DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in the following chapter.

Chapter 1 - Mr. Potter, I Presume?

"Ignore the tour guides, and listen to Uncle Foaly instead. Did you know that the Great Chain was actually destroyed by some guy called Ezio Auditore as he -"

"Foaly, focus," Harry said as he casually swiveled his head, attempting to pick out the target from the masses swarming into the Grand Bazaar.

"Hey, it's not my fault that you don't have the Eagle Sense that he supposedly had. That would make your job a lot easier."

"Foaly, I don't have time for your urban myths. You know how important this is. It took us six months to get this lead."

Tuning out Foaly's grumbling, Harry returned his focus to reconnaissance. His task was complicated by the fact that Istanbul's Grand Bazaar was a hotspot for both mundanes and wizards. For the former, the Bazaar was the oldest shopping mall in the world and a fusion of Eastern and Western cultures. For the latter, the Bazaar was also the only place in the world where mundane and wizarding shops literally coexisted side-by-side (or in some cases, on top of one another).

Elsewhere in the world, wizarding shopping districts were strictly separated from their mundane counterparts. For example, Diagon Alley was enclosed within a pocket dimension in downtown London, and Paris' Marche Prospere lay within a hidden set of tunnels built during WWII. Wondrous as these districts were in and of themselves, the Grand Bazaar was the only place in the world where one could see the latest wizarding brooms being sold alongside the latest cell phones and video games.

Harry's left eye twitched as he passed the broom shop.

"Nuh-huh, you are not wasting time at that broom shop, Harry. I mean, if you don't have the time to listen to my 'urban myths,' then you certainly don't have time to ogle brooms. Besides, it's not like you actually need them to fly anymore. Keep marching, soldier."

Harry whined, "But Mom, I just want one to study the magics they've used. You know, for scientific purposes, Mr-LEP's-Research-Specialist-and-Resident-Hacker."

"Need I remind of you this operation's high-stakes, Harry?"

Harry sobered quickly at that. 'He's right; I need to focus. I have to keep a close eye out for the mark and the right opportunity, especially since I can't start anything in here, unless I want to spend the next decade in Turkish prison.'

The Grand Bazaar's unique amalgamation of the mundane and wizarding worlds was made possible in large part by its complex warding scheme, which were analogous to a system of CCTV cameras and a highly-trained security team. When wizards entered the market, the wards recorded both their face and wand signature. Afterwards, they tracked each and every spell they cast, and the authorities were promptly summoned when the spells became combative. The wards would also promptly lock in the perpetrator(s) in that situation, preventing them from leaving the district.

As Harry brushed past a carpet merchant, he finally saw his quarry - a shabbily-dressed, twitching wizard whose eyes were frantically scanning the crowd. Harry quickly ducked before the wizard could spot him and considered his options.

"All right, Harry, that's Mundungus Fletcher. He may be a dishonest, flea-ridden mongrel, but he's still a skilled thief. What's the play?"

"A distraction of some sort. I could strike during the ensuing chaos, and Fletcher won't think to check until much later. Of course, a poison dart would be the simplest option, but I don't want to actually kill the mangy mongrel."

"Ok, sounds good, Agent 47."

"Foaly, you've been playing way too many video games recently. And you're not hot enough to be Diane Burnwood."

"I blame Hollywood. And quit being racist/sexist - I am a very handsome centaur, if you must know."

Harry rolled his eyes and casually strolled towards Fletcher. Ducking his head, he discreetly dropped a smoke bomb and rapidly retreated from the drop site.

He counted down to thirty and wasn't disappointed when the bomb detonated, clouds of smoke poured out, and the crowds began panicking. Fortunately, Harry and Foaly had modified his glasses using a combination of runes and technology to see through the opaque smoke, so Harry did not lose sight of the panicking Fletcher. A similar set of runes on his robes' cowl ensured that a breathing mask would cover his face in the presence of foreign gases.

So, a hooded, masked Harry Potter briskly entered the cloud of smoke and the hysterical crowd around Fletcher. As he approached the coughing man, Fletcher looked up in shock. But there was no time to respond as Harry quickly fired his hidden Neutrino and stunned the man. 'Didn't use Stunning Spells or any magic at all, other than my runes, so the wizarding authorities won't have a clue until much later,' Harry thought smugly.

