I do not attempt to claim ownership of Marvel Comics or the Harry Potter series.


Chapter Eleven

'Moving On'


Somewhere in Cambridgeshire / 19.03.2010

Tony sighed, staring at the disassembled parts of the suit he'd used to escape the cave, it felt a lifetime ago but he knew it hadn't even been twenty four hours yet.

"You know you still haven't told me what happened?" questioned James Rhodes from the doorway, watching as Tony slumped into a chair, carefully minding not to bang his left arm, secured in a sling.

"It's a very long story, Rhodey" muttered Tony, leaning back against the soft cushion.

"Maybe you could start with explaining why we followed a distress beacon to find you, a missing doctor and two kids surrounded by the bodies of known terrorists," replied Rhodey, frowning. "And don't get me started on that suit you were wearing."

"When they took me, the Ten Rings that is, I was injured, bad," explained Tony, letting out a great sigh and reaching up to touch his arc reactor. "Dr. Yinsen managed to remove as much shrapnel as he could, this thing powers an electromagnet which keeps the rest from reaching my heart."

"And the kids?" questioned Rhodey.

"Harry was already there when I got there," answered Tony, "it's hard to explain, but he's a wizard, magical, whatever, it's real."

"I know," spoke Rhodey.

"What? About Harry or magic in general?" queried Tony, looking puzzled.

"I was briefed about magic when I was promoted to Colonel last year," informed Rhodey, "as for Mr. Potter, both he and Ms Granger was vetted before they were even allowed in this base with you, it came up then."

"That may be, but Harry is special, even for a wizard," stated Tony, "He can heal himself, hell I saw him come back to life yesterday."

"Did you just say, 'came back to life'?" uttered Rhodey, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah, he's got phoenix tears in his blood, or something like that," explained Tony, nonchalantly.

"That's it, we've officially crossed into 'so crazy it can't be made up territory'," muttered Rhodey.

"I know, I'm still trying to get my get my head around this," replied Tony.

"What are you gonna do with that thing?" questioned Rhodey, gesturing towards the suit.

"Being there, in that cave, the shrapnel, watching Harry get tortured day in, day out, watching two kids deal with their best friend being kidnapped and most likely killed, it made me realise something," spoke Tony, conviction in his voice. "For years I sat back and watched as the world tore itself apart with my weapons, it's time for that to change. And to do that I need to become something better, someone better."

Tony stood up and approached the suit, picking up the mask, "That's what I'm gonna do with the suit."


Three days later...

"Ron!"

Harry sat bolt upright, chest heaving as looked around him, his face morphing into one of confusion. "I need to stop waking up like this, wait, where am I?"

"A top-secret Air Force or government base, somewhere in England," spoke Yinsen from a seat beside Harry's bed. "This is the infirmary, and don't worry, Hermione's okay, she's asleep."

"Good, wait, how long have I been out?" muttered Harry.

"You fell asleep somewhere over Spain, four days ago," replied Yinsen, "they wanted to check you over, you're running three degree too hot, I'm fairly sure it's just the Phoenix tears."

Harry sighed and looked down. "I failed him, I let Voldemort take him."

"No, it wasn't you're fault," denied Yinsen.

"It was," insisted Harry, "I let it happen, I should have stopped Voldemort."

"You can't keep blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong," sighed Yinsen.

"I will when it is," snapped Harry, "you don't get it, I beat him twice and it still wasn't enough, I'm not good enough."

Yinsen closed his eyes, "I really want to punch whoever did this to you."

"Dr. Yinsen, Mr. Potter."

Looking up, Harry turned his head to the entrance of the infirmary to see two men dressed in suits, the shorter one who'd spoken wearing sunglasses.

"I'm Agent Coulson as this is Agent Hart," explained Sunglasses, "we're from S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homelan-"

"I get it, someone spent way too much time to come up with an acronym for shield," interrupted Harry.

