Harry stepped out of his cab and began to search for the ripples his helpful new friend spoke of. While he couldn't detect their presence at first, the smell of magic permeated the area. Following his nose he found himself in front of a large warehouse the facade of which flickered occasionally. An illusion was at play, most likely some form of visual alteration ward. With a swish of his wand and a muttered incantation he deactivated the initial ward to discover a myriad of additional defences lurking behind it. He should have expected this, but in his moment of triumph he had hoped that this would be resolved swiftly. Summoning a tasseled pillow he sat down and began pulling some items, which would be essential if he were to begin stripping the building of its magical defences, out of his undetectably extended briefcase: kettle, tea, magical detection spectacles, and a stack of dusty tomes. Fully equipped, Harry set to work. It was a long and arduous process, briefly made exciting by the various offensive measures that had been integrated into the structure's ward matrix. Every now and then a fireball would come bursting fourth from one of the windows, and occasionally the projection of a ghastly green dragon would swoop down and close its phantom jaws on Harry's head. After he'd finished, he'd had to deactivate 7 defensive wards, 6 offensive enchantments, brew 25 cups of tea, and flick through the brittle pages of his collection more times than he could count. Throughout the process he had expected more people to pass him by and had even set up some basic muggle repulsion enchantments in preparation of such interruptions, but the only people who had wandered past him were a handful of blind people with red backpacks. New York was a truly odd city.
With a final flourish of his wand, Harry dispelled the last remaining enchantment and allowed the building's true appearance to reveal itself. Brick became sandstone and clear glass became stained. The original sign stating "Sven's Scandinavian Storehouse" revealed itself to be` an ornate gold leaf placard proudly announcing the existence of the "Museum of American Magical Activity". Thinking he'd perhaps waited long enough for this moment, he packed up his equipment, and hesitantly approached the oaken doorway. Giving it a gentle push, the door creaked open and exposed the building's grand marble foyer. Littering the space was a number of gilded plinths, on which rested pristine glass cases that contained a series of arcane objects. Walking further forward he started to look at some of the displays: a bent wooden ladle, a glowing scroll, and a shiny metal cube covered in runic carvings. Everyone of those and more were luckily protected by some of the wizarding world's greatest defensive enchantments this side of Gringotts. Remembering the pamphlet he read, Harry knew that there was a vast collection of objects at any given time not on display and without a similar level of protection. It was these objects that troubled him. Wanting to ensure that he was alone, Harry muttered a hasty "Homenum Revelio" beneath his breath and was immediately presented with 8 glowing shapes in the far east wing of the complex. Then something happened. Something he wasn't expecting at all: another glowing mass dropped from the ceiling, this one different from the other eight. It swung down from the crystal chandelier overhead with what appeared to be a billy club anchoring him to the upper level's bannister and landed with a muted thud. It was him again, it was Daredevil.
"Sir, you're going to have to leave the building. There are multiple armed assailants in the eastern wing of this structure, and before the situation gets any worse you should get yourself to safety" Daredevil said, obviously concerned for Harry's wellbeing and hoping to get on with the business of kicking ass.
"Ah, I thought we might hit this little snag. While appreciative of your work in the city, let me tell you how WE are going to proceed with the upcoming conflict. What you saw in the alley was a unique moment of obliviousness for me, and whoever is in the east wing is just as much my responsibility as it is yours. So, by the power vested in me by the Magical Activity Regulation Act of 2018 I hereby appoint you a temporary agent of the Bureau of Magical Affairs. Now, lets see how much ass we can kick, or in my case zap, together. After all, I'm not completely helpless" Harry said with a noticeable degree of scorn in his tone. Seeing that his horny hero was about to say something in response, Harry pointed his free hand at the doors leading to the east wing and blasted them open, briskly walking towards them shortly after.
It was an understatement to say that Daredevil was flabbergasted, but seeing that Harry wasn't as unskilled as he first thought, he momentarily buried the numerous questions that were fizzing about his mind and followed Harry's lead.
