12.

Harry came to slowly, and realised he was lying in his bed in Stark Tower.

He dropped back onto the pillow and pushed off the duvet, not liking the feeling of being trapped.

Harry reached for his wand on the bedside table, his eyes flying open when he realised it wasn't there. He jumped out of the bed, and the room swayed worryingly. Ignoring the feeling, Harry began frantically searching for his wand, his breathing coming faster when he realised he didn't have his knife or his cloak or his glasses. He wasn't even wearing any shoes.

He spotted his glasses on the bedside table and immediately shoved them on, then went over to the door and tried the handle, his stomach lurching when he found it was locked.

His head pulsed, and suddenly he was back in Malfoy Manor. The smell of damp cellar in his mouth. Ron's desperate shouts mixing with Hermione's cries of agony. The pain in his forehead building as Voldemort flew closer and closer. There was a hand on his arm and he tried to fight it, backing away and realising he was on a carpeted floor.

"...Harry, breathe. It's Bruce. You need to breathe. You're alright. It's Bruce Banner. You're in the Avengers' Tower. You're ok. Breathe with me."

The man's steady stream of comforting words broke through Harry's panic, and he shuffled backwards until he was pressed into the corner of the room, breathing deeply. "Go away." He gasped, and Bruce backed off a few steps. Harry noticed the rest of the avengers crowded outside his doorway. Bruce had obviously told them not to come in.

"Where's my wand?" He asked, pleasantly surprised at how steady his voice was despite the shaking in his hands.

"I've got it." Bruce replied.

"Give it to me."

"No." Natasha said.

"Give me my wand." Harry snarled.

"No." Natasha repeated. Harry glared at her, but she just looked back at him. "Not until you explain."

Harry got to his feet and faced them all. "Where are my boots?"

"Common room." Steve replied, seemingly surprised at the change of subject.

Harry strode out of the door, pushing past Clint and Nat and began down the corridor.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked.

"To get my boots." Harry replied, not turning around. He could hear the others following after him as he climbed the carpeted stairs, fighting not to run. He spotted the black dragon-hide next to the sofa and picked them up without a word, his chest relaxing as he pulled them on. At least now he could run if he needed to.

"What was that back there?" Steve demanded, gesturing back towards the staircase.

"It doesn't matter." Bruce said before Harry could, shooting Steve a sharp look.

"Of course it matters." Steve retorted. "He-"

"It's called PTSD." Harry snapped. "Happens when you're forced to fight for your life when you're 11." Steve opened his mouth but Harry cut him off. "'That back there' was me having a flashback to when I was held prisoner in my classmate's cellar whilst my best friend was tortured by a psychotic mass-murder, as another terrorist called the man who had been trying to kill me since I was fifteen months old and he flew to the manor. Bear in mind, this all happened after I watched another classmate get murdered in front of me when I was 14, then my pet owl, and my headmaster, and a bunch of my friends, and-"

"Whoa, Harry, Harry, take a deep breath." Bruce said, stepping forwards. "You're ok, but you need to breathe."

"What's happening?" Harry said, the room beginning to spin slightly as his chest tightened.

Bruce placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "You're having a panic attack. Come on, breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. There we go."

Harry felt his breathing even out, and he knocked Bruce's hands away, pulling his snitch out of his pocket as he fell down onto the sofa. The repetitive motion of catching and releasing the ball calmed him further, and after a while he looked up at the Avengers, who were still stood a few metres away watching him.

"Sorry." Steve said quietly.

Harry just shook his head, embarrassed, as Tony pressed a cup of tea into his hand. "No. It's... sorry." He shook his head again and put the mug on the coffee table, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"I found out about Coulson, by the way." Tony said, dropping onto the sofa opposite Harry and propping his feet on the coffee table. "Turns out Fury's got a secret medical project down in Arizona. Terrestrialised Alien Host Integrative Tissue I. Managed to bring Coulson back from the dead."

Harry frowned. "Terrestrialised alien... T.A.H.I.T.I?"

Tony nodded. "Got it in one."

Harry looked into Tony's face, hugging his knees to his chest. "So he's okay?"

"We think so." Natasha replied, and Harry relaxed.

"Good."

Steve pulled the little black notebook out of his pocket and held it up. "What is this? I can't even open it."

"I don't know." Harry said, rocking slightly. "I always have it after I come out of that weird trance."

"Where did it come from?" Tony asked as Steve dropped the notebook on the table next to his feet.

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "I think I just conjure it each time, but I don't know where it came from in the first place.

"You wrote Coulson's name in it." Natasha said.

Harry nodded. He felt like he was on the verge of tears. "I write a name in it each time."

"You don't know who they are?" Clint asked. He was glaring at the book, his jaw set as if he was gritting his teeth.

Harry swallowed and shook his head again. "I don't know."

"How often do you have these... episodes?" Bruce asked.