After a minute or two, Harry had found the target object - a golden locket with a serpentine S carved on its surface. Harry gritted his teeth in pain as a spike shot through his scar. After taking a deep breath and slamming down this Occlumency shields though, he regained control and shoved the locket into one of the pockets in his robes. Without any further ado, the teen stood up and walked out of the crowd coughing and crouching just like his neighbors, his mask vanishing as though it had never been there.

Two minutes later, Harry was out of the Grand Bazaar, walking away coolly as though he was just another tourist, and nothing untoward had occurred in the past few minutes.

"Nicely done, Harry," Foaly's voice came through his earpiece appreciatively.

"With your help," Harry responded modestly. On the side, he quickly reviewed of the Horcrux situation - 3 down (the diary, ring, and diadem), 1 in progress (the locket), and 1 to go (the cup).

'And last but not least, the one in my scar,' Harry forced himself to acknowledge mentally. Despite his best efforts, he had not been able to discover a way to safely extract it during the last five years. He had even consulted with reclusive Hindu and Buddhist sages meditating in the Himalayas (since they were widely recognized as the world's experts on soul magics, even if it was a pain to track them down and gain their audience), but so far, the only solution appeared to be...to destroy the vessel.

Harry valued his life, thank you very much; there HAD to be another way. He was sure of it. Of course, it might be helpful to confide in Foaly and Holly about that particular Horcrux at some point, but Harry wanted to put that off for as long as possible. Superficially, he reassured himself that it was simply because he didn't want to worry them unnecessarily, but deep down, he knew that he didn't want them to view him with disgust.

Or worse - pity.

Fortunately, our young hero had to cut short his increasingly gloomy reflections at that moment as his collar heated up just enough to sting his neck; instinctively, he ducked, and his eyes caught sight of small blur flashing past the spot his head had just occupied mere moments ago. Not for the first time, he thanked the shielding runes that had been painstakingly engraved all over his robes.

"D'Arvit," he cursed upon seeing the tall, armored woman with blue hair tied back in a ponytail. The lady was already reloading her sniper rifle.

"D'Arvit indeed," Foaly agreed. "It's the WidowMaker. Malfoy must still be unhappy about how you burned down his manor."

Harry snorted. "He shouldn't have safeguarded one of Voldie's Horcruxes then. Anyway, I wanted to just grab the diary and run. It was Dobby's idea to Fiendfyre the whole place. And you agreed!"

"Less talking, more running!" Foaly snapped as another dart exploded past Harry's head and shattered one of the vases nearby.

As the surrounding crowd panicked, the WidowMaker fired her grappling hook at the roof above a closer stall and rocketed over to it, firing shots at Harry with an assault rifle at the same time. Harry quickly traced a redirection rune in the air and willed the incoming pellets to return to their sender.

The WidowMaker's eyes widened in surprise as her bullets rebounded, and she barely avoided being hit by leaping backwards acrobatically.

Harry used the opportunity to go on the offense. Stroking the elemental runes on his robes' sleeves, Harry threw fire balls at the assassin, who gracefully dodged each one of them like a ballet dancer.

'You know, if it weren't for the fact that she's tried to kill me three times, I would seriously consider dating her. Well, that and if she were a few years younger,' Harry thought grimly. 'Wait, am I actually checking her out right now? Bloody hormones. This was so not a problem last year.'

Apparently having decided that she was done dodging, the WidowMaker jumped off the roof and landed right in front of Harry. She retracted her hidden blade and lunged at the teen, but Harry dissolved into shadowy mist, much like the smoke from the smoke bomb earlier. The mist reshaped itself into a serpentine form and wrapped sinuously around the assassin, but the assassin simply sneered and pressed a button on her utility belt. Bolts of electricity instantly sparked through her armor, dispelling the mist and throwing Harry back into a nearby wall.

Shaking his head (and thanking Foaly for the sturdy armor under his robes, not that he would ever say so to Foaly's face since the arrogant centaur did not need a massive ego boost) to clear the ringing, Harry rolled to avoid the flurry of incoming pellets. 'She's trying to just stun me. Well, that is an improvement over last time, when she was using flamethrowers and rocket launchers. What's with the change?'

