Harry Potter: Iron Magician
Arc II: An Iron Avenger
7: Celebrations interrupted
No sooner than Bruce and Betty had departed, Neville, Luna, and Hermione returned over the following few days. Neville himself had wandered in as he was working on the repairs to his damaged suits, and handed him his birthday present. Harry thanked the other man, passing him an envelope with his own gift. He'd put some serious thought into Neville's gift this year. He was treating it as a way to say thank you for the years of loyalty, and make up for all the insanity he put them through the year before.
He had gotten his friend two all-expenses paid trips to see the Harrogate Flower show, in Autumn. Harry imagined the other young man would enjoy the opportunity to head home to Britain for a while. Neville thanked him, taking the still closed envelope as he pulled him in for a hug. Harry returned the hug happily, stepping back with a grin. "Ready for this year's party then?" he asked. Neville rolled his eyes.
"I suppose so," he told him as he perched himself on the work bench. "So long as you don't decide to start the celebrations early again, like the year before last." Harry laughed, smiling at those particular memories. Harry had spent his birthday the year before becoming Iron Man in the company of two beautiful young ladies, both very festive indeed. He still remembered the scandalised look on Edwin and Neville's faces. The latter had happened to be walking past down the hall when the other had opened the door to his room. Neville's face had turned as pink as his prized Azaleas and Edwin had merely shaken his head in defeat before shutting the door and walking away.
As Neville sat there, watching him work, he leaned back, closing his eyes. "We saw the news about Harlem," he told him. Harry hummed softly.
"Did you?" he asked. Neville nodded.
"A-Ha," he replied, "I imagine Hermione won't be happy," he told him. "Seriousely, mate, what were you thinking blowing up your suit while you were lying there?" Harry shrugged, chuckling as he drew his wand to etch the runes back into the metal.
"I dunno," he replied, "probably that Luna could put me back together when you two got back to New York". They laughed together, as Neville jumped off the bench. "Have fun," he told him, as he left the room.
Harry nodded. He tossed his wand onto the bench beside the now repaired chest plate. Reaching over, he grabbed Neville and Luna's gift, opening it as he did. He laughed, "oh I'm sure I will, with this for a present".
-HPIM-
Two days later found Harry standing on the Tarmac of an airport in southern Germany. Romanoff was standing off to the side, at a distance that was both comfortable enough not to be awkward, and close enough to defend him if attacked. Neville was still in the main building, keeping an eye on the doors.
Neville and Luna had gotten him a trip to Europe, so that he could fly a jet through the Alps. He'd laughed at the very thought of it. It should be fun, he thought, to see the difference between the suit and a plane. He'd often wondered what that would feel like, and if there even would be one. As they waited for the plane to come to a stop next to them, Natasha stepped forward to stand next to him. "Excited," she asked.
Harry nodded with a grin, "Should be good," he told her.
She smiled, "just try to stay out of trouble for once, would you? I'd like a nice, simple trip." Harry laughed.
"I don't go looking for trouble, agent Romanoff. It just tends to find me."
She smirked, shaking her head as she did so. They watched as the jet pulled up a few feet away. A young man rolled a step ladder up to the cockpit, which slung open. A young woman wearing a light blue flight suit and helmet climbed out. As she stepped down off the ladder, she removed the helmet, revealing more of her face.
As she walked past, loosening out her blonde curls, Harry frowned. She smiled, greeting them politely as she walked past. Natasha nodded politely, responding in kind. Harry merely nodded. As she passed him, he tilted his head, watching her walk. 'she was so familiar,' he thought silently. 'I know I've seen her somewhere before'.
"What is it?" Natasha asked him, "you look like you've seen a ghost". He blinked, turning back to the plane.
"Nothing," he replied, trying to convince himself just as much as her, "I just thought I recognised that woman from somewhere." Natasha shrugged, glancing back at the other woman momentarily.
"Maybe you had a nightly encounter with her once," she told him. Harry frowned. It didn't feel that way. He was sure he'd seen her somewhere else.
