Disclaimer: We do not own the characters or concepts from Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, or MARVEL. Those rights go to JK Rowling, Rick Riordan, and MARVEL Studios respectively.

AN: This story is co-written by shadowphoenix55. Read and review!

AN: A reviewer has brought to our attention that Chapter One of our fan fiction is a lot like the fan fiction Heroes Assemble. We assure you that we are not attempting to copy anybody else's work. I (shadowphoenix55) take responsibility for the title of the restaurant being the Marauders Den. I did not recognize Heroes Assemble at all, at first, but I looked up the fanfiction after I saw the review. I now remember reading Heroes Assemble a while ago. I must have thought of the name and not realized it was from another fan fiction. I have already fixed the first chapter. I am a strong believer that an author's work is their own, and I would never intentionally steal their ideas. As you all can see, the rest of the chapters progress quite differently from Heroes Assemble - content from Percy Jackson is included, for one. I would like to thank the reviewer, Derpeon, for bringing this to our attention. If anybody sees a similarity to another fanfiction, please let us know. Thank you, and sorry for the long author's note.

Chapter 4

dearemmahansen

Fury was annoyed.

First- his eyepatch got blown off during an unfortunate accident involving a weed whacker while walking to his car. His poor neighbor had gotten a decent glimpse of Fury's eye socket before the director had quickly pulled the patch back on and embarrassed, slid into his car and sped away.

Second- Natasha Romanoff was not answering his calls. He had tasked her with passing a message to Agent Barton in person three days ago, and he had not heard from her since. He wasn't worried, for it was super assassin Black Widow in question, but still. He liked to have tabs on all of his agents at once, and became easily miffed when things didn't go his way.

Now, Phil Coulson was telling him that Steve Rogers, Captain America, was hiding from everyone. Like a petulant child. Coulson seemed in distress as he relayed this information to Fury, but Fury was just angered. Steve Rogers was trying to hide from the reality of the twenty first century, and Fury wasn't having it. Captain America needed to grow up.

"Leave him be," Fury said to Coulson as he crossed through the base, examining the different monitors of the workers around him. "He'll come out when he learns to deal with the world."

"Sir," Coulson said carefully, "I do believe that maybe someone could show him the ropes of this modern world? Then he could be more comfortable-"

"He's not a baby, Agent," Fury said coolly. "So I suggest that you drop it."

Coulson nodded slowly. "Y-yes, Director."

Fury sighed and walked away from him, temples throbbing. He was supposed to be the director for the country's most important intelligence operation, but right now it felt like he was a babysitter for a bunch of super maintenance children.

"Sir-"

"Not now, Coulson!" Fury snapped without looking at the person behind him.

The person paused. "Sir, it's not Coulson."

Fury turned around to look at Maria Hill, an electronic clipboard in hand and a slightly anxious expression on her face.

"Oh. Hill." Fury ran a hand over his face with a sigh. "Sorry about that. Coulson's just been too much this morning for my taste."

"Sorry about that Sir," Hill said, checking something on her clipboard with her fingertips. "We've been getting some strange signals and reports from Manhattan."

"Oh?" Fury asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do tell me more."

"We've gotten reports of a minor celebrity of sorts," Hill said, pulling up a picture of a young man to show Fury.

He examined the image. Scruffy black hair, blue eyes, glasses - "I've never heard of him."

"Because he's not our celebrity," Hill said furtively. "We think he may be, well…. Not quite human."

"Hold up," Fury said, putting up a finger. "What do you mean not our celebrity?"

"He's British-"

"Ah," Fury said understandingly.

"That's not what I meant," Hill continued. "He's big in a different community that's been seen his new restaurant." She pulls up a new image, a building with a survive sign and bursting to the brim with customers. "'The Traveller's Inn'. A new homely cuisine that was made mostly for students."

"Why are we looking in a restaurant?" Fury complained.

"Because-" Hill zoomed in on a customer. He was holding a stick in the air- and it was pointed at a platter that was hovering in the air.

"What the hell is that?"

"We don't know," Hill said. "This is the only image we've found of this sort of thing - other than one of the restaurant owner having a similar stick in his back pocket. We've only gotten word of this because the government has been so wary of people moving into the country."

Fury narrowed his eyes. "I want to know everything about this man. His name, his age, what cereal he likes in the mornings. And bring him in."

Hill cleared her throat. "Well I can tell you now that his name is Harry Potter, and he's thirty one."

Fury scoffed. "Excuse me? That boy doesn't look a day over eighteen."

Hill shrugged. "That's what his papers say."

Fury narrowed his eyes. "I want to talk to this Harry Potter on my lunch break."

Hill scrambled once more on her clipboard. "Actually, there might be another person who you'll want joining your lunch."

"Who?"

Hill pulled up a video this time of a boy underwater at a public pool. It's dark, nighttime assumedly, and yet the boy is visible just sitting on the bottom of the pool.

"I don't get it," Fury said. "Kids can swim."

"This video was taken after hours," Hill said. "Pool was already closed to the public."

"So there's a delinquent," Fury continued. "What else is new?"

"It was taken by the security guard," Hill pressed on, "Who almost called 911 while filming this."

"Why would he call…." Fury looked closer. "Has that kid not moved in a minute?"

Hill shook her head. "By this time, drowning would show struggling."

"But…"

"He's not moving."

Fury looked at her. "When does he come up?"

"After thirteen minutes." Hill fast-forwarded the video to the boy casually swimming up to break the surface- without gasping for air. He pushed gracefully out of the pool and grabbed a shirt, slipping it over his head.

"He's dry!" Fury spluttered. "How is he dry?!"

Hill shrugged as they watched the boy leave the pool.

"I want the same info," Fury demanded, "and another talk."

"His name is Percy Jackson," Hill continued. "He's sixteen years old."

"Is he a celebrity too?"

"No, but you might like this." Fury looked at her. "His girlfriend is an intern at Stark Industries. She got the highest score taking their test there - something that should be impossible."

Fury snarled. "You go look into that Potter guy. And get Barton on the phone. He might have an idea or two."