"WidowMaker, well met. Why don't we lay down our weapons and go out for some coffee? From what I've heard -"

Harry narrowly dodged a round of bullets. "Oh, no more tranquilizer darts. What happened? Is my voice that annoying?"

The WidowMaker snarled and threw her grappling hook at Harry, hoping to snare and reel him in.

Harry turned intangible and let the hook's claws pass right through him. He stroked the elemental runes again and channeled as much magical lightning as possible from his fingertips to the hook's metal cable.

The WidowMaker's eyes widened in shock, but it was too late - the lightning quickly traveled along the length of the cable back to its source.

With a gut-wrenching scream, the WidowMaker fell to the ground on her knees as the magical lightning overloaded her armor, causing the electronics to smoke and burst into loud explosions with bright flashes. The WidowMaker's appearance also kept fizzling, almost like the reception on a bad TV until her glamors were completely dispelled.

Harry whistled. 'Whoa, so that's what she really looks like. Don't see why she needs glamors though.'

The exhausted blonde glared at her opponent darkly. Pressing a button on her belt (probably the only function that still worked on her armor), she ejected herself from the armor. A wand slipped into her hand, and she began rapidly firing spells at Harry, attempting to hold him off.

Harry's patience had worn thin though. He stood his ground and absorbed the spells in the palm of his hand; he slowly merged them all into a single solid mass and threw the ball back at the WidowMaker.

The WidowMaker had seen this particular attack before though from her previous encounters with Harry and countered with a powerful Shield charm. The shield turned dark red, and a gong-like sound emanated when the ball collided with it, but it held nonetheless.

"Donmak! Freeze! Hold you hands up!"

The pair momentarily looked away from each other and turned to the Turkish authorities surrounding them. They could both feel anti-Apparition wards go up simultaneously.

With a contemptuous sneer, the WidowMaker took out a stick from her robe pocket and enlarged it to reveal a broom. She concurrently threw down a smoke bomb and used the ensuing chaos to mount the broom and fly off.

Back in the bad old days, Harry had used a similar tactic many times using his trusty Nimbus or a pair of Double-Dex wings, but nothing could quite compare to the speed and unadulterated thrill of unassisted flight. So, he concentrated on the latent chakras on his feet and directed magic there; runes engraved inside the boot activated upon detecting the sudden increase in ambient magical concentration, and a burst of concentrated air and fire burst out of the boots' soles. Harry rocketed out of the smoke-filled area, in close pursuit of the fleeing assassin.

"Foaly, any hits on the WidowMaker's identity from my iris-cam footage?"

Foaly scoffed in Harry's earpiece. "Of course, I ran the facial recognition search as soon as her glamors dropped. She's Fleur Delacour, daughter of the French Head of the Department of Magical Enforcement. I wonder what law-abiding daddy's going to say about his bounty-hunting, assassin daughter."

"Thanks, Foaly. I'll be in touch," Harry replied tersely.

Harry saw Fleur's head turn back to take stock of the situation; he felt grim satisfaction as her eyes widened upon seeing her pursuer rapidly gaining on her. 'Hah! I love these boots. Beat that, Nimbus."

Fleur flattened her body against the broom and urged it onwards. She took a sharp turn to the left and passed through two windows of the Grand Bazaar while shoppers continued on obliviously below her. Swearing since he was going too fast to make the turn safely, Harry made a more gradual turn while raising his elevation. Consequently, when Fleur exited the Grand Bazaar and reentered the surrounding rooftop area, he saw the action from a bird's eye view.

Swooping down like a hawk would on a mouse, Harry narrowly managed to grab hold of the Firebolt's bristles. Startled, a snarling Fleur spun her broom in midair in an effort to shake him off, but he held on stubbornly.

As they exited the Grand Bazaar's rooftop area, any remaining Muggle-repelling charms were dispelled, and suddenly, everyone on the area saw an unusually beautiful, snarling lady flying on a broom like the witches of legend and trying to shake off an unwanted, black-haired passenger.

"Um, Harry, I know the situation is bad enough as it is, but I'd estimate that you have 5 minutes before the wizarding authorities arrive and start firing spells at both of you."

