Harry was given a deadline, one week to prepare Rogers' combat unit for hostile encounters with magic users of his kind, one week to familiarize them with any dark magic they might run into and teach them every way to defend themselves against it. The SSR could afford them being out of commission for no longer than that.
Getting the job done in the allotted time frame wasn't completely out of the question, it wasn't as if Harry had to teach them how to cast these spells, only recognize them through sight and incantation and be able to determine on the fly the best way to avoid being killed by them. So he sat down, biro in hand, fresh sheet of paper before him, prepared to name every dark spell he'd ever encountered (and they were numerous) and how best to survive them. And he could think of nothing.
Harry had lost count of all the dark spells cast at and around him, he'd seen his share of cadavers torn open, dismembered, disemboweled by dark spells. He'd fought in a war after all, and spent more time than he would have liked in Voldemort's head, but his own personal experience in actually casting them was…woeful.
The most destructive curse he had in his arsenal was the modified cutting curse, Sectumsempra, but it wouldn't even be created for a few more decades so was all but useless to him now. After that he had a myriad of cutting and blasting hexes he'd learned his later years in Hogwarts and during his time on the run, which might as well be tickling charms compared to the destructive, nightmare inducing curses Grindelwald's men would be sure to toss about when finding themselves in a fight against muggles.
It was frustrating being faced with how little he knew, how few spells of importance he'd been taught while at Hogwarts, even if a part of him could understand why.
The thing about ten years of peace was that it lulled soldiers of war and relics of battle into a comfort that made them complacent. The instructors and headmasters and board members of Hogwarts had certainly been complacent. Otherwise there would have been fewer lessons on turning cats into tea cozies and more on how to efficiently subdue a dark wizard. Some people probably felt strongly about perpetuating violence in the classroom, but surely they could have introduced more than stunners and disarming charms after Voldemort's return. There had been an entire year between the time he was confirmed alive and the time he took control of Hogwarts and they had done nothing to prepare the students for probable run ins with all manners of dark wizards. Harry had felt their negligence in the war and he felt it even more now, when seven men's lives were dependent on knowledge he didn't have.
"So what do we do about it?"
After near an hour of staring blankly at a list made up of the only three truly dark curses he knew Harry gave up, tossed the sad sheet away, and went in search of Peggy. He explained the dilemma, unburdened every doubt and concern, and she was unimpressed.
"Their lives are dependent on this," she continued, tone sharp as whip crack. "So leave your pessimistic bullshit at the door and let's get to work figuring this out. What is stopping you from marching into the closest library for people like you and reading up on what you need to know?"
"I'm trying to teach them to defend themselves against dark magic and spells," Harry explained, "the best I would be able to find in a public library would be a few manuscripts on the history and theory of dark magic. For the specific stuff, curses and rituals, I would need a personal collection."
"Which you don't currently have access to," Peggy surmised.
Harry sighed, frustrated. "Not here. Not now."
"And there's nowhere else?"
Well of course there was, he could think of half a dozen semi- viable options, one of which was a half hour walk away, but they were options he hadn't considered for a reason.
His half-second hesitation of course wasn't missed by Peggy. "What are you thinking?"
"It's dangerous," he tried to protest.
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the halfhearted excuse. "How dangerous?"
"I lost control when introduced to just Adalgar's magic, to get just one book I'd have to be surrounded by it."
"Explain."
"I'd have to visit my world. We have a shopping district not even an hour away from here; in it there's a collection of shops geared specifically towards dark wizards. No one would look twice at my collecting a book or several on dark curses. But to get them I have to pass through wards of pure magic, rub elbows with people with the same power Adalgar and I have. I could lose control same as I did last time." Peggy didn't look fully convinced, so he carried on. "And that isn't the only danger. The library in New York is the furthest into my world I've gone since I first arrived here, there's a reason for that. I'm not supposed to exist yet, I don't know what impact my being here has on my future."
"So you've been keeping away to prevent accidentally changing your reality."
"Or purposely." Harry shrugged. "I can't say I haven't been tempted."
"But you'll do it anyway," Peggy said, entirely unmoved by his concerns. "For them."
"Of course I will," Harry scoffed, more irritated with himself at his inability to keep away from trouble than of Peggy's terrifying ability to sniff out his weaknesses and call him out on them. "I'm too noble not to. And I won't lie, part of me is thrilled to even consider going back, even if it poses a bit of a danger."
"You'll take someone with you then, to minimize the danger. Rogers or one of his men if you'd like."
Take a muggle along with him into the wizarding world? There was an idea asking for trouble.
"You get into far more trouble than is good for you," Peggy said, sensing his hesitation and moving quickly to nip it in the bud, "if something were to happen I would feel much better knowing you had someone to keep you from doing anything reckless."
"There are spells in place…" But even as he spoke he reconsidered. The wards were really only put in place to dissuade muggles from entering, and just on the Leaky Cauldron's entrance at that, once they were in he didn't think there were spells that could physically eject them. And it would be nice to have someone on his side if things were to go wrong.
"Rogers and Barnes."
Peggy blinked, surprised both by his easy acceptance and by his choice for backup. "Both of them?"
Harry nodded. "I'll be in good hands with the both of them. Besides I promised Barnes I'd show him more of the wizarding world and I owe him one."
If anything, Peggy looked as if she had more questions, but she shook off her curiosity for the time being to focus on the matter at hand. "Rogers and Barnes then. How soon would you be able to go?"
"As soon as possible," Harry said. "There's no need to wait, it's a quick walk from her. Though I suppose I'll need to stop off at a bank, all I have is muggle money but I'm sure they're able to convert it into what I need."
The issue of converting muggle to wizarding currency had never come up for him back in his Hogwarts days, he'd had not a bit of muggle money but too much wizarding. But he supposed the muggleborn students had to pay for their school supplies somehow, it made sense that Gringotts might provide currency exchange services.
"Don't bother. We have a few reserves in the facility you can draw from. Rogers shouldn't be difficult to track down either, he and the others were scheduled for a training exercise in a few hours."
"Should we add a stop to the colonel's office to let him know I'm borrowing two of his men?"
Peggy shook her head. "I'm authorized to sign off on tasks this small. I'll brief him once you've returned. To save time."
The young agent accounting the small reserves of funds didn't even blink when Peggy arrived with the request of a hundred quid, he handed it over within minutes of verifying her credentials and then they were on their way up to the common areas of the facility to search out the unwitting seconds for Harry's foray into Diagon Alley.
The whole team was in the mess hall, long since finished with their meals but hanging around until the exercise Peggy had mentioned.
"Agent Carter," Dugan called out when he noticed her entrance and the path she was cutting directly towards them. "Strange seeing you among us lowly folk."
"Almost as strange as the smell lingering around your boots," she teased. "But Agent Potter and I are here on official business, we were hoping we might borrow Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes for a few hours."
Rogers' immediately straightened in interest. "What can we do for you, ma'am?"
"Well this is more of Agent Potter's task, so I'll let him explain."
Harry looked around at the near empty hall, then surreptitiously waved his wand, casting a muffliato around the immediate area before speaking. "To properly train you all in recognizing and defending yourselves against magic there's a bit more I need to know," he explained. "I was never properly trained so I have to rely on self-instruction, but to do that there are a few things I need to collect from a nearby shopping district."
Falsworth aimed a playful grin Barnes' way. "They want you to go shopping for them."
"Not exactly," Harry laughed. "The shopping district is one of my kind's, it's been some time since I was among them so Peggy insisted upon…backup."
At just the mention of being introduced to more magic, Barnes lit up. "We're the backup?"
