Night of Sorrow

by Riley Lee

The mission was supposed to be easy, it shouldn't have been a problem. They underestimated their enemies and the Avengers found themselves in a cell, captured. The witching hour was upon them, the time was almost right for the ritual. The secret he kept couldn't stay a secret any longer. He released the nightmare, he released the beast. Only elements of HP

It was a cold night in New York City, snow was already piled high on the side of the streets from the snowplows driving through earlier in the day and the soft, but steady flow of white ice crystals drifting from the sky guaranteed that the snowplows would be needed again tomorrow. Most people were off the streets, safe inside their homes and apartments; only a few brave souls ventured out and about around Grand Central. Their way was illuminated by the bright lights of the city around them, but mostly from the Avengers (formerly Stark) Tower's brilliant emblem powered by clean energy.

Of the few souls who wondered around close to the witching hour, a young looking man, maybe in his early to late twenties walked directly towards the front entrance of the Avenger Tower. Stopping before the locked main entrance to the building, the young man looked straight up at the Avengers' insignia illuminated from his spot, never once did the man shiver as the snow continued to fall on to his face, he just stared up at the larger than life building, looking tiny in comparison. Amber eyes glazed over in sorrow as the man continued to stare, yet a small smile slowly tugged its way on to his lips.

Tomorrow would mark the three year anniversary of the Chitauri Invasion. Three years since the first time the Avengers ever assembled and fought together as a team. Fought for Earth and its people; they fought for the people's safety and for the safety of the world. There was to be a parade the next day in honor of Avengers which began with a commemoration ceremony for all the men, women, and children who died during the invasion. It was to be a way to remember the loss but celebrate the fact that New York, its people and the rest of the world was still alive and not under Chitauri or Loki's rule.

However, tomorrow would also be almost six months since the Avengers lost one of their own. Not quite six months ago, the Avengers had been sent on a mission which they were inadequately, hopeless, unprepared for. The result had been that they were taken down one by one and captured by the rogues. The Avengers were not ones to be held down. They had escaped. But Iron Man never made it back to the tower.

The general population didn't know the details, but neither Iron Man nor Tony Stark had been seen since. There were whispers of conspiracy theories and other outlandish ideas, none of them coming close to what really happen though. The sorrow in amber eyes did not weaken at the thought, but the smile turned into a crestfallen smile. Instead, amber eyes became glassy as they reminiscent on the past, of what happened five months, three weeks, four days, two hours and thirty-eight minutes ago.

5 Months, 3 Weeks, 4 Days, 2 Hours and 39 Minutes Ago:

The Avengers had been assembled for what seemed like a waste of their time in the majority of the team members' opinions. The only one who didn't seemed perturbed by the sham of a mission was Captain America. Even the Black Widow and Hawkeye, two of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s highly trained members who were trained to complete missions without questioning orders, felt that the current mission was ridiculous and a waste of their talents. The assignment was far below their skills level, a team of newly recruited S.H.I.E.L.D. agents should be covering the mission, not the Avengers. Not that either of the assassins were going to speak up, Tony Stark was doing a fine job on his own and wasn't in need of their assistance.

"So, let me get this straight," Stark barked at Fury, his irritation at the assignment and the person before him clear in his voice. "You disrupted my very important negotiation with several other companies, pulled me out of said meeting to assemble the team all for mysterious, unsolved robberies? Are you out of your mind? Or has having only one eye impaired your judgment? I know I'm smarter than you, Fury, but this is just plain stupid. This sounds more like police work and less like anything Avengers related by a fucking mile."

"Stark!" Fury snarled back into the genius with just as much venom in his voice as a king cobra. "Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up. This is a matter of National Security, not just some petty burglaries. Whoever these people are, they have been able to get in and out of museums, senators' houses, and the motherfucking White House without leaving a single trace behind. No traces of who they were or what they've after. All we know is what they have stolen. This is an Avengers' matter and you will do as you're told."

"Yessir," Stark snapped back sarcastically, never once being affected by Steve's glare for his insubordination. He had become immune to that particular glare during the Chitauri mission and it wasn't about to affect him now. Stark was kept from saying anything more by the Black Widow speaking up for the first time, because Stark was a genius and he knew to never interrupt the ex-assassin. Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark valued his life thank you very much.

"What exactly has been stolen? The reports don't say," Natasha spoke up, her eyes never looking up at Nick Fury, but skimming through the number of papers pilled before her.

"The first, a relic from the medieval era, was stone from the Smithsonian Museum two months ago. The relic was a small carved wooden pendant which worn out emblem in the middle. It has no really monetary worth from what the police report states, and was on lone to the museum from the Delacour family in France. The case was soon pushed back to cold cases when no new leads turned up," Fury recited as if he was looking at a report himself and not stand erect with his arms interlocked behind his back.

"Senator Stern's house," everyone ignored Stark's comment on the man, "as well as Senator Brandt house, was broken into on the thirteenth and the thirty-first of last month respectively. Senator Stern reported only an ancient Egyptian manuscript was stolen and Senator Brandt couldn't identify anything as missing, just that a trunk his grandfather had own was ransacked and the contents thrown all over his attic.

