Chapter 25 – Low-Key
Harry fidgeted nervously as he sat in the gray, unadorned little room, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table. He had been asked to wait, but it was becoming increasingly hard not to sketch pictures in the sky with his wand from boredom – he could already hear Tony's jokes from here, and the man really didn't need any more ammunition.
It was a bit odd, Harry thought, that it took a full day before anyone got around to questioning him about anything more than the bare bones of the events in Chile. Oh, he was sure that Clint and Natasha had been interviewed the moment they had returned, but they had only seen half of what happened, if that. Tony wasn't talking – Harry suspected that Fury actually went a little easier than he would have on account of the injuries that he had sustained despite the Iron Man suit. Bruce and Sif – well, Bruce's memories were hazy at best, and Sif had other things on her mind. That left him, of course. Figured.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the door opened. Director Fury grabbed a chair and sat down across the table without a word. After turning a few pages of a rather thick stack of paper, he looked up, staring him straight in the eye. It was as if the man was daring him to use Legilimency, and Harry smiled slightly.
"Not afraid I'll do what I did again, then?"
"Why did you refrain from mentioning something that – and I will say this as kindly as I can – completely cuts the legs from under any operational security?" He ruffled through his papers quickly, his piercing eye glancing up occasionally. "Yesterday, I had to call an emergency meeting with my superiors, laying out exactly what I'd found out. I trust that you understand this is highly unusual."
Harry didn't quite know what to say to that.
"As of this morning, you are officially considered as one of the most dangerous people that we have a file on," Fury said after a moment. "Your status as a consultant is up for review – as well as our association with you in its entirety. Already one of my superiors is pressuring me to remove you from S.H.I.E.L.D. premises immediately."
Harry sighed. "You want me out of here, don't you?"
"I told him he could shove it." Fury shrugged. "Would it really work, if I kicked you off? You have the annoying tendencies of going wherever you please, whenever you please. We both know that the risk of you stealing important documents exists whether you are employed or not."
"You know, this paranoia thing you guys have going on is getting to me. When have I ever done anything to hurt any of you?"
"You nearly lobotomized someone from a distance," Fury said darkly. "You have shown to be capable of compromising literally anyone, of getting any information that anyone might know merely by being in their proximity." He shook his head. "Any trust we might have built up is useless to people who don't know your personality. You could have lifted all the information you have directly from unwilling minds."
"Aren't you going a bit far with this?" Harry asked. "I used Legilimency only because millions of people were going to be killed. Honestly, I didn't even kill him. I would've never told you if I knew there would be this much fuss..."
"It's a valid defense – had you admitted to this particular ability ahead of time," Fury said. "That might have given you the benefit of the doubt for some. Right now, though, the reaction is understandably panicked." Fury tapped the thick stack of papers on his desk. "This is your personal file, incidentally. It contains every sighting, observation, and field report from every day since you were originally spotted."
"...So?"
"It is completely useless, now," Fury said simply. "Your file contains nothing but vague reports of possible skills, most of which you have only displayed once. Long lists of speculations, scientific explanations, you name it. Now, there are even more to add. Flying broomsticks, for one, and reading minds. Perhaps implanting thoughts, or even controlling them. Who knows?" He paused for a moment. "You just got yourself on the watch list of more than just S.H.I.E.L.D. with that stunt, and the missile part, though laudable, is probably not going to counter that."
"You actually seem to be on my side," Harry said after a minute. "I thought you hated me?"
"You're too useful to hate," Fury said immediately. "You are the best chance I have, even after this disaster. Although it will take time, I believe I will be successful in turning heads back towards important issues, and away from questioning allies. Until the day you directly move against us, at least."
Harry nodded, actually a bit relieved. When he had chosen to use Legilimency, he hadn't expected this kind of inquisition.
"Now – I want to know what you are. I have been tolerant of evasions before, but this latest addition tips the scale." He frowned, tapping the file. "Alien?"
"Yes," Harry snapped exasperatedly. "I'm an alien from the planet Hogwarts, and I'm the last of my kind, who was sent here as a child to eventually rule over all human beings." He rolled his eyes when Fury just stared at him. "Some kind folks took me in, and I chose to love puppies and flowers instead. Is any of this sounding vaguely believable?"
Fury sighed.
"No, of course I'm not a bloody alien," Harry finally said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Why does everyone always go directly for that explanation? I have never even been away from Earth. I'm a wizard."
Fury was silent for a long moment. "Wizards," Fury said at last, shaking his head. "Magic is real?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Harry said. "You know, you people have a skewed idea of normalcy. Flying robot suits – fine. People turning into ten-foot green giants - fine. Aliens from another planet – fine. Wizards? Oh no, now we're getting into loony territory!"
Fury sighed. "So, what, you just throw magic around and that causes things to happen? Am I going to have to throw away all of the scientific studies into your abilities?"
"If they're assuming that magic works by the laws of physics, probably." Harry tried. "I've been saying the same thing to Tony for ages... You Muggles have such a narrow imagination."
Fury shook his head, scowling at the huge file in front of him. "Magic. Honestly." He looked up with a grave expression. "I hope you don't mind if I keep that particular claim from other people. I believe they would consider me mad. They can 'liken' it to magic all they like."
"I can always turn them into rats if they won't believe it," Harry offered.
Fury narrowed his eyes, seeming to consider the proposition for a moment. "Would it kill them?"
"Not really, but they might end up with a lasting love for cheese and old bread," Harry admitted. "My human transfiguration's rather unpracticed, honestly. Once thought about becoming an Animagus, but that didn't work out." At Fury's puzzled frown, he shrugged. "Means you can change into an animal."
"Ah." Fury said. "These - spells of yours. Can you kill with those?"
"Anyone can kill," Harry said immediately. "You just use a bullet to do it. You're probably a lot quicker to use such a weapon, too." At the look he received, Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, if I really had to, I could kill just about anything. I know how, at least. Don't like doing that."
"Mind-control?"
"Yes," Harry said, looking away. "Haven't done that in a few years, though, and I'd rather avoid it. A strong will can fight it off, even a Muggle one, so you'd probably be fine."
Fury's eyes twitched as he watched Harry like a hawk. "Anything you can't do?"
"Can't raise the dead," Harry said easily. He certainly wasn't going to bring the Hallows into things. "I can't conjure money either, or love, or a couple other things. Still have a human body, if a bit sturdier, so it's not like I can't be hurt at all. Oh, and I can't fly – well, not without a broom, anyway." He narrowed his eyes. "I wonder how difficult it could be, if Snape could figure that out? He didn't strike me as the type to spend much time practicing charms..."
"Mr. Callahan," Fury said sternly.
Harry blinked, and smiled. "That's still my official name, then? Fun. Anyway, transfiguring huge things is hard, especially if it only goes halfway. Things can get... messy. There's plenty of other limits, I'm sure, but I'd have to write them down."
Fury nodded. "One more question, then – and I can't believe I have to ask this. Can you die?"
Harry shivered as the cloaked figure of Death instantly shot through his mind. He couldn't help thinking of Voldemort either. He had been struck down by the Killing Curse, and met Professor Dumbledore in that white place, that train station. He had gotten up from that curse for the second time in his life. Then the crazy gambit that brought him here had happened, which probably counted as the third time he had avoided death. Hermione would have put riding a nuclear missile on the list, too – it'd been close enough, anyway.
"I don't know," Harry heard himself say, and it was the honest truth. After all the misses so far, he had no clue anymore.
Fury stared at him blankly. "You don't know."
