A/N: Idk if I've mentioned this before, but I'm currently in grad school getting my doctorate. School's been moved online, my clinic shifts have been cancelled, and the national boards exam I was supposed to take this week has been postponed at least a month, so I'm home and have lots of time to write!
Please everyone take care of yourselves and protect others by social distancing as much as possible. I know some of you probably still have work, but we all can play a part in reducing the spread of this pandemic! I wish you all healthy and hope this will be over sooner rather than later!
Harry apparated them to Stark's home the next day, directly to the apparition point at the entrance. Phil hadn't realized that there was an apparition point, although it did make sense – there hadn't been a car other than his in the driveway, so Ms. Potts must have arrived some other way. There wasn't a car today, either, and Phil wondered if she was here.
Phil rang the doorbell, and then they stood and waited… and waited. He was sure they were being watched; he spotted at least three cameras in little alcoves around the entrance.
"You're making that face again," Harry told him.
"What face?"
"You know, your unflappable face," Harry said, gesturing at him vaguely.
"Oh," Phil said, finally understanding what she was talking about. "Barton likes to call it 'Agent-face'."
"That's a good name for it," Harry agreed. "I wish I could make that face."
"You don't need to," he told her. "I like all the things your face does."
Harry, looked up at him, smiling slowly. "Phil, that's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
Phil was a little embarrassed. "I'm sure I've said something else –"
"Nope," Harry said, looking pleased. "Nothing else. That's it."
Phil wanted to object very strenuously, but a dignified, electronic British voice interrupted him before he could begin.
"Agent Coulson, Auror Potter, welcome. Please proceed to Mr. Stark's workshop."
The front door slid open smoothly and quietly as the voice finished speaking. Phil, wondering about the voice, which he hadn't heard the last time he was there, led the way inside, since he'd been down to the workshop before.
What they walked in on was quite surprising.
Mr. Stark was lying partially back on a table, shirt off, with a tray of medical equipment sitting out next to him. Ms. Potts was also there, leaning over his chest.
Phil and Harry stopped just inside the entrance, with a silent mutual agreement not to say anything to interrupt the amateur medical procedure occurring in front of them.
"Okay, just reach in there," Mr. Stark was saying, "and feel that wire? Don't let it touch the sides, and – "
With a sudden jerk from Ms. Potts, the wire and whatever was attached came free, and a beeping came from a machine on the other side of the table.
"Oh, Merlin," Ms. Potts said nervously. "Oh, Merlin."
"It's fine, it's fine," Stark reassured her, although he sounded distinctly out of breath. "Weren't supposed to do that yet, I'm having a heart attack, but it's okay, just put that over there, pick up the other one – "
Ms. Potts, glancing frequently at the beeping machine, quickly set down what looked like a washer with a wire wrapped around it – a basic magnet, Phil thought – and picked up a circular object that glowed a bright, electric blue. Beside him, Harry made a small noise of surprise at the sight of it.
"There you go, good, slide it right in," Stark told Ms. Potts, and as she complied, she moved just enough that Phil could see her slotting it into a literal hole in the man's chest.
A small snick was heard as it settled into place, and the beeping from the machine stopped.
"Never ask me to do that again," Ms. Potts said shakily.
"Yeah, shouldn't need to do that again anyway, but – Agent Agent, how did you get in? Jarvis?"
"I told him to let them in," Ms. Potts said, firmly, turning to face them, and allowing Stark to see that Phil hadn't come alone.
"Auror Potter," Stark exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with undisguised pleasure, "it's an honor, really. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the Girl-Who-Lived?"
"We'd like to talk to you about a few things, Mr. Stark," Harry said calmly.
"Sure," Stark surprised Phil by agreeing easily. "How about over dinner. Tonight? There's a pizza joint in Denver I'm craving, you and I could jet over – "
Ms. Potts coughed delicately, saving Phil from becoming a murderer.
"What?" Stark asked. "I'm free tonight, aren't I?"