"The White House's security detail noticed a Welsh portrait painted by an unknown artist went missing two days ago, none of their security measures were triggered. What these people want with these items, our experts cannot even begin to fathom, they cannot begin to decipher what the thieves intentions are concerning these items. However, if these people can just walk into the White House once, they could do it again and this time, they might not just take some worthless painting. We need to find and apprehend these thieves before classified secrets fall into the wrong hands. Is that understood?"

The responding "yessirs" were drowned out by Dr. Banner's calm, even voice. "How are we to find these thieves if there is no reasonable pattern on where they might hit next or what they will be after?"

"This," Maria Hill said, walking into the room carry a number of folders in her arms. Handing each of the Avengers's their own copy; she pulled out a thumb drive from one of her numerous pockets and plugged it into the wall. A screen flickered to life on the wall and an image of what appeared to be a piece of black pottery appeared on the screen.

"Yesterday, the Smith family came home early from vacation to a robbery in progress; startling two men in black clothing opening a display case with this urn containing the ashes of Mr. Smith's great-aunt. The men fled the scene at the arrival of the family, but when the local LEOs showed up, they could find no evidence of there being any break-in or intruders to begin with. The police brushed it off as paranoia from the family after coming back from a long trip."

"We have reason to believe the thieves will come after the urn once again tonight," Fury took over, eyeing each and every Avenger in turn. "For their protection, we have moved the family and placed a squad of highly trained agents on them for security reasons. Additionally, the family has also agreed to loan us the urn, which will be stored in one of our safe house on the outskirt of town. The Avengers mission is to stakeout the house and apprehend the criminals."

9 Hours and 27 Minutes Later:

The mission seemed simple enough, just some petty criminals who were after a bunch of worthless junk. The thieves fled at the first sign of confutation, as seen by their last aborted theft when they were faced with people and their ability to leave no trace behind was chalked up to luck, so it was no wonder the Avengers underestimated their opponents. After all, they had been through alien invasions, Doombots, Hydra attacks, and so much more that they thought that simple thieves was nothing to be alarmed over. All of them had let the the ball drop on this one. That did not explain why they found themselves in what appeared to be old dungeon cells, hands changed to the wall above their heads hours after the mission started.

Just because they hadn't taken the criminals seriously, did not mean that they had let their guard down. Even on high alert, ready for anything, the criminals had been able to take them out without any of the Avengers noticing what was going on. They couldn't tell who was taken out first, if it had been Hawkeye or Black Widow, but they had realized the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were MIA when Captain America tried to raise Hawkeye on the communication system and he hadn't responded. Steve had demanded to know if anyone had eyes on Hawkeye's last know location, all had answered back negatively, except the Black Widow. She hadn't answer at all.

Thor was taken out next, the only sign of a struggle coming from a large amount of electrical discharge from the God of Thunder's last location picked up by Iron Man's sensors. The armored genius was the next to go. One minute he was talking on the comm with Steve, telling him something was off and the next moment there was dead static. Iron Man had been cut off mid-sentence and then the Hulk roared. That was the last thing Steve remembered before blacking out and waking up in this dungeon.

Looking around the large cell, Steve could see all his teammates bound by the wrist with two sets of shackles. Clint and Natasha were bound on either side of him. Each of them had no battle wounds and didn't look to be harmed at all, they were just unconscious. What was more; the captain could see each and every one of their weapons on their own person. He could even feel his shield strapped to his back. Whoever had chained them up, hadn't taken the tine to disarm them, which would soon be their would-be captors mistake.

Across from him, Steve could make out both Thor and Bruce chained to the wall similar to him. Although, Thor's hammer was nowhere to be seen, the person who had strung the god up had at least taken more time to strip the man of his weapon. Bruce, on the other hand, only had his post-Hulk clothing on, which was only a pair of ruined pants. Luckily for Steve, the scientist seemed to be wake already, but something didn't set right with the way the man was acting to him.

"Bruce, you okay?" Steve called out, his voice a little rough, form what, he didn't know, but his concern for his teammate overruled the fleeting thought of what had happened to him.

"Oh, Steve," Bruce said, looking up and around the cell until his eyes landed on Steve. "Yeah, I'm fine…peachy keen even, I feel so, so, so good."

"O-kay," the captain drew out slowly, realizing that Bruce had been drugged if cheerful smile on his face was anything to go by. The good doctor had become more laid back and less tense after not being shipped off after three months of living together. He had smiled more and was more himself, but never, never, had the man had that carefree of a smile or giggle as he was doing now.

"Hold on Bruce and I'll get us out of here," Steve tried to reassure his drugged to the gills teammate, intending to break his shackles. Once again, underestimating their captives, because not even the super soldier serum was able to help him break the restraints; no matter how much he pulled, Steve couldn't break the rusty shackles. Whatever they were made out of, even in their rusted state, they were not going to break by his strength alone.

"Someone get the name of that bus, I would like to sue. Better yet, I'll let Stark take care of it," Clint moan from his left, his voice groggy, but at least he was awake.

"What tis?" another dazed voice stirred into the conversation, this one a little more disordered and slurred. "It'sn't me f'ult. Sw-ear. `M f'zzy."

"Stark?" Steve asked, looking around the room for the man. He didn't remember seeing the man on his first initial sweep of their current cell and there was a good reason for that. On the wall separating Thor and Bruce from Steve and the ex-assassins, Stark was suspended twenty or so feet in the air, barely staying perched on a small shelf in his shaky state.