"I don't... once a month? It's not regular. I don't know when, or why, or what the fuck they even are. I just know that it means someone's dying." When he had first explained it to his friends, Ron had seemed to think that being the master of death suddenly made him this all knowing all powerful demigod or something, but in reality all that seemed to have happened was Harry could see reapers - who for the most part were a depressingly dour bunch, even for so called angels of death - and the constant headache and stream of dying people. it wasn't as if he had suddenly been given all the answers to the universe, or uncapped knowledge of everything magical, he had just been given three trinkets and left to work the rest out by himself. If there was some master of death magic he now had access to, he had no more idea of how to use it than he did of playing the trumpet. Really, he felt like a bit of an imposter. He wasn't that different from the average Hogwarts graduate, despite never actually graduating. Even the training he had received from Moody had been more about improving his reflexes and situational awareness than learning fancy, powerful spells. They had been at war – if stunners and OWL-level spells worked, why waste time and energy discovering obscure spells that did pretty much the same thing but took more effort and concentration? Besides, he already knew the easy spells and could do them consistently.

"Hey, kid, how about you get some sleep." Tony said. "We can talk about this in the morning."

Harry stood up and shook his head. "No. I just... need some air." Without waiting for a reply he turned on his heel and apparated, landing in his bedroom in his small flat, his head still spinning.

His eyes fell on the broom propped against the bedside table. A smile spread across his face, and Harry grabbed it and raced up the stairs to the roof. He sprinted across the asphalt and jumped off the edge of the building, swinging the Jupiter around and landing on it after falling a few metres.

He rocketed off up the road, swerving and dipping and looping in the air.

The Jupiter was much faster than his old Firebolt had been, and responded to the lightest of touches that had him almost veering into the side of a building when he first tried to turn. Harry had forgotten how much he loved flying as he zoomed high above New York, all thoughts of Philip Coulson and the little black notebook gone from his mind, replaced by the feel of the wind in his hair and the blur of lights beneath him.

Harry headed out over the water, corkscrewing and diving and zooming over the river, laughing out load at the rush of adrenaline and dopamine. He pulled the snitch out of his pocket and chased it around, the wings reflecting the bright moonlight. After a while Harry came to a stop and hovered twenty metres above the water, watching the city in front of him, the wind ruffling his hair.

He saw a red and gold blur leave Stark Tower and begin heading in his general direction and glanced at his watch, startled to see that he had been flying around for over forty minutes, simply hovering for almost a quarter of that. He leant towards Tony and sped in his direction, pulling up next to the man in his suit.

Tony's voice came through the speakers in the suit. "Merlin?"

"Hi Tony." Harry grinned.

"I've got him. He's fine. I... how the hell are you hovering right now?"

Harry flew in a circle around Tony and grinned. "Broom."

"Br... Come on, let's go back to the tower." Tony said, shaking his head. He shifted position and began speeding back towards the city, and Harry easily passed him, landing on the helicopter pad and dismounting, turning to see Tony step out of his suit. "That thing can go pretty quick." He commented, raising an eyebrow.

Harry grinned. "That wasn't even fast."

Tony rolled his eyes and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder as they walked back into Stark Tower, where they were met by the rest of the Avengers, all looking rather relieved. Clint pulled Harry into a hug as soon as he was in reach.

"I-wh-Clint?" Harry asked, bewildered.

The archer released him, then immediately punched him in the stomach. "Don't do that again."

Harry bent over and wheezed. "Do what?"

"You were freaking out, then disappeared on us." Nat explained as they headed back into the common room. "We followed your tracker, then you stopped moving in the water." She shrugged. "We worried."

"I have a tracker?" Harry repeated.

Tony shrugged. "I put one on your shirt when you were unconscious."

"Thanks." Harry replied, rolling his eyes. He resisted the urge to pull the shirt off then and there.

"You had us going for a bit though Gandalf." Tony said, flicking a holographic display up. Harry watched as a red line wound its way through a 2D map of the city before coming to a halt in the water. "We thought you might have drowned."

Harry frowned, then reached forwards and manipulated the map, which flickered and sparked slightly. He made it 3D to show how far off the ground he had been.

"You were flying?" Steve said after a moment's silence.

"Yep." Harry grinned, holding up the Jupiter.

"You have a magic broomstick." Clint grinned. "Witches actually fly on broomsticks?"

"I told you, there's a sport and everything." Harry replied, laughing at Natasha's disbelieving face.

"But you're alright?" Bruce asked.

Harry grinned and nodded. "Yeah, actually. Flying helps me relax."

Bruce frowned but nodded. "Ok."

"We'll have to go for a fly together sometime." Tony said.

Harry nodded. "Sounds good." He grinned. "If you can keep up."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it's like that, is it?"

"Hell yeah it is."

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" Bruce asked Steve quietly.