"You have no idea how often I hear that," replied Coulson, approaching Harry and Yinsen, Hart remaining where he was. "I'd like to speak to you, Mr. Potter."

"Yinsen can stay," muttered Harry.

"I'm afraid not, Dr. Yinsen, Agent Hart will take you someone who's been waiting quite a while to see," responded Coulson, gesturing for Yinsen to follow Hart, who grudging complied.

"So, what's it you want to talk about?" questioned Harry, swinging his feet over the side of the bed.

"Voldemort," answered Coulson, "last night he attacked a small no-maj village, intel says he's attacking again today."

"You're not a wizard," stated Harry, "wizards don't call him Voldemort."

"You do," spoke Coulson, handing Harry a manilla folder.

"I'm a freak," muttered Harry, under his breath. "So. what do you want from me? To experiment on me?"

"Of course not," replied Coulson, "we want your help."

"Why me? I'm just a kid who can't save his best friend," retorted Harry, flicking through the folder, reading it at a lightning pace.

"Page fourteen."

Turning to the indicated page Harry's blood ran cold, a prophecy. His entire life ruined by some stupid words on a page.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," whispered Harry, tracing the words.

"It took two years of undercover work to get that from the British Ministry," explained Coulson, "they gladly took SHIELD's help in the 70s against Voldemort, but the second we was vanquished they turned their backs on us."

"Sounds like wizards," uttered Harry, giving a hollow laugh.

"We take off in ten," spoke Coulson, "if you want to help, I'll see you in the hangar.

With that, Coulson turned and left, leaving Harry behind with the folder, still looking at the words of the prophecy in front of him.


Camden Market / 27.09.2009

Peter Pettigrew moved through the crowd, keeping his head down, touching the pendant below his shirt. Turning off the busy street, Pettigrew scuttered down an alley, constantly glancing behind him.

"Immobulus!"

Pettigrew's head snapped forward in time to see a flash of blue light and feel his body freeze.

"You're a hard man to track down, you know," spoke Draco as he stepped out from behind a stack of boxes.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

Draco laughed, "nevermind, I know my father gave you something to stop time catching up to you."

"You're probably wondering why I want it, aren't you?" questioned Draco, watching as Pettigrew's eyes darted around, "I know the feeling of being pulled back to your own time and it is awful."

Striding towards Pettigrew, Draco pulled the pendant out from under his shirt, "I'd say thank you, but I don't think you really want to give me this, enjoy your trip."

Tugging hard, Draco removed the pendant from around Pettigrew's neck, watching as he began to vanish.

"Today's been a good day," grinned Draco, walking away as Pettigrew faded away completely.


Hogwarts / 18.03.2010

Albus sighed, "We're too late."

Minerva lowered her wand, walking around to abandoned classroom which had been turned into a strange base of operations of sorts.

"What is all this?" questioned Minerva.

"Research," answered Albus, picking up some of the scattered papers. "They were trying to figure out exactly when Harry was taken."

A sudden gust of wind whipped up the papers, prompting Albus and Minerva turn to face the source.

"Impossible," muttered Albus, watching as a plump man dropped to the stone floor out of nowhere.

"Peter Pettigrew!" gasped Minerva, watching with shock as Pettigrew remained motionless, his eyes darting around the room. "How is this possible? Could Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger gone back that far?"

"I'm afraid not, I believe this man is Pettigrew, but of a time closer to our own," explained Albus, frowning. "A concerning thought indeed."

"Peter Pettigrew is dead, all they found was his little finger, surely this is some hoax," argued Minerva.

"Look at his hand," spoke Albus softly, watching as Pettigrew's eyes took on a panicked look. "I think we'll find our answer there."

Minerva sighed but did as instructed, the sight of Pettigrew's hand missing a finger making her recoil. "No, not possible."

"I'm afraid so," muttered Albus, looking down sadly at Pettigrew, "We need to contact the Minister, it's perhaps time the Black case was reviewed."