Unlike the rest of them, his wrists weren't bound above his head, Stark was chained up in a cross position with his hands bound straight to the stone wall. He only had on the black flight under-suit, part of his right gauntlet and a left leg piece minus the repulsor boats covering his body, the rest of the Iron Man armor was gone. What was more, he was the only one out all of the Avengers with injuries, a small trail of blood was leaking out from his hairline and into one of his tawny eyes.

"Ow," was the only reply the captain got while the genius was rebooting his brain and his voice became more coherent and clear, yet his words were still slurred. "Who turned off the suit? HOW did they turn off my suit?!"

Steve let out a sigh of relief as the playboy continued to rant and rave about someone taking over his suit, the man's voice become stronger and less slurred with every word. It was a good indication that Stark hadn't been hurt, too much. Furthermore, if not interrupted during Stark's rambling, Steve could usually gain important information the man tend to reveal unknowingly; like the fact that he hadn't been hurt in a fight. Stark had gained his injuries when the Iron Man suit shut down midflight and had crashed; he hadn't even seen his assailants.

"Do you ever shut up, Stark?" Clint groaned, wishing he could punch the man making his killer headache a murderous migraine.

Before Stark could make a retort with a barb of his own, he was cut off by the Black Widow. Her voice was clear and strong, as if she had been awake for hours and not just mere seconds. There was only one hint of her newly conscious state and that was the slight Russian accent coating her words, which only came out when she was sleepy. "No, he doesn't."

"Hey, I resent that remark!" the genius stopped his rambling, almost offended by the comment. "I can to be quiet. I just choice not to, my thoughts are very valuable you know. People pay me to talk; it's why I go to all those lectures and galas Pepper schedules for me, not just to hear my own voice. The world is a better place because of me and what I have to say."

"I'll believe that when I see it," the archer snapped before groaning at the sound of his own voice. "Oh, can we please stay silent? At least until my head stops spinning? What the hell did they hit me with? Fuck, who hit me?"

"You didn't see them?" Steve asked, his voice changing to his commander tone and not the mild manner Steve Rogers tone. His brow creasing as he tried to remember if he had seen anything before he had been knocked unconscious. The most he remembered was some softly spoken words in some foreign language (or it could have been gibberish for all he knew) that he hadn't been able to recognize before everything went blank.

"No, I was hoping you lot had seen something," Clint said, his own voice changing for the first time from whinny and annoyed to concern. Blue eyes surveying their cell with a closer eye for the first time and taking in their whole predicament. "Please tell me you just let yourselves be caught to find me and we haven't really been captured. This is just all an elaborate plan, right? Nat, you can pick the locks on these shackles, right? And Cap, you can break the chains. You're just biding your time, right?"

While Hawkeye was having a mental breakdown from being taken out by what seemed like common robbers who whereas much better and a hell of a whole lot deadlier people hadn't even been able to get close in doing so, Natasha was studying the shackles. She knew she could pick almost any type of lock, only having some trouble with electronic locking mechanisms. The problem was there were no locks, no flaws to expose, nothing in the metal. For all intents and purposes, the rusty shackles looked like they had been made on her wrists, they fit perfectly with no room between her skin and the metal to even attempt to try and slip her hand through the cuff. The shackles were utterly perfect and indestructible.

"Bruce!" Clint hollered, having notice the twin uncomfortable looks the super soldier and superspy shared with one another and turned his hopeful eyes to the doctor. "Now would be a good time to get angry. A really really good time."

Bruce just blinked owlishly at Clint's declaration, confusion evident on his face. "But why? Angry is bad, we should be happy! Happiness is good, not bad."

"Oh god, Bruce is high, isn't he? Our kidnappers got Bruce high? What the hell did they give him to get him high?" Stark rambled wildly, surprise evident in his voice. "His body should have burned through whatever they've given him by now. Every experiment we did, he was back to normal within an hour, if not less when our samples actually affected him. The samples of his blood we've taken showed a violent kind of protection to most foreign substance injected within his body; hell, I would say he was immune to all viruses and diseases. What the hell did they give him?"

"So, we just need to wait a little while and he'll be back to normal," Clint concluded, sighing in relief, ignoring the rest of Stark's rant. He was content with the knowledge that whatever drugs the thieves had given Bruce would burn through his system and they just needed to wait a little while before the Hulk could bust them out.

"I don't think that will work," Steve said, his voice full of doubt. "I spoke to Bruce before you woke up, he's seems just as drugged now as he was then. His body does not seem to be breaking down whatever they have given him."

"Oh, okay," the archer replied, sounding calmer than he did even a moment before. Then he was strained against his restraints and bellowing at the top of his lungs. "THOR, wake your godly ass up and get us the fuck out of here!"

Astonishingly, the god actually jerked awake, looking around the room frantically. Thor's eyes searched for an unknown enemy and strained against the manacles holding him. They strained and there was an audible groan coming from both the wall and the chains, yet they never gave out. In fact, they seemed to strain and then snap Thor back up against the wall harshly.

"What magic is this?" the god roared. "Who dares try to bind the almighty Thor?! Come face me like a man, cowards!"

"Thor, calm down," Natasha tried to calm the raging god down. However, the man continued to try and break the chains, yet keep being pulled back by some unseen force. "We need to stay calm and figure a way out of here."

