Harry groaned as she woke up, her eyes squinting against the rising sun. She was lying down on a bench in a park and, as she pushed herself up into sitting position, she noticed the piece of paper that was attached to her shirt. Ripping the paper off, she looked at the note that was written on the page.
Really sorry about having to drug you, however orders are order and you looked like you needed the sleep. Can we still be friends?
Harry looked up from the note, perplexed. She detected movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to look at what it was.
She saw Agents Barton and Morse leaning against a tree, close enough to Harry that they could see each other, but far enough away so that Harry couldn't punch them.
Agent Barton gave her a hopeful smile and Morse gave a wave – like they were expecting to be friends after what had happened.
Harry scowled at them and flipped them off using both her hands. She watched as they laughed at her before turning around and leaving the park.
She remained seated on the bench in order to assess her situation. She was now in London, which wasn't that big of a deal – Harry knew London like she knew Hogwarts, and so she was confident that she would be able to navigate this London as well as the one back home. All she needed to do was walk around the city a bit in order to familiarize herself with it once more.
Of course that wasn't her main concern. She was homeless and was being watched through city cameras, meaning that she couldn't use magic like she had been doing in New York – the last thing she wanted was SHIELD finding out about her magic through a security camera she had no knowledge about. That meant that she had to constantly be on the lookout for cameras.
Which meant that she also couldn't steal food from shops anymore; if SHIELD was watching her every move then she really didn't want to give them any excuse to arrest her, and her stealing things from shops, however petty a crime, could hold negative consequences for her.
Luckily, Harry had several hundred American dollars in her mokeskin pouch; however, that was all the money she felt safe using seeing as how she wouldn't hold it against SHIELD if they had frozen her bank account. So at least this time she had money to start out her homeless life, which meant she was fine for a couple of weeks in regard to food.
Harry stood up from the bench, a bit wobbly due to the drugs that had kept her asleep, and she walked out of the park.
She knew objectively that London in this universe had a lot of security cameras, but she didn't actually know about it until she was out of the park and on the sidewalk. She counted three cameras on one building pointed in different directions to cover the entirety of the street; and she could see more on another building further down the road.
She glared directly into one of the cameras and, feeling spiteful, flipped off the camera to show her displeasure.
If SHIELD was watching, they'd understand.
"Is this your card?" Harry asked the child as she drew a random card from her deck.
It was a beautiful April day, and Harry was performing 'street magic' in front of a crowd in Hyde Park. She got the idea of performing simple tricks for money a few days into her life in London; she had been walking through Trafalgar Square when she noticed the number of street performers who were making money from tips left by onlookers.
Her idea had solidified when she noticed a man performing an elaborate slight-of-hand trick that had his audience in rapt attention. It didn't take long after the man's performance for Harry to go out and buy a deck of regular playing cards so she could formulate her own act.
Performing magic in front of muggles was dangerous; however, Harry was too prideful to beg for money, and felt so vindictive towards SHIELD that she thought it would be hilarious if she performed blatant magic under the disguise of slight-of-hand right in front of the security cameras.
Of course her act wasn't anything spectacular. She had to rely heavily on transfiguration, which had never been her strong suit while at school – she was good at charms, and excelled at dueling and defensive magic, however, if someone asked her to turn a porcupine into a pincushion they would be met with a porcupine and a very frustrated Harry. She knew the only reason why she had received an Exceeds Expectations on her OWLs was because she had studied with Hermione, who was a transfiguration prodigy.
This all meant her act relied on the only bit of transfiguration she was comfortable with, namely changing the color of objects.
So Harry held up a random card to the little girl and watched as she looked at her with held back laughter.
"No," the girl said with a smile tugging at her lips, as if she had tricked Harry instead of the other way around.
"Really?" Harry asked as she looked at the card herself. She knew it wasn't the correct card, but she had a role to play. She looked in disbelief at the girl before shaking the card in her hand, thinking about what colors she wanted on the card.
"What about now?" she asked, showing the card once more to the girl. Harry saw as her eyes widened in surprise, the once black and white card of the eight of spades now changed to a purple and orange of the same suit.
The little girl reached out for the card and looked at it in wonder, her own card completely forced out of her mind.
"Mom, look!" the girl exclaimed as she held out the card for her mother to see. Harry smiled a sad smile as she watched the girl and her mother interact.
Harry noticed that the crowd who had once been watching her had turned their attention elsewhere, and she followed their gaze to see a tall man with long blond hair and a beard being swarmed by people.
Harry's eyes widened in surprise when she finally realized who the man was.
"Can you do it again?" the girl asked, drawing Harry's attention away from the crowd of people surrounding the Norse god of thunder and back to the little girl in question.
"I don't know," Harry said, drawing out the words playfully.
"Please?" the little girl asked, drawing out the word while waving the card in the air. Harry smiled, nodding her head while taking the card back from the girl.
"Well okay, since you said the magic word, I guess I can do the trick again," Harry answered, much to the child's delight.
Harry ran through her routine again: changing the card back to normal, shuffling the deck, holding out the cards for the girl to choose one, having her put it back into the pile, shuffling the deck once more, picking a random card.
"Is this your card?" Harry asked again, holding out the Queen of diamonds.
"No," the girl said again, though this time she was more focused, as if she was trying to see exactly when Harry would perform the slight-of-hand.
Harry smiled at the girl's determination as she shook the card, changing the color scheme to blue, bronze, and silver.
"What about now?" Harry asked once more, holding out the transfigured card. The girl reacted in much the same way as she had before, and Harry took the time to look back over to the god.
Thor was taking pictures with some of his fans, his smiling face a funny sight to see on such an imposing body. Harry was surprised to see him here, for she had not realized he was still in London. The attack on London had happened in February, and Harry had thought that by now he would be back on Asgard instead of hanging around on Earth.
She was surprised by how relaxed Thor was around his adoring fans. Harry knew that if their positions had been switched that she would not have taken the amount of people crowding around her with as much grace and ease as Thor.
"Alright dear, it's time to go," the mother said, trying to convince her daughter that they had been entertained enough. The little girl gave a whine in protest and Harry, fearing tears, got down on her knees so she was at eyelevel with the little girl.
"Hey, it's fine," Harry said smiling at the girl, "how about I give you a souvenir to take with you?"
The girl looked questioningly at Harry, who reached over and took the card back from the little girl. Holding the card between her fingers, Harry flicked her wrist and fanned out two identical copies of the same card. Or partially identical; Harry wasn't an expert on copying objects, and she could tell she hadn't conjured the same type of material for the copied card as the original. She highly doubted, though, that the little girl would notice.
"There you go," Harry told her, giving her the magical card. The little girl gave a great big grin and the mother, smiling at her daughter, dropped a couple of coins into Harry's beanie hat.
"What do we say?" the mother prompted her daughter.
"Thank you!" the girl exclaimed.
"You are very welcome," Harry said, standing back up. She watched as the two left before turning to her hat to see how much she received.
