Chapter One: The Skinny

[A/N: I've fallen in love with the MCU and developed a soft spot for Hawkeye. Harry Potter is an enduring favourite. So there's this.

This story is set in the present: for this to work, push the Harry Potter timeline forward ten years. Events in this story take place two years after the Avengers film and six years after Deathly Hallows.

Ignore the dates if you like; they're just there for me to keep track of stuff.]

Disclaimer: Anything publicly recognisable is the property of Rowling and Marvel.

22/07/14

Five years after Tom Riddle's death and Harry Potter was still running for his life.

"I thought I'd grown out of this shit," he panted, ducking behind a (conveniently placed) SUV. Laughter, low and breathless sounded out beneath the steady rattle of gunfire.

"You're in the wrong business then, idiot."

"Shove off, Malfoy." Any trace of laughter had vanished from Ron's sweat-soaked face and Harry held back a sigh. While he hadn't quite mastered the ability to 'just ignore it' like Hermione had always said, Ron always rose to the occasion and they were taking fire for fucks sake.

"I'm sorry, was I talking to you?" How Malfoy managed to sound so goddamn condescending when glass and debris was raining down upon them, Harry would never know. He eyed an overturned dumpster further up while Ron and Malfoy bickered in the background, firing curses at their attackers as often as they spat insults at one another.

"I'm making a run for the dumpster-"

"Just apparate-!"

"There are only three gunmen left but we can't get a clear shot! I need them to see me running for it. I'll draw their focus and expose their blind spot. Once we're clear I'll give the signal and we'll apparate behind them. Malfoy, you take the one on the right, Ron, you've got the big bloke in the center. Cover me."

He waited for a lull in the shooting before firing a volley of curses over the bonnet of the SUV at random. The second Malfoy and Ron took over everything turned to white noise and Harry was off, propelling himself forward as fast as his feet would allow. It was only once he was clear of the SUV that he realized just how far away the dumpster was. Bullets blasted away the bike racks to his left and peppered the concrete beneath his feet. Harry wasn't even sure he was breathing but he must have been because it took him an age to reach cover and no one could hold their breath that bloody long. Something hot and burning sliced into his side and he lunged (or flew?) the last few feet, bouncing raggedly along the ground. He took a beat to steel himself against the burning in his side before he was stumbling to his feet, sucking in a sharp breath when he twisted his abdomen. Absolutely refusing to look down, Harry broke cover to get his bearings.

The underground parking garage lay in tatters around the three gunmen, slowly stalking their way forward. They flocked to the center and shot systematically across the southern end of the garage where he and the others had taken refuge. The sterile white light of the overheads left no room for shadow and for the first time that day, Harry's confidence was boosted.

He gave the signal.

It was a good plan. A simple one: draw fire toward concentrated point creating a blind spot, apparate into said blind spot and neutralize the bad guy. It took all of thirty seconds.

It only took eleven seconds for the plan to turn to shit.

The gunmen writhed in their magically bound ropes, their legs scrabbling furiously at the ground trying to find escape. It didn't take long for them to realize there was none and the determination in their eyes turned into something else, something darker. In the second it took Harry to lower his wand and take a half-step forward the bound men were writhing for a completely different reason. Harry slashed at the ropes of the closest prisoner and fell to his knees beside him but the man had already begun frothing at the mouth.

Harry grabbed at the man's jacket and heaved him forward – for what, he wasn't sure. Somewhere in the background he could hear Malfoy and Ron shouting at him, at each other – at everything. The gurgles of his prisoner's last words were barely above a whisper, lost in the toxic foam bubbling from his lips.

"H-H… ay… H-H…"

Harry had always liked the light in Ivanka Abernathy's office. It didn't matter what time of the day it was, the light in this office was always on the warmer side of sunset – bright enough that there was no need for candles, but soft enough that it didn't hurt the eyes even after long periods of exposure. It was one of the perks of being the Head Auror, Harry supposed, being able to choose what type of whether your windows let in.

