IMPORTANT NOTE: I have completely rewritten the first 2 chapters, and if you haven't read the updated versions yet, this likely won't make any sense, so I do recommend that you go back and read them. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Chapter 3 - In The Shadows
Fury resisted the urge to bang his head on his desk.
It was bad enough that Stark had been rescued by an unknown, and subsequently made a whole mess with his company, but now he had a whole other issue to deal with.
A few days ago, Agents Brown and Wilson had been tracking the movements of a black-market arms dealer in Scotland-
Brown was supposed to pose as a hotel receptionist for the day of the dealer's arrival to confirm the man's room number, while Wilson stood by to monitor the man's security detail.
At the end of the day, they'd submitted their reports, but there was something off-
Brown reported fourteen guests checking in throughout the course of the day.
Wilson reported fifteen.
They were both competent agents, with years of experience at SHIELD, so the discrepancy was carefully scrutinized.
Upon checking security cam footage, it appeared that Wilson was correct- there were fifteen guests.
Brown correctly identified fourteen of them, but was at a loss for the last-
A tall and thin black-haired man, who'd checked in for only a day.
Agent Brown couldn't recall ever seeing the man, and he wasn't registered in the hotel system as having checked in, either.
It was a puzzling situation.
Fury had done what he always did when faced with such problems- delegate.
"You called, sir?"
"Agent Hill. I want you to lead an investigation into this man's identity. See if you can track him down and find out who he is and what he's up to. If he's able to mess with the minds of our highly trained agents, we could have a major issue on our hands."
Hill had simply nodded and left the room.
It had taken a few days, but she had returned, a suspiciously thin folder clasped in her hand.
Fury glared at it, feeling almost personally offended.
"That's it?"
Hill nodded.
"It's all we could find, sir. That man has covered his tracks well."
Fury took the folder from her, scanning its meagre contents, his eyes narrowing as he read.
"So he's a ghost. No records of him anywhere, not even in our secure databases."
"That's correct," Hill confirmed, "but we did manage to find a few things. He's been spotted at several other hotels throughout Europe, always under a different name, and never registered in the hotel's guest list. I had an agent inspect a room where he had stayed a couple nights before- it hadn't been cleaned yet, as according to the hotel's systems, it had not been occupied- but he reported that there was absolutely no evidence of his presence. The bed was untouched, and so were the supplies in the restroom. It's as if he was never there. We were able to pull some footage of him from a security camera at a hotel in Paris. It's not great quality, but I had the tech department enhance it."
Fury leaned forward as Hill pulled out a tablet and played the video. Despite the enhancement, it was grainy and blurred, but Fury could see the man clearly enough. He wore a turtleneck and a trench coat, and carried a briefcase. His movements were sharp, graceful, purposeful- Fury couldn't see the man's eyes, but he could see the subtle tilting of his head as he scanned the room upon entering.
"He's some sort of agent," Fury said, more to himself than to Hill. "I'm sure of it. The way he moves, the way he scans his environment- it speaks of training."
He grimaced.
"He must've been spying on the arms dealer."
Hill looked at Fury, a hint of worry in her eyes.
"Do you want me to keep investigating, sir?"
Fury shook his head, his expression grim.
"No, you've done enough. We need a tracker. Bring me Barton. We need to find out who this guy is working for, what they're planning, and how they're able to erase his presence from our agents' minds. This gives us probably cause to believe some unknown organization has technology more advanced than our own. This could be a matter of national security."
Hill froze.
"An unknown organization- able to manipulate memories-"
Realization dawned on Fury, and he locked eyes with Hill.
"Stark."
xxxXXXxxx
"Fuck, that stings," growled Harry, as a small fireball arose from his cauldron and nearly singed off his eyebrows.
In the week after his impromptu meeting and conversation with the Ancient One, Harry had retreated to the expanded rooms of his trunk, making peace with his thoughts and relaxing by brewing potions and preparing supplies.
It would appear a strange activity to most, and perhaps it would no longer be necessary in this new world, but it was cathartic for Harry.