It wasn't much, maybe enough to buy a couple bags of crisps, but it was more money than people normally left.
"Tips for a starving witch?"
Harry looked up to see a young woman: brown hair, glasses, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and an American accent.
"Yeah," Harry replied, tossing her hat back down next to her cardboard sign that had big black letters declaring 'Tips for a starving witch.'
"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?" the woman asked, her voice curious.
"I'm the goodest witch you're ever going to meet. Unless we're fighting," Harry replied, shrugging her shoulders at her amendment.
"Alright Glinda, show me what you've got," she said; Harry smirked at the challenge.
Harry did the same routine as she had done with the little girl, and when she revealed the changed card to the woman she watched as her eyes widened in surprise.
"Whoa, let me see that," the woman said, snatching the newly turned green and silver card from Harry's hand to get a better look.
"What do you have, another stack of cards up your sleeve or something?" she asked Harry as she continued to inspect the card.
"Or something," Harry replied blandly. The nice thing about muggles was that they never thought she was actually using magic, which was good for her and added an extra 'fuck you' to SHIELD whenever she did her act in front of a camera.
"Hey Thor! Come check this out!" the girl called out and Harry, face drawn in confusion, looked over to where Thor was to see him excusing himself from his fans and walking over.
"Darcy, what is wrong? Is something the matter?" Thor asked as he walked up to the woman, Darcy, and Harry tried not to act suspiciously under his gaze.
"No, nothing's wrong, just thought you'd find this cool," Darcy replied nodding over to Harry. With minimal prompting from the woman, Harry ran through her routine once more with Thor.
When she revealed to him the changed Ace of Clubs to a red and gold color scheme, she watched as Thor eyed her with suspicion instead of wonder like she was used to.
"Loki?" he asked her, his voice a mixture of emotions.
"What?" Harry asked, confused. She watched as Thor's shoulders dropped as he came to a realization.
"Sorry, for a second I believed you to be my brother – he too was able to perform tricks such as these," Thor explained, handing the card back to Harry.
"Oh, that's fine. There are honestly worse people out there who you could have confused me with. I'll try taking your mix-up as a compliment," Harry told him as she changed the card back to normal.
Harry thought back to this world's Rita Skeeter, about how Harry had claimed to be dressing up as Loki for a costume party in order to save Steve's identity from the press.
Had that really almost been a year ago?
"There are worse people than the guy who tried to take over the world with an army of aliens?" Darcy asked skeptically, and Harry could see Thor sigh with sadness.
"Yep," Harry said, nodding her head. "For one thing he could have mistaken me for Hitler."
Or Voldemort, or Pettigrew, or Bellatrix Lestrange –there were definitely people she did not want to be confused with; Loki was not one of them.
"Besides, you can't expect the Norse god of mischief and lies to not try to take over the world once in a while. After all there are only so many times you can trick your brother into dressing up in a wedding dress before you grow bored," Harry continued, shrugging her shoulders in a cavalier way.
Harry watched Thor's eyes widen in surprise and his face heat up, while Darcy gave him a playful look.
"How do you know about that?" Thor asked suspiciously, causing Harry's eyes to widen in surprise.
"Wait, that actually happened?" Harry asked Thor, not realizing that the myths she had read as a child were actually true.
Thor blushed, causing Darcy to laugh and Harry to smile.
"I read about it in a story – although I didn't think it had actually happened," Harry explained, trying to hold back her laughter. That was hard, though, on account of the fact that all she could do now was imagine the Thor in front of her in a white wedding dress.
He gave a small smile, part sad and part self-deprecating.
"Ay, that happened. At the time I had protested, but Loki's plan did work out, even with my mistakes," Thor said fondly.
"It is nice to have someone who can talk their way out of anything," Harry said, speaking from experience. She had been lucky enough to be friends with people who could think up excuses on the spot – well, some more than others. Harry was rather good at the act herself, though that might be more due to her luck than actual skill.
"That is true, and a fact I did not always believe, but one I have learned to appreciate," Thor said in a wistful tone. The three stood in silence for a few seconds and it was awkward enough for Harry to run her hand through her hair for something to do.
"Eihwaz?" Thor spoke up suddenly, looking intently at Harry's forehead.
"Bless you" Darcy said, causing Thor to look at her in confusion.
"She has eihwaz on her forehead," Thor explained to Darcy, pointing to the scar on Harry's head.
"Oh, right, I forgot I had that," Harry said, touching her scar.
"Wow, that's wicked awesome," Darcy said in the typical American fashion. Thor stared at Harry, a pensive look on his face.
"It's nothing really," Harry said, trying to get Thor to stop looking at her like he was, "a friend of mine has sowilo as a scar on his forehead."
The scar Neville had received from Voldemort was shaped like a lightning bolt, which was the same shape the rune sowilo took.
"You know Elder Futhark?" Thor asked in surprise while Darcy looked on in confusion.
"I had a class or two in it. Personally I'm glad my scar isn't in the shape of thurisaz or else this conversation would be even more awkward than it is now," Harry explained, running her hand through her hair once more.
Thurisaz was, of course, Thor's rune.
Thor gave a laugh, clapping Harry on the shoulder; she pitched forward, her glasses sliding down her nose, and she was reminded suddenly of Hagrid. Harry grimaced as she felt a wave of homesickness hit her.
"No need to feel awkward, I am just surprised that a Midgardian has knowledge of the Asgardian alphabet," Thor said, giving Harry a friendly smile.
"Sorry to interrupt, but Jane just texted me – apparently she needs help," Darcy said, her focus on her phone.
At those words Thor sprung into action, his body falling into a defensive stance, his face full of concern.
"What is wrong? Is Jane okay?" Thor asked, worry dripping from his tone, an undercurrent of promised pain to whoever dared threaten Jane.
"Oh, no, nothing extreme. It's more of a 'help, I don't know what to wear, Darcy help me,' than a 'help, there's a group of men trying to kill me, Thor help,'" Darcy explained as she put her phone away, causing Thor to relax.
"Tell you what, I'll go and help Jane get ready and we'll meet you at that pub in an hour or two. Got that big guy?" Darcy asked Thor, who nodded in agreement.
"Ay," Thor said, causing Darcy to smile.
"Alright, see you soon then," Darcy said as she started to walk away.
"Nice trick, by the way," Darcy told Harry before walking off, causing Harry to smile stiffly.
Harry and Thor stood in silence once Darcy left, and Harry watched as Thor's face fell into confusion.
"You don't know where you're supposed to go, do you?" Harry asked, recognizing the panic in Thor's face.
"Not from here, no," Thor explained, like a child.
"Do you know the name of the pub?" Harry asked, knowing she could at least give him directions.
"I believe it's called the Leaky Barrel?" Thor said, unsure if that was the correct name.
Harry smiled; the Leaky Barrel was this universe's Leaky Cauldron.