"My dear lady, I'm sorry to inform you, but you won't be leave. Not alive at least," a voice gently washed over the room; causing all of them, save for Bruce, to snap their heads towards the unfamiliar sound. They hadn't heard anyone approaching and to have the criminals sneak up on them again without their notice was beginning to alarm the team. Not many people could sneak up on Steve and even fewer could sneak up on Clint or Natasha; yet, these people had done it twice now.

Parallel to the wall that Stark was shackled, where there had been nothing but another solid stone grey wall before was an open hallway perpendicular to their current cell. Torches lined the wall, giving off heat and illuminating the large number of people standing before the cell. All of them wore heave black cloaks with hoods shadowing their faces. One of them stood a few feet ahead of the group, having walked into the cell. The only difference between him and the rest of their assembled captors was that he held the black urn. The urn the Avengers were supposed to have protected from these very people.

"And why wouldn't I be alive?" the Black Widow asked, her voice soft with a slight tremble of fright. She even gave a small shudder as well, which seemed to sell her performance of fear to the leader of cloak wearing thieves.

"Milady," the leader sighed softly, as if it was painful for him to speak. "Through no fault of your own, save for your sense of duty to your superiors, you have gotten in our way. I truly regret such actions, but our paths have crossed and we cannot allow you to continue forward. You and your colleagues would try to stop us and we cannot allow that to happen. We have come too far to let mere muggles ruin years of preparation, the time is upon us. We must begin."

His words, although spoken like a gentlemen, were vary ominous near the end. The last part had the people behind him scattering into action, four of them scrambled to the middle of the cell, falling to their knees and withdrawing things from inside their cloaks. They began to draw sigil into the floor to the instructions of a fifth cloaked person reading off of the stolen ancient Egyptian scroll. Two other members, from the back of the group, came forward carrying the White House portrait of an eighteenth century lady dressed in dark cloths standing in library.

The painting was hung underneath Stark, while another member of the Cult of Black Cloaks laid the carved pedant from the Smithsonian and a matching antique ring, which what was doubtless taken from Senator Brandt's grandfather's trunk, was place on the ground before the painting. By this time, the four cult members drawing the sigil were finished and the leader had placed the urn gently in the middle of the sigil. All of which only took a minute for the black cloak people to finish. The member of the Cult of Black Cloaks retreated back into the hallway.

"Milady, you and your comrades' sacrifices shall not be in vain," the leader spoke once again, walking towards Natasha while pulling a wicked dagger out of his cloak.

"Sacrifices? Did you say sacrifice? Oh, hell no, I ain't gonna be not sacrifice, for your black magic bullshit," Clint yelped, struggling against his bounds as he desperately tried to break free while distracting the man from doing anything with that blade to Natasha. He wasn't about to let anything happen to her, not if he could help it. He wasn't about to lose her, not now, not ever.

However, the leader just ignored Clint, talking above the commotion while he advanced on Natasha. "Do not fear Milady, your body shall become a vessel. You will live on in a sense; through you, our Lady shall rise once again and we will be unstoppable."

"Necromancy," Thor's voice shook throughout the room. "Tis dark magic you speak of magician. Tis certain death for ye and your own."

That had the leader of the Cult of Black Cloaks turning around to face Thor. "No, not us, but you. You shall be the sacrifice for our Dark Lady, you muggles shall die to raise our Lady from the underworld, not us."

"Carrow, it's almost time," a woman's voice tinted with a faint Londoner's accent came from one of the various black cloaks. One of them, probably the woman that just spoke, held up her arm, with a twig in hand, pointed upwards. Following the twig, the others looked up at the ceiling to see a window cover by a grate was allowing the dimmed light of the cloud covered moon filter through. Brown eyes widened at the sight and the leader began to move back towards the Black Widow, knife still in hand.

"Hey, hey now, if I'm going to be sacrificed to some pagan dark lady, I want some answer. How did you bring us all down?" Stark snapped, obviously trying to stall the man. The leader, Carrow as one of the followers had called him, seriously seemed to be considering answering the questions. It was an unwritten rule that all bad guys liked to gloat and Stark was prayed that the man hadn't read the Evil Overlord List, because it just might buy them enough time.

"Carrow, we don't have time for this," another voice, also female spoke up, causing the man to look back up at the position of the moon. There were still some clouds in the way, so the full intensity of the light couldn't be harness just yet and the moon had a little more ways to travel in its orbit before the moonlight was directly over the sigil, at the moment, the direct light was right above Stark's head.

"There is still time and what kind of host would we be to not answer our guests questions? It is the least we can do for them in exchange for their lives," Carrow waved off the woman's concerns and turning his full attention towards Stark. "It is very simple, magic. We wizards and witches are above you muggles; our magic makes us superior to your pathetic mundane race. We can do so much more, more powerful than you muggles can even dream to be."

"That's nice and all, but that doesn't answer the question," Stark sneered, keeping the attention of Carrow on him while his own eyes darted from the moonlight just overhead towards Thor and back towards Carrow as he watched the god out of the corner of his eyes trying to summon Mjolnir. Carrow wasn't the only one with magic on his side. Stark just needed to stall a little longer. With a quick glance up back upward, the genius could see the clouds once totally covering the moon all but gone, having drifted away in the wind and a slight panic look crossed his face before he could hide it.