"It didn't take the first few times I died," Harry explained lightly, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I can, probably. I don't intend to find that out soon, if you don't mind."
The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. stood rather quickly, shoving the file under his arm. He quickly snatched a telephone out of his pocket, and put it on the table. "Keep it on you – I'm well aware how technology may react in your presence. When I need your presence, I'll call you."
"Want me to get out of your hair for a while, right?" He paused. "Well, if you had any."
"Just take it."
Harry slipped the gadget into his pouch, next to the other one. "I hadn't really intended to stick around up here, anyway. I'll see if I can find someplace to go."
Fury nodded sharply, and hesitated. "If I find you mind-controlling anyone – I'm putting you on the kill list."
Harry sighed wearily. "Yes, sir."
There was something wonderful about looking down on the ocean from miles above it, while dangling one's feet over the edge. The sun was shimmering brightly on the water, and Harry spent a few minutes just enjoying the breeze, trying to forget all the mess of the last few days. It was actually working a little, remarkably enough.
Being back on the Helicarrier felt different, this time. The first day back had been hectic and annoying, and he had spent most of his time walking back and forth from Tony in the infirmary to Bruce, brooding wherever he could find a place to do it. Then there had been his meeting with Fury, and that just got him even more annoyed.
People had given him wary glances – the rumours had gotten around, it seemed – and Harry was reminded uncomfortably of his second year at Hogwarts, when everyone had seemed convinced that he was going to snap and do something horrible at any moment since they believed him the heir of Slytherin. It had gotten him into a bit of a foul mood since people seemed, as usual, far more interested in concentrating on that than in the death-defying stunts that he had pulled off to down the missile before it would have killed them all. Only Tony had seemed at all unbothered by what he had done to Tarleton, repeatedly mentioning that the awesome he had done far outweighed it. He supposed he was glad there was someone on his side.
When he had finally had enough of all of it, he had just walked right past the guards that were supposed to be keeping an eye on him and had taken his new broom for an extended flight, to try and clear his head. Rather than scare him away from flying, his insane ride on the back of a nuke had just reignited a part of him that he had almost forgotten, a part that could only ever be at home in the sky. He couldn't have Quidditch here, with only one player, but at least he still had a broom. If he hadn't brought one, he probably would have ended up begging Tony for a suit of his own, just to get back into the sky.
"Somehow I figured you'd avoid high places, after what happened," Bruce commented lightly, approaching with his hands in his pockets as he glanced around the deck of the Helicarrier. "It's nice out, actually. Didn't expect that."
"I like the heights," Harry said, smiling. "Flying helps me calm down. I figure you know how important that can be."
Bruce smirked. "Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the Earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."
"That sounds about right."
"Leonardo da Vinci," Bruce said, smiling. "Well – maybe. I think the sentiment holds true, considering the wonder with which I've heard even Tony mention it…"
Harry nodded, dragging his feet back onto solid ground, in as far as a flying aircraft carrier could be considered such. "So, you've finally gotten out of that stuffy lab? What, did they kick you out for doing all their work for them?"
Bruce rolled his eyes, shrugging. "Tony, of course."
"Ah." Harry smirked knowingly, setting off along the side of the deck, the Cloudskimmer vanishing into his pouch somewhere along the way. "He's driving everyone up the wall, I think. Immobilizing someone as addicted to work as him was going to be a mess, that's not a surprise. I really think that giving him a phone was a bad idea."
"He's been badgering Fury to give him a workshop," Bruce responded. "Of course, the Director doesn't want him anywhere near the computers now. I imagine he believes a bored Tony would mess with his head, just for fun. He's probably right."
Harry smiled, and glanced at Bruce knowingly. "So... I'm curious. I hear you and Sif had a moment?"
Bruce coloured immediately, raising an eyebrow. "That was back in Chile – and it was the other guy. Not me. I don't know how but... I guess something about her got through to it. We had a talk, before the crash, that might have had something to do with it." He looked at Harry with something that could have been guilt, or pity, and Harry wasn't sure he liked it. "For a while, I was there, you know. Hulk, yes, but – not. It's hard to explain. I had some control."
"Sif's feminine wiles got through to the brute?" Harry asked jokingly.
"No, no." Bruce got very silent for a while. "No, there's only one who could do something like that, I think, and I haven't seen her in a long time. Maybe I'll figure out a way, now that I am... safer. I don't... I don't think I would harm her, like I did then."
"I see," Harry responded, wondering what about Sif had reached the Hulk, then. Her being an Asgardian, perhaps? Pondering that, he frowned. "So, what's the name of this other girl?"
"Betty. Betty Ross," Bruce said. "Perhaps, now that S.H.I.E.L.D. is actually on my side, I could find her again. Explain a few things."
Harry just walked with the doctor, thinking of all the people he had left behind. He wasn't going to have a reunion like that – not any time soon. Then again, he didn't really need it as much. Bruce had desperately needed those short moments with his father, even if they hadn't been the heartwarming stuff he might have wished for. Now there was his girlfriend, Harry surmised, and she was still alive.
"You should find her number," Harry suggested. "I'm sure that Tony knows how to do that. Call her up, ask her how she's doing. Invite her over to the new place – well, you'll have to wait till it's built, but you know what I mean." He grinned. "Perhaps you could fill her in on the heroism you've been up to?"
"She's seen the news, I'm sure," Bruce said, shuddering. "She's only seen the raging monster, the brute. She's seen me smashing up L.A. and punching you around." He glanced away sadly. "And then there's her father, the general."
Harry strolled over to one of the planes that were set up on the flight deck; it would be leaving soon, or it would be downstairs somewhere. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has some weight to throw around, Bruce. The army's not crazy enough to come get you, here. You're protected, like me, even from the likes of a general."
"Legally," Bruce said, snorting. "Not like that ever stopped Ross. I don't want to sit behind a bunch of guns and steel plates for the rest of my life, hoping that I'll be left alone."
"Then don't," Harry said. "You have the rest of us, don't you? Do you think we'd just let it go if someone came to take you away?"
Bruce frowned, but didn't say anything.
"I know that you'd rather disappear back into your obscure jungle paradise, get away from all this again and bury the other guy as deeply as you can," he said, and smiled sadly at Bruce's surprised look. "I've told you before, I knew someone that wasn't so very different from you. Even though he feared what he could do, he didn't let it stop him."
"The werewolf," Bruce said, nodding. "It's a crazy idea that they're real."
Harry just gave him an impatient look. "My point is that you can do a lot of good, and I figured you should know that. Same as Remus. I'm pretty sure that, except for Tony, I'm the only reason you even stick around. I think you need to get used to the idea that you're no longer on the run."
"There are people hurting in the poor countries, and I could help. With the other guy reined in a little, perhaps I could live a normal life out there, even. I don't have to be running. I could just live my life."
"Possibly," Harry acknowledged. "I said much the same thing, actually, when I got here." He smiled wryly. "For a while, I didn't have a care in the world. Then I ran across Tony, and that led me to S.H.I.E.L.D. and from there it was straight on to you. Things haven't exactly gotten any calmer since then."
"You've noticed how people look at you, haven't you?" Bruce asked suddenly. At Harry's confused nod, he looked away. "You could say I'm the expert on that sort of thing. Everyone looks at me that way. And – for good reason. Out there, nobody knows me. People just see me as a helpful foreigner, and it helps keep me calm, the anonymity. Here, the other guy is so close to the surface, and people have no problem reminding me of that fact..."