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "You and Captain Rogers should fit in well among a crowd of wizards, and you're both large enough to make a nice human shield should I need one. I should warn you now though, we'll be running into all sorts of creatures while there, if you don't want to draw attention you can't react. The bank for instance, it's run by goblins."
Even Peggy appeared stunned by this revelation.
"Goblins?" Barnes managed to stutter around his shock.
"Yes, tiny and very pompous. Don't stare, don't be rude, and don't ever try to steal from them and there shouldn't be an issue."
"I'm sensing there's a story behind that, but I'm still stuck on the goblins."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly they're not all that awe inspiring. I'd hate to see how you'd react to seeing the dragon they keep down in the vaults."
All the color drained from Rogers' face. "The what?"
"Don't worry, we won't be going into those," Harry assured. "We'll just be popping into exchange some money for a book or two I'll be needing."
"Book shopping he says you're doing," Dernier muttered. "Something tells me it will be much more exciting."
"When do we leave?" Barnes grinned.
"Now, if you don't mind. It's a quick walk up the block. When we get to the pub that leads out to the shops you'll feel compelled to turn back, but that'll just be the wards trying to turn you around. Follow me and once you're through you'll be fine."
"Should I call for a car?" Peggy asked.
"We should do fine on foot," Harry said with a shake of his head. "We're only headed to Charing Cross. Before we do go though..." On the table were a handful of unused paper napkins, remnants from an earlier meal, Harry sized first Rogers then Barnes up before transfiguring a napkin each into a set of plain black robes then tossing them to their new owners. "You'll be needing these to fit in."
"Dresses?" Rogers asked dubiously.
"Robes. All the rage in wizarding fashion. If you're to come along with me you'll have to wear them."
Harry hid a smile at how quickly both men tugged the garments over their heads, they were a bit of a tight fit on the shoulders and Rogers was flashing a bit of ankle but all in all they looked presentable enough. Their teammates still howled in laughter and Harry allowed them a few minutes of ribbing the captain and sergeant before deciding it really was time to head out.
True to prediction, the walk to Charing Cross was easy enough and took no time at all, it was actually getting Barnes and Rogers through the Leaky Cauldron's entrance and the anti-muggle wards cloaking where he found a bit of a challenge. Rogers insisted they turn back to collect the shield they'd all agreed would be best served left behind, while Barnes was struck with the recollection that he'd yet to break down and service his rifle. But a guiding hand on each of the men's wrists was enough to propel them through the wards where, once past, they were able to shake off the worst of the effects.
"That was a fun time," Barnes grimaced.
Harry laughed at him as a wave of his wand transfigured his jacket into his own set of robes. "That was the worst of it. The entrance is right through here."
Beyond the alley wall Diagon Alley was near deserted; whether it was because of the frigid weather, it being the middle of a work week, or the war, or a culmination of all three, Harry wasn't sure. But he was grateful for the small crowd all the same.
"We'll be headed to Gringotts first."' Harry gestured to the crooked building at the end of the row. "Remember keep your heads down and don't stare."
Rogers and Barnes only partially followed his directive, he could feel the wonder emanating from them as they took in the colorful and often magically animated window displays, decorated for winter and the coming holidays. They were at least discreet in their gawking and could be passed off as run of the mill tourists seeing Diagon Alley for the first time.
Harry expertly herded them into Gringotts and, upon catching his first glimpse of a goblin, Rogers honest to god gasped.
"Oh Merlin," Harry muttered to himself, exasperation in full effect.
"They're like grumpy little men!"
"You were about as tall as that one before you met your mad scientist, Stevie."
"Yeah, well that one there looks a bit like your ma."
"Good evening," Harry smiled up at the goblin at the closest unoccupied station, speaking pointedly over Rogers and Barnes' whispers. "I was wondering what your policy on exchanging muggle pounds to galleon might be?"
"Fifty pounds is the minimum we'll exchange," the goblin drawled, "with be a two percent exchange fee."
Harry nodded. "I have a hundred pounds."
"Should the exchange be made into predominantly galleons?"
"Sickles actually, if you don't mind."
The goblin nodded sharply and accepted his handful of notes before stepping down from his seat to duck into a room off the hall.
"This is amazing!" Barnes whispered as they waited, near bouncing on his toes in excitement.
"We haven't even done anything yet," Harry grinned.
"We're in a bank with goblins."
The goblin was quick to return, pounds gone and replaced with a small satchel of coins. "After the exchange fee you have thirty two galleons, eight sickles, and twenty-five knuts." He stacked the currency on the desk between them in neat little rows for himself, once Harry had confirmed it correct he swept it back into the sack. "Would you like to deposit this into a vault?"
"Oh there's no need for that." Harry accepted the bag from the goblin with a nod of thanks. "I'm afraid this will all be gone by the end of the evening." He thanked the goblin one last time and bid him a good evening before ducking out of the back.
"Gallons, sickles, and knuts is what he said?" Rogers asked once they were back out on the street.
"Galleons, sickles, and knuts," Harry corrected, he fished around in the sack until he had one of each coin to show his companions. "A galleon is worth about three pounds, while a sickle is about eighteen pence and a knut is one. I'm afraid I never got the American conversions down though."
"Are these real gold?" Barnes squinted one eye as he held a galleon up to the weak sunlight.
Harry frowned contemplatively. "I don't actually know," he admitted. "My friend would though, she was scary smart. Knockturn Alley is right down there." He held a hand up so they paused just before heading down. "I keep telling you not to bring attention to yourselves but down here is where it really counts. There are all sorts down here, a few of Grindelwald's followers no doubt, if they realize you don't belong some won't hesitate to kill you."
Both Rogers and Barnes nodded, suddenly grim and the perfect picture of the deadly soldiers Harry knew they could be. He smiled though, to help lighten the mood if only a little.
"But don't worry, you look the part. Play it right and they won't ever know."
The flight of stairs leading into the alley were steep and narrow and at their base the sunlight cut off, as if the early evening rays couldn't or wouldn't reach into the pits of the alley. It was more crowded than Diagon, or maybe the tight space between the walls just made it appear to be busier. Either way the three men remained pressed close together, not making eye contact with the toothless hags and bedraggled warlocks peddling their cursed wares.
The bell above Borgin and Burkes announced their arrival with a dissonant jangle, as unpleasant as just about everything else in the place.
Harry nodded coolly to the shopkeeper behind the counter, Borgin or Burkes he could never tell, and stepped deeper into the shop. "Don't touch anything," he murmured to the two men behind him, eyeing a suspiciously innocent pincushion. "Could be cursed. Books are along the back wall. There won't be many, it's not their specialty, but there should be enough."
"Are they at least safe to touch?" Barnes asked cautiously.
Harry shrugged. "Should be. The worst a book's ever done to me is scream…or well except for the one with the teeth, or the one that tried to drain my ex-girlfriend's life force."
"So that's a no?"
"Probably best to keep away."
Barnes reluctantly heeded the advice but still leaned in as close as physically possible to peruse the titles along the dusty, cracking spines of the books. "Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter," he read aloud. "That's a zinger."
"Keywords we're looking for are: dark arts, evil, curses, and things of that nature," Harry advised, skimming over a text on how to spot mudbloods.
"How about: Magick Moste Evile?" Steve asked. "It's got evil in there and it has a bunch of extra, unnecessary letters added in to make it look more ominous."
"That's perfect," Harry grinned. "It's the standard dark arts text, any budding dark wizard will have stocked his arsenal with curses from here."
Cautiously, he plucked it from the shelf and when no curse took immediate effect he tucked it under his arm. "See anything else that might be of interest?"
"An A-Z of Spooky Spells?" Barnes offered.
