A/N: I've got this really fun national boards exam (part 1 of 3) coming up next month and studying for it just really sucks the joy out of life. So here I am with a really pathetically short chapter, but it's kind of a miracle I wrote anything. Please enjoy, I'm not sure I'll manage another until after my exam :(
When Thursday rolled around, Phil drove to Mr. Stark's Malibu home alone.
Ms. Potts greeted him at the door and didn't show any disappointment when Phil informed her that Auror Potter wasn't coming today, due to some other urgent business. She merely nodded crisply and led the way inside.
"Right this way, then," she said, taking him down some stairs. "I do have to warn you, I did remind Mr. Stark about this meeting, but when he's in his workshop he tends to forget things."
By her slight emphasis on the word, Phil guessed it wasn't just a few things Mr. Stark tended to forget.
"Perfectly understandable," he said mildly, as they reached the bottom of the stairs and was immediately met with the sight of Stark's workshop. Even through the glass wall, he could hear the very loud metal rock that Mr. Stark was blasting. The workshop itself looked messy, but not disorganized – Phil couldn't have really said what the difference was, but it was there.
Ms. Potts finished entering her access code, and the music (thankfully) faded down to background noise as they walked in. It also had the effect of drawing out Mr. Stark from the clutter.
"Hey!" the billionaire cried out, head poking up awkwardly from the other side of a table. "Who – oh, Pep."
He disappeared for a moment, and there were several clanking noises, and then he stood up fully.
"Go on, Dum-E, try it out," he said to something on the other side of the table. Phil watched curiously as a single-armed robot hesitantly wheeled into view, slowly opening and closing its metal claw.
"What'd I miss?" Stark addressed them, unfortunately tearing Phil's attention away from the truly fascinating robot.
"Nothing, yet," Ms. Potts said. "This is Agent Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."
Phil suddenly found himself under the full weight of the billionaire's scrutinizing gaze, which he met evenly.
"Somebody really wanted that to spell 'SHIELD', huh?"
"Mr. Stark, we have some questions about your recent kidnapping."
"Sorry, no interviews," Stark said flippantly, grabbing something off the table and beginning to pull it apart.
Phil sighed internally. He wasn't surprised by this response, honestly. His initial assessment at the press conference had been that Stark would be uncooperative, but he'd hoped a straightforward approach would get them a positive response.
"Mr. Stark, at this time we are more concerned about the connections your captors had to manage to go undetected for months than we are about the details of your torture. If you would still prefer not to talk about it," he pulled out his phone, and made a few quick taps, "I have sent a list of the most pertinent questions to Ms. Potts; you may answer and send them in later."
Stark was staring at him in disbelief. "You are disturbingly efficient, Agent… Agent."
Phil said nothing, preferring to take it as a compliment.
"I'll look at your questions," Stark said carelessly, turning away again. "Can't promise I'll be able to tell you anything useful, though."
The conversation was clearly over, at least on Stark's part.
Phil looked at Ms. Potts, who sighed, and quietly led him back out of the house.
"I'll get as many answers as I can, Agent Coulson," she said, shaking her head a little, when they reached his SUV.
"Thank you, Ms. Potts."
He wasn't particularly optimistic about her chances of success.
Harry apparated directly onto his couch later that evening, and collapsed back into the cushion with a huge sigh.
"I take it your day went well?" he asked her, handing her a little white box with chopsticks balanced on top, which she accepted gratefully. "You smell like a campfire."
She snorted. "That is pretty much what I spent my entire day walking through," she said. "Stark say anything useful?"
"No," Phil said. "He was very resistant, as expected."
Harry nodded, digging into her noodles.
"I left a list of questions with Ms. Potts, although I don't think she'll get anything out of him, either," Phil continued. "He just got out of captivity; he probably won't trust anyone for a while."
"Well," Harry said in between bites, "We found where they were holding him today. Almost everything's burnt to a crisp, and there's crazy magic residue all over the place."
"From what?"
"Dunno," Harry shrugged. "The majority of it wasn't from a spell, although there were a few lingering traces from a ward. It was just… magic."
"You think it's got something to do with Stark?"
"Oh, undoubtedly. I can't say for sure until I get a look, but it could be what I sensed on his chest."
"But Stark's a no-maj," Phil pointed out. "He couldn't have produced magic on his own."
"Well, we also found the body of Ho Yinsen."
Phil frowned. He'd never heard the name before, and he told Harry so.
"He was a humanitarian wizard," Harry told him. "I believe he was working as a doctor in Gulmira. He went missing around the same time Stark did. He didn't have his wand on him, but there are ways around that."
"Stark was injured when they grabbed him, then," Phil said, organizing his thoughts aloud, "and they took the closest medical professional they could get. Stark and Yinsen devised an escape plan together, most likely related to whatever is on Stark, and which generated a lot of magical energy… whomever kidnapped him had some serious magical resources."
"Definitely," Harry confirmed, "but we never found any evidence of a significant threat to Stark from the wizarding world…"
"Or muggle," Phil mused, thinking of the large file of catalogues threats that SI had disclosed when Stark first went missing. They'd investigated every viable threat, but none had panned out. It had been a dead end. There hadn't been – oh.
Phil never cursed, but at that moment he mentally let loose a string of invectives that would've made his mother raise her eyebrow at him.
"I have to visit Stark again."
Phil could already feel a headache coming on just thinking about Stark. Getting information from him would be like pulling teeth. From a chicken. While it was crossing the road in heavy traffic.
"Oh, don't look like that," Harry said, poking his arm to draw his attention back to her. "I won't ditch you this time."
Phil smiled at her in relief and leaned forward to leave a kiss on her cheek. "Have I told you you're my favorite witch?"
"You could stand to mention it a little more often, I reckon."