"If someone were to walk up to you with a raised wand plainly visible in his hand, you would feel threatened," Harry said calmly. He paused briefly. "Well, replace wand with gun, I guess. Even if someone who does that might not harm you, it will keep feeling like a threat – but not forever. After a while, it just becomes a quirk, something peculiar." He raised his wand. "Some of us have more choice than others about how threatening we come across, and it takes time before people to adapt to that. Stick around, and they'll stop staring. I promise."
Bruce shrugged.
"I doubt you'd get very far, even if you did leave," Harry said after a moment. "Have you thought about what happened out there, in Chile? You know what we did, there? We stopped a nuclear bomb. Now, I'm hardly an expert on what the thing would have done, but you are. You know how many people survive because of us."
"Millions." Bruce crossed his arms, shaking his head. "You took the missile down, Harry. With fireworks, of all things – the most remarkable ones I've ever seen. How the hell did you get that idea, anyway?"
"Explosive to explosive, it's easier to transfigure," Harry said tiredly. "The more similar the objects, the easier, that's how it was thought. I think it has more to do with how you personally think about the objects than their actual similarity, otherwise a pincushion to hedgehog transfiguration would probably be a lot tougher." He frowned. "That wasn't the point, was it? You were there, fighting alongside the rest of us. You took out that shield generator thing, didn't you? Without your help, we wouldn't have made it. You know that – and if something like this happens again..."
"I suppose you're right. So, what? You want me to keep doing this kind of thing? Is that what you see yourself doing a year from now? Five years?"
"If I have to," Harry replied easily. "Bruce, you smashed the hell out of that terrorist facility, and you were the reason that Tony and I even had a shot at taking down A.I.M.'s missile. Don't claim you didn't enjoy that feeling of elation when you turned back, and the Hulk had finally listened to you. I've heard plenty from Sif, you know." Harry turned aside, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Sometimes it feels like all this is inevitable, that gathering all these extraordinary people together is the world's way of preparing for something bad. If that's even remotely the case, then how can you stay out of it? I certainly can't."
"I never bought into the idea of a predetermined future," Bruce replied tersely. "So, what, the next time something like this comes up, we do this whole thing again? Since when are we a police force?"
Harry shrugged. "Earth's mightiest heroes kind of thing, doesn't sound too bad. Who else is going to do it? You know that this isn't over, and you could save a lot of people. S.H.I.E.L.D. might be nervous about me, but they'll call me when something comes up again. Are you any different?" He smiled. "Tell me, Bruce. If people were in danger, if the world needed your help, and you knew about it - would you be there?"
Bruce's shoulders sagged. "Yes."
Sif's sword slashed out viciously, and Harry could only barely contain his instinct to jump back as far as he could. The metal beam she had severed dropped to the floor in two pieces, neatly cut in half right in the middle.
"Didn't know you were here," Harry commented as he approached carefully. "Since when do you do sword training down here?"
Sif looked over with a shrug. "I have not spent much time perfecting my skills since I came to Midgard," she admitted. "Unfortunately, there is no true training ground for anything but projectile weapons on this vessel. I have had to... improvise."
"I see. You're sort of messing up the ship, though." Looking aroudn at all the chopped-up metal, Harry pulled out his wand. "Reparo."
Severed parts of beams and metal columns rocketed back to their own place, crisscrossing in between each other effortlessly, the damage from Sif's sword vanishing as they ended up where they belonged, melding seamlessly back into their places. As he finished, Harry let out a long breath. With his own wand, this kind of magic was actually a bit exhausting to keep up, but he would rather not get dependent on the power of the Elder Wand all the time.
Sif smiled as she looked at his handiwork, sheathing her sword. "What brings you here?"
"Ah... I heard you might be leaving."
Sif looked away at that. "You heard correctly. I wish to journey back to Asgard for a time. Heimdall has not responded to my calls, which is unusual. Either someone is veiling me from him, or something is wrong in Asgard itself. Either way, I believe it is important that I return."
Harry sighed. "Just as I was getting used to having you around..."
"I will return here, of course," Sif promised, smiling. "I have given my word to help you, and I will not break it. Perhaps I can convince the Warriors Three to join me here. Their characters are questionable, but they certainly fight well."
"So, are you finally getting used to us earthlings, then?" Harry wondered, smiling. "What changed since you came here? It hasn't been that long, after all."
Sif looked away, and didn't answer. Finally she sighed, and turned back towards him. "Of all the realms, yours is least visited by our kind – and I believe it is a mistake. For this world also calls home some of the most honourable people I have yet met, and some who would certainly greatly intrigue the scholars among my people."
"Glad to know," Harry said. "So, you'll put in a good word for us, then?"
"If I can manage it." She sighed as she walked closer. "I may be gone for weeks. You will not have a guard in that time. Take care whom you meet, and whom you trust. Seek guidance from Asgard, should you not know which course to take, if the dangers are too sudden, too great. I will see to it that Heimdall answers you – and if not him, then I shall do so."
Harry nodded confidently as Sif reached for her side. She pulled a vicious-looking knife from her belt, nearly thirty centimeters long and curved. After looking at it for a moment, she flipped it over – Harry could barely follow the speed – and extended it to Harry with the hilt first.
"Take this, to defend yourself. It is crafted from Asgardian metals – it will resist a great deal of stress, should it be required. Use it well."
Harry looked at it with a frown. "A knife? What would I do with a knife?"
"One generally plants the pointy end into the enemy," Sif said dryly, then smiled. "I crafted this one myself, decades ago," she added after a moment. "Keep it as assurance that I will return here, for I would not lose such a valuable creation."
Harry didn't quite know what to say, slipping the knife into his pouch for the time being. "Thanks, I suppose. I don't really use a knife..."
Sif shrugged. "Keep an eye on it. I do not easily lend my weapons to others, for I fear to lose it. I believe that, as your chatty friend told me, 'need all the help you can get'."
"Thanks, Tony," Harry muttered irritably. "Perhaps, if it is so powerful, you should keep it."
"No. I entrust it to you," Sif said after a moment, her eyes filled with something that Harry couldn't quite identify. "If you feel that you are in danger – use it. I would not have you die in my absence."
"I'll try not to," Harry said weakly.
Sif smiled. "Good. If you dare to fail, I will rip you from the icy plains of Hel myself."
Harry'd frozen in mid-step, his eyes wide. For a long moment it seemed like everything had stopped. Harry's mind was going a million miles a minute. Had he just heard... "What did you just say?"
"Merely a joke," she said lightly, suddenly looking confused at Harry's look of concentration. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
"The icy plains of Hel? What do you mean by that?"
"Hel, it is the realm of the dead," Sif said slowly, blinking. "It is said that it is a great plain of ice with many rivers, in which the dead sleep. Only a few have ever seen it and lived, among them the All-Father. It is guarded by a great..."
"Wolf," Harry finished softly. Not Hell – Hel, the Norse afterlife. That's where he had met Death. It suddenly made sense – and yet not. Did that mean Asgardians were really gods? Were there multiple afterlives? Had Death simply used it for convenience's sake, or had there been a reason for it? He blinked, shaking his head. "Sorry – I've been wondering where I heard the term, and when you mentioned it, I remembered," he said softly. He wasn't ready to begin that discussion. "Anyway - I won't die, I promise."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I'm not good at it anyway."
Sif nodded slowly. "Keep the dagger safe. When you see me again, I will ask how you have used it. I hope your answer will be good."