He followed a swirl of dust motes up from the plush cream carpet to the spindly mahogany desk where his gaze lingered. It was an antique – Harry wasn't sure how he knew this, but the fact was there, floating around like flecks of dust in his head. Maybe he'd get one like it, if he ever managed to become Department Head. It was a bit feminine, but he could butch it up a bit-

"Have you quite finished?"

Harry heaved a weary sigh, unable to postpone the inevitable any longer. He lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of his fuming boss. Unlike his own bright green ones hers were a darker emerald, the golden flecks in them caught the light and they seemed to literally sparkle with her anger. Ivanka Abernathy was a formidable woman at the best of times; as meticulous and sharp as she was beautiful – and the woman sitting across from him was stunning even in middle age. So, it made sense that she would know what he knew and it was that knowledge that made looking at Abernathy, talking to her, so difficult.

"You screwed up, Potter."

"I did."

"Raymond Cervone got away. There was nothing in that building that was of any use and the only people that could have given us any information are dead."

He would take the dressing down in silence, with humility because honestly, he deserved worse.

Abernathy stared at him for a long moment before she got stuck into him again. "Those Muggles died as a direct result of your actions. It was your team that carried out your plan on a mission that you were put in charge of."

He simultaneously loved and loathed her, her honesty. He didn't deserve to be reassured; wasn't worthy of the excuses Ron or Ginny would make for him but he flinched at Abernathy's words nevertheless because they were true and the realization that he was responsible for three more dead threatened to make him sick.

"Don't throw up on the carpet, no one's 'evanesco' is that good," said Abernathy, plunking a metal wastepaper bin on the desk in front of him. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, the sick in the back of Harry's throat slowly ebbing back down.

"Take heart in the knowledge that this mess isn't entirely your fault."

It was as close to comforting as Abernathy ever got. If he were in a lighter mood he would have savored the moment.

"No really, Potter. I need you on your feet. Three dead Muggles in the service of a wizard was unforgivable even before Tom Riddle. Three dead Muggles now, in these times is unforgettable." Harry's back stiffened at her words and hope rose in his chest.

"You're keeping me on the case?" It wasn't a chance at redemption and he knew he wasn't forgiven but he needed closure. He needed to know what type of man inspired such devotion in his followers that they would rather kill themselves than surrender. Not even Riddle had managed that.

"I'm giving you a chance to clean up your mess."

"I won't let you down," said Harry, nodding profusely. Abernathy raised one perfectly manicured brow in surprise but there wasn't enough pride in him to feel abashed at his eagerness.

To her credit (and his relief) she didn't dwell on it and instead slapped a manila folder onto the desk in front of him. "While you were letting Cervone get away, I had Keriggan put together an information packet on him."

Harry reached for the file and eyed Cervone's (admittedly impressive) set of credentials. He had gained nine 'Outstanding' NEWTs from Beauxbeatons at the tender age of fourteen before becoming a Caltech and MIT graduate with PhD's in Experimental Physics, Electrical Engineering and strangely enough, Astrophysics.

"Most wizards don't even bother with their A-levels," Harry said, flipping to a grainy still of Cervone taken from a Muggle security camera.

"Most wizards are idiots," Abernathy said crisply. "There's nothing in there that I'm not about to tell you. It's mostly for Granger and-"

"Hermione?"

"No, Gregory."

"Oh," said Harry a little meekly.

Abernathy however looked thoroughly unimpressed. "There are no bloody Gregory Granger's working in this Ministry. I was being sarcastic, Potter, for goodness sake."

A knock at the door (thankfully) relieved him of her pitying gaze.

"But why is Hermione being read in? She's not an Auror," Harry persisted.

"Granger?" Malfoy's voice sounded from the doorway. "You're bringing Granger in on this?"

The corners of Abernathy's mouth tightened but she waited until Malfoy had sat himself down in the chair next to Harry, before she ripped into them.