The leader chuckled, as if Stark's jab had been a joke. "Goblins can dig up any kind of information, given enough gold. They were able to get enough dirt on your whole team for us to take you all down without any problems. It only took a few sleep spells to knock you all unconscious, goblin forged shackles which can hold dragons, and cheering charms to keep your monster at bay and the muggle's mightiest heroes were captured. You filth are so pathetic, easily defeated by simple spells that a third year mudbloods could accomplish."

"Should have paid them Goblins more gold, or else you wouldn't have come here," Tony gave a humorless laugh, his eyes clenched together as the full force of the moon's rays shown down on the cell. "You would have known not to come too close to the monster then, especially on a night like this. Monsters bite after all."

Even bewitched as he was, Bruce shuttered at the term. Hearing the man who always refused to call him anything but a hero, call him a monster for the first time. The words were like a physical blow and wounded him deeply.

This time the magician laughed insanely, jabbing a finger in Bruce's direction. "We've got your monster contained."

Eyes scrunched up even tighter, almost as if Stark had realized how what he had said sound like and was pained by his actions. Aggravated words were hissed through gritted teeth, seething at the pure impaction. "Bruce isn't a monster."

Stark groaned out as if he was in pain once again, the moon's light ensnaring his whole body as it drifted lazily up in the sky. The other Avengers watched in horror as his whole body seized up, their minds speculated what the cult members had done to the genius for their ritual. That was the only explanation they could think of as each of the genius's muscles clamping together in tension while his body becoming ridged and arched away from the wall.

There had to have been a reason for Stark to be positioned the way he, Steve knew that when he first had observed the man's position when they first awoke. He soon realized it was for these madmen's sick ritual that Stark was strung up like a human cross. For the second time since becoming Captain America, the man from Brooklyn felt utterly helpless as he watched his teammate's footing slip off of the edge of the shelf, but the manacles on the dark haired man's wrist kept him from falling, biting viciously into soft skin.

The genius's whole demeanor bespoke of pain, and for a moment, another image of a dark haired man, strapped to an operating table filled Steve's mind. The difference then and now was Captain America had been able to save Bucky; he had been able to push away that helpless feeling and had channeled it into saving his blood-brother and the rest of the POWs. Here, all Steve could do was watch as Tony's fingers dug deeper into the palm of his hands break the skin so that a trail of blood slowing trickled down his palms, falling to the floor.

He was so caught up in watching his teammate's suffering, that he didn't notice the Cult of Black Cloaks taking a step away from the suffering man. Their covered eyes watching in wonder and fear as the Celestial Blue Moon's light bathed their captive completely. The magical phenomenon happened only once every other millennium, and none of them knowing what to expect. However, this was clearly not something they were predicting would happen.

The moment the first drop of blood hit the ground, Tony's eyes burst open, a pool of glowing embers.

"I am!" the sentence ended in a howl.

Fingers covered in blood spread out, claws lengthening out of the finger tips. Muscles flexed and budged outwards, his right arm wrenching the supposable unbreakable shackles out of the wall. The horrific sounds of bones popping and shifting their structure echoed throughout the cell as a layer of fur began to grow out of skin at an alarming rate. The remainder of the Iron Man armor clattered to the ground and the black under-suit was ripped apart. With one last half-human, half-canine like howl reverberating around the walls and the clanging of metal against metal as the last shackle was pulled from the stone, a giant black wolf landed before the wall where Tony once hung. One of his giant black paws smashing the carved emblem into shattered wooden pieces.

"Wer-were-werewolf!" one of the black cloak wizard stuttered, stumbling backward and falling on his ass while still trying to scurry backwards, which was the worst thing he could have done. Amber eyes immediately snapped towards the terrified man trying to flee and the giant black wolf tore towards the quivering heap of a man. The predator leap into the air and would have ripped into the wizard if he wasn't blasted out of the air by a explosion of bright red lights.

The wolf, the werewolf, Tony, slammed into the wall, his teammates crying out in alarm after being forced out of their shock by the attack. An attack which didn't even seem to faze the large beast however and he effortlessly got to his feet again, growling in rage at being attacked. The wolf's amber eyes immediately snapped towards the shaking man holding a twig, a wand, outstretched towards him. Another growl rent the air.

The werewolf charging at the enemy and he wouldn't be stopped this time. The predator sprung onto his prey, large black paw knocking the man violently to the ground as the wizard instinctively pulled up his arms in front of his face to shield himself. A fissure of shattering wood was drowned out by the screaming of the man. Jaws sunk into, tightening onto, the man's wrist, snapping it within seconds.

Another spell went whizzing over the top of the wolf's head. Instantaneously, the wolf let go of his current prey and sprung back, tense and ready to take on the next wizard. He dodged a barrage of spells, evading each attack with ease while simultaneously creeping closer towards the leader of the Cult of Black Cloaks. He was almost upon Carrow when one of his various underlings, the women who had voiced her concerns, got in a lucky shot. Tony was blasted up against the wall, not even a foot away from the cheer-drugged Bruce Banner.

Growling, the wolf pulled himself up to his feet for a second time and set his attention towards the leader once again. However, by this time, between all the screaming and chaos of the appearance of a dangerous, dark magical creature they were utterly unprepared for, the wizard was able to calm down his followers to launch a coordinated countermeasure. Together, the wizards and witches were able to create a shimmering barrier of magic between themselves and the werewolf and when he hit the barrier, the wolf was harshly thrown back against the stone wall.