Harry just looked on nervously as Sif smiled wickedly and finally left, leaving him to his thoughts. For a moment he wanted to run after her, to ask her if he could come to Asgard, to figure this out. He sighed, deciding to put that thought aside, for the moment. With one part of his vision of Death explained, his thoughts turned to others. Soon he found himself heading towards the infirmary, his thoughts returning to the dagger that Sif had given him. Why had he received a weapon like that? For what did she believe he would need it?
"Ah, if it isn't our supreme sorcerer," Tony said lightly. He drove slowly forward, controlling the wheelchair with his foot. "Come to liberate me from the horrors of the infirmary, at last?"
Harry shrugged, glancing around. He could use a distraction, right about now. "Nobody's around to stop us. Why not."
Tony rolled after the wizard with as much speed as he could manage. Harry held open the doors to let him through, finally relaxing when they got a few halls away. Tony raised an eyebrow. "Bad experiences with the nurses? You seem terrified one might show up. They're nice, you know. Remarkably tender, for this place."
"Tony..." Harry glanced back a last time. "I have the irrational belief that Madam Pomfrey will come around the corner at any moment and send me back to one of those beds." He shivered. "She was the kindest and worst nurse you could have, back at my school. I always got myself into heaps of trouble, so I was in her care far too often for comfort."
"I'm somehow not surprised. So, this Madam Pomfrey, are we a talking about a sort of witchdoctor?"
Harry blinked. "Well, she's a witch – and I suppose a doctor, if you want to use the Muggle term. I'm pretty sure that a witchdoctor is something else, though." He scratched the back of his head. "I've never really thought about it – preferred to think about what to do to get out of her clutches, usually."
Tony shrugged, wincing as his arms protested against the movement. "I'd never appreciated just how annoying it can be to have broken arms. It really cuts into productivity, and a few other things." He let out a long sigh. "Pepper's been helping out with about half a dozen different things, but it's not the same. She wouldn't even give me a sponge bath!"
"You know, sometimes I wonder if everything is a joke to you," Harry commented as he looked over the flowers next to Tony's bed curiously. "Secret admirer?"
Tony glanced over lazily. "Not really. I had Pepper fetch them for me from the next room. Really ties the room together though, don't you think?"
"You really need to get out of here," Harry said simply, shaking his head. "Of course, you're probably the only billionaire right now that's technically homeless..."
"I might have a few houses somewhere, but that's not interesting, is it?" Tony complained. "The foundation for my new place is already prepared, and with the kind of money I can put into it, that building will be standing in a couple months. I will probably survive without a huge bed until then."
"Right. Your skyscraper," Harry said. "Is it just for the view, or so you don't have to smash through a bunch of floors to get outside, this time?"
Tony narrowed his eyes. "You never did fix that, did you? Well – I suppose it wouldn't have mattered."
Harry smirked. "I talked to Bruce, earlier. I think there's a pretty good shot that he'll take you up on your offer."
"Oh, I know he will," Tony answered immediately. "The top ten floors of my new place? All research and development. It'll be like nerd heaven with unbreakable walls as a bonus." He paused. "Well, if you're up for that, anyway. I am tempted to add a few features that aren't technically possible within the known laws of physics – give Hammer something to scratch his head about."
"I will help you, as long as I get a room of my own," Harry noted.
"Room? More like floor!"
Harry smiled. "Yes, well, don't be too surprised if it vanishes from your blueprints at some point. Anyway – with Clint and Natasha going back to their jobs and Bruce and Sif going on personal errands, you'll be on your own for a bit, since Fury wants me off this boat. You'll stick around with S.H.I.E.L.D. for now?"
"Well, I'd like to figure out a few things," Tony said. "Who exactly was behind this whole thing, for one. This Tarleton fellow is all well and good, but I doubt he was the end of it. Then there's the technology. If I can reverse-engineer what's left of it, can you imagine how useful it could be? Functional force field technology that's powerful enough to knock planes out of the sky?"
"Yeah, I don't know a thing about that." Harry paused. "There is something you might be able to help me with. I have been trying to use the computers to find someone, but I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Who?"
Harry blinked. "I don't know his name, just his face. I hoped I could narrow it down with that, but..."
"Do you have a picture? Jarvis, do we still have access to the mainframe?"
"A copy of myself remains dormant, indeed."
Harry blinked. "Did he just say –"
"Yes. Don't tell Fury. So – let's see this mystery person, then. If he's in the database, Jarvis will find him." He glared at his arms. "I'd do it myself, but it seems my joints have rusted."
Harry rolled his eyes, rummaging through his pouch. He retrieved his Pensieve and put it on the table next to Tony's bed, placing his wand to his temple as Tony looked on curiously. The memory Harry had picked descended into the bowl and swirled there innocently. A shiver ran down his back as he recalled those moments in what he now knew to be Hel, per Sif's description. Right now, only one part mattered.
"I hope that's not brain matter," Tony said softly, looking vaguely disgusted.
"Don't be silly," Harry said. He had seen this trick done before. Dumbledore had made the memory appear above the Pensieve, in his office. Prodding the silver a little, it suddenly ballooned out of the bowl, forming into a translucent image that spun very slowly in the air.
"Since when do you have holograms?"
Harry ignored Tony in favour of the image. There floated the image of a slightly pudgy older man, a small tuft of white hair left on his balding scalp and a pair of old-fashioned glasses perched on his nose. He had a small smile on his face, though his eyes were closed, and there were spots of blood across his neck, with a wound in his chest that looked rather more serious than Harry thought it'd been. He looked at the the slowly rotating figure and could feel his anger grow again. His anger at Death, if she indeed spoke the truth about that, who had enforced the rules before explaining them.
"I figured you were talking about some hot girl you wanted to call up," Tony said after a moment, then he took in how tense Harry was, how he looked at the image with pain plainly visible in his eyes. "Ah. Family?" he asked after a few moments, much softer than before.
"No," Harry said, staring. "It's a personal thing. I made a mistake, and this man... I need to know who he is. Who he was. So I can fix things."
Tony looked over the floating image with concern. "I could ask a ton of questions right now, but you're clearly not in the mood. Fine – if you think it's important, I'll go with that. Jarvis, can you start the search based on this image?"
"Yes. I should be able to trace him or close relatives based on facial features," Jarvis responded immediately. "The three-dimensional nature of the construct should allow for higher precision. Processing now. It will take approximately ninety minutes."
"There we go," Tony said.
"Thank you," Harry said after a moment. He deactivated the Pensieve, quickly slipping the memory back into his head, shuddering slightly at the sensation.
"Again, if that was brain matter, don't tell me. I just ate."
Harry rubbed a hand through his hair, sighing. "I'll be off later tonight, I think."
"Sure. I'll give you a call the moment I get out of here. I want you to help out with a few other things." Tony stretched his leg tiredly. "Wheeling around is exhausting, by the way."
Harry rolled his eyes, silently pulling out his wand. The wheelchair began rolling on its own, and Tony sighed as he leaned back. Then he started floating, hovering half a meter off the ground, bobbing after Harry who smirked over his shoulder.
"You know, if Fury sees this, he'll probably get on my case for building stuff he said I couldn't," Tony pointed out just as Jarvis spoke up.
"You have a call waiting, sir."
Tony blinked, turning his head slightly. "Patch it through, Jarvis." There was a momentary silence. "Ah – it's you, Elon. Hey, I figured you'd call back after the message I left. Yes, you're right, those numbers were accurate. Listen... I have a proposal for you."
"You're leaving?" Natasha asked disbelievingly. "What about Dr. Banner, or the others? Didn't you all live in that fancy house of Stark's that got wrecked?"