Harry flipped through the book and snorted when it proved to be a guide for "junior" dark wizards. "You can never start too young," he murmured, adding it and a darkly bound The Dark Arts Outsmarted to his collection.
Borgin or Burkes looked over the books with a suspicious eye, when he brought his selections up to the counter, but Harry only shrugged when he turned it on him. "News of the dark lord has reached even my secluded neck of the woods. He has me intrigued."
The man grunted but accepted payment- nearly all Harry had- without protest. Not willing to push their luck any further, Harry hustled Rogers and Barnes out of the shop as subtly as he could manage. It wasn't until they were up top in Diagon Alley that he managed to release the tension he'd been holding in his shoulders pretty much from the moment they'd entered Knockturn.
"Sorry that had to be your first proper introduction to the wizarding world," he told the two men at his side with a sad little smile. "I swear most of it is a lot nicer and not near as creepy."
But Barnes shook his head emphatically. "No pal, my first introduction to the wizarding world was crooked buildings that don't have any business standing up on their own and honest to Christ goblins."
"The goblins were a sight," Rogers agreed. "And even Knockturn wasn't all bad, it had…character. But there is one thing I don't get."
Harry hummed in question as they began a slow pace back toward the Leaky Cauldron. "What's that?"
"If this sort of magic is illegal, why is there an entire sector of the district specializing in selling books and objects of its kind?"
"Well it's not illegal actually," Harry said. "Dark magic is frowned upon. Very heavily frowned upon, but there's no laws prohibiting its use outside of only three specific spells. So long as you're not using it kill or maim its fair game."
"Aren't all dark curses used to kill and maim?"
Harry shook his head. "Not all. Some can be used on yourself to expand your lifetime or as wards to protect your home or rituals. I've not seen them all, but there are different spells for different purposes."
"So what makes it dark?"
Hermione had asked that same question once, during that short span of time between Xenophilius' outing of his involvement in the Hallows' union and his tumble through time. The ritual they were using was technically classified as dark, even though it caused no harm and required only a bit of blood as sacrifice. She'd been curious as to what had earned it that classification, was even making noise about doing some research into it when she had a few spare moments, but then everything that had happened happened and she'd never gotten the chance.
"I don't know," he confessed for the second time that day. "There's been discussions, debates on that same question, but I was never much of a scholar. Maybe it's the intent behind the spells creation. What it was made to do. Or maybe it's the cost of the magic itself."
Barnes frowned. "The cost?"
"Every spell cast takes something out of you, it requires magic or energy or both. The longer you cast the harder it gets to continue and eventually you can't cast anymore until you've had time to recover. But maybe dark spells cost more than just your energy." He thought of Voldemort, flat faced, inhuman, and half insane from soul tearing rituals and blood thieving resurrections. "I've seen rituals that have had some gruesome side effects, the more you perform the more it chips away at your sanity and alters the sort of person you are." Harry shrugged. "I'm sure it's a widely debated topic, but like I said, I was never much of a scholar. Hermione was the smart one."
Barnes looked ready to protest, no doubt with some platitude about how he thought Harry was smart. And it would be appreciated, it really would, but he was so awkward at taking compliments and declarations of confidence and would rather just avoid the whole thing, so he scrambled to redirect Barnes' attention before he could get a word out.
Lucky for him they'd just reached the section of the alley where the storefronts were brightest and decorated with overt displays of magic.
Gambol and Japes was open even in this time period, nestled exactly where it had always been between Twilfit and Tattings and what would later become Diagon Alley's second book shop. Barnes and Rogers were taken with the little joke shop immediately; they'd been introduced to a few elementary charms a few days before during Harry's explanation and demonstration of magic and they'd gotten a taste of the darker side of magic in Knockturn Alley, but magic used to craft jokes and pranks was an experience of an entirely different sort and they were delighted. The commotion Rogers caused when Barnes introduced him to a gag pen that sent actual arcs of electricity dancing across his skin was loud and enough to draw them further back into the store to avoid the suspicious eyes of the shopkeeper.
The visit worked well to erase the lingering unease from their short time in Knockturn Alley, and even if Rogers and Barnes claimed to have not minded visiting the darker sector of the wizarding world he was glad it would no longer be the part of the trip that stood out most in their memories.
Gambol and Japes and Gringotts and exploding, prank toilet seats and goblins were all they spoke of as they made the walk back to base. They were so caught up in their wonder and overwhelming excitement it was a moment before they realized they were being followed.
The two men would have been hard to spot on a normal day, they kept a fair distance back and didn't draw much attention to themselves among the flock of pedestrians Harry, Rogers, and Barnes were navigating their way through. But then there was a moment where they drew a few meters too close and Harry felt them. They were wizards and just like with Adalgar he could feel the hair raising, goose flesh inducing energy of their magic. Once he became aware of them there was no way to ignore the deliberate way they matched pace with Harry and his companions.
After two detours down streets not on their route back to headquarters and a stop at a peanut cart where Harry took a second too long looking over the limited selection, Rogers and Barnes finally began to catch on that something was off.
"Pinstriped bowler hat and his friend with the pea green coat," Harry murmured for their ears only. "They've been on us since we passed the cathedral. At least. They're wizards."
Neither Rogers nor Barnes reacted outwardly save for the subtle curl of the latter's fist. "Do you think they followed us from the alley?" he asked.
"Could have. But you didn't give yourselves away as muggles so I don't see what has them so interested."
"Are we shaking them?"
"We're only a few minutes away from headquarters," Harry said. "Let's duck into that bookshop there and I'll cast a disillusionment spell. They won't be able to see us and we should be good to make it back."
They did exactly that, Harry cast the disillusionment and a notice me not on top of it while they were tucked behind a set of cases that just barely hid Rogers and Barnes' too wide shoulders. When their tails stepped into the store to search them out they ducked out before the door could swing shut and began the last leg of the trek back with a quickness.
It would have worked if a third wizard hadn't been waiting at the phone booth just outside of the textile factory that acted as the front for the SSR headquarters.
Harry hadn't noticed him until he was sidestepping a group of schoolgirls and ended up nearly right on top of him. The buzz of energy he was beginning to recognize as the presence of magic broke the man's cover the same as it had the other two's, but any wizard worth anything could see through a disillusionment when close enough and Harry had certainly moved within range when avoiding the muggles.
They reached for their wands at the same time, but Harry had always been quick on the draw and managed to land a stunning curse just before the other could put one to words. He stepped forward and caught the man before he could fall out of the booth and then Rogers was there with Barnes only steps behind. The charms hiding them had fallen in that hairsbreadth of space between Harry being discovered and casting the stunner, but no one around them seemed to have noticed two walking tanks appearing from literally nowhere, no doubt passing it off as failing eyesight or a trick of the light.
"Get him inside," Harry grunted, struggling to juggle the unconscious wizard and the books he was still holding tight. "Before the others track us down."
They were stopped just past the threshold of the shop, the SSR agents masquerading as workers recognized the three conscious men as members of the agency but none of them, not even Captain America, had clearance to bring in guests, no matter how urgent of a situation they claimed it to be. Peggy had to be called to escort them into the hidden lower levels of the facility and appeared wholly unimpressed when presented with their situation.
"This was meant to be an easy job," she snarked on the way down.
"Well we couldn't have expected we would be followed," Harry said defensively. "And we still would have made it back fine if that one wasn't lurking so close, he was right outside our door. That might have been a coincidence, but if it's not it'd be nice to know before they come kicking it down."
"What reason would they have to follow you?"
Harry shrugged. "They could have recognized Barnes and Rogers as muggles while we were in the alley. Or they're with Grindelwald and they know we have one of theirs."
