to summon a basic shield spell. Focus inward and feel your energy. Let it flow through you and outward, forming the shield. But remember, clarity is key. Without it, your efforts will crumble."

Peter, still rubbing the back of his head, closed his eyes once more, his brow furrowing as he tried to concentrate. Around him, the others did the same, their faces mirroring the tension of focus.

The Ancient One moved silently between them, observing their attempts. "Let go of doubt," she whispered, her words echoing around the room. "Let go of fear. Only then will you find the clarity you seek. Shape the energy—do not force it. Guide it."

Peter felt a spark inside him, a flicker of energy bubbling beneath the surface. He tried to harness it, to shape it, but it slipped through his grasp like water. He opened his eyes briefly, catching the Ancient One's calm gaze. She nodded slightly, urging him to try again.

"Magic is not about imposing your will," she reminded them, her voice softer now. "It is about aligning yourself with the flow of energy, guiding it gently."

As Peter attempted again, his mind quieting, the Ancient One's gaze shifted to Harry. Of all the students, he seemed to be struggling the most. She approached him, her expression thoughtful.

"There are things that cloud the mind, Harry Osborn," she said, her tone steady. "Often, they are what you might call inner demons—your insecurities, your worries, your fears. And you, Harry, have many of them."

Harry let out a sarcastic scoff. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. Why don't you announce it louder? I don't think your students outside heard you."

The Ancient One chuckled softly. "The trouble with inner demons is not that they exist, but that we refuse to face them. You lash out because you don't want to confront them, but there will come a time when you won't have a choice."

She lifted her thumb and gently pressed it against Harry's forehead. His eyes widened, and for a brief moment, his face contorted in discomfort. Slowly, his body relaxed, and he slumped down into a meditative position, his head bowed.

Lizzy frowned, stepping forward. "What did you do to him?"

The Ancient One glanced at her before looking back at Harry. "I'm helping him face his demons," she said simply, her gaze soft but unyielding. "It is a battle he must fight—before they consume him entirely."

…

Harry slowly opened his eyes, blinking deliberately as the bright white light around him made everything look hazy and surreal. "What? Where am I?" he muttered, confused by the strange space he found himself in. It was an empty, blinding void that stretched endlessly, disorienting him with its intensity.

A voice echoed from behind him, cutting through the silence, "Where else? Inside your head, boy."

Startled, Harry turned toward the source of the voice, and his heart almost stopped when he saw the figure standing before him. "Dad?" he whispered in disbelief, his throat tightening.

Norman Osborn stood there, though something about him was off—colder, more menacing. He scoffed, a scowl twisting his features. "Yes and no. I'm not really your father. I'm just a manifestation of all your fears, all your insecurities about him," Norman said, his voice laced with venom.

He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with a sinister hunger as he studied Harry, like a predator cornering its prey. His grin widened, slow and threatening. "The fear of being a disappointment... the fear that deep down, you'll never be anything more than a shadow in his eyes. The fear of the monster lurking within him—within you—and the evil he's capable of. And let's not forget the most crippling one," Norman said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "the fear that he's never truly loved you at all, that his heart is as black as his reputation. Oh, and the blood—so much blood. Innocent lives, staining his hands... and you wonder how many more will fall because of him."

Norman loomed over Harry now, his breath cold against Harry's skin as he continued, chuckling darkly. "But the real kicker, Harry, is the fear that one day... you might have to kill me in cold blood, your own father, just to stop me."

Harry trembled, struggling to keep his emotions in check, but Norman reveled in his torment. He began stepping back, the shadows around him shifting until he was no longer just Norman. He now wore a full Hydra uniform, clicking his heels together before giving a mocking salute. "Hail Hydra!" Norman sneered with a wink before vanishing into thin air, dissolving into a wisp of smoke.

"And then there's me..." a new voice spoke, smooth and casual, breaking the eerie silence.

Harry froze as an arm lazily draped over his shoulders. Slowly, he turned his head, and there, with a confident grin and an unsettling familiarity, was Peter Parker.

"Peter..." Harry muttered, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over him.

"The one and only," Peter smirked, his voice oozing arrogance. He chuckled softly, his arm tightening around Harry's neck like a mocking gesture of brotherhood. "Honestly, how insecure you are around me is both flattering and, well, kind of pathetic."

Peter laughed, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, seriously, I'm supposed to be your best friend, right? Pfft... Best friend. What a joke. Aren't best friends supposed to be equals? You know, someone who gets you, who you can relate to. But c'mon, Harry, look at us. What could you possibly relate to about me?"

Peter started ticking off his fingers, grinning wider with each point. "I'm better looking than you. Smarter than you. Stronger than you. Hell, I'm even the better hero. All you are is a cheap imitation—second-rate at best, completely unoriginal." He waved his hand dismissively. "It's obvious, right? The reason we're even friends? Pity. That's all it's ever been."

Harry felt his stomach churn as Peter continued, his words cutting deeper with every syllable. "I mean, think about it. I'm the cool guy, and you're the sick kid. Hanging out with you was like what a cute girl does when she surrounds herself with ugly friends to look hotter. It worked, didn't it? I mean, who's the one all the girls are fawning over?"

Something inside Harry snapped. He shoved Peter's arm off him roughly. "Fuck off, man. You're not my Peter. There's no way in hell the real Peter would ever say some bullshit like that."

Peter laughed, throwing his head back as if it were the funniest thing he'd heard all day. "'My Peter'? Do you even hear yourself, you faggot? You practically worship me!" He took a step back, still smirking. "Face it, Harry, you've always been in my shadow, drooling over me like some lovesick puppy. How sad."

Harry took a deep breath, rolling his eyes. "These are my worst insecurities? What the hell is wrong with me?" He muttered, trying to shake off the growing rage. He straightened up, his expression hardening. "Who's next? Is that all you've got?"

Peter's smirk remained, but he said nothing as he took a few steps back. A pair of legs suddenly wrapped around his torso from behind, followed by arms sliding over his shoulders, clinging to him with affection.

Harry's heart sank when he saw who it was. His fists clenched as a cold, emotionless mask fell over his face. "This isn't funny anymore. This has gone too far," he said, his voice low and dangerous, as Lizzy appeared, embracing Peter with a playful smile.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Harry," Lizzy giggled, leaning her head against Peter's. "I'm the manifestation of your deepest fear—that I'll leave you for him. I mean, c'mon, he's got a harem of girls following him around. Who's to say I wouldn't want in on that action?" She kissed Peter on the cheek, smirking as she held his face.

Lizzy's words pierced Harry like daggers, each one sinking deeper than the last. "I mean, he already stole the first girl you ever loved. What's stopping him from taking me too?" she whispered, her eyes gleaming with malicious amusement.

Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, his entire body shaking with barely restrained fury. "Shut up..." he growled, but his voice faltered as the truth behind her words gnawed at him.

"Hehe, come on, Harry!" Lizzy laughed, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

"Don't you dare say it!" Harry's voice cracked, a raw desperation creeping in.

Lizzy's grin widened. "All I am is a replacement. You even chose me because I have the same hair color as Gwen. You were so obsessed with her that you settled for me because you couldn't have her. How pathetic is that?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Harry screamed, gripping his hair tightly as if trying to tear the nightmare out of his skull.

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