"I did apologize for doing that," Harry said. "How could I have known that it was going to land there? Anyway, Bruce, Tony and Sif can take care of themselves. With S.H.I.E.L.D. on the job of tracking down whoever was behind A.I.M.'s plans, we have a bit of relative peace. I don't think it's weird that everyone is considering a little rest and relaxation. Fury figures it's best if I make myself scarce for a while, too."
"So that finally gave you time for our drink?" Natasha teased, raising her glass. She glanced out of the huge window that looked out over the deck of the Helicarrier, and smiled. "I didn't think you'd ever get to this, honestly."
Harry shrugged. "I suppose I've been busy." He leaned back in his chair. "Same for you, I'm sure."
"Of course," Natasha said. "Sometimes it's nice to take a glass of good wine and watch the sun set, but I usually don't have the time for it. Too much work. Lately everyone has just been running and fighting and nobody gets a good night's sleep. Your appearance didn't help matters either."
"Fury told you to spy on me tonight, didn't he?" Harry observed. "That's how you suddenly had the evening off."
"I figured you wouldn't care." Natasha stretched, and Harry looked away with a blush as she revealed rather more midriff than he had expected. She seemed to notice his look, smiling knowingly. "So, tell me, how much of that stuff in Afghanistan was really you, Mr. Wizard?"
"All of it, of course," Harry responded immediately. "I enjoyed that, really. Especially when you were around, since your replacements were terrible conversationalists."
Natasha chuckled. "You know, the first week or so I was trying to figure out why you were so, well, unconcerned about me. I suspected you'd figured something out, but I couldn't make sure until you went and destroyed the bug I planted on you."
"I actually sort of shorted that thing out before I knew what it was," Harry admitted. "Anyway, I was pretty determined not to make any new enemies out there, and I honestly thought you were nice to hang out with. The whole spy thing was secondary." He narrowed his eyes. "Really, I should be asking you how much of you was real. You were the one who was acting, weren't you?"
"True enough," Natasha replied. "I've been going undercover for nearly as long as I can remember, so it was actually rather easy to slip into that role. The playful persona seemed appropriate given how casual you were about pretty much everything. I don't know how much she's like me – they sort of blend together after a while."
"You're more assertive now," Harry observed. "That's not a bad thing, actually. You don't laugh as much, though. You really should."
She shrugged. "I have had less to laugh about."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Same thing's true for some other people. Tony, for one. You know he's had a string of bad luck lately, right? He lost his mentor, his home, his mobility, and he almost bled to death not two days ago. Yet – he's smiling, and making big plans, you name it." Harry smiled, looking out over the deck below. "You should consider taking some pointers. I know that I'd like to have that kind of drive. Now, if you start referencing popular Muggle culture or making sarcastic engineering jokes, you've probably gone too far in the other direction."
Natasha didn't respond to that, but Harry could see the ever-so-slight smile as clear as day.
"There we go. Now all we need is for me to go hang out on the roof or go buy some dried monkey heads and we'll be golden." Harry leaned back with a grin as Natasha smiled warmly at the memory. "It was fun, wasn't it? Despite the whole spider and fly aspect?"
Natasha nodded. "It was work, but it felt different." She looked away tiredly. "I guess everything's going to get worse from here on, though. Every day it seems like some new crisis needs attention, some new problem rears its head. Peace is a long way off, now."
"Well, that's why we're here, right?" Harry said lightly. "Just a couple extraordinary people in an extraordinary world." He looked outside as the late afternoon slowly made way for dusk. "Speaking of extraordinary things – you wanted to see the sun set?"
"We're going the wrong way to see it here," Natasha answered. "Some other day, maybe."
"No, I have an idea. Come on." Harry walked to the window, tapping it lightly with his wand; the glass plate vanished into thin air. "I hope you're not afraid of heights," he joked as he retrieved the Cloudskimmer and jumped on it, hovering right next to the window. "Come now, there's plenty of space."
"Are you crazy?" Natasha walked to the edge of the window, looking down, then at the rather flimsy-looking broom. "Do you know what would happen if I fell?"
Harry snorted. "Come on, you're braver than that." When she finally gingerly tried to get on, Harry levitated her right onto the back of his broom with a lazy wave of his wand. She let out a startled yelp, grabbing onto Harry's arms painfully in an attempt to steady herself. Harry wondered idly if that was going to be a trend for every time someone hitched a ride.
"Are you steady back there?"
Harry felt her nod against his back, and smiled as he slowly rose into the sky, passing the rest of the command tower slowly. "You can open your eyes, you know," Harry teased, and he guessed correctly, it seemed, as she straightened a little. Even someone experienced with airplanes was probably going to be freaked out by this, the first time. "It's not like I'm going to drop you."
Harry felt Natasha sit up straight behind him. He could hear her breath catch as he continued rising, slowly ascending through wisps of thin clouds until they were spread out below them, a vast sea of white stretching out around in all directions. The sun sank to the horizon in the distance, painting the sky in a vast number of colours, and Harry smiled as he finally felt Natasha loosen her grip. They floated forward slowly, keeping pace with the Helicarrier below them.
"When I'm way up here, it's crystal clear..." Natasha singsonged, and she chuckled. "You do this often, don't you? Just... go out flying. I'd certainly do it, if I could."
"A good idea, I'd say," Harry answered, circling slowly upwards. Slowly the dusk made way for night, the first stars twinkling in the sky.
Natasha hummed under her breath as Harry began to descend at last, keeping steady with only one hand. "You know, I wish I'd brought a camera. That was quite beautiful."
"You've got the memories," Harry replied, smiling. "Whenever you want to see them, let me know."
She sighed. "This magic of yours really is remarkable, isn't it?"
Harry smirked as he landed softly on the Helicarrier's deck. Oh, she had seen nothing yet.
"Director...?" Agent Triers called hesitantly. "I think we might have a problem."
Fury walked over quickly. "What is it?"
Triers gestured to his screen silently. A video was playing, depicting an explosion – a very familiar one. The streak of fire was barely recognizable, but the multi-coloured light show was unmistakable.
"Where did you get this?"
"The Internet, obviously," Triers said. "It got uploaded about two hours ago, and it's already mirrored a few times across several video sharing sites. I don't know who took the footage, but I suspect someone was on a boat nearby and got lucky. From out on the ocean, the explosion would have looked bright, even at its considerable altitude."
Fury scowled. "Fantastic. Why wasn't this caught earlier?"
Triers shrugged. "Our software can only recognize so much, and this is a completely different angle than our own footage, obviously. I only found it because it's listed as an explosion of an aircraft carrying a large amount of illegal fireworks, and it sounded familiar."
"Can we use that explanation as a cover?"
"I suppose," Triers said. "Of course – if better footage appears, we'd be in trouble. Perhaps...?"
"We can't tell the truth," Fury muttered. "You know what happened the last time a terrorist attack on the U.S. got in the news. Even if it was stopped, you know that people will be calling for the heads of every damn Chilean."
"Maybe," Triers agreed. "Of course, if we make sure to clarify that the terrorist responsible was a known threat that's already been captured, we could mitigate that. I don't see a reason to keep the involvement of Iron Man and the Magician in particular a secret, given that they're already in the news anyway. It would also further solidify their reputation."
Fury frowned. "I will consider such options. It would require that these 'heroes' get ready for another meeting with the press." He glanced at Triers. "Regardless of what happens, we cannot reveal the nuclear nature of this threat. "
"Of course not, sir. There is a small problem, though."