Barnes sighed heavily. "Why does it feel like the second one is what we're going to end up dealing with?"
"It makes sense," Peggy said. "Phillips will be pleased at least. He's been tearing his hair out trying to come up with a way to get his hands on another one of this dark lord's men."
The lift let them out in a familiar hall leading to the same room another wizard had lost his sanity in only a few days prior. As Peggy guided Rogers and Barnes through the steps of properly securing the still unconscious wizard, Phillips arrived down the same juddering lift.
"What have we got?" he asked, taking in the sight of their newest prisoner.
"Wizard," Harry said shortly. "He and two others were tailing Rogers, Barnes, and me on our way back from a trip into the city. We managed to give the other two the slip but he was waiting right outside."
"Harry says he could be one of Grindelwald's," Peggy stepped in. "Come to retrieve their lost compatriot."
"If he is and he knows this is where we're keeping him, we'll have some problems on our hands," Phillips frowned. "We can't afford to be infiltrated by a bunch of magic users."
Peggy nodded in agreement. "But if we have been compromised, it's a good thing we have him to find out to what extent."
"You want to be the one to question him then?"
Peggy smiled blandly. "If you have no objections."
Phillips shrugged. "You won't hear any from me. Potter?"
Harry shook his head emphatically and none of them even had to ask why. The memory of Adalgar was still all too fresh.
"Try to get him to talk about what his boss has planned while you're in there."
Peggy rolled her eyes, as if annoyed Phillips even had to ask. "Of course," she said before turning to Harry. "How much longer until he's awake, do you think?"
"I knocked him out with a spell, I can wake him with another whenever you give the go ahead."
"A moment then. Captain do you and your Sergeant intend on observing?"
"Only if you don't mind."
Peggy waved a magnanimous hand. "Feel free. Have we searched him yet?"
"When we put him down in the chair," Barnes confirmed. "All he had on him was this."
His wand, knobbled and short with visible fingerprint smudges on the pale wood. Barnes held it reverently but with a dose of caution that made Harry smile, it wasn't the sort of weapon to go off without warning. But considering the sergeant's experience with wands began and ended with Harry's own he couldn't be blamed for his care.
Peggy and Phillips seemed unsure what to do with the thing, there was nowhere they could safely store it, not without putting it through the extensive SSR mandated logging process which wasn't an option for obvious reasons. And they too seemed to share Barnes' wariness of even touching it, so Harry rolled his eyes and plucked it from the man's hold.
"If he's one of Grindelwald's we'll destroy it," he said then shoved the wand into his back pocket. "If he's not we'll give it back. Wipe his memory and plant it on him."
Rogers looked surprised and Harry was guessing it wasn't because he'd suggested destroying the wand. "You can do that?"
"I know the theory of it," he shrugged. "I haven't had much chance to practice it of late though."
"So long as your half decent at it," Phillips grunted. "It'll be a useful skill."
Harry shook his head. "I don't make a habit of tampering with others' memories. It conflicts with my morals you see."
"Yes, that's very noble," Peggy snorted. "But that's something we can discuss at a later time. I'm about ready for that spell now, if you don't mind. Let me just take a seat first."
Where Harry had been a poorly concealed ball of anxiety fit to burst at any given moment when confronting Adalgar, Peggy sat across from her own source of information with a cool poise that left him full of equal parts envy and admiration. When she at least looked comfortable in the stiff backed, hard bottomed seats and her skirt was settled around her knees just right, she directed a nod to where he stood just outside the doorway.
"Rennervate."
The door locked shut on its own behind Harry and the prisoner woke with none of the over-exaggerated gasps of air he'd seen done so many times on the telly.
Peggy waited patiently for him to shake off the lingering effects of the spell; she allowed him to twist in his binds, mentally catalogue the layout of the room, and surreptitiously reach for the wand that was no longer on his hip. She smiled when he failed to hide the shock at finding it gone and the concern at realizing just how tight his binds were.
"Do you know where you are?"
He looked at her, dumfounded and wary, but he didn't say a word.
"Or whose company you're in?"
Ten seconds in with two unanswered questions and Harry was almost certain he knew exactly how this interrogation was going to go. Peggy was unphased though, he always thought she had a patience that could match even his old head of house's.
"You were right outside our door when we took you in, so I'm sure you can understand our alarm. What's the point of having a top secret facility if just anyone can spend the day spying on it?" There was no inflection in Peggy's tone, none but the subtlest undercurrent of steel that made even Rogers, who stood watching through the two way glass beside Harry, stand a little straighter. "It raised a lot of questions finding you there, but the two I absolutely must begin with? Why were you following Captain Rogers and his men? And how did you know where they would return?"
There was barely a pause between her second question and what would follow, but the lack of response was deafening all the same.
"I can already see you've made up your mind not to talk, the others made the same resolution. Of course they broke in the end, but they were weak, didn't last into the question for long and so I still find myself with questions."
And finally she got a reaction, and maybe the bared, yellow teeth in a mocking parody of a smile wasn't exactly what they were hoping for, but it was a start.
"You're lying."
Peggy didn't flinch or falter, she met the wizard's grin with her own curling smirk, a thousand times more dangerous than he could ever hope to be. "Am I, wizard? How much are you willing to gamble on that fact? Your freedom? Your wand? Your life? Although that seems it might be forfeit already, I can only imagine how your lord Grindelwald would react if he found you'd been apprehended by a couple of muggles."
Harry smothered a grin on the back of his hand. "Oh, that's risky."
So he hadn't been the only one who'd seen the disdain the wizard's face had taken on nearly the moment he'd locked eyes with Peggy, the way he'd taken in her perfectly muggle appearance and the lack of wand anywhere on her person, and drawn conclusions on the sort of man they were facing. That is, the sort like Adalgar who'd align themselves with the current dark lord.
The gamble seemed to have paid off only in part however, the wizard was suddenly doing an impressive imitation of a pail of sour milk which was always a good sign, but he wasn't immediate in spilling the secrets Peggy was aiming for, which wasn't.
"It wasn't a muggle who caught me," he said instead. "One of mine did."
"Yes well, it would be horribly unfair if HYDRA was the only one employing wizards. Ours just happens to have far fewer ulterior motives." Peggy's smile widened when the wizard could only gape, dumbfounded. "I wasn't bluffing when I said they talked, our methods of convincingthe tighter lipped to speak up is rather…convincing. But they're never able to talk for long before they expire. I was hoping you might be different. Shall we start from the top?"
"Do you know many wizards?"
"It's funny you think I'd answer even a single question when you've yet to grant me the same courtesy."
The wizard shook his head, disregarding the woman's snark. "If you have, you'll know about the Cruciatus."
Of course she did. Harry had mentioned the Unforgivables only just this morning.
"And you'll know that nothing you can cook up could even compare."
Peggy shifted in her seat, leaning back so she could take in the full picture of the wizard. She didn't spend much time carrying out interrogations, she'd been trained for it of course, but her talents were better suited for strategy and field work; tasks that required careful cunning and a firm hand, not the quiet tenacity needed to carry out sometimes hour long battles disguised as conversation eeking information bit by bit from recalcitrant prisoners. That wasn't to say she wasn't effective at it when posed the task, she'd never failed an interrogation because she was inordinately talented at getting someone's measure after only a few minutes alone with them. It was no trouble seeing the kind of man she was facing off against and deducing the best way to get him to talk, but there was a set to this one's jaw that spoke of nothing but trouble for her. She knew his kind, she'd tried interrogating only two like him before and both times she'd handed the job off to someone willing to take part in the less savory methods of questioning. And now he would have to be the third.