"Yeah, maybe."
He stepped forwards, climbing into the plane. As he picked up the radio, he switched it on, the voice that greeted him was female, and eerily similar to one he'd heard before. "Mr. Stark," it began, "thank you for selecting us for your experience today. We hope you have a good time, and trust that you read all the manuals provided and listened to the instructor. If you get into trouble, we will of course take over via autopilot to bring you back to base. Have a pleasant flight."
Pushing the bizarre feeling of Deja vu out of his mind, Harry took several deep breaths. Perhaps going through the pre-flight checks would calm him down, he thought. Pushing the plane forward, he took off, hoping he would calm down in the air. He soared over and through the mountains, performing loops and rolls as he flew through the air. What happened next was sudden, and horrifying.
The controls seized up, locking him into a steep dive as he gripped the handles, desperately trying to right the plane. Nothing worked, and the jet continued to plummet. He ran his eye across the instruments, looking for the reason for the issue. He stopped, staring at the dash. There. The auto pilot had engaged. Someone else was controlling the plane. Taking several deep, racking breaths, he waited until he could see the tree line before apparating out of the cockpit, landing on the forest floor.
He watched as the plane slammed into the ground a few hundred metres away. Fire erupted, shearing and tearing at the trees like some form of violent beast. Pieces of wood, shattered by the heat, flew towards him. He raised his wand, casting a shield charm to protect himself from the debris. Smoke rose into the air, spreading throughout the clearing. From behind him, a shot rang out through the clearing. A bullet slammed into his arm, and he groaned as he instinctively dived towards the ground.
Rolling so he could see behind him, he spotter a figure in black and white leather walking through the forest towards him. It was a woman with dark locks, falling down towards her shoulders. On her face, she wore a golden mask. He stared up at her, as she cocked the gun. "I don't know how you survived that," she gestured towards the wreckage of the plane, still spewing smoke and flames. "But I'll make sure personally you don't survive this". Harry glared at her.
"Who are you?" he snarled.
She tilted her head, lowering the gun slightly. She shrugged, "I suppose," she began, sounding thoughtful, "It doesn't really matter. You won't be taking the information anywhere with you. Except of course to the grave. My real name doesn't matter. But you can call me Madame Masque if you really have to".
Harry nodded, pretending to think about the name, mulling it over in his mind. He flicked out his leg, taking her by surprise. She tumbled forward, hitting the ground next to him. He pulled himself to his feet, slamming his foot down on her hand and grabbing the gun.
He took off into a run, heading through the forest as he went. He ducked behind a huge oak, nestled into the crook of the roots. Harry waved his wand over his shoulder, casting a summoning charm. The bullet dug its way through the muscle and skin of his arm, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming. It fell into his hand, and he let it slip through his fingers onto the damp ground below. Tearing fabric from the bottom of his shirt, he bound it around his arm. Removing the remaining bullets from the gun, he slipped them into his pocket, before removing the pin and breaking the trigger with a spell.
He tossed the broken gun onto the tree, and slowly continued on his way out of the forest.
-HPIM-
Natasha stood on the tarmac, watching the plane take off into the air. For several moments, she watched the jet twist, roll and bank through the air. As she turned her head towards the main building, ready to head back inside to wait, it happened. There was a strange woman in a golden mask standing at most twenty feet behind her. Suddenly, a strange explosive sound met her ears. The mouth behind the mask morphed into a cruel sadistic grin as the figure charged at her. She raised her gun, firing twice. The woman teleported, avoiding the shots. She leaped through the air, driving her heeled foot into Natasha's head. They fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The other woman slammed the butt of her own gun into her throat before firing it into her arm. Natasha's own pistol went off, a bullet slamming into the woman's abdomen. The black-haired woman slammed her fingers into Natasha's eyes, and she let out a pained howl. The gun slipped from her hand, as she grabbed the other woman by the hair. She drove the other woman's head into the cement, and the fingers retracted from her eyes. She rolled out from under her assailant, rubbing her blood shot eyes.