"I know that pub. I can give you directions if you want," Harry said. She watched as Thor looked around, a hesitant look on his face.
"Do you think you could show me?" he asked, and Harry realized that sending Thor off with only directions might not be the best plan.
"Yeah, alright," Harry replied; she couldn't think up a good excuse to say no to the god. She picked up her hat, scooped the money out of it before putting the hat on her head and the money in her mokeskin pouch.
"Let's go," she said, picking up her sign and throwing it away.
An hour later saw Harry and Thor in the Leaky Barrel, each with a pint at the bar while Thor regaled Harry with the real story behind the wedding dress incident.
"My father was not amused by our dress, but my mother said it brought out my eyes," Thor ended his story with a chuckle, Harry laughing along.
If Harry went back in time and told her child-self that one day she would be drinking with Thor, Norse god of thunder, she would cause a paradox – but also her younger self wouldn't believe her.
She also knew that if she went back a year and told her younger self that Thor and Loki Solberg were the counterparts to the Norse gods Thor and Loki, then she also wouldn't have believed herself.
In her universe, Thor was a pureblood wizard from Denmark whose father was the Denmark Ambassador to the magical world's version of the United Nations, meaning that Thor and his family spent their time split between the US and Denmark. Thor's adoptive brother, Loki, was originally from a pureblood family from Iceland, but, when his birth father was arrested when he was just a baby, Odin Solberg, Thor's father, decided to adopt Loki out of the goodness of his heart. However, if Odin, a pureblood fanatic, knew that Loki would end up being a squib, Harry highly doubted that he would have decided to adopt Loki at all.
Also, if Odin knew that one day Loki, acting under the imperious curse, would end up murdering Odin, Frigga, and Thor with a knife before stabbing himself with the same knife out of grief, then that also would have changed Odin's mind about adopting Loki.
Hindsight always is twenty-twenty.
"I'm guessing you got out of the dress pretty quickly after that?" Harry asked, trying to prompt Thor to continue on with his story.
"I did, though Loki decided to stay in his dress for the rest of the day – I think he liked it, although it might also have been because it made father angry," Thor said, causing Harry to smile in amusement.
In her world, Thor had gone to Durmstrang, and while she never met her world's Thor she knew his wand had been cypress, which definitely fit well with this Thor's personality. Harry couldn't help but think that, if Thor had gone to Hogwarts, he would have been put in Gryffindor.
Actually, if Harry was being honest with herself, Thor was exactly how she always imagined Godric Gryffindor to be – brave, chivalrous, boisterous, relaxed with an undercurrent of danger, understanding.
Drinking with Thor was like partying in the Gryffindor common room after winning a quidditch match – her glass was always full and there was a never ending supply of humorous stories to enjoy.
"And what about you? I don't believe we were properly introduced," Thor said, rounding on Harry.
Harry stilled at Thor's change of subject, her glass of beer halfway to her lips. She thought back on her meeting with Thor and realized that she never told him her name.
"Oh, right, I'm Harry, Harry Peverrel," Harry said, holding out her free hand for Thor to take. He took it and gave it a forceful shake.
"And I am Thor, of Asgard," he told her, causing Harry to smile.
"Yeah, I know," she said, finally taking her drink.
"So what about you? What has caused a warrior such as yourself to resort to magic tricks in order to get by?" Thor asked, causing Harry to choke on her beer in surprise.
"What?" she coughed out, causing Thor to pat her on the back.
"I am as curious about you as you are about me. It has been a while since I have met a seidhr who carries themselves like a warrior – and never on Midgard. I actually didn't realize the seidhr still existed, I had thought they were all wiped out by now," Thor explained in a calm tone.
Harry gave Thor a 'deer-in-the-headlights' look as she got her bearings.
"What makes you think I'm a seidhr?" she asked warily, unsure what it meant to be seidhr but still recognizing the word. If she was correct, seidhr were magical people in Norse mythology, though she could be wrong.
"Your eyes, coupled with your knowledge of Elder Futhark and your magic trick in the park," Thor explained, taking a sip from his own glass.
"My eyes?" Harry asked, still not sure how that tipped Thor off to her being magical.
"Green eyes are a common attribute amongst the seidhr, though only those with real magic have a certain glow to their eyes that most others do not have – I know of the glow only because my mother and brother both had it when they were alive; and you possess the glow as well," Thor told Harry, his eyes unfocused as he descended into a memory.
Harry drew back in surprise.
"Wait, Frigga and Loki are dead?" Harry asked, her voice a mixture of shock and grief. Thor nodded his head sadly, causing Harry to gape in despair.
"I'm sorry for your losses," Harry told Thor, genuinely upset over his revelation. She had read Norse mythology as a child while hiding out in the library, and she had always liked Frigga and Loki from the stories.
"Thank you," Thor replied, "And I am equally sorry for your own."
Harry looked at Thor incredulously.
"Okay, you really need to stop doing that," she told him as she waved her hand around, as if to gesture what 'that' was.
"Doing what?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Whatever this is; the guessing things correctly about me, because it's starting to freak me out."
"You are a seidhr and a warrior who has met Death and lived. It is not a guess to say you have lost people you loved," Thor said, his voice filled with sympathy.
They descended into silence after that, Harry shaking her head in wonder while Thor looked up at the TV that was on, smiling happily at whatever was being shown.
Harry was impressed by how much Thor was able to deduce about her through their short time together, though she wasn't sure why; Thor obviously wasn't an idiot, but he did have an image of being the stereotypical brawn. The fact that he knew more than he let on made Harry like him even more, which was an impressive feat since she had already been equating him with Godric Gryffindor.
"Hey Thor! There you are," Darcy said as she and another pretty woman came walking up to Thor and Harry.
"Darcy, Jane!" Thor said, his face lighting up when he set his eyes on Jane.
Jane had light brown hair and a pleasant face, and Harry watched as Thor stood up to stand right beside her. Their love was palpable and a bit sickening in the way most couples in love usually are.
"Hey, you're the witch from the park," Darcy said as she came over to where Harry was seated. She sat down in Thor's vacant seat, Thor and Jane talking together, lost in their own little world.
"Harry," she said, holding out her hand in introduction.
"Darcy," she replied, shaking her hand in a joking manner. Harry smiled at Darcy, who reminded her of a combination of Ginny and Fred and George.
"So what's the occasion?" Harry asked, nodding to the fancy clothes Jane and Darcy were wearing.
"Long story short: Jane's an astrophysicist, I'm her assistant, Thor's her boyfriend. Jane got a job offer in Paris, so we're moving over their pretty soon. This is basically our last night out before we begin packing for the move," Darcy explained casually, though Harry could hear an undertone of threat to her voice.
"Congrats," Harry said happily; Darcy shot her a look.
"You know that means you can't keep flirting with Thor," Darcy explained offhandedly. Harry started choking on her own spit.
"What?!" she exclaimed, looking at Darcy like she was crazy.