There were two problems though; one, the magic users had to keep up a steady flow of magic or else the magic barrier wouldn't keep the beast at bay and two, wasn't a concern for the Cult of Black Cloaks but an advantage. Two was the fact that both Bruce and Thor were on the other side of the barrier with the werewolf.

The beast was further angered by the lack of success of catching his prey. Not to be beaten, the wolf threw himself at the barrier again and again and again with the same result. He was thrown back again and again and again against the wall, the stones quivering beneath the repeated impact and began to cave outward. The stone wasn't the only thing taking a beating, with each attack on the barrier the wizards would visible recoiled with each impact. Sweat began to pour down their faces and their out stretched arms trembled underneath the brutal assaults.

The werewolf wasn't coming out unharmed either. After countless assaults and being thrown into the stone, the black beast didn't immediately get back up like he had been before. With each collision to the wall, the time it took him to get up was taking longer and longer, until he didn't try to stand right away. When he got up off the cold stone floor for the umpteenth, the werewolf was no longer interested in the wizards and witches on the other side of the barrier, but eyeing the people within. Teeth were bared and a menacing growl rent the suddenly silent cell.

"TONY!" Captain America screamed, finally finding his voice since after his teammate turned into a wolf right before his eyes as previous fictitious facts about werewolves bombarded his thoughts. Steve strained against his bounds as the man turned wolf obscured his view of Bruce. The others yelling in terror, as well, watching as the black beast seemingly rip into Bruce, screaming for him to stop. A muffled cry came from the doctor, but Steve couldn't see him. "TONY, STOP!"

A panic-stricken laugh came from one of the wizards who had fallen to his knees from magical exhaustion. "You fools! Nothing you say will stop the beast."

"What was that?" Natasha hissed towards the obvious insane man, his eyes glazed over and his whole body trembling in fear and exhaustion. The man, who was so confident before, was reduced to a quivering mess, mumbling incoherently.

"For the love of…SPEAK LOUDER!" Clint snapped, wishing he could reach his bow and arrows, wishing he wasn't chained to the wall, wishing that there was something he could do to stop their teammate in wolf form from tearing into the drugged-spelled-whatever-was-done-to-him Bruce.

"It's a monster, incapable of anything but death. It'll kill us all! We're all dead," the man sobbed, his body going stock-still as another roar tore through the cell. Only this roar was quite familiar to the three Avengers chained to the opposing wall, their heads jerking towards the opposing wall just in time to see the black beast being thrown up against the magic wall for what seemed like the hundredth time. Only this time, he was being tossed by the incredibly large green mass of the Hulk.

The Hulk easily tore through the goblin made chains as if they were made of aluminum foil, making Tony's earlier destruction of the chains seem as if he had really struggled to tear them off. As soon as he was free, the Hulk gave another roar and swung around looking for whatever dared to attack him. His green eyes landing on the werewolf and took one threatening steep closer to the creature, the whole room shaking and the stone beneath the Hulk's foot caved in. As if recognizing a larger predator than him, the wolf lowered himself onto his belly in a submissive position, a soft whimper bubbling out from the beast's throat.

Green eyes narrowed onto the wolf; however, his attention soon swept pass the small canine and onto the puny humans pointing twigs threateningly towards him. The Hulk sucked in a deep breath and roared in the apparent threat's direction. Throwing himself at the shimmering magical barrier, the green giant only had to punch the magical barrier once before it shattered into gleaming dust, dissolving into thin air.

"Hulk Smash," the green giant bellowed, charging towards the closest wizard and plowing right over the man.

The wizards promptly turned their attention away from the werewolf to the more immediate threat. With attention no longer on him, the black beast set his amber eyes onto the still restrained god and growled. The noise drew Thor's attention away from the destruction before him and back to his other transformed teammate, eyeing him with an unusual glint in the fiery eyes.

"Anthony," was all Thor was able to get out before the wolf was upon him. Teeth snapping and breaking the links to the chain binding him up against the wall, the rest of the manacles turned to sand and fell to the floor the moment the chains broke. Yet, never did those deadly teeth come close to piercing his own skin. Looking down, Thor stared into the familiar amber eyes of his teammate turned wolf. "I am forever grateful for your assistance. Shieldbrother Anthony."

Another whimper, very unlike the raging werewolf of a few moments before, erupted from Tony as his tail swayed back and forth twice before he turned and ran into the fray alongside the Hulk. With a battle cry of his own, Thor held out his hand, calling for the Mjolnir, this time having his call returned. The hammer sang to him, unseen, but Thor could hear the humming of approval coming from his weapon as it came at his request. Mjolnir busted through a wall, taking out an unsuspecting witch in the process, and Thor caught the hurtling hammer with ease.

The second the hammer was in his hand, Thor threw his arm up, calling on his own brand of magic and sending various low level charges of lightning into his still chained teammates' direction. Static electricity began to crackle around the manacles holding the remaining three Avengers as the smell of ozone waft through the air. A moment later, lightning disintegrated the goblin magic within the otherwise brittle metal which Captain America simply snapped to pieces, freeing the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in the same manner.