"You look like shit," Harry commented before she could even open her mouth. It was obvious that like him, Malfoy had just come from his debriefing, he was still wearing his robes, torn from glass and stray debris and his face was still covered in dirt and dried blood.

"Piss off, Potter," Malfoy replied acidly. He reached for the waste bin still on Abernathy's desk before flipping it upside down and plopping it on the ground to rest his injured leg upon it.

"Go to hell, M-"

"Enough. We have seventeen minutes before I need you out of my office."

"So you can bring Granger in? What do you need her for?"

"You were sent to apprehend Raymond Cervone earlier this morning for the killing of a Peruvian Vipertooth Dragon on the Romanian Dragon Preserve. We believe Cervone is in possession of the dragon's six missing eggs," said Abernathy, sliding a succession of photographs across the desk's polished surface towards them.

"The Burkina Faso Ministry of Magic has just sent over the files on the Runespoor Forest burnings. Our own Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures took these photos last week when Hagrid reported the missing Acrumantula clusters in the Forbidden Forest and these were taken at the site of several empty giant dwellings." Photographs of a familiar forest, mountainous landscapes and raging fires accompanied a singular capture of a dead dragon and in each frame a ten foot circle filled with intricate symbols had been burned into the ground.

"Reminds me a bit of the Dark Mark," said Harry, absently tracing the scorched insignia with his fingertips. Beside him, Malfoy flinched.

"Cervone's claim to the attacks," confirmed Abernathy, nodding in agreement.

"What do the symbols mean?"

"We're not sure. I've had Keriggan working on decoding them since the first attack about a month ago but he's had no luck so far."

"So what, you think Cervone's collecting these creatures?" Malfoy asked.

"In a manner of speaking," said Abernathy, leaning back in her chair to gaze at them levelly. "Cervone now possesses three different Magical Creatures above a XXXX Classification, not including the two missing giants. We have no idea where he's hidden them or what his plans for them are. In this type of situation we absolutely have to consider the possibility that he plans to release the creatures or use them to make an attack at some point, but we don't know where and we don't know when or for what purpose. There is no possible way we could hope to contain the situation without any of these parameters. As such, Cervone poses a direct threat to the International Statute of Secrecy."

"That would give him Undesirable Status," Malfoy observed, shrewdly.

"As of 5:45 this evening, Raymond Cervone has become Undesirable Number One."

Images of a time long passed floated through Harry's mind and he couldn't help the slight wince at the label. "We need to get a handle on this before Cervone gets his hands on too many more creatures," he said, looking to Abernathy for direction. It was obvious she had a plan. He assumed it was why she was bringing Hermione in.

"Do you have to bring Granger in?" said Malfoy in a voice that was dangerously close to whining but not even Malfoy was stupid enough to whinge outright in front of Abernathy.

"Do you have a working knowledge of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?" she asked, her hard gaze settling upon Malfoy.

"No."

"Do you currently work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"No."

"Do you know of anyone else who has had in-field experience, worked in both these departments and has the necessary NEWT qualifications of an Auror?"

"Elliot Pry," Malfoy replied, with an arrogant lift of his chin and a self-satisfied smirk. Harry blinked at him in surprise and if it had been anyone, literally anyone else, he wouldn't have fought the smile creeping onto his face at Malfoy's cheek. As it was, he kept his expression blank but he could've sworn he saw the corner of Abernathy's mouth twitch.

"Raymond Cervone is Undesirable Number One, Mr Malfoy. I need more than your one team investigating him. Miss Granger will be working with you and Mr Potter. Elliott Pry will be working as a part Mr Weasley's team."

Malfoy looked to be choking on his words, caught between incredulous outrage and genuine glee. Harry however wasn't so torn. Abernathy's gaze turned on him and before he could open his mouth to protest her decision she countered his argument.

"This is hardly the first time I've separated the two of you."

"But we work better together," Harry reasoned.

"I need four effective teams on this, Potter. Weasley is needed elsewhere."

"We-"

She shot him a sharp look. "Weasley needs this. He cannot grow in your shadow."

