It took me longer than expected to write the next chapter, sorry bout that. Now that I've got 4 crossover running, I'll just update them one each after the other…

Thanks to everyone for the reviews! It's getting late so I might have missed quite a few review reply, but here's the next chapter in exchange ^^

Also thanks to:

Anette-ella

Guest 1

Guest 2

Gearworks of ff

Guest 3

Feathers

I heart vamps

Guest 4

Scott Peinmann –no trouble, I am a miss ^^. Thank you :)

Fallow 51

Joan

Thanks to KatHarkness-Katara for beta-ing :)

I don't own Harry Potter or the Avengers (too bad :P). Enjoy :) Won't blame you if you don't.

Chapter 12

Minerva McGonagall was upset. Rumors had been running lately, about a certain Boy-Who-Was-Missing being alive and at Hogwarts. At first, she had disregarded it as a prank or someone trying to get some attention –every student loved the last 'did you hear?' and adding Potter in the mix would, of course, make it more interesting. But then, after hearing it the last twist, where he had a different name, a small part of her mind started doubting. Students, of course, would believe the rumor because they didn't want their hero to die. McGonagall would hope it was true for she couldn't believe the child of two of her most talented students gone.

Black had never confessed where he had hidden Harry; never confirmed his death. She wouldn't deny she had hoped to see a familiar face among the students this year, and had been sorely disappointed when, the list in hand, the name Potter hadn't appeared.

Still, what had started as a rumor was getting on her nerves as a fourth student –Hermione Granger of all people- asked if indeed the Boy Who Lived had joined Hogwarts. She had denied it of course, but she had still headed to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore would know, if Harry Potter was back among them. He wouldn't have kept the fact silent…would he?

She disregarded another student's attempt to catch her attention and muttered the password to the gargoyle. The statue moved aside and she climbed fast the stairs leading to his office. Not waiting to hear him allowing entrance, she pushed the door and asked:

"What are these rumors about –" she started and stiffened.

Dumbledore wasn't alone. Sprout and Quirell were there, sitting across his desk. And then she suddenly remembered they were supposed to be there for a meeting on their respective classes. Her intervention didn't fall in the right timing. She felt embarrassed all of a sudden, that a student's fun had made her lose all composure.

"Sorry Headmaster," she apologized "I shall come at a later-"

"Nonsense Minerva," he interrupted her amiably. "Please come in. I have rarely seen you so agitated."

Sprout and Quirell both looked worried and rightfully so. McGonagall was never –or at least nearly never- put off by things; which made her feel even guiltier.

"If you have concerns about anything," Dumbledore went on gently,"You may speak them out loud."

Minerva hesitated, wondering how foolish her colleagues would find her at this very moment, but then continued. She needed confirmation that this was all just a hoax that had gained more popularity than it warranted.

"There have been rumors, about Harry Potter attending Hogwarts under a different name."she said slowly. Her colleagues stared at her in mild disbelief. "Albus, I know this is nonsense and I should know better, but-"

The old man raised a hand to interrupt her.

"The rumor started because of an assumption of mine," he admitted. "A student I suspect being Harry Potter has joined our ranks. He bears a strong resemblance to James Potter, and some factors led me to believe his official name was changed, which is why he wasn't invited to Hogwarts under his real name."

The three professors exchanged a puzzled glance.

"Magic would have recognized the change?" Sprout asked eventually."How is that even possible?"

"I believe it could be related to Voldemort's action that night. When Sirius Black took Harry away, he obviously brought him to someone he knew and trusted. I visited him two months ago, the day before he escaped. Although he was acting irrationally, I know he is aware of Harry's new name." He sighed with a hint of annoyance."I only realized it recently."

McGonagall frowned deeply.

"So,you started the rumor?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. I was hoping to help that student to accept his history and come forward. My first attempt to talk to him was…disastrous, for the least."

A heavy silence fell on the room; mostly as the teachers had not expected such an abrupt revelation. Quirell was the first to break it.

"What should we do?"

"Nothing for now." Dumbledore replied slowly. "He has an agitated mind and might believe we are the enemy if the subject isn't handled subtly. When I tried to broach the subject with him, he rejected me quite…violently. I'd recommend you leave him alone till the right time comes. I will talk to him then."

The Quinjet had taken off a while ago, driven by a pilot with only Clint and his partner as passengers. He had first wanted to catch up on some sleep during the trip, but since their driver was one of the worst, he'd settled for a book he had packed at the last minute. And when it became clear he wouldn't be reading comfortably as he had first planned, he turned his attention to Natasha. She was holding a sort of magazine which cover had been darkened so as to not reveal its subject. He stood up and stepped closer, intrigued.