With all the Avengers in the fray, the battle got brutal. Now knowing what they were up against, knowing not to get hit by the weirdly colored lights, the Avengers didn't go down. Clint quickly, and quite ruthlessly to all the witches and wizards who got in his way, found himself a perch in the niche Tony had carved out of the wall with his transformation. Hawkeye's arrows hitting his targets dead center when not repelled or banished by magic. Black Widow was entirely ruthless, her guns seemingly incapable of firing with all the magic fling around her. Instead, her body was her weapon and without their pathetically easy to break twigs for wands, the wizards were no match for her assassin reflexes without their magic.

Captain America had found out that not only could his vibranium shield absorb kinetic energy, it also absorb magic apparently. In fact, the magic it absorbed seemed to do something to the shield, making it stronger and whatnot depending on what colorful magical lights hit the shield. One of the wizards, who shot a nasty green colored light at him, seemed flabbergasted when the shield absorbed the spell. Steve didn't even notice, instead, he threw the shield at the man and when it connected, the same nasty green light enveloped him and the wizard crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Thor was having the easiest time taking out the magic users, since he had fought against magic before and had experience combat against the spells. His hammer seemed to distribution the spells aimed at it and the god took full advantage of the fact, using Mjolnir as a shield and weapon at the same time. Mjolnir seemed to quiver with additional power in the highly charged atmosphere and was able to break apart any kind of magical shield the wizards threw at her wielder. In some cases, the hammer was able to bat away some of the higher level spells and send them back towards their owners.

As for the Hulk, he smashed any of the wizards or witches that got in his way. Of the spells that hit him, none seem to do too much damage. Just cuts and gashes at the most, which just made him angrier, thus, making him stronger. Nevertheless, there was a reason that no lethal spells reached the overly large target. The reason being that the Hulk wasn't hit by any spell which could have caused seriously injury to him or even revert him back to Bruce was because of the werewolf dancing around his feet. The black wolf would attack any and all the witches and wizards that so much as attempted to send a dark hex or the nasty green light towards the Hulk; shattering bones with a snap of his powerful jaw.

Another roar was wrenched from the Hulk only a few minutes later, when he looked around him and saw only broken and unconscious bodies surrounding him. His body was still tense, waiting for another attack to come, yet there would not be one coming. The werewolf was only a few feet away from him, had his own body crouched closed to the floor. Eyes darting every which way looking for an enemy while his ears flickered at every little sound with his fur bristled in agitation.

Standing on the other side of the Hulk, Thor held his hammer at the ready, knowing there could be more opponents concealed with magic, yet he couldn't be sure. He hadn't study magic like Loki had, so he couldn't confirm or deny if they had taken out all members of the Cult of the Black Cloaks. Above him, Hawkeye lowered his bow; an arrow still notched but in a relaxed position. His hawk like eyes darting every which way, making sure all the enemies were eliminated and not trying to trick them with the ploy of playing possum.

Steve stood off the side, his shield secured on his arm and his whole body screaming every inch of the super soldier he was as he tried to get a proper assessment of such an unfamiliar situation. A few feet away from Captain America, the Black Widow was bent close to the floor, one leg out stretched while most of her weight rested on her arms; having just taken out the last enemy by swiping his legs out from underneath him and knocking him unconscious.

"Everyone okay," Captain America demanded from his team, breathing hard.

"A glorious battle of strength and magic, `though our might has conquered their trickery and cowardly ways," Thor cheered, raising his hammer while lightning crackled all around him also as if it were a puppy that had just been given a treat.

Before anyone else could say something, the werewolf was once again charging forward, right towards Natasha's crouched position. She didn't have time to do much anything before the large beast was jumping towards her; jaws opened, baring dangerously sharp teeth in a ferocious growl. He was upon her the next instant and, yet, he wasn't. A sickening snap and two bodies collided on the ground. The leader of the dark wizards, Carrow, gurgled on his own blood before falling silent and lifeless. The knife which had previously been about to sink into Natasha's un protected back, clattered against the stone floor with a distinctive metal ring before falling silent along with the rest of the dungeon chamber.

Tony finally released his hold on the man's jugular vein and looked towards the Black Widow, making sure his packmate hadn't been harmed. He took a step closer to get a better look, but froze up when Natasha tensed up. Bewildered eyes searched the room, trying to see what had cause the tension only to find the other members of his pack equally apprehensive. The relaxed notched arrow on Hawkeye's bow was strung tight, Mjolnir was raised as if to be hurled, the captain's shield was held in his arms ready to be thrown, and the Hulk was growling. All of which was directed towards the threat: him.

For the first time, the werewolf looked less like a beast and more like an injured cornered animal. He took a tentative step back, a whimper of fright escaping from him before Tony turned tail and ran through the gaping hole in the wall courtesy of Mjolnir. The echoing call of his name being desperately screamed never reached the man turned wolf.

That was the last time Tony Stark had been seen.

Present Day:

With another sad sigh, amber eyes looked away from the tall tower and back down at the glass doors. A greyish-silver apparition shimmered into existence besides the young man.

"Sir, have you decided to return home?" the apparition of an older gentlemen asked, his stance perfectly straight and graceful while his stylish clothing bespoke of the prestige the man had in life and held onto in death.

"No Jarvis, I was just…just checking up on them, that is all," a cloud of heated vapor formed from the man's exhalation in the cold night air, as hand lifting up to card though disheveled rich dark chocolate colored hair. The grey peppered coloring which was strongly associated with Tony Stark was noticeably absent, but then again Tony Stark was an illusion.