"As Jane's best friend, it is my job to make sure no one tries to take her man away from her. So I'm warning you now, if you don't back off I will taze you – I swear I will, I've already tazed Thor," Darcy threatened.
Harry looked at Darcy in utter disbelief before she started to laugh.
"I wasn't flirting with Thor," Harry said once she got her laughter under control. "We were just hanging out in a friendly way. I don't even like Thor like that – he's not my type."
Darcy raised an eyebrow, her face clearly displaying her skepticism at Harry's confession.
"What is your type?" she asked curiously, tilting her head and resting her chin in her hand.
"I don't have one," Harry replied, shrugging her shoulders.
Harry felt weird having this conversation with a stranger who had just accused her of flirting with Thor.
"Alright, whatever you say," Darcy said, dropping the subject. She must have believed Harry because she didn't bring up the accusation again.
Harry sat awkwardly as she drank the rest of her beer. She watched as Darcy joined Thor and Jane in their conversation, effectively blocking Harry out.
She finished the rest of her beer and left the pub without drawing attention to herself.
And if she noticed Thor watching her as she left, she tried not to dwell on it.
It was a beautiful day in June, and Harry was out in Trafalgar Square performing her act for a small group of people. In the months she had been living on the streets in London, she had finally incorporated another part of her act – she now was able to change a card into a bouquet of flowers and was able to revert the flowers back into the card without running into a mishap.
It was mid-afternoon and Harry had been performing her tricks since the early morning. She learned early on that the longer she performed the more money she would accumulate.
"Is this your card?" Harry asked the man in front of her; the man was young, probably in his late twenties, with short, curly brown hair. A young woman around his age stood next to him; she was short, with brown hair and brown eyes.
"No," he replied in a Scottish accent, his face showing his disappointment over her terrible magic trick.
"What about now?" Harry asked, holding out the changed card for the couple to see.
She watched as the two looked at the card in shock before pouncing on the card with a scientific curiosity.
"How'd you do that?" the man asked, his accent thick causing his words to slur.
Harry was going to respond but couldn't get a word in edgewise to the sudden spewing of theories that were being bounced back and forth between the pair; they were speaking primarily in scientific terms and Harry had to resist the urge to step away from the two of them.
Watching the couple was like what Harry imagined Hermione would be like if she was ever cloned and could talk to herself – talking a mile a minute about things no one else could follow.
"Fitzsimmons!" a man called out, causing the pair to turn and look.
The man was older than the two, with black hair and an American accent.
"Hold on Ward," the Scotsman yelled back, causing the man, Ward, to look sternly at the pair.
"On second thought, we're coming," the woman answered back in an English accent, handing Harry her card back.
"Very nice trick," she continued, before dragging the protesting man towards the American.
Harry shook her head as they left, as if trying to shake away how weird the whole exchange had been. She didn't have much time to dwell on it before another group of people wanted to see her trick.
An hour more had passed since the couple, and Harry noticed out of the corner of her eye as a man stopped and stood within direct eyesight of Harry. Normally some guy stopping to watch Harry perform her tricks would be fine, however the man gave Harry a bad feeling, and Harry knew to not ignore bad feelings.
She continued to entertain people while she kept an eye on the man. He was tall, had black skin, and looked as though he had burn scars on the right side of his face. Harry could tell he had a fake leg by the way he held himself, and if she had to guess she would say he also had a fake eye, though it was hard to tell from a distance.
He watched with an impassive face, watching Harry intently but not seeing what she was doing. After a few minutes under his constant gaze, Harry was beginning to get frustrated.
She packed up, putting the money she made into her pouch and putting the hat on her head, before marching over to the man, a stern expression on her face.
"What the bloody hell is your problem, mate?" she demanded once she was within his hearing range. The man momentarily looked surprised before falling back into his blank face.
Harry knew engaging the man was a stupid decision, however she was in a crowded area and she highly doubted the man would do anything in front of a mass of people. She also didn't want to be stalked or kidnapped by the man – if he was going to do anything to her then she wanted it to be on her terms.
Besides, the fact that the man didn't walk away when she stormed over to him told her that he just wanted to talk.
The man stood still, staring straight at Harry as if she hadn't just talked. Scowling, Harry snapped her finger in front of what she presumed to be his good eye, her other hand placed on her hip in the same way Mrs. Weasley would do when she was scolding the twins.
"Oi! Mate, your problem? The bloody hell is it?" she asked again, speaking slowly and enunciating her words.
Harry watched as the man's face changed from the blank stare to a mask of determination.
"Miss. Peverell, my name is Mike Peterson, and I believe I can help you with your current problem," the man said in a pained voice, as if he was being forced to act against his will.
Harry raised her eyebrows suspiciously, looking at Peterson like he was an idiot.
"Which one? I have quite a few problems that I am currently dealing with," she said.
"Your surveillance problem," he answered, finally looking away from Harry in order to look at the dozens of cameras that were peppered around the square.
"What, with SHIELD?" Harry asked with a snort. She wouldn't necessarily count SHIELD as a problem – an annoyance, yes, but not a problem.
At the present moment her problems aligned more with the basic survival needs: food, water, shelter, hygiene. Living a life without her magical crutch was terrible.
"Yes, with SHIELD. I can help you, but this conversation would be better suited in a more private place," he said, and Harry noticed how he involuntarily twitched when he said SHIELD, which was not a good sign.
She looked at all the people around them at Peterson's words, noticing just how many people there were, before turning back to look at him.
"I'd prefer to stay here, thanks," she told him, standing up straight as she talked.
"What I wish to discuss with you is not for public ears," he said, jaw clenching.
"Then it's not a conversation I wish to have. Good day," Harry replied, turning around to leave.
"Wait," he called out, and Harry turned back around to face him.
"What now?" she asked with a glare.
"You're homeless, right? You need food, and shelter, and a sense of purpose? We can give you that. We can guarantee you so many things – power, for instance."
Harry stared at the man, her bad feeling growing as he spoke. His tone and posture didn't match – his words promised hope, but his voice and body told Harry to run away as fast as she could.
She was intrigued and frightened for the man – was he a victim forced to do something against his will?
"Couple of questions," she said instead of running. "One, who's this 'we?' And two, do you think I'm petty enough to accept your bloody sketchy offer?"
Panic crossed Peterson's face at Harry's questions, and he took a step closer to Harry, his voice in a hushed whisper.
"SHIELD will never leave you alone. They have you down as an 0-8-4 – they won't leave you until they find out what you are, and even then they'll lock you up. We can help – let us help."
"Okay, you didn't answer either of my questions, and now I just have more. For instance, what is an oh-eight-four, and who are you working for that you know what SHIELD is doing even though you aren't a part of SHIELD yourself?"
Harry's voice grew louder as she asked her questions, her anger coming into play. She didn't have the patience to be dealing with manipulative people right now – or ever again.
Peterson's face showed his internal battle he had over whether he should answer her questions or not. He looked around, paranoid, before turning back to Harry.