"I'm certain I can change your mind on that."
She left the room immediately after and Harry was already backing away because he knew what she wanted.
"He's going to be like that then?" Phillips said, his mouth curling into the same distasteful frown her own had taken on.
"Nothing is more beneath some men than a muggle." She stared straight at Harry as she turned his own words against him, and in her gaze he saw regret, sympathy, but no hesitation. "Harry, we need you to speak with him."
"You don't want me to talk to him."
And there was no point in denying it, they both knew what they wanted from Harry. "No, darling, I don't."
"I can't."
"You will." Harry had only ever known the side of Peggy that was fierce, firm, but still entirely gentle and kind and fair. He knew she'd seen war and battle same as him, but he'd never been confronted with it, not until now in this moment where she was asking him to use magic they both knew he had no full control over while he was still heavy from the guilt of the last man he'd failed. "He never said it, but we all know it, he's with Grindelwald and somehow he knew where to find us. We need to know how many more know and how many more they plan to send. If we don't, if we're not ready, they could kill us all tonight."
"What are you asking him to do?" Rogers was the only one among them who still didn't understand. Realization had settled over even Barnes who looked not at all impressed with Peggy's ultimatum.
"They want him to use his magic to make the man talk," the sergeant explained.
"Knowing full well that I could end up killing him," Harry said, he didn't look away from Peggy though, even as he spoke. "Or worse."
"You spare him and risk us."
"That's not fair," Barnes protested.
"No, but it's true." She took his hand in hers. "Speak with him if you want, try to appeal to his sensibilities, but if you can't do it just this once. One more time and we'll never ask you again."
"This is not what I do." Harry shook his head sharply when she made to protest. "And I don't just mean morally, I mean I don't have the knowledge, the spells in my arsenal to coerce someone, let alone torture. What happened before was an accident, I don't even know if I could do it again even if I wanted to."
"You can," Peggy said simply, "because we need you to. Just one more time."
Just the thought of inflicting half the pain on this stranger as he had on Adalgar made him feel physically ill, but Peggy had said and he had thought it sitting at Adalgar's bedside just the day before, one life in exchange for dozens more was nothing. And he'd had an entire meltdown after the thought, he'd broken down so hard he had needed to be rescued like some damsel and coaxed back to sanity by one of the men in the room with him now. But that didn't detract from the truth of the resolution. One in exchange for all.
"You can't let me lose control like last time."
Peggy nodded in immediate agreement. "Of course."
"If it looks anything like Adalgar you stop me, even if you have to knock me over the head to do it."
"You really want to do this?" Rogers asked and Harry laughed, low and deprecating.
"Of course not. But I don't have much of a choice, have I?"
He didn't try to mask his nerves when he entered the room, maybe he would come off as more sympathetic to their prisoner, maybe he would take pity on Harry and tell him what they wanted without all the torture business. Maybe he wouldn't.
But the wizard did speak almost immediately, Harry hadn't even had a chance to fully settle in his seat. "You're the wizard from before."
Harry dipped his head in a nod. "I am the wizard from before. I've come to hear your confession."
The dangerous edge he'd thrown at Peggy like a weapon was nowhere in the smile the wizard directed at Harry, he only looked amused. Maybe his unassuming demeanor was doing its work. "You?"
"Yes, me. Adalgar was one of yours, wasn't he?"
Surprise and muted curiosity stole across the wizard's face for only a fraction of a second. "You were the ones who took him?"
And there was their first confirmation. He still hadn't said it outright, but in recognizing Adalgar he all but acknowledged he too was working for Grindelwald.
"They didn't know what he was when they brought him in," Harry confessed, relinquishing some truth in hopes of getting more from the man. "But I recognized him, his wand, his magic. He wouldn't speak either, but he did, eventually."
"If he told you what you wanted then you would have no need for me."
Harry shook his head. "I have plenty need for you. He was hesitant, I had to force him, but it was too much for him to bear.'
"You killed him?"
"No."
And there was the danger, finally the man was taking Harry as a true threat. "Then what?"
"He's alive, but his mind is elsewhere. I didn't want to. Didn't mean to. But…" Harry smiled deprecatingly. "I'm young and too powerful for my own good, I have no one to teach me how to control it, so sometimes it does what it wants and sometimes people get hurt." He leaned forward in his seat, eyes begging this stranger to understand. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but the men I work with need answers and I can get them."
"She said she would show me pain worse than our Cruciatus." The wizard looked Harry over, no fear in his eyes. "From you?"
"From me."
His gut clenched and something in his chest ached, he could hear his heart thundering and could feel every muscle within his body contracting in revulsion. Harry focused on that, he locked in on that fear and disgust and then he reached for the wizard. He touched him and the Hallows responded, they knew what he wanted and they could feel how badly he needed it and just like riding a bike, once you learned to do it once, your body never forgot. He purposely kept his body loose, unattached, and when he felt the hypnotic pull of a soul beneath his fingers he only held it and didn't tug.
"I want to know everything."
The wizard screamed, but he spoke.
Harry threw up after. Right outside the door in a bin Peggy had handily available for him.
But once he purged the contents of his stomach that was it, there were no panic attacks or mental breakdowns, he sat down to debrief and he was fine because they got what they needed and they would all be safe.
He was with Grindelwald, the wizard whose name was Claude admitted, and he'd been sent with the two others to retrieve Adalgar. Grindelwald was afraid he'd do irreparable damage to his cause speaking to the wrong person and so had sent his men to bring him back if they could and kill him if they couldn't. They didn't know where the facility was or even who was within it, they'd been following a tracking charm that had been on Adalgar up until three days ago after which it had simply disappeared. They'd narrowed the location down to a fifty kilometer radius, in which the facility sat, and had been searching for anything of use when they'd spotted Rogers.
Rogers and his men were making quite a name for themselves among HYDRA's ranks, in the short time they'd been active they'd done more damage to the organization than just about anyone else in the war. So of course there would be a kill order out for them. But while Claude and his men were technically working with HYDRA, they were wizards first, so when they spotted Rogers and his sharpshooting sergeant within their search radius they knew it had to be more than a coincidence, so they followed him rather than kill him in hopes he might lead them to Adalgar.
Grindelwald didn't know where the facility was and he hadn't sent men to attack it. It had been a fluke, an unlucky coincidence. They would have to be overly cautious leaving the building from then on, but Claude had been the only one to see the facility and he wouldn't be rejoining Grindelwald or HYDRA's ranks anytime soon.
He didn't know much else that they didn't already, a few insights on Grindelwald's end goal (world domination) and even a few HYDRA bases wizards had managed to infiltrate, but none of the details they really needed. A disappointment on that end, but certainly much less worse than it could have been.
Phillips was the first to leave once they'd said all they needed to, while Peggy, Rogers, and Barnes hung back to do one last check on Harry.
"I'm all mixed up inside." He admitted if only to stop their badgering. "It was awful and I swear there's nothing you can say to make me do that again, but it came so easily. I'd done it only once before but all I did was call and my magic came."
"That's good then, yes?" Peggy said. "If it comes when you call and allows you some form of control then it's growing as it should be. What Howard is doing is working."
A knot of something he couldn't put a name to clogged Harry's throat at the reminder. "Yeah, it's working."
"And you stopped," Barnes reminded him. "You got what you needed and then you stopped before you hurt him."
"Before I hurt him irreparably," Harry corrected. "He still hurt. I don't like hurting people."
Barnes smiled, full of sympathy and understanding. "No," he said, "neither do I. But that's just the business we're in."