Glamours and charms had been used to artificially age Tony Stark since he was seventeen, when he came into his magical majority. Wizards, even half-bloods such as him, aged slower than muggles and it would be odd for a man over forty not to have at least a few grey hairs. Stranger yet, would be if they look like they were only twenty-five.

Tony was a powerful wizard in his own right and on top of that, a magical creature, giving him a lifespan of centuries, not decades likes most mundane muggle achieved. He had only intended on staying visible as Tony Stark for in the muggle world for a couple of decades before people became too suspicious about his age, as a kind of homage to Howard Stark. Then Iron Man and the Avengers happened.

"How are they?" Tony asked, glance once more towards the top of the tower, the ghost at his mimicking his motion.

"They are physically fine, Master Anthony, Fury has been sending them on missions almost weekly, but none of them have come back seriously hurt," Jarvis answered, his eyes flashing through the different security cameras in the building, reflecting the images in his eyes like a muted television screen of the data. Yet, the information seemingly didn't affect Tony, as if he already knew what the ghost was going to say. "However, your presence is missed."

Tony flitch at that blandly stated fact, impacting to the point where he physically drew up into himself. Causing the man to look smaller than he really was which in turned made him seem vulnerable. He looked as if he didn't believe what Jarvis said and it physically hurt him to know it wasn't the truth. They stayed there in silence for another five minutes before either one of them spoke again.

"Watch over them for me, Jarvis, please?" Tony quietly asked, already walking away from the Avengers Tower and into the dark moonless night.

"Always, Sir," Jarvis said just loud enough for the retreating form of his charge in life and death disappeared through a doorway into the magical sector of New York. The ghost stayed where he was for another few minutes, wishing there was a way to convince the young man to stay, to come back home. But Tony wouldn't return though, not with the notion that his teammates, his packmates, feared him trapped firmly in his head. One moment of uncertainty on their part had cemented idea in his mind that the Avengers feared him because he was a werewolf, a raging monster, and nothing more, which kept the genius away.

However, Tony had not been there for the last six months to see what his disappearance was truly doing to the team. Only Jarvis knew that truth. Oh, they put on a good front for the rest of the world, but the ghost had an inside perspective of the team after Iron Man's disappearance. He saw everything. How the team spent the first weeks since his disappearance searching for him at all his estates and his secretive safe houses. How they went to the S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house used in their last mission together every night for a week, trying to find the castle they had been held in, looking for any signs before Fury finally put his foot down.

Jarvis knew of Natasha's late nights at the computer, an hour at the very least spent every day, searching through her contacts and using up favors to find anything about Tony or information on werewolf in general. She wanted to know what was fact and what was fiction. He knew of Thor's journey back to Asgard and his request for Heimdall to turn his sights on Midgard and look for Anthony Stark. A futile attempt, but the god would go every week to see if Heimdall had found his wayward shieldbrother.

Jarvis knew of Clint's weekly disappearance into the criminal underground. Searching for information on the unexplainable and hoping that it would lead to Tony somehow. He knew of Bruce's hacking S.H.I.E.L.D.'s satellites to search for the energy radiation from the arc reactor. Hoping he could use science to find his missing teammate that held unwavering trust in him and the Hulk.

And Jarvis knew about Steve's extended morning runs. How he would take a different, longer route each day in anticipating of running into Tony at one of the numerous coffee houses in New York (Jarvis had to give the captain credit for his belief that Master Anthony couldn't run live without coffee and would have to come out of hiding to get his addiction). Jarvis also knew that all of their efforts would come up negative; they had neither the means nor the magic to get to Tony.

Dissolving into a shimmering mess and entering into the tower's mainframe system, Jarvis reconnecting his conscious with the supercomputer and did what Tony asked. He would watch over his charge's packmates until he was back where he belonged. One way or another, Tony would end up back at the tower, by his own accord or the rest of the Avengers dragging what was theirs back was up in the air. Jarvis's seer abilities, even in death, assured him of the outcome; they all just had to wait.

Tony would be home, someday.

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Okay, so this was a part of a much bigger story that I don't think I'm ever going to get the chance to write called The Raven's Claw. The premise was around half-blood Tony being the direct descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw on his mother's side and being bitten by a wolf at a young age. However, not being scared of the wolf inside him, Tony accepts his transformation like no one before him or it is something to do with the Ravenclaw heritage, I haven't quite decided yet. Anyways, he merges with the wolf becoming one, allowing himself to transform into a wolf at will, but the desire to transform on the full moon is always strong. As long as Tony transforms into his wolf from every now and again, he can transform back just as easily. However, if he puts the transformation off, when he does finally transform into his wolf form, he gets stuck in it for a while depending how long he went without transforming.

Magic and technology cancel each other out, but Tony being an engineer and wizard had an interest in combining the two. His first success was allowing the ghost of his regent Jarvis to integrate within his supercomputer. Afghanistan then happened and he gets the arc reactor, which his magic fights against before accepting it into his body as a part of him (another magic-technology integration success) with the side effect of it screwing up his magic and him having to relearn how to harness it again (which was why he didn't use it to blast his way out of the cave and created the first Iron Man instead).

There was an idea also floating about in my mind that Coulson was a muggleborn, so he has magic, but went to Hogwarts and not an American Magical School, so he doesn't know all the much about American History of Magic, nor anything about Tony since he went to an American Magical School.

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Edited it! Yeah me.

Riley Lee