"Hmmm?"
"Harry's left, sir."
Fury sighed. "Of all the times he had listen to me... I'll call him later, then. I suppose he does deserve a bit of a break."
Harry stepped off the bus, giving a quick wave to the driver and blinking at the bright light coming from a flickering streetlight. He really should have thought of packing some money before he left; paying with Galleons was right out, and he had no clue how to use the credit card that Tony had given him. He could have sworn he had had more money, though. Well, here he was, as close to the centre of town as he could get, still miles and miles away from the taller buildings that he always saw on television shows.
He was, at last, in New York. Harry had gotten used to big cities since Los Angeles, but this was on yet another level: The city was absolutely huge. For lack of a better direction, he just headed towards the taller buildings, hoping he would come across a shop along the way where he could purchase a map. He shook his head dazedly, fumbling in his pocket for his wand, and thankfully it was still there. Granted, he had a spare, but he really wouldn't like to lose his original.
Tony had come back with a result for his search rather quickly; the man had lived in Queens, New York. The billionaire hadn't asked any questions, though his all too curious gaze as Harry flipped through the file he'd dug up told him enough; there was something peculiar here. This man - Benjamin - had been related to a S.H.I.E.L.D. employee, and Tony had jumped to a conclusion based on that; Harry just didn't know what that was. He had taken off as soon as he could, hoping that Fury would not find out what he had looked up before he got here - he did not want any interference.
Harry looked around himself, discouraged; it was clear that he would need a bit more time to figure out where he was going. This was the second time he was wandering around a big city like this with no clue where anything was, he reflected. The first time around S.H.I.E.L.D. had infected him with tiny robots to spy on him, and that all worked out in the end. Hopefully New York would be better than that.
The sun had already set, and Harry knew he would need to find someplace to sleep for the night, before he went to find Benjamin's family the next day. He hadn't figured out what he'd tell them yet, really, if anything. He needed a hotel, now. He walked on with his hands in his pockets, lazily passing a few small shops and some residences before he came to something more promising.
"The Wolf's Howl Hotel?" Harry murmured. "Hope that's not an omen. I hate omens." He quickly walked into a pleasantly decorated hallway that ended in a small room with a counter; a short Asian woman sat behind it, staring at her computer screen. She didn't even notice Harry until he was right next to her.
"A room for the night, please," Harry said easily. "If you have one."
"Of course, there is a bit of room left," the lady said with an accent that Harry couldn't hope to identify. He looked impatiently around as he waited, admiring the ornamental decorations on the walls; it almost looked like Chinese art, but the drawings reminded him of vikings instead. The pictures depicted men with horned helmets charging into great monstrous wolves, and a giant snake that reminded him of a basilisk.
The woman looked up after a moment, a key in her hand. "Here you go, sir. Second floor, fourth room on the right, facing the street. Do you wish to pay in cash?"
"Credit Card, please," Harry said, fumbling as he retrieved it from his pouch. Thankfully he didn't have to figure out how the thing worked himself. Harry realized that he really didn't have anything on him to put in the room, and it was hardly time to hit the hay yet. "Could you hold on to the key? I'll be back in an hour or two."
The clerk didn't seem to mind, hanging the key on a hook behind her. Stepping back outside, Harry sniffed the air curiously and blinked. There was a lingering scent that reminded him quite a bit of good to his side, he realized where it was coming from. Nestled between the Wolf's Howl Hotel and what seemed to be an abandoned building, was a rather small bar. It reminded him a lot of the Leaky Cauldron, especially the warm fireside glow that met him from inside, and the soft bustle of patrons. He couldn't resist taking a peek.
"Come in, come in!" the barkeep exclaimed as he noticed Harry. "We've got plenty of ale, wine, whatever you need!"
Harry quickly glanced over the dozen or so people already inside, all rather pudgy-looking men with beards or large mustaches, with gigantic tankards of beer in front of them. Definitely like the Leaky Cauldron, then. Well – he hadn't had a good drink in ages. Stepping fully inside, the barkeep nodded at him, gesturing to a table on the far end of the room.
"You really should put up a better sign," Harry noted as he dropped into a large and comfortable chair. "I barely noticed you, and I was right next door!"
"Ah, but that would take the fun out of it, wouldn't it?" The barkeep responded, smiling. "We're only open every few weeks, y'know – you're in luck. A tourist, I imagine?"
"In a sense," Harry said. "First time in New York, anyway."
"Then you should taste some of our ale, shouldn't ya? I'll get you some, on the house." He nodded, quickly shuffling away, and Harry looked on in amusement. The fireside glow he had seen hadn't been a mistake – there really was a fire, burning merrily behind a thick grate. The heat was almost on the edge of uncomfortable, but that was practically a part of things. The man returned quickly, giving a friendly nod. "Hope you'll be a regular, sir. Don't have enough of those in this economy, I'm 'fraid."
When the man turned away, Harry quickly tapped his glass with his wand, and was relieved to find that it wasn't infected with all sorts of nasty stuff, this time. He quickly rattled through a few other detection spells, keeping his wand under the table, and was relieved to find they showed nothing. With renewed confidence he picked up the tankard. He took a sip and almost spat it right back out. Finally, something strong enough to rival a decent Fire Whiskey. Drinking a little more this time, Harry took his time to take in the sharp taste, imagining himself back at the Hog's Head for a moment, sharing a glass with Ron as their long days on the job ended.
"I think he has high hopes for you."
Harry blinked, glancing over to his side. A tall man had slipped into the chair on the other side of the table, his own tankard in his hand. He smiled good-naturedly, raising his for a toast, and Harry quickly responded to the gesture. After another long drink he set his drink down. Harry glanced back at the barkeep again. "I think he just knows how to lure someone in."
"Definitely," the other man agreed. "It's his little trick. First one is free, second one is half price, and then you will not care about everything after, as long as the liquor keeps coming."
Harry chuckled. "I suppose it's not that different here in the States, after all. I didn't expect to find a place like this here. I've been all over Los Angeles, and Mu – people there usually don't seem to care for this sort of thing." He sighed contentedly. "Feels a bit like home, actually."
The other man smiled, sipping from his own glass and turning his startlingly sharp blue-green eyes towards Harry, studying him. "What worries are you drinking away here, stranger? Poor fortune, a missed opportunity?"
Harry shrugged. "Just some mistakes I made. I've come to see if I can do anything to make up for one of them." He glanced over the table curiously. "What about you?"
"Jealousy," the man said shortly. "The name is Lucas, by the way." He stuck out his hand. "Lawyer by trade."
Harry raised an eyebrow, shaking the man's hand awkwardly. "Harry. I suppose I'm a wanderer." He thought that going with wizard was probably a bad idea. "As for jealousy – don't much care for it. I nearly lost a friend to it, once. We got over it, but I never forgot that envy has power."
"It doesn't always work out well, either," Lucas said, staring at his drink.
"That depends on if any effort's put into it, i guess." Harry thought back to the Tri-wizard Tournament, even to the hunt for the Horcruxes. Things had gotten pretty hairy between him and Ron, true, but it hadn't lasted. Ultimately they'd gotten over it and probably ended up better friends because of the experience.
Lucas looked over his glass as he took another sip. "So, you're a wanderer, fixing mistakes you made," Lucas said after a few minutes. "I suppose that is laudable, assuming they were bad ones."
Harry looked sceptical. "There are good mistakes?"