After the disaster of the Final Battle in his home world, Harry had witnessed the Ministry's response and realized that nothing would change on its own.
Magical Britain was doomed to repeat her mistakes forever.
He couldn't accept that.
While the citizens of magical Britain celebrated their hero's triumph over the dark lord, they were unaware of his pain and mourning, and of the silent battle he waged against the forces that remained- splinter groups that had fractured off from the Death Eaters and its sympathizers.
He had hunted them brutally, abandoning Dumbledore's no-killing ideal- it was unrealistic, unwise, weak.
During that time, he'd had to make do with creating his own stock of supplies.
The Death Eaters were cowardly and weak, but they had networks set up everywhere.
To purchase supplies would be to announce his presence to all, and they would scatter like rats.
Every week, he would retreat to the calm confines of his magical trunk, and he would brew essences and potions and all manners of healing items.
It had become a sort of healing ritual itself.
With a flick of his wand, he extinguished the fire beneath the cauldron and bottled its contents.
That was the last batch.
He climbed out of his trunk and latched it closed.
It was time to leave again.
He had started traveling again, like in the old days. Although it was no longer necessary to keep moving, he still checked into a new hotel every day. Old habits die hard- and stagnancy made him feel uncomfortable.
Leaving his room and taking the stairs to the lobby, he probed the thoughts of the staff, and was glad to see that his previous Memory Charms had stuck.
He took the back exit out of the hotel.
Immediately, his honed senses alerted him that something was wrong, but he began strolling down the street as if he noticed nothing.
Keeping up his composed facade, Harry scanned his surroundings, before finding the problem- a sandy-haired man was watching him subtly from the rooftop of the building next to his hotel, oblivious to having been spotted.
Harry ducked into the nearest alley and vanished with a pop.
xxxXXXxxx
"Target has left the building."
"Copy that, Barton. Follow him."
Clint Barton watched as his ordinary-looking target strolled down the street.
It was a refreshing change of pace from observing the usual subjects- mob bosses, high-profile murderers, suspected spies- but he knew that even the most normal-looking people could hide dark stories.
"He's turning into an alley. I don't have visual from here. I'll move to a different vantage point."
"Copy. That alley is a dead end, take your time."
Barton moved to the other side of the rooftop, where view of the alley would be unimpeded, and he could continue tracking his target-
But the alley was empty.
"I-"
He was briefly at a loss for words.
"Agent Barton?"
He cleared his throat.
"I lost him. He's gone. He couldn't have been in that alley for more than ten, maybe fifteen seconds, and he's gone."
He heard the voice in his earpiece curse softly.
"Return to base. We need to discuss the target, and come up with a new plan."
"Yes, sir."
Barton began the slow walk down the stairs of the building, confused and frustrated.
He'd never lost a target before.
He was one of the best agents SHIELD had, and yet he had lost this target so easily.
It was an uneasy feeling. There was more to this target than met the eye, he was sure of it. He didn't know why, but even as he observed the man, he couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that he was being watched right back.
xxxXXXxxx
Harry apparated back to the alley and dispelled his invisibility.
He was being watched.
After ducking into the alley, he'd made himself invisible- an ability he gained after uniting the hallows- and apparated silently to the rooftop where his stalker was.
He had heard the conversation Agent Barton had through his earpiece, and a quick mental scan revealed everything.
The organization was called SHIELD, and its leader was a man named Fury, the man who Agent Barton had been communicating with.
They'd noticed something about him, evidently, and were now tracking him, assuming him to be a threat.
A surge of annoyance burst from within him. All he wanted was to live peacefully, to discover his purpose- but it seemed fate always had different plans for him.
He'd have to take action. Perhaps it was time to pay a visit to the States, and discover more about the organization that tailed him.
AN: Sorry for the delay between this and the last update- rewriting the last two chapters took a very long time, as I was basically restarting this story from scratch again. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you thought of it and any ideas you may have as a review.
Thank you SS V-King and scyfly for encouraging me to rewrite this story how I imagine it should be, and not what it was in the past.