Before I start this chapter, go and check out the fantastic story, 'A Happy Accident: 70 Years,' by the wonderful Njchrispatrick. It is where the inspiration for this story came from. If you notice any similarities between the stories, I do have permission to use them.

"Why, welcome. So gracious of you to finally turn up." Armand gave a cocky grin, sauntering closer to where Harry, Ron, Hermione and Coulson stood.

"Save the formalities, Armand," Harry snarled. He stalked forward, wand outstretched. "You don't have the right to talk. You don't have the right to act like everything is alright!" He'd only felt this angry once before. When Sirius was murdered in front of him, falling backwards into that infernal veil, that was the only time he'd felt the black anger, bitter hatred, rushing through his veins. When he'd cast the cruciatus on Bellatrix LeStrange, that anger he felt was the same as now. Fury.

Wrath.

Madness.

A crazy desire for revenge that overtook every ounce of common sense he had, wresting control over his actions and words. No, it didn't wrest control from him. Sometimes, handing over the keys was the best thing to do. Sometimes, letting go of common sense, letting go of rationality was the best thing to do, because that was the only way to get the other person to see your emotions. The only way to get the enemy to believe what you were feeling, to treat is like something more than fakery, tomfoolery, acting.

That was what Harry felt right now. A raging wildfire eating him from the inside out. Blackening his vision so he only saw what his anger allowed him to see.

And what he saw was a man, a despicable creature, who thought stealing children was an acceptable way to gain his attention. Harry couldn't fathom what must have gone though Gary Armand's head for him to think kidnapping three innocent, crying children was a good idea. How deep did his obsession with Captain America run? It had to be worryingly deep if he went to these heinous, abhorrent lengths.

"Wrong. I have every right to talk. In fact, if you want these kids to live, you should listen very carefully to what I have to say." Gary took a step closer to the children, finger pointing towards the ground. Harry's eyes followed and bugged out when he saw wires connected to the chairs. Armand wouldn't….

"What have you done?" Harry kept talking, very aware of Ron and Hermione slowly walking over to the crib where Winona was wailing. If he could keep Armand distracted, it would give them a chance. A chance to execute the very quickly hashed out plan, improved thanks to the splendidly strategic mind of Coulson, that they'd come up with pretty much on the fly. But when children are stolen away from their parents, time is of the essence.

"The only thing that would work to get your attention!" Spit flew out of his mouth, an accusing finger pointed at Harry. "If you'd just talked to me at Gabriel's party, none of this would have happened. You've brought this upon these children, Harry Rogers. Your actions are responsible."

"My name is Harry Potter, first of all." He took a step closer, a stunner on the tip of his tongue. "And I am not responsible for this. You twist your words to try and make me see your perspective. Well, guess what? It isn't going to work."

"It already has."

"I think you're very sorely mistaken, Mr. Armand. People like you don't get win. People like you belong in the deepest pits of hell. You stole children! They're terrified. If you think that's right, then there is no saving you."

Gabriel chose this time to chime in. "Let us go! You won't get away with this!"

Armand whirled around, furious. "Not another word from you, you hear me! I will flip the switch...oh, very nice." His eyes finally fell on Ron and Hermione, standing over the crib. Hermione was reaching out to grab her daughter, silently cooing. "Very nice indeed. NOT ANOTHER STEP!"

Ron and Hermione froze. Terrified eyes fell on the switch that suddenly appeared in Armand's hand. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Behind him, a small, stick thin girl started bawling, face crumpling up. Harry guessed this was Emma Armand, Genevieve's daughter. What kind of monster would hold his own child hostage? Just the thought of doing that made Harry want to vomit. And all to get the attention of a man who didn't talk to him at a birthday party? Harry wasn't sure what to call Armand, but none of the names were nice.

"What do you want?" whispered Hermione. "Give me my baby back!" Her lips trembled, eyes red and bloodshot, stemming the tears that would be flowing if it weren't for her iron will. It seemed that she was using all her energy to keep from breaking down in front of Armand. "Please."

"Hmmm, let me think." Armand put his finger on his chin, mimicking thinking. "How about no. Not until Rogers here," Harry bristled at the name, "gives me what I want."