Harry went home right after, to read the books forgotten in the excitement and to prepare for the dark magic crash course none of them had had the foresight to postpone. When he went in the next day, it was with dark curses rattling in his head and the eyes of Peggy, Rogers, and Barnes tracking him worriedly.
They were waiting for his crisis of conscious no doubt, or a breakdown on the level Barnes had seen the day before, but Claude had lived and, more than that, his mind remained. He would be sore for a few days and traumatized for even longer, but the harm Harry had inflicted was passing, a few weeks from now all the man would suffer from would be a few painful memories.
That proved to make all the difference for Harry, even when he'd been alone in the dark of his bedroom with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, that all-encompassing guilt had kept away.
So he ignored the worried looks the best he could, focusing instead on his purpose for being there. Ensuring Rogers and his men would remain unmaimed and alive against curses from Claude's kin.
"Wizards have crafted more dark spells than can be counted," was his preface. "If it can cut you, burn you, dismember you, disembowel you, enslave you, kill you, there's a curse for it. I have experience in casting three."
Harry almost laughed at the incredulous faces that stared back at him, it would be funny if their lives weren't on the line.
"Fortunate for us, those three are the ones you're probably going to see the most of. Most other dark spells require a certain level of skill and finesse, but with these curses all you need is a strong enough desire to cause suffering.
"The first is the easiest to recognize and the hardest to counter. Avada Kedavra is the incantation, it forms in a jet of bright green light, and it kills on impact; no pain, no drawn out production, just immediate death. It's called the Killing Curse and it's the one you'll see most often. When you hear it being cast or see that streak of green don't try to bat it away or hide behind your shields, duck, roll, hit the ground, do whatever you have to to avoid being hit. Because once you are it's over."
Harry gripped the wand he'd drawn when beginning so tight the molded wood creaked, the hum of its magic and sting of its sharp edges helped steady the nerves.
"I won't cast it, I never have and don't think I'd even be capable of doing it if I wanted to. But the next one…." He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before raising his wand, aiming it at Rogers who stood directly across from him. "Are you ready?"
He received a curt nod and so he cast.
"Rictumsempra."
Barnes stepped forward, worry taking over when Rogers doubled over with an enormous howl. He stopped in his tracks however when he realized he was shaking not with pain but laughter. There was a moment of confusion before all the others caught on to their commanding officer's predicament and began snickering in amusement.
"Tickling charm," Harry explained as he ended the spell to the relief of a red-faced and breathless Rogers. "It's like a thousand tiny fingers targeting your weak spots and tickling you until you can't breathe or move or think around the sensation. It's overwhelming."
Rogers nodded in vehement agreement.
"Now imagine those thousand tiny fingers targeting your weak spots as rusted scalpels, digging down to your muscle, scraping against your bone. It doesn't tickle anymore, it's agony, inescapable, unending agony. If you can imagine, then you'll have some idea of what the Cruciatus curse is like."
All signs of laughter were gone as the men listened to every word he said with a grim intensity.
"The incantation is crucio, there's not light, no streak of color to let you know it's coming. Only the pain. The curse only ends when the caster decides it wants to end or they're forced to stop it, even after its over you'll shake uncontrollably for hours after, you'll ache down to your bones. If you're kept under it long enough, your mind will break and it can't be repaired. For obvious reasons I won't be casting that one either, but if you hear that incantation you should react just the same as you would for the killing curse. Duck.
"The last one, some consider it the tamest but only until they see it used to its full potential. I'll cast this one only once but only if I have your explicit permission."
Rogers exhaled nervously. "Will it hurt?"
"Not at all. It actually feels quite pleasant."
He frowned, not having expected that answer, but nodded all the same. "All right, go on."
Before he cursed Rogers, Harry turned to his six comrades. "Do you spar often?" He met the round of confused affirmations with a pleased nod. "Good. Imperio."
Harry would never be comfortable casting any of the Unforgiveables, but after his heist on Gringotts he knew he was fully capable of at least this one. Immediately the glazed look of full subservience fell over Rogers' face as his entire body went lax.
Harry gestured to the men behind the man. "Don't kill them, don't hurt them, but subdue them as quickly as you can."
Harry had been notably absent for those days following Rogers' transformation into a supersoldier, he'd never been present to see the myriad of tests performed to evaluate his speed, strength, and dexterity and he'd certainly never been given the chance to see it in a real fight. So seeing him now, the brutal yet graceful way he moved and fought would have been awe inspiring if he weren't fighting his own friends under Harry's command.
Barnes was the only one who stood a chance against the unexpected attack, while the others were tangled in their own laces and jackets in a handful of seconds each, Barnes could defend himself against Rogers' unorthodox but efficient attacks for nearly a full thirty seconds before he wound up in a headlock firm enough to keep him down but still gentle enough as to not restrict his airways or cause him any undo discomfort.
Harry ended the spell the moment the fight was through and Rogers released his friend in an instant, he was stunned and unnerved and looked to Harry for an explanation.
"That was the Imperius," he said as the others gingerly detangled themselves from clothing and rose from the twisted heaps they'd been tossed into. "Imperio. It takes total control over the victim's mind, whatever the caster wants them to do, they do it. You could be hit with that in the middle of a fight, told to kill your allies, and you would do it."
Barnes looked especially horrified. "Shit."
"There's some good news though," Harry added, striving for some levity. "If you have a strong enough will and you're exposed to it enough times you can shake off the effects of the curse, you can refuse the commands of the curse altogether. We'll work on it until you all can."
"Please," Rogers sighed, looking immensely relieved. That little demonstration proved how devastating having the curse cast on him specifically could be, because if it was a real fight, against real enemies, there would be no orders to avoid injury or death, it would be encouraged. And Rogers was more than capable, physically, of obeying.
"It'll take time and Phillips only gave us a week to get this done, but it's possible. But the hard part is over, you've see them now, the Unforgivables. The three worst curses to be cast by wizarding law. Be caught even casting one and that's a lifetime in prison."
"You just cast one," Dugan pointed out, looking shifty.
Harry grinned. "Yeah, so it's a good thing I wasn't caught doing it."
"Was that your first time casting one?"
The grin faded into something more rueful at that. "No."
"Is that right?" Falsworth, and all of the others for the matter didn't actually look all that surprised. "Would it be too much to ask how many times before today you've cast one?"
"Three times. The Imperius once, Cruciatus twice."
That answer did cause a ripple of surprise through their ranks, they'd likely suspected he'd cast only the Imperius. There was a pause as the new truth was processed, but then Barnes asked one more question.
"How many have you had cast on you?"
"All of them."
"But you said…"
"That once you're hit with the Killing Curse it's over, yes. And that's still true. It's always true except for those two times when it wasn't, but there were extenuating circumstances." Harry waved away the barrage of questions. "But that's a story for another time. We still have work to do.
"The Unforgiveables are the worst curses cast at you and will certainly be the ones you encounter most often, but they won't be the only curses you encounter and the others are just as deadly and oftentimes even more nasty.
"Let's start with the entrail expelling curse…."
Harry had only learned the curses he was naming and detailing to Rogers and his men just the night before, he'd been up almost until dawn searching out the worst of them and committing them to memory in a show of studiousness that would make Hermione proud. He'd never cast a single one before, most he hadn't even seen until reading them that night, but when it finally came time to demonstrate on a cluster of conjured dummies, the results were…not awful. It would take time and practice before his curses would roll from the tongue and tear through his enemies with the same ease he'd seen Bellatrix's accomplish, but he knew he could get there. And seeing cotton innards spilling across the floor and flesh colored cloth peeling away from the mannequin even in a toned down display of what his curses could do acted as effective motivators for the men.