"Of course there are." Lucas said, not elaborating. "I wander, on occasion. There is nothing better than having a bit of fun," he noted. "You know, for someone who goes to seedy bars like this, you seem quite cultured. I suppose it is a British upbringing that is responsible?"
"Probably," Harry admitted. "I guess you could say I was brought up in a rather old-fashioned culture. I haven't really gotten used to the modern style of living that you Americans seem to prefer." He glanced at the other man and frowned. "Actually, you don't sound like you're from around here either..."
"Indeed?" The man snorted. "I suppose that would be apparent to most. Yes, I hail from more distant parts. All the interesting things happen here, though." He sloshed his drink slowly. "There is something peculiar happening in the world, you know. I am sure you have seen it too, you seem the clever sort."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "The media can't stop talking about their newest obsession. Beyond that, things seem fairly normal."
"That is what I meant. People dressing up in fancy clothes and playing vigilante." The man snorted. "You must wonder what the world is coming to, when such people can roam free across the streets. It will be a matter of time before they get arrested and tried."
"I'm sure they're doing what they believe is right," Harry said carefully, feeling very odd about talking in third person like that. "I've seen the pictures, I'm sure they have the power to back up their boasts, at least. I don't think it's a bad thing, really, to have figures like Iron Man around. People need something to look up to, to believe in. Not everyone can make a real difference in the world, but the few who can, might just help inspire those that can't."
"Ah, but then there are the pitfalls of heroism." Lucas shrugged. "On the one hand, glory. On the other, vulnerability. Their visibility will attract more than positive attention."
"Maybe," Harry conceded. "They could also form something that's lasting, don't you think? The world's gotten used to armies, to faceless mobs. Beyond political figures, who do people look up to? I've read enough to know that it's the individuals that stand out which are remembered."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "You are seeing them as symbols more than just people. An interesting way to look at things, I suppose." He frowned. "Symbols they might be, but they seem to me to be ones of war, before anything else."
"Or peace, for those who they are protecting," Harry pointed out. "Peaceful protest might work for some people, but it won't stop the crazy people from doing violent things anyway. You still need someone to take care of those, too. I'd rather see these vigilantes take a shot than sending in the army, again."
Lucas scoffed. "They are unlawful brutes, playing the hero."
"Well, everyone needs heroes," Harry argued. "I look up to people like my parents, my old headmaster, even historical figures. I can understand why people might look up to these new people, too. Granted, I'd definitely break under the pressure of actually being the target of that attention, but I can see the inherent value. Violent or not." He finished his drink, staring at the cup for a moment. "Heroes aren't born, you know. They're made – either by the environment that needs them to be there, or by the people themselves, when there's nobody else to do the job."
"Lofty thoughts on a dreary evening."
Harry shrugged, leaning back. "Armchair philosophy, that's all. A friend of mine tells me off whenever I indulge in that sort of thing."
"I have a brother that does that," Lucas muttered. "He seems more interested in violence and loud boasting than any subtlety or forethought. He is an aggravating person."
Harry sighed. "Must be nice, though."
Lucas looked up curiously."What?"
"Well, the whole family thing," Harry said. He didn't elaborate for a little while as he suddenly realized that the barkeep had to have scooted by while he was thinking, putting a new tankard in front of him. Picking it up, he mused on what it would have been like to grow up with a brother – a proper one, not Dudley.
"Trust me, they're more trouble than they're worth."
"I don't believe that," Harry countered. He drank half of his ale in one go. He blinked, shaking his head. "Never knew my family – I'm pretty much on my own. Don't really have a home, either. Not one I can go too, anyway. Too far 'way."
Lucas was silent for a while, drinking from his own tankard slowly. "What is it like, to live like that?"
Now it was Harry's turn to be confused. "What?"
"I gather that you are an orphan." At Harry wince, he nodded. "What's it like, without anyone at all?"
"I wouldn't say I don't have anyone," Harry said, wondering when the conversation had gotten so personal. "I have – friends, and they're like family to me. I suppose, if I look back on things, it does feel like I missed out on somethin'." He looked away. "Uncle and aunt didn't like me much. Didn't really figure out what to do with my life until I was nearly twenty. Just went with things as the came." He chuckled. "Suppose I'm still doing that."
"I think you have had enough," Lucas said, smiling. Harry shrugged, making for another sip, and found to his consternation that he had nothing left.
"Hey! I was drinkin' that," Harry exclaimed, blinking. From somewhere in his foggy mind, something screamed that this was wrong. But he had tested his drink: There had been nothing in it that his magic had recognized as a poison, or a drug, or anything. Had it just been that alcoholic? No, this was different. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus. He knew a sobriety charm – he was pretty sure he did, anyway. He just couldn't remember it right that moment.
"You seem rather tired, Harry Potter."
Harry reacted instantly to that, snapping upright and grabbing the man across his table by the jacket and dragging him upright. He had some trouble remaining steady, but the movement did help a little.
"Well, that took a disappointingly long time and a transparently obvious hint," Lucas muttered, brushing Harry's hand away effortlessly as he picked up his own cup and emptied it. Then, it vanished into thin air, along with the barkeep and the other patrons. The smooth table turned into a slightly rotten one covered with cracks and with spider webs clinging to the edges. Most of the furniture was suddenly covered in white cloth. "You are not very observant, for a practitioner."
Harry winced as he tried to fight his way to clear-headedness. Only one thing flashed through his head with intensity, though: wizard. Finally he had found one.
"I wouldn't call myself that," Lucas muttered. "I do apologize for the trickery, but I could not help myself." He stood, gesturing towards Harry, who slumped back into his seat as if bound by invisible ropes. "You might say it is in my nature," the man finished.
"How? I check'd!"
Lucas smiled as he turned, and suddenly his clothes, dirty and stained, turned into green and silver armour, a long green cloak hanging off his shoulders all the way to the floor. Clasped in his hand was a wand – with a start, Harry recognized his own wand, the phoenix-feathered one he had been using since he got back. He realized that the one in his pocket had vanished.
Lucas raised his eyebrows. "I'm afraid that I had to – disarm you before you ever got here."
"When?" Harry blurted, trying to move. He was still stuck to his chair, though.
"Oh, when you departed from the large vehicle that brought you here," The man said, shrugging. "It was remarkably easy. I had intended to meet you in one of the rooms next door, but when you were intent on leaving so quickly, I had to take matters into my own hands. The enchantment took a while to take hold, even here, which is impressive. You must have some fortitude of mind."
"Why do this?" Harry said slowly. "Why would I attack another wizard?"
Lucas looked skeptically at Harry. "I could not afford to risk that you had listened and believed poor sources, of course. Some might describe me as malicious and evil, and I would rather avoid mindless attacks on my person. A conflict between us is rather the opposite of what I intend after all." Lucas hesitated, and Harry wondered for a moment what he had gotten himself into when the man turned to him with a look that cut like a knife. "There is something that I require. It is kept from my sight, perhaps from all, but I know it is here someplace. It must be returned to Asgard."
Harry's mind made the connection almost instantly, despite the fogginess of what he now realized had to be some kind of spell. The image of the crystalline cube swam to the surface of his mind. With it, came another image. Sif, speaking. She had told him stories of Asgard – of all the people she knew there. Thor, Balder, Odin, Heimdall, and... "You're Loki."
Lucas, or Loki, smiled. "Of course."
Harry snorted suddenly. "Posing as a lawyer. Fitting." He tried a wandless Finite, hoping that would work, but nothing happened. "Can you get this… spell off me? I can't think." The fuzziness was everywhere, and Harry could barely string two through together if they weren't blatantly obvious. Harry wondered momentarily if he could learn to use it.