"And what exactly do you want? What do you want so badly that you steal three children out of their homes? What could you want so much that you kidnap your own child?" Harry's anger was beginning to bubble out of the cauldron, only increased by the terrified whimpers of Gabriel and Emma, only intensified by little Winona's feeble whimpers.

"I only want you to talk to you. How hard is that for you to see? Are you an idiot?"

"No. You're the idiot here." Harry desperately thought about what he could say that would turn this man into a snivelling mess, which he would then expand upon with spellfire. Then, he would leave him to Ron and Hermione. They would have no mercy. For other things, other people, maybe. But not when their own child was kidnapped and rigged up to a system that would electrocute her.

"I think you've got that wrong." Armand's left eye was twitching. He looked fit for the loony bin, which was where he would be going when they were done with him. He wasn't getting out unscathed.

"Accio remote." The remote for the electric wires flew out of Armand's hands and into Harry's. Having no idea how to disable it, he gingerly gave it to Coulson, who got to work disabling it, clearly knowing exactly what to do. Harry turned back to a gawping Armand. "You may have forgotten, I have the upper hand here. You don't have magic. So what are you going to do about that, huh?"

"Remote disabled." The business like voice of Coulson sounded behind him. Harry nodded without turning back to look. Now that there was no risk of the children getting electrocuted, Hermione rushed forward and scooped Winona up into a tender embrace. Ron joined her, wrapping his arms around them both.

"I think there are several things I can do about that," Armand hissed. He reached behind his back and pulled out a gun. In a move that surprised everyone in the room, he held it up to Gabriel's head. All of the little boy's bravado disappeared, dissolving into pure unadulterated fear. Tears welled in his eyes before spilling out, little whimpers of fear escaping his lips. Harry's heard hardened.

"Stup―"

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione's spell sliced through the air, knocking Harry's wand out of his hand. It careened towards Hermione. She deftly caught it. "Don't try to knock him out, Harry. His finger could slip on the trigger. Don't risk it." Harry growled at her, but saw the logic. Even the slightest risk of Winona, Gabriel or Emma getting hurt was too much. They just couldn't go there.

"Finally, someone with common sense!" crowed Armand. "Hermione Granger, hated by my wife but loved by me! And her husband, Ron Weasley, hated by me but loved by my pathetic wife. You know, if it wasn't for her, I would never have found out about you? It's thanks to her that I even have this opportunity."

Before Harry could reply, Hermione snarled, "Don't you dare say you love me, you bastard!"

"Why ever not?" He chuckled, a high pitch noise that sounded remarkably like Voldemort. Harry shuddered. "Isn't this just a big game of cat and mouse, with Harry here as the cheese and these children as the bait?"

Fucking bastard.

Before Harry knew what was happening, he was on top of Armand, landing punch after punch. The pistol skittered across to the other side of the building, bumping into the leg of a well worn couch. How punch could punch he punch be so punch calm about it? A scream bubbled up in his throat, so many words he wanted to say, scream, yell. And he wasn't even the one most affected by it.

He could vaguely hear screams for him to stop, vaguely feel hands trying to pry him off the bloody man. They did nothing though. Nothing. This man was less than the dirt on Harry's shoes. This monster deserved to be condemned to the lowest pits of hell for what he had done.

And then―

Silence.

A single gunshot rang through the building.

Smoke coiled into the air.

Armand clutched his rapidly darkening shirt, fingers coming away in blood. His eyes widened, face paled, lips stretched into a twisted grimace, before turning into an eerie grin, so eerie Harry had to glance away.

A tiny girl, clutching a pistol, dropped to her knees, wailing her eyes out. She threw the weapon across the room, then crawled towards the bloody figure of her father.

"Why?" The whisper was so quiet it was almost silent, so broken, so shattered that there was almost no hope of repairing it. Her hands were trembling. Limbs shivering even though it wasn't cold. "Why, Dad?" Her hands fisted into his shirt. "Why?"

"Oh, baby," Gary burbled. "You don't understand. I had to do it." His breathing was getting quicker by the second. Harry stood, ignoring the scarlet substance coating his fists. Hermione gave him his wand, face grim. Gabriel was huddled into her side, Ron putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I had to do it."

This bastard wasn't finished yet. All of them knew that.

"Dad…" Emma stood, backing away from him, like she was seeing him for the first time. Something terrible was going on in her head, Harry could tell. Violent images flashing underneath her eyelids, imprinting in her memories, burned into every dream she would have for the next years. "No. You didn't have to do it."

