It hadn't started off this complicated. One minute, he was in his Auror office, fiddling around with the strange runic object they'd recovered from their latest raid, the next he was on board some Muggle base thing and there was an angry man in an eyepatch shouting at him. Then he'd been seized by some Muggles and manhandled off somewhere, so of course he'd pulled out his wand and tried to stun them all, but then they'd called for backup and everything had gone black shortly after that, and now he was awake, and in some kind of cell, and handcuffed. Harry sighed, tried to run a hand through his hair in frustration, and remembered the manacles a second too late as his free hand whacked him in the face. He groaned, and tried to rearrange himself into a more comfortable position whilst taking an inventory of what he had. No wand – the Muggles must have taken it from him, along with the runic thing he'd still had with him when he arrived. They must've searched his pockets when he was out cold – all he had was his clothes. Of course, he'd only had a few staples with him – Instant Darkness Powder, Decoy Detonators, that sort of thing. Thankfully, the Cloak was still sitting in his desk drawer back home.
Oh God, where the hell even was he?
Think, Potter, put on your Auror head and think.
Okay, so the shouty eyepatch man had an American accent. So, America then. There'd been a lot of Muggle technology about, which ruled out the possibility of backwards time travel and yes, I know, he thought at the disparaging voice in his head, I know it's not likely but it can't hurt to run through every possible scenario, right? Maybe he'd just shifted location, onto this freaky Muggle base in the middle of America and maybe, once he explained everything, he could get in touch with the American wizards and some top-grade Obliviators and just get this whole thing straightened out. Maybe.
'Hello?'
The voice from the corner of the room is painfully scratchy, and Harry nearly jumps out of his hardened Auror skin.
'Who's there?'
'Cast a Lumos and you'll see,' returns the voice, harsh and mocking.
Cast a Lumos. They must be magic. All at once, Harry feels hugely relieved. And casting a Lumos is something he can do wandlessly.
'Lumos,' he whispers softly. The light illuminates a figure cowering in the corner, hands over their face.
'Merlin, that's bright,' the voice hisses, and Harry extinguishes the light, feeling a little guilty.
'Sorry,' he says awkwardly.
The person makes a noise that Harry belatedly recognises as a laugh.
'My fault,' they say, 'they like to keep you in the dark here. Literally and figuratively,' they add, and he can hear the amusement in their voice. Her voice, Harry thinks – he's 90% sure now that the person is a woman.
'Who are you?' Harry asks again, softly.
'I could ask you the same thing,' she murmurs, 'and I was here first.'
Harry sighs.
'My name's Harry,' he says, 'and where exactly is here?'
'S.H.I.E.L.D. prison cell,' the woman says promptly and then gasps as if in pain.
'Ahhh,' she breathes, and although it's dark, Harry can imagine the pain on her face all too vividly.
'Are you okay?' he asks, 'can I help?'
'No,' she hisses, 'just... need to remember not to move. I'll live,' she adds grimly.
'Okay,' Harry whispers, for lack of anything better to say, and they sit together in silence, the only sound being the woman's harsh breathing.
'How did you know I could've cast a Lumos?' asks Harry suddenly.
'I thought it was my turn to ask a question,' replies the woman.
'Oh. Sorry.'
'No matter. Why are you here?'
'Um, I'm not really sure,' Harry hesitates, 'I was trying to decipher this runic cube thing we'd picked up on a raid – I'm an Auror,' he adds, not really sure if this woman knows what that is, but feeling like he should mention it anyway, 'and I think it must have activated or something, because the next thing I know I'm on this base, and Muggles are attacking me, and then I must have blacked out because I woke up here.'
The woman lets out a long, low whistle.
'You really don't know where you are, do you?' she asks.
'My turn for questions,' Harry reminds her, and she falls silent.
Harry thinks a bit before framing his question.
'You know where we are,' he states, 'but you're not from round here.'
There is silence form the woman's corner.
'Can you explain why the Muggles are imprisoning us, and where the Wizarding authorities are?'
There is still silence.
Just when Harry is starting to get a little worried, the woman sighs.
'As far as I can work out, this is an alternate dimension,' she says, 'I wouldn't be surprised if we were the only wizard and witch in the world. S.H.I.E.L.D. are like this... secret Muggle police force, I think,' she continues thoughtfully.
'Of course, I don't really know much – I was only out in the world for a couple of weeks before they captured me. They've been trying to get information out of me in any way they can, and they have completely failed.'
