"You don't have to leave!" Hermione cried, "Harry, our world needs you to really change for the better!"

Harry turned to her, visibly frustrated." Hermione, you know I want to help our world, and I have helped it, but none of the change we bring stays! It's been years since we defeated Voldemort, and what in our world has really changed?"

Hermione shook her head. "So that's it? You're just gonna leave? You don't even have any idea where it'll take you!"

Harry grimaced. This was true. He stood on the dais in front of the Veil. "Wherever I go, it won't be here. You should understand better than anyone, Hermione! I can't do anything without people whispering and talking about me!"

It had been over thirty years since the Boy-Who-Lived had saved the Wizarding World by slaying Voldemort, but while his friends led happy lives, growing older together, he had not changed or aged at all since his victory. Now, Hermione finally smiled, slightly tearing up. "Just promise me you'll stay out of trouble?"

Harry chuckled. "I promise, but you know, Hermione, that trouble always managed to find me."

She smiled, and hugged him. "Goodbye, Harry." He smiled sadly. And walked into the veil.

xxxXXXxxx

Whatever place Harry thought he would end up after going through the Veil, he had definitely not expected something so- normal. He appeared to be in the middle of a bustling street in a very hot and humid setting. There were merchants on the sides of the streets, and people going about their everyday lives. He clutched his trunk of possessions that he'd brought through the Veil with him. Well, he thought, Nothing I can do now but keep going. He wandered about looking for any clue of where he was. Finally he approached a decent looking pub, and walked in. He was instantly blasted with the cool AC, and copious amounts of noise. He walked up to the bar, where a man was cleaning shot glasses.

Harry cleared his throat, and tentatively asked, "Hello? Do you speak English?"

In a strange accent, the man replied "Yes, a bit. Would you like a drink?" After trekking through the area, Harry was indeed parched.

"Yes, please, and-" he paused, thinking how odd his question would sound.

"Yes?" the man inquired.

"Well," Harry responded, "Could you tell me... where I am? And also... when?"

The bartender looked puzzled. "We are in Afghanistan. The date, currently, is February, of 2009. How do you not know?"

Harry chuckled. "It's a long story." The bartender nodded, still seeming confused.

xxxXXXxxx

A couple days passed, wherein Harry stayed in a rickety hotel and enjoyed the hospitality of the rugged nation. On his sixth day, he decided to, figuratively, stretch his legs and go for a fly around the are on his broom. He opened his trunk and pulled out his trust Firebolt, looking slightly worse-for-wear but still shiny and in god condition. After applying some Disillusionment Charms, he left the hotel. He had sorely missed the feeling of wind in his hair while flying. He was enjoying it. He thought back to England. The date of here did not match even closely with that of home. He wondered where he really, or if it was even the same place. Suddenly, he was shaken out of his musings by a resounding crash. Quickly, he surveyed the area, looking for the source. In the distance, in the opposite direction from where he had came, was a plume of smoke. He cautiously flew towards it. When he was near enough, he dismounted, and started walking. To his surprise, he saw a raggedy looking man, covered in sweat, by the great wreckage of some sort of metallic... thing.

"Hey!" Harry called, "What's going on here?"

The man turned to him, looking shocked.

"Oh hey! Either I've finally cracked or you're a real person, and you're here!"

Harry was confused. What was going on? The man continued speaking.

"I've just escaped kidnapping by a bunch of terrorist cronies and man I'd kill for a burger. Or water." At this, Harry rushed up to him, and handed over his water flask.

"Thanks," the man said. "Listen, I've got a lot of money, and I kinda wanna get home, so if you can just get me out of here I'll pay you whatever you want."

Harry cut him off; "Thanks, but no thanks. I won't take money just for helping you. I'll get you outta here."

The man looked surprised, as if saving someone for free was unheard of. "Thanks, then. I'm Tony. Tony Stark."

Harry replied, "My name's Harry. Good to meet you, Tony, though I do wish it was under better circumstances." Tony chuckled. "Let's get moving," Harry said, hoisting Tony up.

They walked together towards the direction of the village Harry had come from. After about an hour, Tony perked up.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"I think I hear a helicopter!" Tony exclaimed. Harry looked up. Indeed, above them, a little bit away, was a helicopter! Tony smiled, and said "That's our ticket outta here!"

Harry smiled, but replied "You mean your ticket. I'm staying here."

Tony looked at him, puzzled. "What, a Brit like you would rather stay in this dump than come back to the States with me? Come on, I'll buy you some food when we get there." Harry chuckled, and considered it. He didn't really have much business in Afghanistan.

"Alright," He conceded "I'll go with you." Tony grinned, and the helicopter landed besides them.

A man came out, grinning, and asked slightly sarcastically, "How was the 'funvee'?" Tony scoffed, but gave him a hug.

Looking back, he said "Hey Rhodey, this here is Harry. He kinda saved me after I escaped."

Rhodey looked at him. "Thanks for helping him, then. While he's a pain, he is irreplaceable." They chuckled, while Tony sputtered indignantly. "Come on aboard, then. Next stop at the airport, and we can get you two out of here."

xxxXXXxxx

As Tony, Harry, and Rhodey boarded the helicopter, the SHIELD headquarters on the Helicarrier was working overtime. "Agent Hill, you're telling me that Tony Stark left Afghanistan with another guy? That was with him when he was picked up by the Army?" Nick Fury inquired disbelievingly.

"Yes sir. We haven't been able to acquire any information on him. Facial recognition scans gave negative results. Legally, he doesn't seem to exist." Fury growled angrily. This was a terrible situation.

"Well, if he is with Stark, when he gets to the States I want as much information on him as possible. Get me Barton."

Agent Hill nodded. "Yes, sir."

Fury turned to his window. Whoever this unknown was, they needed to figure him out. If he was a threat, that meant he would control tons of weapons from Stark Industries, as well as the vast fortune of Stark himself. Something had to be done.

Note: This is my first story! Feedback would really be appreciated. Please review!