It was exactly what had driven Ron away from him more times than he cared to count back in their Hogwarts years and Harry had honestly tried not to overshadow Ron in their work. Apparently he wasn't trying hard enough.

"Fine," Harry grumbled. "What about Malfoy?"

"What about him?"

"You said you've got four teams working on this. I've been working with him on every single bloody assignment for the past three years. Shouldn't someone else… get a turn?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"A transfer?" Malfoy suggested, equally as hopeful.

"Both you and Granger are too virtuous for your own good. You need someone on your team who can lie convincingly. You need someone who understands the politics of criminals, Potter. While Malfoy isn't the best at either of these things, he is better at it than you."

"Naidu-"

"-is working on another team."

"Can't I swap Malfoy for Naidu?"

"No one else will work with Malfoy and as it was you who supported his request for five years community service as opposed to five years in Azkaban, it is you who is stuck with him, Potter." Her lips pressed together firmly and the unspoken 'that is final' rang loud and clear.

Apparently though, Malfoy didn't quite get the message. "I'm injured," he declared, "I need to be taken off of rotation." It was such a typically Malfoy thing to say that Harry scoffed in derision.

"You still have fifteen months of community service left to serve Mr Malfoy. Until then, you don't get extra time off."

"Put me on desk duty then. I'm injured. I can't walk properly; I can't be in the field."

"You fractured your ankle, Mr Malfoy. The ankle brace and Skele-Sew the Mediwizards gave you will have your 'injury' healed within the hour."

"Look, Abernathy, I can't-"

"No."

"You-"

"No."

"But I-"

"No."

Malfoy drew in a sharp breath and Harry watched with equal parts amusement and irritation as Malfoy's nostrils flared and his eyes turned glassy.

"What then, would you have me do?" Malfoy hissed, his voice dripping with venom and Harry was glad to see that for the first time in all the years they'd known each other, Malfoy took his defeat with some self-respect.

Abernathy, ever poised, simply cocked her head to the side and regarded him with childlike curiosity. Usually, Malfoy would have stormed from the room by now. Her eyes flashed brightly in the afternoon light and for a fraction of a second Harry thought he saw something akin to pride flickering across her expression.

"Both of you need to go and pull yourselves together. You have three hours and then I want you back here and ready to go."

Harry's stomach tightened and he turned his gaze sharply in Abernathy's direction. "Are we making another attempt to arrest Cervone?" It was too soon, they didn't have nearly enough information on the man.

"No. We can't get to him. Cervone's guard detail has tripled since your failed attempt to apprehend him this morning. We need to know what he's planning; the only way to do that with the least amount of Muggle casualties is through his men."

"What's the point? The second any of them see us they'll chomp a suicide pill like those idiots in the parking garage," Malfoy said, his voice no less venomous.

"It is for that reason that your objective has changed. Unless it is absolutely necessary your team is strictly hands off. Our focus now is to prevent Cervone from obtaining anymore dangerous magical creatures. You are to observe and gather as much information on him-"

"Surveillance?" They asked in unison, each with varying levels of disbelief. Malfoy because there was nothing he loathed more than being bored out of his bloody mind in a confined space with Harry; and Harry because there was nothing he loathed more than doing… nothing.

"Yes, surveillance. As you can well see we know next to nothing about Cervone," she said, waving to the woefully thin file on her desk. "I want you tailing his men and finding out what his next move is. He runs a tight operation so I suggest you pack heavy. It'll be a while before you can find an in. I want-"

A puff of navy blue smoke from the end of her wand signaled the end of their conversation because before Harry knew it his chair had disappeared and he fell to the floor with a dull 'thud'. Next to him Malfoy swore bloody murder. Abernathy rose gracefully from her own (still fully formed) chair and strode past their sprawling forms to open her office door.

"You have your orders. Miss Granger's temporary transfer request is being approved as we speak. She will meet you back here in three hours and I swear to Merlin if your Mother shows up here trying to get you out of field duty again Malfoy, I'll make sure you don't come home until Christmas."