"What are you looking at?"

Natasha didn't spare him a glance, so he peeked from over her shoulder. The contents made him pause.

"Uh…Romanoff, is that a…"

She interrupted him with a sharp:

"It is."

Clint should have abandoned the subject, but he was too dumbfounded to back off now.

"I didn't peg you for a…"

"I'm not."

"So why are you…"

"None of your business."

The archer paused and stared again at the catalogue his new partner was skimming thing came to mind.

"How on earth did you manage to get your hands on –"

"You're a spy, figure it out." Natasha cut, sounding irritated now.

"Actually, I was in the army," he nuanced before continuing: "Is that for your kid?"

She glared at him, probably a warning before she set her magazine aside and thought of a dozen ways to kill him without alerting the pilot. Clint sighed and returned to his seat. A few moments passed and he became in dire need of a distraction. A bored Hawkeye was an annoying Hawkeye, as Romanoff would quickly find out.

"Is he any good?" he asked, genuinely curious.

This time, she didn't even pretend not to know what he was referring to.

"A professional called him a diamond in the rough. He's basically a virtuoso," she replied calmly, but the hint of pride was definitively there. Her expression turned into a frown and he realized he wassmirking. "What?"

"It's cute, you looking so proud." He teased. Natasha glared at him so he added on a softer tone: "You miss your son."

"He's not my son," she snapped dryly.

"Yeah I know; he's just someone's kid you were paid to look after. But he's still your boy," Clint pointed out gently. "That's what you kept calling him, when I was tailing you. Didn't you raise him?" She didn't answer, and kept her eyes set on the wall. "Never mind, I'm just being nosy."

The silence that ensued wasn't comfortable but Clint didn't try to engage in conversation again. He knew he had to keep his distance on this one. Romanoff was still very careful regarding any information concerning her son. No matter what she claimed, he would recognize anywhere the flashes of protectiveness in her eyes.

Romanoff returned to reading her catalogue on the best music schools in the world and he resumed staring out the minutes later, he was charging back.

"So what's he like? I mean, I know what he looks like –and he is a cute kid, but what is he like?"

"He's the quiet kind," she replied, glaring at him again. Clint got the hint, but it only made his grin grow wider.

"For some reason, I'd bet he's good at sneaking and playing pranks." Romanoff didn't reply. "Say, what's the worst he's done? Last time I tried to prank Sitwell I had to bribe the secretary with chocolate to go through the front door. I bet he'd be awesome sneaking in the air vents. Think I can borrow him a few times to steal coffee from Hill's private stash? Rumor says she's got the best on base."

"Yasha will not become an agent," Romanoff replied coolly. Clint's grin faded a little.

"No-one is recruiting him," he said seriously. "And even if they tried, Fury doesn't hire kids. He thinks they're too troublesome." The woman kept staring wordlessly and he shrugged. "You don't trust SHIELD; it's fine, they don't trust you either. But once you're in, once you've proven yourself, you won't have to worry. If SHIELD promised to keep your boy safe, then he will be." He added softly: "You'll learn that eventually." Then the megawatt grin returned. "So, which school is the most popular right now?"

Romanoff rolled her eyes and returned her attention on her magazine.

Perl was bored. Teachers had been nice lately, not overwhelming them with homework and things with his peers quite calm. In normal times, he would have followed Romanov and bug the hell out of him –Romanov was easily ticked off, and Perl loved it. But lately the boy had had an effective way of avoiding him. Today though, he had warned Hermione that he'd be returning to the Forbidden Forest to teach a centaur how to play the violin.

The Gryffindor hadn't even tried to hold him back –not that Perl blamed her, once Romanov had an idea in mind…the only way to stop him would be to jinx him with a body-bind curse, double tie the body and hide him under three padlocks in a closet. And a troll to guard the entrance. Hermione knew that too. She had probably sighed and waved him to be careful and back before nightfall. That's what he would have done too. And with Romanov gone that left Hermione –who was probably working on an essay or something. While Perl was a good worker, he was in no mood for homework right now.

None of the other Slytherins spoke to him either. Showing up with Romanov would kill anyone's popularity at the moment. No-one willingly addressed him unless they absolutely needed to, and while that was an endless source of amusement for the half-blood, it didn't gain him any friends.

So he had decided to wander in parts of the castle he hadn't explored yet to kill time until dinner, pretending to be a muggle spy, silently gliding among the corridors. Romanov always seemed to sense his arrival each and every time he tried to sneak on him. Now he could-

"-don't care what you think is best, I'm not standing near Romanov one second more!"