"I work for someone known as the Clairvoyant – he knows everything about everyone, so he knows about your relationship with SHIELD. He wants to meet with you in order to get to know you better. He says you have potential," he said, his voice coming out fast, as if saying it all at once would lessen any punishment he was expecting to receive.
Harry snorted her derision at his explanation.
"You kind of got yourself in a contradiction there," Harry stated, her mind trying to recall why 'the Clairvoyant' sounded familiar to her. "After all, if this supposed 'Clairvoyant' is supposed to know everything about me, then why would he want to have a nice 'get to know me' chat. Seems like your Clairvoyant is a fucking fraud."
And just like that, the memory of Fury's interrogation all those months ago came back into Harry's mind. He had asked if she worked for the Clairvoyant, who Harry had never heard of before.
Which means the Clairvoyant was bad news.
"You're blocked from his view," he explained, "he knows about you through SHIELD, but he can't actually see you."
"Funny, isn't that what all frauds say?" she asked spitefully. Harry shook her head at Peterson, before turning away.
"Right, well, this was a bloody waste of time. I'm just going to go, and if I ever see you again I'm calling the police," she said with her back to him.
However before she could walk away, he grabbed her left arm in a vice-grip.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave," he said, pulling Harry closer to him.
"Excuse you!" Harry exclaimed as she stumbled from the force of his tugging.
"The Clairvoyant wants you – "
"Why, so he can have another lap dog in his possession? Fuck you and fuck him. I refuse to be anyone's boot-licker, especially not to some guy who hides his real identity behind a really stupid bloody name. Now LET ME GO!" Harry yelled as she tried to yank her arm out of Peterson's grasp.
His grip tightened and Harry held back a wince of pain, her arm feeling like it was breaking under the force of his hold. He started to drag her away, and Harry tried to resist, her arm acting like a rope in their game of tug-of-war.
They were starting to cause a commotion, and Harry was glad to see the number of people who began to take notice of her present situation.
"Mr. Peterson, unhand the Miss. Peverell, please," a male voice commanded from behind Harry, and she turned away from Peterson to see a group of six people fanning out in a semi-circle around the two of them.
Harry was quick to spot the three people from earlier in the day – the Scotsman, the English woman, and the American man, Ward – all of whom were holding silvery guns that had glowing blue liquid contained within. Out of the three Ward looked to be the most comfortable holding the gun, while the Scotsman looked semi-confident and the woman looked as if the gun was going to bite her at any given moment.
Of the other three in the group, two were women and one was the man who talked. One of the woman, who was older and Asian, was closest to her and Mike, and looked like someone Harry did not want to piss off. The other woman was young, probably a year or two older than Harry herself, with brown hair and an honest face.
The man who spoke wore a suit and tie, and had receding brown hair. He was clearly the leader of the group and was standing protectively next to the young woman.
At the man's command, Peterson pulled Harry close to him, his right arm wrapping around Harry's waist, pinning her arms down, while his left hand let go of her arm and clenched her throat instead. Harry's eyes widened as his grip tightened on her throat, and she had to will herself not to panic, fearful that her magic might make an unwanted appearance at the present time.
She had not spent months not blatantly using her magic just so she could perform accidental magic in front of a bunch of SHIELD agents.
The three with the guns pointed them at Peterson, the older woman stopping her sneak attack when she noticed Peterson's grip getting tighter, while the other man watched on in disappointment.
"Mike, don't do this, we can help you," the younger woman said, taking a step forward away from the man.
"Skye, you're alive?" Peterson asked in amazement, though his grip didn't slacken, much to Harry's vexation.
"Yeah, no thanks to you," the woman, Skye, replied in anger. Peterson's fingers twitched at Harry's throat, causing Harry to roll her eyes.
She couldn't breathe and her vision was beginning to go grey around the edges, and she felt her magic screaming out to be used. Her resolve set, Harry knew what she had to do.
Before Peterson could respond, she brought her right arm up as much as she could from his grasp, and thrust her elbow down into his side, her magic helping to give her hit more force as it made impact, like a fist in a boxing glove.
While Peterson reacted to the hit, Harry grabbed hold of his right arm with her right hand and proceeded to turn with his arm as she threw it off her waist; luckily Peterson had slackened his grip on her neck, and so she was able to turn without twisting it.
Once she was facing Peterson she reached up with her right hand and pulled his hand off of her neck by his wrist.
With her left hand, she allowed her magic to flow around it and, willing her magic to produce a stunner, reached back and punched Peterson in his right temple with her fist.
With a sickening 'bam,' Peterson collapsed onto the ground, Harry's magic stunning him as soon as she hit him.
It took less than three seconds for Harry to stun Peterson, and as she rubbed her neck she looked around at the others to see varying looks of shock on their faces.
Harry, realizing how weird it must look for someone her size and apparent skill level to have knocked unconscious a man with enough strength to choke her to death with one hand, decided that she would have to rennervate the man.
And nothing woke a man up from a stunner quite like a kick to the groin.
Harry, having been known to play a game of football or two, kicked at Peterson's crotch like she was kicking a penalty.
Peterson's eyes snapped open as he cried out in pain, his hands flying to cover his sensitive area.
Harry watched in amusement as the agents sprung into action, the older woman agent grabbing Peterson while the three with the weird looking guns moved in to cover her.
Harry turned around to the other two agents, the man and Skye, who looked amused and awed respectively.
"Can I leave now?" Harry asked them, her voice raspy.
"Just a minute, Miss. Peverell. We still need to ask you a couple of questions," the man in charge said before walking over to his other teammates.
"Ward, May, make sure Peterson gets back to the Bus," he commanded, and Harry watched as Ward, the American, and May, the older Asian woman, apprehended Peterson.
"Fitz, Simmons, get the rest of the equipment and head back to the Bus as well. Skye and I will be along shortly," the man continued, and Harry watched as the couple from earlier in the day left their area. Harry realized a bit too late that their names were Fitz and Simmons, not Fitzsimmons like she had thought earlier – though she wasn't sure which one was which.
Once the agents had left on their jobs, Harry turned to look at Skye.
"So are you lot SHIELD, then?" Harry asked her, her voice still croaking.
"Yes, we are," she replied, looking at Harry curiously.
"Bloody brilliant," Harry whispered under her breath, causing her to start coughing.
"Miss. Peverell, I am Agent Phil Coulson, of SHIELD. I have a few questions I would like to ask you about your run in with Mr. Peterson," Coulson explained as Harry got her coughing under control.
She looked at Agent Coulson with a wary eye, knowing she had heard of him somewhere before.
"Of course, what do my benevolent overlords want to know?" Harry asked sarcastically, causing Couslon to give a tight smile.
"What is your relationship with Mr. Peterson?" he asked immediately, causing Harry to roll her eyes.