By the end of the three hours they had together every last man could identify the spell coming their way either by its appearance or its incantation and had worked out the best way to avoid coming in contact with them all. Harry meanwhile was finding it easier with each curse he cast; where at first his entrail expelling curse could barely split the skin of the dummy's torso, now it sent cotton organs exploding everywhere. It was disconcerting but thrilling all the same.
"That went much better than even I'd hoped," Harry said as they wrapped up for the day. "We may not even need the full week Phillips gave us."
Dugan cursed in relief and his fellow soldiers were quick to repeat the sentiment. Learning magic, even dark magic, was all fun and good, but they all missed knocking in kraut heads and getting Schmidt worked up into a fit.
"And we've got plenty of new spots for you boys to hit just in time too," Peggy added. "With quite a few wizards to give you all some real time practice."
"Don't tease me with a good time now, Agent Carter," Dugan grinned.
She smiled, wide and teasing. "I always make good on my promises, Dugan." Then she turned her back on the hooting laughter of the team and met eyes with Harry. "Can I have a word?"
He nodded, powerless to deny her though he had a good idea already of what she wanted to speak about and knew he wouldn't find much joy in it.
She pulled him only to the other end of the hall, out of hearing range of anyone save for potentially a super soldier or two. "You look as if you slept well."
"I did actually. You expected something different?"
"Don't fake like you're some kind of idiot," she scoffed, eyes rolling back in her head, "you know I did. You really had no trouble last night?"
"Really," Harry swore. "I slept well, all night in fact. I don't like what I did, I'm not comfortable with it and I won't ever be, but…Barnes was right, it's the business we're in and I can't cry every time I have to hurt someone or kill someone to keep a person I care about alive. I'll just have to suck it up and get used to it."
Because even when he was done here with this time period and its set of problems, he'd have another war, another fight on his hands, he'd be expected to kill Voldemort again and any Death Eaters aiming to do it to him first. And sure he was learning the spells to get the job done in a variety of different and gruesome ways, but it wouldn't mean anything if he didn't have the grit to actually perform them when it mattered.
"Just don't ask me to torture someone else, not if we can find another way."
Peggy looked at him, brown eyes wide and surprised and maybe a little pleased, then she nodded. "Barring life altering and/or ending situations, of course." Harry scoffed and she laughed. "I at least have to ask, even if you do say no. Though something tells me you won't."
"Of course I won't, I can't help but be the hero." He heaved an overdramatic sigh that caused her even more laughter. "It's my curse."
"Well you bear it well." Peggy flicked a glance over his shoulder to where Rogers and men were lingering, they were occupied in conversation, boisterous and fully at ease in each others' company, but waiting for something. "There was talk of drinks."
Harry frowned, what had he said, or rather his face said, to warrant that non- sequitur?
"Steve wanted you to come along, if you were up to it."
So it hadn't been him, but Rogers. "It's barely past noon."
"Is that a no?"
"No."
"Good," she chuffed him under the chin. "You could do with some fun. You're so grim all the time, darling."
Harry snorted, Merlin he loved the woman but it was like having a second Hermione around at times. "And imbibing will cure that?"
"If only temporarily."
"And the same goes for you?"
She smiled good-naturedly. "When I'm given the chance. Not today though, I'm not blessed with so light of a schedule as you men."
He rolled his eyes in mock outrage. "You're encouraging me to go and won't even be there to keep me company?"
But of course she was, there was hardly a time Peggy wasn't arranging and plotting something, it was as instinctual as breathing for her. He just wasn't used to her schemes involving him, and couldn't imagine what outcome she was looking for.
"You'll have plenty of company, more interesting than myself even."
"That's a lie."
"Only a little one." She gave him an encouraging nudge backwards, toward a captain who was glancing their way just a few times more than might be usual. "Go. Have some real fun at least once before we're all reminded of this terrible, bloody war we're trying to put an end to."
There wasn't much of a protest he could put up, Peggy had locked in on this strange desire to see him have fun and there would be no shaking her from it. Here he was in a completely different era but still with a bullheaded tempest of a woman ordering him about, it'd give just about any other guy a complex.
"It's no wonder you're so good at your job," he muttered good naturedly even as he let himself be pushed another step back. "You're bossy."
Rogers smiled at him as he approached, inordinately pleased. At least Peggy hadn't been lying when she'd said the captain had asked for him to come along, he wouldn't have put it past her to have made that fact up, or stretched the truth of it just a little to get him to agree.
But almost unconsciously his face rearranged to smile back, even if his was tinged with a touch more reserve, there wasn't any other expression he could make when faced with Rogers' megawatt grin. "I heard something about drinks?"
There was a pub a few streets up that was still stocked and serving even though just round the corner an entire block had been taken out in the blitz. It was a little run down, the sign bearing its name of Whip and Fiddle had lost its first two coats of paint, but the welcome was warm when they entered and the first round was up before they'd even parked in the stools.
The man pouring their drinks was a good few years older, he had a grey shot beard that lent his face some kindness and a wide grin he directed at Harry when he sat himself near the end of the bar. "An addition to the team?"
Rogers smiled with a familiarity that spoke of how often they visited the little pub. "He's a friend."
"Too smart to get caught up on the frontlines with us jarheads," Barnes said.
"You drinking Schlitz with the rest of your guys?"
Harry was still pretty green behind the ears when it came to harder drinks, but he'd spent enough time around Howard Stark and his liver of steel to know what the only right answer to that question was.
"If I wanted piss water I'd go round back and drink from the loo."
The man grinned, wide and amused. "You a Guinness sort?"
"Johnny Walker actually. If you have it." He would never be a fan of the hard stuff, but it was the closest he could get to the taste of firewhiskey and sometimes he liked the reminder of home.
"Good man. Good taste."
"We'll get along, you and I," Falsworth saluted with the only drink beside Harry's that wasn't piss yellow beer.
"Cheers mate."
Their glasses met in the middle with a pleasant clink, while the rest of the team groaned mockingly about another stuck up limey joining their ranks.
"Careful with all that," the bartender warned. "You're in our home now. Us limeys outnumber you one to a hundred."
"Sounds like a good fight to me."
"But not one you'll win, I'm afraid," Harry laughed. He hadn't spent much time around Americans before falling in with Erskine and his cohort, but he was pretty sure Dugan's ever present readiness for a fight was a trait unique to himself. Not even Rogers, pre-serum infusion, had been so eager for a tussle. "We're scrappy."
Rogers nodded in wry agreement. "I've got bruises up my side to prove it."
If it had been anyone other than the supersoldier complaining Harry might have felt sorry for marking them up with his magic, but the man was tough, Erskine had seen to that, so he only waved his hand negligently and said, "You'll be healed up by the end of the day."
"Those books did some real good," Barnes said, he spared a quick look over to the bartender who'd moved a few paces away to care for another guest, well out of hearing range. "You learned that all in one night?"
"I read pretty late into the night but I didn't get the chance to practice until just this morning with you all."
"You did well in school then?" Gabe Jones guessed and Harry snorted.
"Not even, I was an awful student. No motivation. Drove my best friend mad, she was the prodigy."
"Stark speaks highly of you," Rogers protested. "And you know he doesn't give out compliments so easy."
"I'm the only wizard he knows, of course I'd be impressive to him. Meet another and you'll find out quickly how lacking I am."
"Well you threw our supersoldier across the room with just a word," Morita said. "So not lacking everywhere."
"You said you went to school for this?" Barnes asked.
Harry nodded, moving on to the new topic gratefully. "I never finished, things got tough my seventh year and I was forced to put schooling on hold until it was sorted out. But the years before that were some of the best I can remember. Hogwarts embodied magic; moving staircases, talking portraits, ghosts."