Perl suddenly stopped as he overheard his sort-of friend's name. This part of the castle was often deserted, which was why he had come here, but apparently, someone who wanted to speak away from curious ears had the same idea. Had the door of an apparently empty classroom not been slightly opened ajar, Perl would have never noticed it.

"We had an agreement," another voice replied to the first one.

The boy carefully stepped closer to the entrance and tried to peek inside. From the corner of the eye, he could barely spot the back of a teenager who was facing someone in front of him. "I don't care, he's freaking me out." The first person added –feminine, and a voice he had already heard somewhere. "He carries a dark artifact with him, he reeks of dark magic at times. And he doesn't even seem bothered by it."

"Dumbledore wouldn't let him wander freely in the castle if he was so dangerous. Trust me, he's good."

"Dumbledore wouldn't recognize Dark Arts even if it kicked him in the face." The girl –not a woman, Perl corrected mentally –retorted hotly. "I'm sorry, but you can get the enhancer back." There was a slight pause as the girl –Perl assumed –gave the other person something. "I loved using it. I could do things I would only do as an adult and it was a great experience; but its power is terrifying. I'm not testing it again, not until my magic is properly stabilized. And you shouldn't either. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

"Calm down," the other person said, his voice quiet. "I'm just asking for another week. From what I could get out of him the other day, he's not keen on staying at Hogwarts much longer."

Perl's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Only a few people knew about Romanov's reluctance to remain at Hogwarts. Sometimes even he wondered what held him back here. Perl liked the idea that he and Hermione were good enough reasons, but he wasn't stupid, his friend was meant to play his damn instrument forever. And music was not in the Hogwarts school program.

One of the two people sighed deeply.

"Okay." The girl said reluctantly. "I…I'll keep an eye out, just as I promised. Just don't expect me to stay too close."

"Good." Pause. "Wait a moment."

The figure disappeared from Perl's point of view. He unconsciously followed forward. The door opened wide and he was suddenly facing the tip of a wand. A blonde teenager from Hufflepuff –he recognized Jack Hill –stood at the other end, eyebrows raised in mid-surprise.

"Oh, another snake," he merely said. Perl grinned, trying to replace uneasiness by cockiness or something. Hill just narrowed his eyes. "Well then, sorry for this kid. Obliviate."

The drive to the hotel lasted longer than Barton would have liked; being too close to the center of town didn't put him at ease. Would it be up to him, he'd rather stay at the outskirts of the city, where evacuation was easier in case someone tried to come after him. In the middle of the city, he could not avoid bystanders. On the plus side, it was a nice hotel, surrounded by lots of high buildings, perfect for a quick escape via rooftops.

They reached the door and stepped inside. For once, it was a nice and clean place with soothing colors; and no dump dating from the last war.

"So are we getting cozy in there?" she asked sarcastically. Clint blinked, at first in misunderstanding, and then realized what she was asking. In the far end of the room, a single king-sized bed.

"Hell no!" he immediately protested. "We're supposed to be business partners in this, not newlyweds!"

The redhead gave him a flat look.

"So you didn't order the booking?"

He threw her an exasperated stare.

"Romanoff, you are one of the most gorgeous women I've ever met, but even I know when something is off-limits. And I didn't agree to bring you back to SHIELD because I wanted to get in your pants." The redhead kept her expression carefully blank. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Look, I'll take the floor. Or better, I'll call the reception for another room." He was rambling at this point, but he would rather look like an uncomfortable idiot rather than risking losing something a lot more valuable.

The redhead snorted –was it amusement he read in her eyes?- and shook her head.

"No need to. I've already slept in worst conditions with worst people. We'll be fine as long as you keep your hands to yourself."

Clint nearly sighed in relief and took his own suitcase.

"Fine. Got nothing with taking the left side?" he asked and waited for her nod to claim the right side of the bed. He started undoing his own stuff and felt Romanoff stand by his side. For a few seconds, he felt the intensity of her gaze on his back.

"I do." she suddenly said quietly. "I miss him."

Clint blinked at her in mild-surprise, but Natasha was already spreading her attire for the evening. He stared at her a few moments more before returning to his own business. Still, he smiled to himself. Maybe she was starting to open up to him a little.

As he had never encountered centaurs before, never in his wildest dreams Yasha would have dared imagined he would one day attempt to teach music of all things to one of them. Yet here he stood in the Forbidden Forest, sitting in a surprisingly nice green patch of grass, with an overenthusiastic Chestre holding a violin. Not his violin of course, but one that had been transfigured from a wooden box by Jack a few days ago. The brief thought of the teenager made him pause.