"You know, I normally don't count people who strangle me in fond enough regard to say they have any form of relationship with me. If you must know, I only met him today. He had been watching me for a couple of minutes like a creep before I engaged him to find out what his deal was. Suffice to say you saw the end result of our conversation," Harry explained, her voice growing stronger the longer she talked.
"And what did Mr. Peterson want with you?" Coulson continued his questioning.
"I don't know, something about him offering me power and a new life, and how he works for a Clairvoyant or something, and how you lot have me down as an oh-eight-four, whatever that means. All in all it was the standard offer all stereotypical villains give to poor, unsuspecting people – except I'm not an idiot."
"Wait, you're an 0-8-4?" Skye asked suddenly, her curiosity spilling out of her voice, her face hopeful. Coulson looked between the two women with an unidentifiable look, while Harry looked confused.
"I don't know. What is it?" Harry asked, looking between the two agents expecting a response.
"It's a code given to denote and object of unknown origin," Coulson explained, giving Skye a meaningful glance.
"Last time I checked, I wasn't an object. But great way to dehumanize me," Harry said sarcastically. Skye's lips twitched in amusement, though she must have realized something because she looked preoccupied with her thoughts.
"Anything else you wish to add?" Coulson asked, trying to draw attention away from her previous question.
"Yeah, aren't you supposed to be dead?" Harry asked, pointing at Coulson. She remembered why his name sounded so familiar at least – Steve felt a bit of guilt over the fact that Coulson had died before Steve was able to sign his vintage Captain America trading cards.
"Anything else?" Coulson asked again, trying to divert the topic to something else.
"Steve signed your cards anyway; pretty sure if you tell him that you're alive, he'll be happy to give them to you," Harry told him, watching with amusement as Coulson tried to contain his excitement.
"That's good to know. Unfortunately, no one is supposed to know that I'm alive – including the Avengers," Coulson said, disappointment coloring his voice.
"Well, you're doing a wonderful job of that," Harry replied, motioning to all the people looking in their direction.
"Do you have any other information in regard to Mr. Peterson?" Couslon asked, ignoring Harry's jab.
"Nope," Harry replied, popping the 'p.'
"Very well, thank you for your cooperation. Skye, let's head back to the Bus," Couslon commanded, motioning for Skye to walk with him.
"Wait, so you lot are just going to leave me, even though there is a megalomaniac who has taken an unhealthy interest in me that will jeopardize my safety, without even giving me added protection?" Harry asked incredulously, though she wasn't sure why she was so surprised – she was talking to SHIELD, after all.
"Your file says that you don't want to interact directly with SHIELD agents for longer than you have to; we will be keeping an extra close eye on you now, just not in person," Couslon explained with a smile before walking away with a little wave goodbye.
Harry sighed as soon as they left, pinching the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes.
"Fucking fantastic."
July 4th found Harry walking around a small park somewhere in west London as she tried to resist the urge to get in contact with Steve to wish him a happy birthday. It was difficult; Harry was missing her friend, and it had been over six months since she had last spoken to him.
However she knew that she couldn't actually call him on account of her not knowing his new phone number. She sat down on a swing, swaying back and forth in her melancholy.
She missed Steve, and Neville, and Ron, and Hermione, and Ginny, and Luna. She missed all her friends and family, and she was tired of not having a home. She was tired of the guilt she felt over leaving her godson, Teddy, behind; of leaving her friends behind.
She was homesick and defeated and she hated both of those feelings.
Harry was shaken out of her depression by a sudden commotion coming from a birthday party over by the park tables. She could see through the crowd of people forming that there were two children being yelled at by a woman who was obviously not related to the children.
Feeling recklessly angry, Harry got up from the swing and marched over to the birthday party in order to assess the situation better.
"You both have ruined my son's party. How dare you, you utter idiots!" the woman was yelling at the two children, who Harry could see were twins.
She could also see that one of them was completely drenched in fruit punch, his dirty blond hair plastered to his face, while his brother had his face and hair completely covered in cake. The brothers looked close to tears.
And the birthday boy was smiling maliciously behind his mother, his friends all trying to contain their amusement over the predicament the boys found themselves to be in.
"Oi, what's going on here?" Harry asked, cutting off the mother's angry rant at the two five year olds.
"Excuse you, this doesn't concern you," the woman snarled, irritated that Harry would interrupt her.
"Uh, actually, it kind of does. You're yelling at two children, which makes you an arse, and it always concerns me when an arse is allowed to look after children," Harry said plainly, causing the woman to turn all her attention onto Harry and off the kids.
"You have no right to talk to me like that," the woman snapped, causing Harry to roll her eyes. "You have no idea what these cretins did! How they have completely ruined my son's birthday!"
Harry looked down at the two boys, over to the birthday boy, and then back up to the woman.
"It's pretty obvious to me what happened. Your son forced their heads down into the punch bowl and the cake respectively because you're raising a bully; that, of course, isn't surprising seeing as how I bet you didn't even asked the boys what had happened. So get that stick out of your arse and back the bloody hell off," Harry warned, glaring at woman.
The mother spluttered, unable to string together a coherent rebuttal out of being too flustered to speak. Harry gave the woman a mocking smile before turning to the two boys.
"Come on then, let's get you two cleaned up," she said, holding out her hands for the boys to take. They looked at her with identical, protuberant, silvery grey eyes that reminded Harry of Luna.
They grasped her hands hesitantly, as if they weren't sure of her sincerity, and Harry led them to the bathroom to get them cleaned up. She wet a couple of paper towels and handed them to the boys, before she sat down on the bathroom floor so she was less imposing on the two.
They didn't really grasp the concept of cleaning themselves off with the wet towels and Harry, after gaining their permission, helped clean the cake and juice off their faces and out of their hair.
Once satisfied that the boys were now presentable, Harry tossed the dirty towels into the trash, giving a whoop of joy as the towels made it into the bin in one throw. She saw the two boys smile at her antics, and Harry smiled back at them from her position on the floor.
"Now that that's all done; my name is Harry, what are your names?" she asked, holding out her hands for the boys to shake, her arms crossed so the handshakes would be less awkward.
They were quiet for a couple of seconds, as if debating whether they should talk to her.
"I'm Lorcan," cake boy said.
"I'm Lysander," juice boy said.
"Very nice to meet you, Lorcan, Lysander," Harry said, feeling confident that those were their names and that they weren't trying to pull a 'Gred and Forge' on her.
"How did you know?" Lorcan asked his voice shaky, as if he was fearful that she was going to yell abuse at him at any given second.
"What? About the cake and juice bit?" she asked, watching as the twins nodded their heads. "Oh, that's simple – when I was four my cousin did something similar to me with a cake my aunt had made for this big company party. Suffice it to say she was less than pleased and I was punished for what my cousin did to me. Kids can be so unoriginal sometimes, you know?"
She gave the boys a smile as they looked at her in surprise.
"Now, question time: where are your parents?" she asked, placing her hands on her thighs.
"They're at work," Lysander said, and Lorcan started to fidget nervously.