She took another step back, bumping into Harry. Her neck snapped up, face filled with pure fear. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, feeling her trembling body relax slightly. It took a second, but then she backed closer into him. Harry knelt down and wiped a tear from her face. She was so tiny, so fragile.

Like a reed in a storm, ready to be blown away at a moments notice.

"It's going to be alright, okay? Listen to my voice. Everything is going to be okay." She started bawling into his shoulder. "Shhhhh, it's alright, Emma. I'm Harry, okay? Me and my friends are going to take care of your father for you. You won't ever have to see him again. Everything is going to be just fine."

She sniffled. "But I shot him. I'm going to go to jail." She looked at her father, whose shirt was now a dark shade of red. Her own face paled even more, if that was even possible. "I shot my dad."

"No, no, no, you're not. I'll make sure of it myself. You won't go to jail. You did nothing wrong. In fact, you saved Gabriel's life. You saved little Winona's life. You saved your own life. Think of all the good you did today. Don't dwell on the negative."

She gave a stiff nod. Harry sighed and picked her up off the ground. Her legs clamped around his hips, arms hooking behind his neck. She couldn't see his face, so Harry let the anger return full force.

"Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur." The blood began retracting racing back into the rapidly healing wound. Armand gasped in surprise and tried to claw for the gun, fingers outstretched. Harry kicked it out of the way, landing a not so accidental kick to his stomach.

Armand was a fool if he thought he could get away that easily. With a nod to Ron and Hermione, they approached him, smiling grimly, eyes cold as stone.

Time for some fun.

"Oh, Emma! My baby!" Genevieve surged forward and grabbed Emma, clutching her tight. Never letting go. "I'm so happy you're alive." She cast grateful eyes on Harry, nodding once, before returning to her sobbing daughter.

The next day, the first positive article about Harry Potter written by Genevieve Jones (having relinquished the name Armand) was published.

Harry also gained a shy fan in Emma Jones, who he promised to become pen pals with.

Years later, they were still writing back and forth.

There was nothing that Emma treasured more than the letters of her gentle hero.

Gabriel matured that day. He became silent, stoic, reserved. Grace was distraught at his safe return, though the police officers were baffled why a Steve Rogers look alike was returning the kidnapped child. Harry nodded, gave his contact details and left them to their own reunion, not wanting to intrude.

Years later, Gabriel become a high ranking official of MI5.

There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't look at the Captain America poster hanging on his wall and smile.

Gary Armand was never the same. Every day of his life, he was followed by an eerie, ghostly figure, always at the edge of his vision. The figure was tall, blond, lean, lithe, with a lightning scar on his forehead. The figure whispered into his ear, phrases he never wanted to hear. It haunted his every move. There was nothing he could do to get rid of the figure and no one he told believed him.

For who would believe a decrepit middle aged man when he said that the son of Captain America was haunting him?

Years later, he was in an institute for the mentally insane and nicknamed, 'Cap.'

There was nothing he hated more than that nickname.

After a week, Harry returned to America and started his job with SHIELD. He sped through the ranks and soon was at the rank that Fury and Coulson wanted him to be at. He made close friends with Coulson and struck up a strange brotherly type relationship with an archer, while partaking in cheeky flirting that never seemed to go anywhere with a certain former Russian spy. No one except those close to him (Fury, Coulson, Romanoff and Barton, plus a few others) knew of his true appearance, having found a way to modify his it but still keep his insane strength.

His relationship with Winona, Gabriel and Emma stayed strong. His annoyance at a certain billionaire stayed strong. And his resolve, his iron will and steel morals, stayed strong.

Years later, there was a frantic knocking at his door, with news that they'd found someone important in the ice.

And there was suddenly nothing Harry wanted more than to meet the man who was his biological father.

For when there is a chance at family, Harry took it.

No exceptions.

And, with this chapter, the first major arc of the story is wrapped up. I hope that you liked it, I put a lot of effort into it. Now, we're getting into the exciting stuff. Stand by for that.

We've reached 200 reviews and 100,000 views. I honestly and still in shock. So, my sincerest thanks to each and every one of you. I couldn't have done this without you.

Love you all,
Mariadoria