"So I put my hand here, and then what?"

Neatly distracted, Yasha nearly rolled his eyes for the third time. He climbed on the rock to be at the centaur's level and replaced the end of the instrument against his chin. He then raised the other arm holding the bow and guided the hand over the strings.

"That's the position," he explained slowly. "After that, it's a matter of knowing what sound to make at the right moment." Yasha picked up his own violin and played three notes. "Hear?"

"Yes, yes indeed," the centaur replied, frowned in concentration and attempted to reproduce the sounds. Both winced at the horrible dissonance. Yasha shut his eyes tight, trying to think around. Chestre was willing and eager to learn, but how did one teach to play the violin to someone who will never read a music partition?

"Okay look," he showed his bow and twirled it around. "The bow, depending on how you hold it, can produce many sounds. It's best if you hold it straight to begin with." He corrected the position andaccompanied a gesture smoothly. The intended sound was heard, and Chestre beamed.

Yasha tried to smile:

"I started playing at seven, so I have a few years of training ahead. Not to mention I have a natural talent," he added. "So first you need to play with the sounds and figure out your own pattern. In the human world, we use what we call a partition; which is a book where notes are written down. Each note corresponds to a sound. I can try to teach you…"

Chestre smiled sadly.

"Your offer is appreciated, young one, but I will not burden you with such a task; especially since you are on the edge of a new beginning."

Yasha frowned and stared at him in questioning. The centaur shrugged.

"The stars shone bright yesterday night; they announced an upcoming change in the wizarding world." He set piercing brown eyes on him. "You have decided to leave Hogwarts, have you not?"

The boy grimaced. His decision had first been a rash impulse from the troll encounter, but after some time, he had yet to firmly decide. Yes, he wasn't learning as much as he wanted, yes, Dumbledore's non-subtle hints and rumors were getting on his nerves, and yes, he missed Natasha and his professional violin practice above all. But he had encountered people, had made friends and while the cons overpowered the pros, he still wasn't sure he wanted to leave. Maybe he needed one more reason, one more little detail that would keep him here or make him run to the hills.

"Probably." He replied instead. "My choices aren't definite."

But Chestre smiled knowingly, and Yasha felt annoyed.

"Are the stars always correct in their predictions?" he retorted.

"We see things differently than humans do," the centaur said, shrugging carelessly. "I would recommend you regroup your possessions fairly soon though." Upon those words, Chestre shook his body in a horsy way then turned towards Yasha, showing the violin he held in his hands. "I assume this is mine to keep?"

The boy nodded and reduced his own to a small size that would fit in his pocket again. Obviously the lesson was over.

"If it ever breaks, go see a student named Jack Hill. He's the one who transfigured the thing. He can make you a new one. Oh, and the strings on the bow are made of horse hair." He pointed at Chestre's tail. "I don't think you'll have trouble finding those."

The centaur smiled good-naturally and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Farewell my friend. I hope you find goodness in your way. Do you remember the way out?"

This time, Yasha had taken his marks. After all, Chestre hadn't brought him too deep in the Forbidden Forest; finding the way out from here wouldn't be a challenge. He nodded, bid the centaur goodbye and went his merry way back to the castle. He arrived there shortly and immediately headed to the library. He was sure he would find at least Hermione there, and if Perl was off god-knows-where, then he'd just take the Marauders' Map back in his dorm and use it to track him down. He wanted to talk to them before making any final decision. Maybe they'd help him see clearer.

As he expected, Hermione was sitting at a table alone, surrounded by half a dozen books. He swiftly sat across her and caught her attention by snapping fingers. She must have been deep in concentration, as she nearly tumbled off her chair when she noticed him.

"Listen," he said, cutting her before she could speak. "I need to talk to you and Perl, in private." Hermione raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but he didn't elaborate. "You happen to know where Perl is?"

"I think he went for a walk or something," she said, thinking deeply. "What's going on?"

"Meet me at the astronomy tower in half an hour. Tell Perl if you find him first.I don't want anyone overhearing us."

The Gryffindor's eyebrow shot to her forehead.

"What? Why there? There are plenty of empty classrooms at this time."

An empty classroom is where Dumbledork will look first if he thinks I'm plotting something, Yasha thought. What he said was: "Look, just do as I say, okay? I promise I'll explain everything in due time. Can I count on you?"

Hermione scoffed, as if offended he could even doubt her, and returned to her essay. Yasha left the table and headed to the dungeons, firmly determined on getting the Marauders' Map to good use for the next few hours.

Till next time!