Harry was striding purposely towards the storage room in the east wing, not bothering to look behind him in order to see whether or not Daredevil had decided to follow him. It mattered not, Harry was going to neutralise any magical threat to the public with or without his help. Luckily it didn't have to come to that as he could feel Daredevil come to walk beside him.
"I sense seven heavily armed combatants, and a number of objects bearing a strange frequency. Do you know what they are? Is there anything I should be prepared for?" Daredevil said, hoping to assess the threat level of whatever fight he was about to engage in.
"I know what they are, but you wouldn't understand me or believe me if I told you. All you need to know is that they should have been left undisturbed" Harry said, not wanting to explain the entirety of the wizarding world when they were just a few paces from a door leading towards their enemies.
"You wait here, I'll go in first and take out as many as I can. Wait for my signal." Daredevil said, while moving his hand towards the doorknob. Harry, reasonably confident in his admittedly impressive abilities, struck out his hand and flung open the doors. "Okay everyone, listen closely. I'm sure we're all capable of resolving this as quickly and as-" mid way through speaking Harry was confronted with a paralysing sight.
There was blood, a lot of blood. On the floor, on the chest of the man tied up on a wooden chair, and on the bloody knives which had obviously recently been used. Harry's knees buckled and he desperately clutched at whatever purchase he could find on the wall. It was probably the immediate surprise of Harry's sudden entrance into the room that prevented the 7 thugs from instantly charging at him, but either way it gave Daredevil enough time to spring into action from where he stood next to the door. Harry didn't like blood, he never had, but after the Battle of Hogwarts he couldn't stand the sight of it. Every time he even glanced at blood a wave of nausea overtook him and a violent sickness spread throughout his body. It appeared he had developed a psychological aversion to the substance after witnessing the volume which was shed during the final moments of Voldemort's demise. Hearing Daredevil's surge of kicks and swings, Harry remembered his breathing exercises: deep breath in and deep breath out. Allowing the calm to wash over him, Harry decided that Daredevil, probably struggling on his own as magical weaponry was most likely in use, would need assistance. Closing his eyes, Harry began to sense the enemies in the room: two near the bookshelf, three swinging wildly at Daredevil, and two lying unconscious on the ground. Bursting into action Harry kept his eyes clenched shut just in case he caught another glance of his bloody surroundings and unleashed a burst of debilitating lightning bolts from his wand tip, hoping to stun rather than slay. It worked. The two near the bookshelf were now slumped against the wall, and one of three fighting Daredevil had collapsed to the ground. Intending on letting his red friend finish up here, Harry practised some further deep breathing and tried to take account of the room's magical objects.
Daredevil was a blur, thrusting his fist in every direction humanly possible, while swiping his legs at the feet of his assailants. After noticing Harry was out of action, Daredevil steeled himself for a difficult encounter, especially considering Harry's ominous warning. It turned out Harry was correct to be ominous. One of the thugs currently trying to catch him with a right hook had a pulsing ruby bracelet on his wrist that seemed to grant the man some degree of super strength. Ducking the blow that was about to impact his cheek, he spun through the air and kicked the man square in the jaw, delivering a heavy blow which knocked the man off his feet and into unconsciousness. It had by no means been an easy fight, but he imagined if the man wearing the bracelet had had any real fighting abilities, he might have been far worse off than he was. Seeing that Harry had done some damage, if the three electrically quivering bodies were anything to go by, Daredevil went to help him up from his position. He extended a gloved hand as an offer.
"While I don't doubt you can take care of yourself, at least accept my help just this once so we can ask some questions of the only person still conscious in this room." Daredevil said, glancing over at the man tied up and gagged on the chair. Harry, not trusting the strength of his own legs, accepted the hand and walked over with him to the man who was violently struggling against his bonds. Pulling a knife from his suit, Daredevil went about cutting the man's bonds and gently removed the duct tape that was keeping him from speaking.
"Ohhh, thank you, thank you so much. They interrogated me for hours, I thought I'd never be freed." The man gasped, his breathing laboured. His body was littered with scars, cuts, and purples bruise; all of them seemingly souvenirs of his time with the men now coating the floor. "Yes yes, that's all well and good." Said Harry, averting his gaze from the streaks of red covering the man's body "But, what I'd really like to discuss-" Harry gagged "is what these men were so intent on you divulging".