'How do you know I'm not planted by them?' Harry felt the need to ask, even though it's not his turn.
'You knew what a Lumos was, and could cast one. Wandless, right? Add that to the fact you mentioned you're an Auror, and I'm pretty sure your surname is Potter, and we have ourselves a bona fide wizard. A Dark Lord slayer, even.' She makes the noise that Harry recognises as a laugh again. He's got to admit, he's pretty impressed with this woman.
'Now, I think I'm long overdue some answers,' she remarks, and Harry feels a little guilty.
'Sorry,' he says. The woman hums a little, a tune he doesn't recognise.
'Who did you see when you arrived here?' she finally asks.
'Um...' Harry casts him mind back.
'There was this angry guy with an eyepatch – he was the first one I saw. Shouted at me a bit, seemed to be the guy in charge.'
'Fury,' murmurs the woman.
'What?'
'That's his name. Nick Fury. Runs this airship thing. What was he shouting at you?'
'Airship?!' squawks Harry.
'My question first,' the woman reminds him.
'Right, yeah, sorry... um, it was something about how he didn't need another bloody teleporter right now, why did everything always have to happen at once, you know, that kind of thing... and then the woman next to him remarked something about a god of chaos and how this was all part of some master plan... it sounded a little crazy to be honest with you. And then he told his minions to throw me in with you.'
'Loki,' the woman breathes.
'Hm? No, not very lucky,' grumbles Harry.
'No, you idiot,' snaps the woman, 'Loki. Norse God of Chaos, remember?'
'Er, no,' Harry feels the need to point out, 'I never took Ancient Runes.'
He can feel the woman's disbelief from across the cell.
'What the hell were you mucking about with a runic cube for, then?' she nearly shouts, and Harry winces.
'It looked cool?' he tries, and the woman snorts in disgust.
'Men,' she says with feeling, and Harry bites his lip, looking at what he supposes is the floor (but really, it's just a slightly different shade of black).
'So,' he says after a while, his voice sounding loud and uncomfortable after the silence of the past few minutes, 'how are we going to get out?'
'We're not,' says the woman, as if talking to a particularly stupid first year.
Harry blinks.
'Oh. Is someone coming to rescue us?' he asks hopefully, but he already knows the answer.
'No,' says the woman tiredly, 'no, Harry, no one's coming for us.'
'Oh.'
They sit in the dark together for a very long time.
'I still don't know your name,' Harry points out, after what feels like an age.
'Neither do they,' the woman replies, sounding ever so slightly smug.
'Well, I need something to call you,' Harry argues, 'and you seem to know all about me. It's only fair.'
'Gryffindors,' snarls the woman and Harry flinches slightly at the venom in her tone, 'when will you learn that life isn't fair?'
'I just want to know your name!' cries Harry, feeling that there has been a bit of an overreaction.
The woman takes a deep breath, and sighs.
'Daphne,' she murmurs, and Harry has to strain to hear it, 'you can call me Daphne. Now go to sleep, Potter, you'll need all that fabled power of yours come morning.'
0o0
Harry wakes to Daphne shaking him, hard.
'Merlin's sake, Potter, wake up, you sleep like the dead I swear...'
'Wuzzgoinon,' he mumbles, struggling into a sitting position.
'There's a raid on S.H.I.E.L.D.,' Daphne hisses, excitement in her voice, 'Come on, Potter, get your Auror head on, there's a chance we could get out of here!'
Harry blinks, waking up far more quickly now.
'There are lights,' he says stupidly.
'Emergency protocol,' says Daphne, 'I think their normal light-maker isn't working, so they put on the back up and it lights up the whole ship.'
'Right,' says Harry, 'what else do you know?'
'Alarms started going off,' says Daphne, 'I started trying to wake you. The alarms mean attack,' she adds helpfully.
Harry stares her in the harsh light, her eyes screwed up to the point where it's a wonder she can see out of them.
'That's it?'
Daphne sighs, and rocks back on her heels, and then winces and stops.
'Look, Potter, I don't know if it's escaped your notice, but we are in a cell. There's not much I can deduce, other than the blatantly obvious. All I know is that attacks on S.H.I.E.L.D. are ridiculously rare, and I figured we had a decent chance of being able to use it to our advantage.'
Harry continues to stare at her.
'Look, never mind,' she snaps, 'I just thought you might like to know.'
'I, er... thanks?'