"Dinner won't be necessary, Mr. Stark," Harry spoke up, before Ms. Potts could answer. "We'd just like to know if you have any idea who in your company is most likely to have gotten you kidnapped," Stark and Potts exchanged a glance at that, "and what, exactly, you created that can give off that much raw magic."
She nodded at the device sticking out of his chest. Stark glanced down at it in surprise.
"This is giving off magic?"
"I told you I wasn't sure the runic configuration was right," Ms. Potts spoke up, glancing nervously at the blue circle again.
"I'm not sure there's anything wrong with it," Harry said, squinting at it. "It looks stable to me. But I assume its purpose wasn't to generate magic?"
Stark shook his head slowly.
"No," he said. "No, I, um, this… this was mostly supposed to be a power supply."
"Mostly?" Phil asked sharply.
"I knew there was a ward," Stark waved a hand in a vaguely circular motion. "I wanted to be sure I had enough electricity to neutralize it and give myself some firepower. The runes were just so I could get it this small, not to…"
"Leave a lake of magic residue over the entire cave system of Afghanistan?" Harry remarked wryly.
"Really?" Stark asked, looking at his chest in fascination. He jumped off the table, pulling a ratty t-shirt over his head, and headed for a cluttered back corner of the workshop. "I'll have to get a scanner set up to see how much it's putting off. Jarvis, new file, please."
"Of course, sir," said the same electronic, distinguished British voice that had greeted them at the door. "What shall I call it?"
"Mr. Crowley," Stark said, tossing several items on his workbench and then reaching up to activate a holographic display.
It was like the three of them had ceased to exist, Phil thought, not sure if he was more annoyed or in awe at Stark's focus. Ms. Potts sighed, drawing his attention back to her.
"All the board members will be at the Maria Stark Foundation gala this weekend," she said. "You're welcome to attend, as well."
"Thank you, Ms. Potts," Phil said. "We'll see you there."
He and Harry showed themselves out, leaving the unfortunate PA to sort out her boss.
"He didn't tell us everything," Phil stated, when they'd apparated back to his office.
"No," she agreed. "But it makes me feel better to have gotten a good look. At least I know it won't kill him. Probably. The magic won't kill him. I have no idea about all that electricity, but I'll let Hermione look at my memory. She'll know."
"Stark's a genius. If he doesn't think it'll kill him, it won't."
He hoped. Stark did have a history of being reckless, but as far as he knew, never suicidal. It was more concerning to Phil that the billionaire had an unidentified threat in his own company. He'd get as many analysts digging into the board members over the next few days before the gala as he could – which reminded him…
"Do you have something to wear?" he asked Harry, who startled at his question. "To the gala?"
"Er, yeah, I'll dig something up," she waved a hand airily. "I've got to check in with Draco at the office, but I'll see you later?"
Phil nodded, but as soon as she had twirled away, he fished a card out of his pocket.
"I hate you," Harry said the following evening, without much venom.
"Oh?" Phil feigned ignorance, but he was internally feeling very smug.
"Hermione and Ginny kidnapped me from work today and forced me to go dress shopping," she shuddered dramatically. "I know you were behind it."
"Find anything?"
Harry glared at him for a few seconds. "Yes. But you didn't have to –"
"I've seen your closet. The nicest thing you have in there is from your Order of Merlin ceremony after the war."
"It's a perfectly nice dress!"
It was a perfectly nice dress… nearly a decade ago. It was also the only dress she had in her entire closet. The wizarding world might have ignored her showing up to formal events in pants because she was the Girl-Who-Lived, but she was sure to attract unwanted no-maj attention if she showed up like that tomorrow.
Phil just looked at her, and she finally threw her arms up in defeat.
"Ugh, fine, thank you," she said. "You're not going to see what I got until the gala, though."
"Oh, no," Phil said, utterly failing at concealing his smile, "I have to wait a whole twenty-four hours. Such torture."