Daredevil, surprised by the intensity with which Harry was struggling to remain upright, offered his arm for Harry to lean on. He leapt at the opportunity to support himself, and grasped the offered arm with white knuckled ferocity.
"Well" said the man still shaken by the trauma he had endured for many days now "nothing really, I can't really think of anything that I know or have that would be of worth. I'm just a bartender, they captured me when I walked past on my way back from work."
While the man was saying this, Daredevil cleared his mind and focused his senses on the man's heart rate. With every word he said, the man's heart rate grew ever faster. He was lying, but for what reason Daredevil didn't know. If the man wasn't willing to be truthful with them, Daredevil would have to encourage some honesty himself. Walking over to Harry, Daredevil paused by his side and whispered "He's lying, he does know why but he's not willing to tell us. I'm gonna see if I can change his mind. Does that conform to the legal guidelines of whatever legislation you mentioned earlier?"
"Alright, fine. Just don't spill any blood, while there is a clause that allows any member of the BMA to take extreme action against suspects who pose a genuine threat to national security, I don't know how far it extends." Said Harry, trusting in whatever abilities lead Daredevil to such a conclusion, but not excited by the prospect of further queasiness.
As soon as Harry had finished speaking, Daredevil spun around, grabbed the man by his throat and thrust him up against the wall adjacent to him, causing the man to squeak in terror. "Now, just so we're clear, I know you're full of shit, and I want answers. Real answers, not whatever you decided to tell us a few moments ago. Okay?" Said Daredevil, hoping to frighten some information out of the chap. Seeming as the man was nodding vigorously, Daredevil loosened his grip and allowed him to speak.
"Okay, I lied! I was just trying protect myself from whatever mystical baloney you two just dished up to those thugs." Said the man, rubbing his neck in a weak attempt to sooth the angry bruises that had begun to blossom "I took something from here, nothing special, just an emerald ring with a few inscript-" "What! What did it look like? Did it feel sinister? Did it reek of evil? Could you sense the ill intent cascading from it nexus?" Said Harry, hoping to clarify his suspicions.
"Well, I guess so. I don't know if it was as poetic as that, but when I was wearing it around the house my dog would try to bite me, some of my furniture attempted to trip me, and my wife came at me with a colander when we were making pasta the other night" The man said, gradually growing more aware of his ring's true nature.
"In my culture, we call it the Ring of Nefarious Intention, and in your's…well, I don't imagine you have a name for it as you two are the first muggles to hear of it's existence. It projects dark emotional energy to anything in its presence, anything except it's wearer. The ring ultimately ends up killing who ever wields it, but for some reason, there are very few who can resist it's allure." Harry said this with a grim expression on his face. This was an alarming discovery, Harry, having studied the ring's mythological history, had thought it to be lost after Victor the Vile dropped it down a gaping arctic chasm in 1624. Apparently it hadn't, and had somehow made it's way into the Museum of American Magical Activity's collection.
"Where is it now then? If this ring is truly as hazardous as my associate says, we need to contain it before it falls into the wrong hands" Daredevil said to the man, optimistic that he could be home in time to rehearse his opening remarks for his court appearance tomorrow. "No need." Said Harry "Its in the room, I can sense it's malicious presence. Dark magic has always been very pungent."
With a flick of his wrist Harry's wand appeared in his hand. "Accio Ring of Nefarious Intention" Recited Harry. With a rip, the ring ring tore out of the man's shoe and flew into Harry's hand. "This one is a tricky bugger. It's had a part in the collapse of 7 kingdoms to this day, but luckily the foul stench of your sock prevented it from having any tangible effect on us." Harry said while conjuring a magical suppressant strong enough to contain it's vile taint.
While Harry constructed a containment vessel and the man nursed his wounds, Daredevil took stock of the past few minutes: Harry was a sorcerer and the word magic now had real world application. These two revelations coupled with his desire to grow closer to Harry were enough to ignite an emotional maelstrom within. Everything Stick had told him about severing personal ties went against his natural instincts as a man. He wanted to know more about Harry, but his Daredevil persona would mostly likely obstruct any meaningful connection. It seemed as if he was doomed to be alone, but at least try to avoid such a grim future.