"Ghosts?"
"They were harmless for the most part. Friendly. Even if they did have a habit of walking through walls at the worst times."
He recalled Myrtle's late night visit to the baths his fourth year with a pang of nostalgic disgust. He missed the weepy ghost just as much as he didn't, but there was never a time where that memory wouldn't leave a grimace of distaste on his face.
"What else is real?" Barnes prompted. "You've said goblins and ghosts and dragons, what else is there?"
"Just about anything else you can think of. Mermaids and giants and werewolves and unicorns, and even things you couldn't imagine; ten foot tall, talking spiders, talking mirrors, flying cars."
"Stuff of the future."
"In some areas," Harry admitted, "but in others we're still behind the times. We write with quills, see by firelight, seal letters with wax and sigils. In some instances we're lightyears ahead, and in others we still have much to learn."
"Why do they hide?" Jones wondered. "We could learn so much from each other."
"Fear, I think. Of being expected to solve all the world's problems with magic, and being persecuted when they wouldn't or couldn't." Harry glanced around. They were still alone, it was too early for a reasonable sized crowd to be filling the pub and the bartender had disappeared somewhere in the back, so he felt safe going on. "Wizards make up a fraction of the population, there's thousands of you for every one of us. Any fight between our two people would only end in our destruction, we're more powerful one on one, but there are so many more of you, and with each day your technologies get more advanced, and more deadly."
"But why would we fight you?"
"Because you don't understand us, who we are, what we want, how we can do what we can. And we would never let you. The common folk would rise up in fear if they knew half of our history and the things we've done. The church would make no protest because there's nothing more unholy than a witch. And the government, they'd put up a token protest, insist on saving the lives of one or two, for research purposes. But the rest? They're competition, best to eliminate them before they get it in their heads that they want the world all to themselves."
"We would never…" Falsworth stopped himself before his sentence could even fully form, realizing that maybe they would.
And Harry could only smile, just a little bitter, because there was no maybe for him, they would. "Fear is a powerful motivator. And it's not completely unjustified, not all of my people are good, you know that well enough by now. Set a few of them out onto the streets to perform the spells you saw me do today and of course there would be cries for blood."
"Well I'm not having it," Barnes was scowling, clearly unimpressed with the turn the conversation had taken. "There's been enough war to last us a lifetime over, we'll figure out some way to get along because like hell I'm dying without having seen a dragon up close."
And just like that, the heavy mood inching towards dark broke, Harry's next smile was wider, more cheerful as he said, "That's the whole reason I'm here, isn't it? There won't be even a whisper of war between our people if I have something to say about it."
The scowl disappeared from Barnes' face and he reached over to knock glasses, same as Harry and Falsworth had done earlier. "Keep on with the good work then, kid."
They gave up on their Schlitz after the second round, changing it out for a myriad of bourbons and whiskeys that found them the buzz they'd been chasing. But while Dugan and Falsworth and even Jones and the others tossed each drink back with a cheerful abandon, Rogers and Barnes were a little more conservative while Harry hadn't even ordered a round past the first.
"Someone's got to keep an eye out," Barnes explained when Harry questioned them on it. "We ran into those wizards just last night, there could be more canvassing the area, so it's probably best one or two of us stays sober enough to make sure the rest make it home without being followed."
"And it's been hard for me to get drunk since the serum," Rogers threw in. "Haven't managed it yet. It's not as fun without the promise of a good time."
"You had a good time before, did you?" Harry teased. "Unless fistfights behind the barracks count as such."
Barnes laughed. "I forget you two were familiar before he got this way," he gestured to encompass the height and bulk of the man in question. "Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who remembers him from before. Did you get on before the serum?"
"No," Rogers said just a little sheepishly. "I don't think he liked me all that much."
"I didn't dislike you!" Harry protested. "I just…misunderstood your reasons for wanting to join up. Once I understood you a little better I liked you just fine."
"What did you think he wanted to join up for?" Barnes asked.
"To prove that he could."
Rogers spun his glass between his fingers. It was a sure sign of nervousness, he'd have to work on that little quirk. "That was part of the reason," he admitted. "It wasn't easy being rejected and mocked because of my size, but it wasn't the only reason."
"I know," Harry said. "I saw. It's why I didn't put up a fight when Abraham decided you would be the first."
"It's still work trying to get along with him." Barnes knocked shoulders with Rogers in a playful gesture, the other man rolled his eyes, no doubt long since used to this brand of teasing. "Walking around all patriotic and shit. And the outfit. How often you see a fella in tights?"
"Last I heard you liked the uniform. Weren't you the one asking if I was gonna keep it?"
"Course I did, I can wear anything and look good when I'm standing next to the guy in star spangled spandex."
Harry snorted into his glass, Merlin he couldn't wait until he was back in a time where he could rib Ron over his questionable dress robes and Hermione's penchant for wearing ink stains and used quills as accessories. That easy familiarity was no question the best part of their friendship, it was disconcerting and fascinating to see it mirrored in two men completely unlike them in all ways but the one that counted.
Maybe it was about time he talked to Howard about giving their experimental procedure another go. It'd been nearly a week since the first and, other than the unfortunate incident with Adalgar, there hadn't been any negative side effects. The excitement of half reaped souls and trips to Knockturn Alley had been a nice distraction, one he might have actually needed, but it was about time they got back to work.
Tomorrow, he resolved. Tomorrow he'd crack the whip and the SSR would get back to fulfilling their end of the bargain.
The wizards had been vague, they'd shared everything they knew but it had never been much. Potter, the boy, the child, to have caused them so much grief and destruction had fallen through time; he'd intended to go back only a year was all that they'd been able to glean from the ritual, but he and his accomplice had botched it, left a few important runes out in their haste and performed it during the wrong time in the lunar cycle. The boy had been thrown back further, they assumed, or he'd been killed.
It was up to Strucker to figure out which of the two it was, and, if it was the former, where he'd ended up.
He'd expected there to be a challenge, the possibilities of when Potter could have ended up were endless and if the boy had survived only to be thrown into an era pre-modern conveniences they would have been hopeless to find him. He expected it to take time, weeks if not months of painstaking researching, tedious sifting through CV footage and government databases before they received even the hint of a clue. He expected to exhaust resources, favors he'd been saving for his hour of need, connections that were only good for one time use.
But he got lucky.
Or Potter got careless.
It was a photo he found, in files his brothers in SHIELD had allowed him access to, uploaded to SHIELD's database for reasons more sentimental than practical. It was taken in a lab, teeming with men and equipment that was cutting edge at the time but still so outdated now. The focus of the image was a man, older, wearing a lab coat and speaking into a microphone. At his back was a pod that easily stood twice as tall as him and was opened to reveal the painfully thin figure of the man who would become Captain America.
And just beside the pod was him.
His face was turned just slightly off center and the green of his eyes was made near black by the colorless photo, but the round spectacles, the dark, unruly hair, the hint of a scar peeking out from overlong bangs were enough to alert the recognition software to a match.
Strucker narrowed the focus on the black and white picture, drawing it in tighter and tighter until the blurred figure stood prominent in the center. He didn't need it, he'd spent long enough studying the image during his search, but on another screen he pulled up a second picture, this one in color with the bold words of "Undesirable No. 1" framing the grim face that was its subject. A rush of satisfaction flooded his system, he did so love solving puzzles.
They were a match.
"Doctor List."
His associate was there in a moment, he'd just been preparing to leave for the night, but it seemed Strucker had one more task for him.
"Get in contact with our friends at the ministry." Was the order. "Let them know it's done. It's time we bring our wayward wizard home."