"D'Arvit!" Harry swore, his curse easily lost amidst the howling wind around him. Foaly could easily shut up the mundanes since they actually used technology. Against the technophobic wizards though, Harry was all on his own.

'Time to end this,' Harry thought grimly. He visualized a bubble surrounding the broom and cried, "Finite Incantatem."

Nothing happened.

'Wow, I really need to get my hands on a Firebolt! Unlike my Nimbus, it's actually curse-proof, as advertised! Oh well, time for Plan B...'

Harry summoned a LEP sticky-pouch-paint-bomb from his coat pockets and stuck it to the broom. He promptly let go and entered free-fall.

Fleur shrieked as the bomb exploded and splattered red paint all over her suit, simultaneously throwing her off the broom through its propulsive force.

Thinking quickly, Harry detached a hook from his armor's moonbelt, summoned Fleur, and attached it to her body. He then reoriented himself so that his feet were facing downwards and directed as much magic as he could to the chakras in his feet and hands. He focused on shaping the energy into concentrated air-and-fire blasts.

To be safe, he also activated the backup pair of Double-Dex wings hidden inside his trenchcoat, something that Holly had always insisted that he wear ever since he had started these field missions. He had never been more grateful for them, even if they did rip up his favorite coat as the previously retracted wings shot out.

They made it - barely. The pair slowed down to a gentle hover a few feet above balcony of a nearby minaret, and Harry disabled his air-fire bursts and Double-Dex wings. They landed on their feet, and Harry promptly detached Fleur from his Moonbelt, backing away from the shaken assassin with raised palms.

Harry began warily, "Fleur -"

A fist came crashing into his jaw, knocking him to the ground on his back.

"Sale petite merde! Je te tuerais, sale anglais!"

A steady stream of French curses followed as a boot crashed into his sternum, and Fleur's hands promptly wrapped around his neck. Black spots colored his vision as he heard Fleur hiss, "I was told to bring you and the locket in alive. But it doesn't matter now; I won't suffer the disgrace of being beaten by a thirteen-year old boy."

Losing consciousness rapidly, Harry swung his fist up at her face in desperation, and a chunk of earth rocketed upwards and knocked Fleur back.

Gasping and savoring the flow of fresh air, Harry stood up. 'How - oh right, the elemental runes. Guess I forgot to turn them off earlier.' He stroked the rune again, and it died down. Harry instantly felt the weight of the magical energy that he had expended. 'Pay now, or pay later, I guess. And with runes, it's definitely a case of I'm-not-waking-up-before-noon-tomorrow.'

"Harry, are you ok?" Foaly's voice called out frantically in his earpiece.

Gritting his teeth, Harry responded, "As fine as I could be considering that I was just involved in a high-speed pursuit across the rooftops of Istanbul. Where am I now?"

He heard typing on the keyboard before Foaly responded, "The balcony of one of the minarets of Hagia Sophia. What is it with you and tourist destinations?"

Harry snorted and went over to check on Fleur. "She's out cold. I can bring her in, if you want, especially since that armor was definitely of fairy make."

"Good idea. I've been hoping to ask her a few questions about that armor ever since her first appearance. You still have the -"

"Yeah, I do, Foaly," Harry said after quickly checking his robe pockets.

"Good, flyboy. Now, get back to the safehouse." Foaly said seriously.

"G'night, Foaly," Harry said wearily as he tied up Fleur's hands using the LEP's handcuffs. Normally, he would have just Apparated her straight to the safehouse, but as tired as he was, he didn't want to risk it. So, instead, he tied her to his moonbelt, activated his DoubleDex wings, and flew her back to his safehouse.

Taking out her wand from his robes, he hastily cast an "Incarcerous" to doubly ensure that she couldn't escape from the chair. Turning away, the bleary-eyed Harry was all set to go to bed, but he was most surprised to see a willowy, black-haired, blue-eyed woman sitting at his desk instead.

"Mr. Potter, I presume?"


Please read & respond!

* "Petit morceau de merde! Je te tuerai, Anglais!" - French for "Little piece of shit! I will kill you, Englishman."

* Skyfall's opening chase sequence inspired this chapter.

* (7/28) Changed Horcrux status delineation.