"Okay," Harry said in a calm tone, "and where is your babysitter?"
"She's back at the house," Lysander continued, his and his brother's guilt being displayed in their body language.
"Let me guess: she doesn't know that you're at the park, does she?" Harry asked in amusement. She watched as they shook their heads in unison, causing Harry to smile.
"Is she awful?" Harry asked in a conspiratorial whisper. The twins nodded in unison.
"How awful?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned.
"She's mean!"
"She yells a lot!"
"She smacks us sometimes – "
"But we hadn't done nothing!"
"Whoa, okay, I get the picture," Harry said, holding her hands up in a motion to get them to stop talking. She saw them flinch when she put her hands up.
"I believe you," Harry told them as she placed her hands back onto her thighs. "Is it just your babysitter who does that or do your parents also behave like that?"
"No!"
"Our parents are great!"
"We love them," they said, horrified that Harry could suggest such a thing.
"Okay, that's good. When do your parents get back home?" Harry asked, not wanting to let the boys near any adult who thought hitting children was a good idea.
The boys fidgeted at her question, their faces falling into concentration before they gave a helpless shrug as an answer.
"You don't know," Harry stated, watching as the boys nodded. "Are your parents normally gone for long periods at a time when they work?" The boys nodded again, and Harry gave a sigh.
"When was the last time you saw your parents?" she asked sadly. Their silence said more than their fidgeting bodies could.
"Right," Harry said, clapping her hands and getting up from the floor. "Here's what we're going to do. I am going to take you boys back to your home and I am going to have a talk with your nanny. Then we're going to call your parents and see when they plan on coming home. Does that sound like a good plan?"
The twins looked scared at Harry's suggestion, but nodded in agreement anyway.
"Good, now, where is your house?"
Ten minutes later, Harry was giving a piggy-back ride to Lorcan while Lysander held her hand, dragging her along in the direction of their house.
They arrived to a three-story town house; it looked like her home at number 12 Grimmauld Place, except it was much brighter and looked far more welcoming.
Harry bent down to drop Lorcan off from her back, and went up to the door, giving it a knock. Harry noticed that the door was ajar, just a tiny bit, and an uneasy feeling descended on her.
"Okay, Lorcan, Lysander, wait out here for a couple minutes, I'll be right out," Harry told them, her command clear in her voice; the boys nodded in understanding.
Harry moved the sleeve on her coat down so it covered her hand, pushing open the door with it so as not to leave fingerprints. Immediately the smell of blood assaulted Harry's nose and, taking a shallow breath, Harry moved further into the house, pausing once she reached the living room.
The smell of dead bodies hit Harry like a bludger, and she could see the bodies of a man and a woman lying in the giant puddle of blood that was once a hardwood floor. The woman had multiple bullet wounds in her chest, while the man had one right at his temple.
A murder and a suicide – two things Harry did not need right now.
Harry didn't move into the living room, and making sure not to destroy the crime scene, went into the kitchen to where the phone was located. She picked up the phone with her covered hand, dialing the police through the fabric of her shirt.
"Hello, this is 999, what is your emergency?"
"Hello, my name is Harry Peverell, I am reporting a crime scene," she said, quickly giving the address of the house when prompted. A few quick words later, Harry was left with an ended call and had discovered the list of contact information Lorcan and Lysander's parents left for the nanny.
The main thing she noticed about the list was that it was written on a SHIELD memo pad – which certainly explained why the twins hadn't seen their parents in a while.
Must be hard having SHIELD agents for parents.
She grabbed the list and left the house. She closed the front door and was glad to see Lorcan and Lysander sitting down on the steps leading up to the house.
"Okay, change of plans," Harry said, trying to put on a cheerful face as she sat down between them. "We are going to wait out here until the police come, and in the meantime we are going to try and get in contact with your parents."
The boys' eyes widened in horror.
"Did we do something wrong?"
"We didn't mean to!"
"Don't call the police on us!"
Realization hit Harry quickly after that.
"No, no, don't worry – I didn't call the police on you two. You both have done nothing wrong; I called them for a different reason entirely. There is no need to panic, you both are fine," Harry told them in a calm voice, trying to get them to see that they weren't in trouble.
Once she was sure the boys wouldn't try to run away from her out of fear of the police, Harry looked down at the list of contact information, stopping once she noticed a number that wasn't for general emergencies.
She dialed the number and waited for an answer. The phone rang several times before the answering machine took over.
"Hello, you've reached to answering machine of Dr. Rolf Scamander. Please leave your name and contact information at the tone and I will get back to you as soon as I can."
Harry heard a beep and took a deep breath.
"Hello Dr. Scamander, my name is Harry Peverell and I have unfortunate news regarding your hired help for Lorcan and Lysander. Don't worry, the boys are fine, however I can't say as much for your nanny and the living room. Please call your home phone as soon as you get this message. Thank you."
Harry winced as she hung up, not comfortable leaving phone messages and knowing that her message made her sound like a kidnapper or something equally as terrible.
Harry looked at the last number on the list and, breathing deeply, dialed the number into the phone as well.
The phone rang several times before the answering machine answered once again.
"Hi there, you have reached the answering machine of Dr. Luna Lovegood. I am not able to answer my phone right now, but if you leave your name and information then I will be happy to call you back. Thank you."
Harry sat in shock over the message. It was Luna – it was her voice and Harry couldn't believe it. She had stumbled across this alternate universe Luna, which was something Harry didn't think she would ever do.
It had been months since she had been dropped off in London and she hadn't run across any of her friend's counterparts at any point.
And now she found Luna and her mind couldn't process it.
It was Luna.
But not Luna.
Harry didn't know whether to be ecstatic or if she should run away.
She looked down at Lorcan and Lysander, and she felt like hitting herself. They reminded her of Luna because they were Luna's kids.
The dial tone from the phone snapped Harry out of her shock, and she came to the realization that she must have left Luna a message of just her breathing – which was creepy.
Dialing Luna's number again, Harry waited for the answering machine to pick up and, trying to compose herself during the message, Harry took a deep breath.
"Hi Lu- Ms. – Dr. Lovegood," Harry winced, quickly correcting herself every time she made a mistake, "sorry about your previous message – I was a bit preoccupied at the time. I just wanted to call to tell you that there has been an unfortunate incident at your house that involved your nanny, and that your children are safe. If you could actually find time away from your work to get back home, that would be great. Lo- Okay bye," Harry said, cutting herself off from saying 'love you' as a goodbye.
She could say that to her Luna, but this Luna was not her Luna.
Luna but not Luna.
Harry banged the phone against her forehead, realizing too late that she hadn't given her name in Luna's message.
"Are you okay?" Lysander asked, looking at Harry weirdly.
"No," Harry stated blandly. She was having a rough time.
"Is Belinda okay?" Lorcan asked, looking worriedly at Harry.
"Is Belinda your nanny?" Harry asked, dread in her voice.
"Yes," the twins answered in unison, causing Harry to sigh.