Daphne snorts.
'You're welcome, Golden Boy.'
'Greengrass!'
'What?'
'That's your name!' grins Harry excitedly, 'Daphne Greengrass, right? You disappeared about three years back, and I was put on your case!'
It's Daphne's turn to stare at him.
'Merlin,' she says finally, 'I didn't realise I was important enough to have the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Have-Many-Hyphenated-Names himself investigate my disappearance.'
Harry flushes.
'Hmph,' is all he says, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
'Eloquent,' drawls Daphne, raising an eyebrow.
Harry does the super-mature-adult thing of completely ignoring her. She rolls her eyes, and looks ready to make another sarcastic comment when there is an echoing thud on the door, and she freezes.
'Don't. Move.'
Harry freezes too.
There is another sickening bang above the alarms. He can hear people shouting, someone's screaming, a shot that sounds like one of those Muggle guns and a thwack as something hits the door again. Daphne looks about as terrified as Harry feels.
The noises stop. Only the alarm still blares on, searing through his head. He almost misses the soft click of their cell door opening, as the foot-thick metal swings inwards, revealing a tall man with long black hair and slightly weird clothes standing outside, amid a pile of unconscious people.
At least, Harry hopes they're unconscious.
There is silence as the man regards Harry and Daphne, and Harry regards him back. Then—
'Took you long enough,' snarks Daphne in her scratchy voice, rising to her feet with some difficulty. The man instantly moves forward to help her, carefully holding her like she's made of glass. Like she's the most precious thing in the world, and he could break her with a breath.
'I am terribly sorry,' he replies, bowing with just a hint of mockery, a smile twisting his face into something worth looking at, 'I got held up. Terrible traffic, you know.'
Daphne laughs, and the man grins back.
'Shall we?' he asks, offering her his arm, for all the world as if they are in a ballroom rather than a prison cell.
She takes it.
'We shall.'
Harry coughs, feeling awkward. The man looks at him in a way that reminds him of a young Draco Malfoy, sneering and dismissive.
'You'd better come too, Harry,' says Daphne absently, 'we can figure out a way to get you back to your Gryffindor wonderland once we get somewhere safe.'
'Erm, thanks,' says Harry, avoiding the man's gaze and struggling ungainly to his feet. The man curls his lip, and sweeps out, half-carrying Daphne with him, and Harry has to break into a jog to catch up with them. He's got absolutely no clue where they're going – this ship is like a bloody rabbit warren, twisting and turning, with most of it looking fairly destroyed anyway. The man blasts down a door in front of them, and Harry sees rows upon rows of evidence bags.
'Look for your things,' directs the man in his direction, before walking off with Daphne, presumably to get her stuff. The room is in alphabetical order, and much neater than what the Aurors have back at the Ministry, although he supposes that's just because Muggles don't have summoning charms. It takes him a while, but he finds the P's eventually.
His stuff is not there. His name is not there. Damn.
'Harry?' comes Daphne's voice from somewhere far away.
'Yeah?' he yells back.
'Come back to the entrance, we've got to get going!'
'I can't find my stuff!' he calls, struggling to hide the note of panic.
'Leave it then! We'll come back later!'
Harry curses under his breath – he knows full well they're not coming back to this ship, that the man wants it to crash to the ground and burn. But he has no choice. There are other voices now, male, shouting orders.
'Harry!' comes Daphne's voice, 'you're going to have to Apparate! Diagon Alley!'
'Wait! Daphne!'
There is no response. Harry closes his eyes and tried for calm. He'll splinch himself if he Apparates in this state. What was it that Ministry official was always muttering on about? Destination, Determination, Deliberation... Harry takes a deep breath and turns.
Nothing happens.
He tries again, focusing not on the Alley, but on the Muggle street outside the Leaky Cauldron. Deep breath, he reminds himself, don't panic... the voices are getting closer, they'll find him in a minute but don't think about that, just picture the street, got it, good and TURN!
It's 2 in the morning in London. The street outside The Leaky Cauldron is deserted, lamps casting a yellowish glow on the pavement. There is no one around to see when a twenty-something man with messy black hair appears out of nowhere in the middle of the road with a large crack and promptly throws up all over the tarmac.
All in all, it is not the worst day Harry Potter has ever had, but it's getting pretty damn close.
A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first attempt at a crossover like this, so I'd love some feedback, even if it's just to correct a typo! Hope you like it :-)