She staggered backwards, aiming her second pistol haphazardly. Her eyes shut against the pain, she could not see her attacker. Listening for the next strike, she waited. There, she thought, firing. She heard the bullet impact with the ground, and winced. A searing sensation flared in her leg, and she felt a blade slide into her thigh. The other woman had plunged a dagger into her leg, she realised. With a groan, she tore it out, tossing it to the side. Firing once more, she limped backwards, in an effort to get to the main building. As she dragged her injured leg behind her, blood running down towards the ground, there was a painful sensation in her back as the stranger kicked her in the small of the back.
She hit the ground, rolling to break the fall. By now, the pain in her eyes had subsided enough that she could see what was happening. She raised the gun, firing at the woman as she lifted herself from the ground, after jump kicking her into the ground. A second bullet slammed into her midsection, as she grabbed at the wound. With that, she disappeared, as though she had never been there, and Stark came running out of the forest, waving his arms towards her. She stood, limping towards him slowly.
-HPIM-
Neville stood at the front exit to the building, waiting for Harry and Natasha to return. He let out a yawn, shaking his head. Standing slowly, he made his way over to the makeshift kitchen in the corner. He flipped through the cupboards, eventually finding a coffee maker. Setting it up and grabbing a monk, he plugged it in and switched it on. As he waited, he grabbed out the necessary sugar and milk. Pouring it all together, he walked back towards the entrance, and plopped down into the seat. If he'd known it was going to be this dull, he would have worked harder at convincing Luna they should get something else for Harry. He took a sip of the cup, letting the coffee roll down the back of his throat. 'Well,', he thought silently, 'at least no one's getting shot at this time'. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs had him instantly alert.
Walking down the stairs was a woman with blonde curls and black sun glasses. She smiled as she approached him. He stood slowly, stepping between her and the doors. She frowned slightly, "c'è un problema? Is there a problem?" she spoke in Italian. "Apologies, Miss," he explained. "Increased security whilst Mr. Stark is here." She smiled, reaching into her purse. He read the name on the license, checking it against his list of employee names: Giuletta Nefaria. He nodded; there she was.
He stepped aside, allowing her to pass. "apologies, miss…Nefaria?" she nodded, smiling. "well, you have a good day now," he told her. She stepped past him, walking through the front doors, she stopped, glancing back, "grazie, signore Hogan". Neville nodded, turning back to his seat as he dropped into the chair, suddenly tired. He glanced down at his hands. There was a strange ink on his fingers.
Suddenly, he felt his head drop onto his chest, and the cup in his hand fell to the ground. It shattered against the tiled floor, smashing into a thousand tiny pieces. Coffee spilled across the floor, as Neville Longbottom fell into blissful unconsciousness.
Harry and Natasha rushed into the central building, dripping blood as they went. Natasha let out a gasp as they entered through the glass sliding door, pointing towards the other side of the room. There, slumped forward snoring in an arm chair, broken coffee cup in front of him was Neville. They rushed over, and Harry tapped his arm, trying to wake him up. Natasha winced as she moved her wounded leg, let out a frustrated groan, and slapped the sleeping man across the face. Neville woke with a start, staring at the pair of them in shock.
"guys? What's going on?"
"We were attacked," Natasha replied, "did you see anyone leaving?"
"Ahh, yeah," he replied, blinking as he rubbed his eyes. "a woman. I had this bizarre feeling I'd seen her somewhere before. I just assumed I'd seen her walking in this morning, though, to be honest." Harry shook his head.
"I'm not so sure about that," Harry told him. "pretty sure we saw the same woman. And I'm pretty sure I knew her too." Neville stared at him in horror.
"Come on," Natasha snapped, "we have to go," she told them, rushing out the front door. As they walked out together, Harry and Neville heard her voice, sounding deeply disturbed. "Ah, guys?", she called, clearly concerned, "isn't that Stark's car over there?" They glanced up, and, sure enough a blonde woman at the wheel, Harry's car was fleeing from the now empty car park.