Harry, having finished securing that blasted ring, bent down to check the enemies they had recently overcome. Male and female alike, all of them had been skilled fighters. Inspecting them closer, he noticed a symbol. It was small, but recognisable: two swords crossed before a blank face. Checking the other bodies, he noticed that all of them bore this identical mark on their right sleeve. While he didn't know their name, he knew their trade. They were in the business of collecting objects of immense power and using them for unsavoury purposes. They were entirely muggle, but it seemed they had developed a fondness for unattended magical items. Finding the artefact register, Harry was relieved to see that every item, save the ring, was neatly positioned on a table in the corner of the room. One less headache, for Harry's increasingly throbbing skull.
"Do you recognise this symbol?" Said Harry to Daredevil, hoping that he would at least be able to provide Harry with their name. "Of course I do, everyone in Hell's Kitchen would as well. They comprise half of the criminals I fight on a daily basis, but I still don't know anything but their insignia."
"I guess that's something. I doubt they'll be any trouble any more, I imagine this is their entire stockpile of magical weaponry, and it's not as if they can create more." Said Harry, in an attempt to reassure his overburdened mind. Harry, noticing Daredevil seemingly caressing the walls, decided to see what his masked man was up to.
There were letters. Letters on the wall, three of them carved into the wood of the wall. Turning around to catch Harry's attention he noticed that he had already made his way over to the surface and was just as intrigued as him.
Harry could see why Daredevil was fascinated with the wall. Someone had carved the the letter O.V.V into it. They were crude, but large enough to be legible. To both Harry and Daredevil these letters meant nothing, but given their location they had to mean something to someone. Logging the letters and the symbol for future reference, Harry turned to Daredevil and said "You can go attend to your duties as guardian of the weak and vulnerable now if you wish. This room and building are now both active crime scenes and I'll need to document every piece of them. You can trust me, it is my job after all."
Daredevil was skeptical, but ultimately couldn't help the situation any more than he had. "Do you want me to call the police? They'll need to question whoever it was we just fought, and investigate whatever mystery we just stumbled upon" Said Daredevil, not exactly wanting to intrust the documentation of a crime scene solely in Harry. "I'm the only police force that has the expertise to comprehend the situation that just unfolded, and this isn't their jurisdiction anyway" Harry said, already busying himself with the task of tagging and transporting the heap of magical oddments in the corner of the room.
"If you insist, but just remember, I'll be keeping an I on your movements." Said Daredevil "I like you Harry, but there's a lot I don't yet understand and much I probably never will. Next time we fight organised crime together, how about you explain to me whatever witchcraft is at play before I find myself embroiled in it. Deal?"
"Let's skip the crime fighting, and just get drinks" Harry said with a grin "Now go away and defend your precious Hell's Kitchen."
As Daredevil left, Harry took out one of his business cards and blew on it. Propelled by the magical glow Harry's breath had imbued it with, the card floated into Daredevil's hand. "Just tear the card if you ever need my help and I'll be there before you can say quidditch."
Daredevil left with a smile on his face. Half of the nonsense Harry spouted made not a lick of sense to Daredevil, but it sounded genuine. He hoped he'd see Harry again, maybe over a bit of light crime fighting or those drinks Harry mentioned. With a flick of his extendable club, Daredevil launched himself out of the window and onto the sprawling rooftops he had come to inhabit so frequently.
Apparently fighting crime was more thrilling than Harry thought. At least it was when he had company. Even though he didn't look forward to processing 8 criminal suspects, he certainly didn't mind the promise of further encounters with his devilish friend. Putting these thoughts out of his mind, Harry got to work. He knocked out the man, who's name he now knew to be Stan, and restrained him and everyone else they'd done battle with. With a wave of his wand, the 8 criminals and a colourful array of magical artefacts were transported to his New York office. One sloppy apparation later and Harry himself was whisked away to the BMA's offices where he once again sought refuge in the pillowy embrace of his leather armchair. What a day Harry had had, now all he needed was a defence attorney.