He suddenly found himself lying on the ground, his head ringing like a gong, surrounded by the remains of the chair he had occupied. He could think again – he could reason again. He gazed up at Loki blearily. The man - the god of Misschief - studied his wand with interest, turning it over in his hand. "I hope you don't mind if I keep this for now. Insurance, if you will. It's a focus, yes? I never thought that any wood but that of Yggdrasil would be sufficient." He crossed his arms, glancing at Harry's prone form. "You understand my caution, I am sure. The Seidhr are well known as formidable combatants – should they have access to their magic."
"You could have just walked up to me," Harry responded immediately, getting to his feet. Staring at his stolen wand, he gritted his teeth. "I heard some bad things about you, Loki. You really shouldn't have gone and shown that those claims are valid." He stretched, glad that he had control of his faculties again, and embarrassed over the things he said while affected. Had he really just brought up the Dursleys, out of nowhere? What kind of bastard just read your mind without permission or drugged you just to talk? "My head feels like a drum. Tell me what you want, and go away."
The Asgardian smiled. "Oh come on, magician. You are not hurt." He walked over swiftly. "Perhaps we may strike a bargain – as equals in sorcery, if nothing else."
Harry's sudden punch was so unexpected that Loki reeled back, a hand clenched to his nose in pain, though it hadn't been broken. The Asgardian blinked in astonishment as Harry rubbed his knuckled and winced. That hit had felt as if it impacted a wall instead of a face.
Loki blinked. "What was that for...?"
"Oh come on, Loki. You are not hurt," Harry retorted glibly, shaking his head. "I consider us even, with that." He raised his hand, and in it he held his phoenix-feather wand - upside down, granted, but it was the thought that counted. "Why were you measuring this? You're not jealous, are you?"
"Oh, very mature," Loki scoffed.
"Says the one who goes fondling other people's stuff," Harry retorted. Loki seemed rather surprised by the sudden turn-around. "Now, what do you want?" Harry flipped his wand over, aiming it at Loki's face. "Start talking, or you start quacking like a duck. Permanently."
Loki stared at Harry for a long moment. "I need your assistance," he finally said, blue eyes focused on Harry's with an expression that was unusually grave. "You know of the object that I seek. I wish to return it to Asgard, to the All-Father. It is priceless and ancient, and I would not have it sullied any longer on this world." He sniffed. "It is no place for such splendour."
"You mean the Cube."
"Yes," Loki breathed. "It was a gift, if you are not aware. A gift from ancient times, meant for the All-Father. It comes from the time of my birth, and stories of it have existed since then, though my father has never chosen to confirm them." Loki sighed. "It was believed destroyed, and few sources still mention it except as a lost treasure." He glanced at Harry. "I know now that it still exists. I saw it in your mind."
"Saw it in my - " Harry realized that Loki couldn't mean just before, when he had thought of it. The Asgardian would never have lured him in here, drugged him with magic just to speak with him, if he had only just found out. "You – you were him." Harry said, taking a step back. "In the desert…?"
"Yes," Loki said easily. "You were dying, and I could not tolerate that. I had use for you. It was not personal, I assure you." He shook his head, and for a moment his eyes were bright red. Harry shuddered as the eyes turned back to bright blue, briefly glimmering with green, very similar to his own eyes. Voldemort – it had been Loki as Voldemort, when he had nearly died in the desert, trying to figure out Bruce's memory. It had been Loki that saved his life, that saved his mind. Whether he had done it for ulterior motives was beside the point; he had done it.
"I – Thank you." Harry said after a moment, then grimaced. "You read my mind. Without even a semblance of permission."
"What would you have me do?"
"You could let me obliviate you, wipe your memories," Harry said airily, though he was genuinely considering the scenario. Would a spell like that work on an Asgardian as it did on a Muggle? Would Loki, as clearly magical in some fashion, be able to break the spell.
Loki snorted. "You were practically throwing memories at me," Loki said in distaste. "With your mind wide open in your panic, I could hardly help to see some of them. That is how I learned your name. I also learned about the Tesseract, as it is called by the humans."
"So?" Harry asked. "I have never seen it, you know. Just pictures, memories."
"That is true," the Asgardian acknowledged. "Did you not wonder who might have given such a mighty wonder to Odin All-Father, though? What mighty people could have created such a marvellous source of energy and then vanished, leaving it unclaimed for all these years?"
Harry stopped short. He really hadn't thought about it. "You mean the Seidhr," Harry said. "You mean to tell me wizards made that thing?"
"Made it, found it, I don't know," Loki answered. "What I do know, is that they used it, for whatever great purpose it was designed to do. No human could control it, because they do not have the aptitude. No Asgardian could either, except perhaps the All-Father himself."
Harry nodded. "But the Seidhr could. You believe I can unlock it, whatever it is."
Loki nodded. "I am certain of it. Think about the possibilities! I care nothing for Midgard or its people, I will not lie about that. I know, however, that you are sentimentally attached to this pathetic world, and it is ancestrally yours. If you do not wish to see it destroyed, you will require Asgardian power to keep it safe. The Cube can give it to you."
Harry frowned. "What are you saying?"
Loki leaned over, grinning. "The cube was to be gift of peace, and it could be again. Forces are gathering themselves against you, against Midgard. You know this, I am sure, for there are some who have seen this coming for a long time, including the Lady Sif. The Cube is a part of this, too. Humans might not have had the ability to use it in past ages, but they are quickly evolving. They will learn to tap the energy in their own way. When they do, it will send a signal across the galaxy that is far more potent than a single wizard's could ever be." Loki grimaced. "It would tell all the realms that Midgardis ready for a higher form of war."
"War." Harry spat in distaste. "I can't let that happen." A chill ran down his back. "You believe that returning the Cube to Asgard could prevent this?"
"The realms already know of Odin's power," Loki said. "They will know that it has grown greater still, when this Tesseract is returned to its rightful place. Perhaps you may barter it for protection of Midgard, as well."
Harry stared at the Asgardian and thought back to Sif's description. Although she had told him he was a prince, and as such worthy of respect, twisting the truth was in his very nature - no deal with Loki was exactly as it sounded. Harry couldn't trust him - but neither could he afford to let such a powerful person entirely out of his sight, if he was trying to get his hands on something that belonged to the local wizards, and was clearly powerful enough to warrant the attention. He'd play along - and get in contact with Sif as soon as she returned. He turned to the Asgardian, raising an eyebrow. "And what do you get, Loki?"
Loki smirked. "Recognition. Even my brother will honor me for returning with such a prize." He raised an eyebrow. "Interested?"
Author's Note: Loki, Loki, always planning dastardly deeds. Well - at least he's semi-goodish here, for a bit? Also, Harry really needs to stop going to strange cities. Every time he does, he runs into some other bastard who ends up smacking him around.
Don't take everything every character says as the full truth, especially when it's the Liesmith doing the talking. That said, not everything's a lie either.
Also, the next chapter focuses more on Harry's next actions, and the Tesseract will not be his immediate goal as might seem here. Loki might want to work together - but Harry's hardly the type to go break into SHIELD facilities. He's done it before, though. :P Count on some familiar faces in the next chapter that haven't appeared so far, and Harry finally getting himself a book on Norse mythology.
Also, yes, Harry will get to Asgard in due time. The Coronation's not too far off, and you know what that means. Asgard has not changed so drastically by Harry's appearance, but things are diverging...