"No, she is not okay," Harry said, not wanting to explain to the two boys that their nanny was dead. Fortunately, Harry could hear sirens as the police came up the street.
The next couple of hours passed by in a daze for Harry. She was questioned by a policewoman as crime scene investigators went in to inspect the house. Harry answered honestly; she was glad to see that the policewoman didn't suspect Harry of any foul play.
Then came the terrible moment where Harry had to explain to the twins that their nanny was dead. They of course were sad, though Harry could tell they were more worried than distraught. They kept closer to Harry after that, wanting her to be present when the police questioned them about their day.
Satisfied with their testimony, Harry and the boys were driven to Scotland Yard so they had somewhere to stay while the inspectors tried to contact Luna and her husband. The three were kept occupied with puzzles and paper and pens, which led to the twins drawing to pass the time and Harry writing out magical runes just for the heck of it.
By nightfall, the inspectors still were unable to contact either Dr. Rolf Scamander, or his wife Dr. Luna Lovegood-Scamander. Harry stayed with the boys through dinner and into the night, acting as a pillow for the boys as they fell asleep on her while they sat on a couch in an empty office.
She could have left hours ago, but she stayed. She was far too invested into the boys' wellbeing to just leave them without knowing if they would see their parents again.
Or if they would be shipped off into foster care instead.
Harry fell asleep with memories of Luna running through her head – of Butterbeer cap necklaces, of Dirigible plum earrings, of spectrespecs and the lion head hat. Of Luna when they first met; of her during the DA meetings; of her defacing the Great Hall with Ginny and Harry during Harry's last year; of Luna being taken by Death Eaters off the Hogwarts Express that winter break; of Luna drunk on firewhiskey.
"They like you."
Harry's eyes snapped open from her sleep, her ears recognizing Luna's voice from anywhere.
Luna Lovegood sat in a chair across from the couch Harry and the boys were sitting on – Harry startled into being wide awake, while the boys continued to sleep peacefully.
Harry stared at Luna in wonder – her waist-length dirty blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, her silvery eyes so much like her son's.
The more Harry looked, though, the more off-putting looking at Luna was. She was wearing sensible clothes – black trousers and a collared shirt – far different to the colorful clothes and handcrafted jewelry her Luna loved to wear. The Luna in front of her also looked far more grounded in reality, like she would be skeptical of crumple-horned snorkacks and nargles.
She looked smart, but not wise, not understanding.
Luna, but not Luna.
"What?" Harry asked. She was on the verge of tears but she was able to contain them.
"My sons, they like you," she repeated in Luna's voice, but it wasn't Luna.
Harry's heart hurt, like a rubber band snapping back into place after being stretched to its breaking point.
"Oh, yeah," Harry said, maneuvering in her seat to get more comfortable. Lorcan and Lysander had their heads in her lap, using her thighs as a pillow. She placed her hands on their shoulders, a small smile on her face.
"Well, I like them too. They're good kids," Harry continued, looking up at imposter-Luna.
Luna gave a sad smile, looking at her boys.
"Yes, they are. I am sad that I have to be away from them for so long, but duty calls," Luna said, causing Harry to frown.
"Why can't you do both? Look after the boys and work?" Harry asked, a hint of judgement in her voice.
"It is difficult to live a normal life when you dissect aliens for a living. Though I wouldn't expect an 0-8-4 to understand," she said, her amendment phrased as a challenge. Harry looked at Luna incredulously.
"Okay, I am not an object. My name is Harry Peverell, I prefer to go by the pronoun she/her, etcetera, not by 'it,'" Harry said, rolling her eyes at SHIELDs stupid use of codenames.
"And yet you aren't arguing against the fact you have an unknown origin," Luna countered, smiling slightly.
"I know exactly what my origin is – just because you lot haven't figured it out yet doesn't mean its unknown," Harry snorted out, still peeved at Luna's hidden insult.
"Touché," Luna replied, nodding her head in acknowledgement of Harry's point.
They descended into silence after that, Harry feeling awkward under Luna's staring.
She was used to her Luna staring at her, but this Luna's staring just seemed wrong.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Harry said finally, realizing that Luna had known the now deceased nanny.
"Thank you," she replied sadly. "I am most upset over the circumstances. I always thought John loved Belinda, I never thought he would end up killing her."
Harry nodded her head out of something to do – John, the killer, and Belinda, the nanny, were engaged, but something went wrong and John decided it would be better if he killed Belinda and them himself.
Something about being together forever – just a terrible reason to kill someone you love.
"I won't lie, I am dreading trying to find another nanny to take Belinda's place. Finding Belinda was difficult; I expect this time around it will be just as hard – if not harder."
Harry hummed absentmindedly, realizing suddenly that she had been stroking the boys' hair as they slept. She stopped, much to Luna's amusement.
"Do you want to be our new nanny?" Luna asked suddenly. Harry looked at Luna like she was insane.
"What?"
"Do you want to be our nanny? I would feel better if you took the position; the boys like you and you obviously like them. I like the idea, I even feel comforted knowing that you would look after them," Luna explained simply, as if the idea of Harry becoming a nanny was an easy leap of logic to make.
"You like the idea of me taking care of your children even if I am an oh-eight-four and on SHIELD's shit-list?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Well, as you explained yourself, you are neither an object nor do you have an unknown origin, so you hardly count as an 0-8-4. Besides, as a SHIELD agent I can tell you that you are not on our 'shit-list,'" she said, putting air quotes over 'shit-list,' while raising an eyebrow at Harry's vocabulary choice.
"If you want to be our nanny you are guaranteed a room, a salary, and food, along with holidays," Luna explained, causing Harry to pause in her objections.
At the present moment in her life the offer was tempting – taking care of Lorcan and Lysander and getting a place to stay was a nice idea – but it also meant that Harry would be living in Not-Luna's house.
"I don't know," Harry began, but her objections dropped when she saw Luna giving her the puppy eyes.
Harry never could say no to Luna's puppy eyes, no matter the universe.
"Okay, fine. I'll be your nanny."
Author's Note:
Thanks again for the reviews and the support. Because of all the positive responses I've been getting I'm going to have a little contest.
If you have noticed, I have been giving wands to the Avengers and Fury: Tony Stark has hornbeam, Nick Fury has vine, Clint Barton has cedar, Natasha Romanoff has alder, and Thor has cypress. I had paired the characters with wand woods based on the Pottermore descriptions (which you can find if you search for wand wood meanings for Pottermore).
The challenge I have for you is this: the first person to correctly guess the wand woods for Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, and Harry's bracelets, will get a prize that I have yet to determine, but will probably be a one-shot based off a prompt from within this universe, and will definitely be negotiated with the winner.
Also, I do not own the characters from the TV show Agents of SHIELD. Also I hope that the whole bit with the Agents of SHIELD wasn't too spoilery for people who either watch the show or have not seen it.
Anyway, thanks again and happy Monday.