The Spy and the Painting
by J. Merrick
Chapter Four
Natasha kept her weapons raised; something about the situation raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
"How do you know I won't?" she instead replied. While she felt some sympathy for the man, until she knew his entire story she would not be letting her guard down around him. The pure amount of power that he casually displayed was worrying, especially for someone that seemed to be 'free agent.'
"Oh you could try," Harry said, before his visage flickered, "But you'll find that I'm not really here. This is nothing more than a spell that I left behind for you to find."
Natasha didn't relax her weapon still, instead deciding to make a show of flicking the safeties off.
"If you want to be like that, fine," the apparent apparition said, walking over to couch and taking a seat on it. It waved its hand and a tea set appeared. Looking up at Natasha, it continued, "Tea? I imagine that you're quite tired after the ordeal I unfortunately put you through."
"How much of this will you know from this conversation," Natasha stopped for a moment, "The real you, that is."
"Every single part of it," the Not-Harry replied, "I'm currently in the library of my former school-"
"Hogwarts," the word came to Natasha before she even thought about it.
"Yes, Hogwarts," It said, with a raised eyebrow, "How did you know that?"
"When you went into my head, you apparently left some of yours behind in mine," Natasha related, "By the way, ever go into my head like that again and I will snap your neck."
"Agreed," Not-Harry replied, looking thoughtful, "So how much of my thoughts were you able to glean?"
"Not much, enough to know you're not the threat that SHIELD thinks you are," Natasha paused again, "At least not to them. There is a threat there…something evil lurking in the corners."
"Interesting," Not-Harry considered, "So knowing that you still came looking for me."
"I know what it's like to having evil lurking around my corners," Natasha replied, finally lowering her weapons, "To have too much red on my ledgers."
Not-Harry floated the tea cup over to Natasha, who took a hesitant sip of it.
"The story I told you before was mostly true," Not-Harry began, "It certainly wasn't a lie by any means, just not the entire truth."
"I picked up on that," Natasha replied.
"As it stands, I don't know the full truth myself," a hesitation, "I know what the truth was before I was locked in the painting, but as of right now I'm trying to know what the current truth is. I'm not sure what playing field I'm on right now, and it is rather frustrating."
"I could help," Natasha offered. If she was able to convince Harry to let her, not only could she hopefully keep tabs on one of the most powerful beings she had ever met, but also (and more importantly) keep SHIELD away from him.
"Who would you be helping for?" Not-Harry offered in return.
"You," Natasha replied, deciding to play the 'versions of the Truth' game that Harry was as well, "We find your truth, we put your evil to ease, and we get my friends to leave you to the peace you deserve."
"What do you get from this?" Not-Harry again offered.
"I get to erase more red from my ledger," Natasha replied, true honesty springing forward, "I get these feelings that come to me when an opportunity to do so arrives. Perhaps helping you erase your red will help me to clear the red from mine."
Not-Harry looked momentarily startled, as if something Natasha had said reminded him of something that had been laying dormant in his mind. After that moment though, the look vanished to be replaced by the thoughtful expression that had been there before. Natasha raised her eyebrow at it, as if prompting.
"I certainly am interested in knowing how your mind experienced feedback from mine," Not-Harry said, finally, "There's a story you need to know then, and here is not the place to tell it."
The apparition faded from existence, and then Natasha heard a small 'pop' sound from besides her. Harry came into view, looking like he had just found out something distressing. He was carrying a couple books and some loose parchment in his hands.
"I feel the best place to start this story would be, of course, where it all began," he said, offering a free hand to Natasha. She took it, looking into his eyes.
"I'm trusting you," she said, putting as much conviction behind her words as she could. Almost as if she was conveying a warning. Harry nodded, and she felt the urge to trust him once again flirt across her mind.
"I thank you," Harry replied, before they both disappeared with a small, 'pop.'
X X X
Deep in a dark, foreboding forest there was an area that seemed darker than the others. The ground looked like there had been a curse placed upon it, and any being that walked into the area would feel as if all hope had been quickly drained out of their body.
To old soldiers it was obvious that the area had once been the site of a battle, and that true evil had once occupied this spot. Nothing seemed to grow, not as in everything was dead but it appeared as if nothing had ever been alive. Standing on the spot brought a silence so deafening that it could drive one to madness.
The animals in the forest knew to avoid this place, by instinct. It was a last resort of animals being chased for food, a refuge that one might use if desperate. Those animals that did venture into this area though knew that within days they would find themselves dead, after an hour of lunacy.
The forest had started to form a barrier around the area, a warning to all. To try to protect those that lived within, or to those that ventured in unannounced.
It was a place of evil.
And a hand had just broken through the ground, with a specter slowing making its way out.
X X X
Harry stood behind Natasha as they stood in front of the grave of Albus Dumbledore. He hadn't shown it, but he had been slightly surprised when he didn't need to pull her across the muggle repelling wards when he brought her to the Hogwarts grounds. It was another on a list of things that he found increasingly peculiar about Natasha Romanoff.
Now was not the time to examine those thoughts though.
He had been popping all over the world as he filled in the blanks of his story to her. He felt a need to tell her the full truth, and for her to know the full truth about what she was agreeing to help him with she needed to know the story. She needed to know him, warts and all. The first seven years of the story had been easy; it was the warts that he was worried about.
"So you defeated Voldemort, assuming the title of the Master of Death?" Natasha asked, apparently done processing the story up until this point. He supposed it was a plus that she was a fully trained spy and assassin: she could process information and retain it quite quickly.
"Yes," he grabbed her hand and led her away from the grave of his mentor, "Afterwards for many months I just assumed the title was just that, a title."
He paused as they continued to walk across the grounds, searching for the correct words.
"The only people that had been dying in the immediate aftermath were people that we didn't know were dying," he continued, "They weren't friendly to the new paradigm, so we had no reason to expect anything.
"It was only a year later when it was finally noticed that people were dying, almost as if at random. A bright golden light would precede them, and then they would simply drop dead. No one knew what was going on, but eventually it was determined that it was Death that was coming."
He paused again torn on how to continue. He felt Natasha squeeze his hand slightly, and he continued on, "From there a prophecy was discovered, and they determined that I was the focus of it. I never heard the complete prophecy, but it contained the line: and he that has mocked Death shall be its master, till the ledger is clear. There was only one person that they could think of that met the description as one who mocked Death: Me."
He paused again, before he turned to look at Natasha, "I went on the run immediately after hearing what they intended to do. It was while there that I learned the terrible secret: the title of 'Master of Death' meant more than just words.
"Death Itself came to visit me, and explained that by uniting It's Hallows and mocking It by refusing to die, I was Its Master. I was the one that was to be directing Death to the souls It needed. If I didn't provide Death with these souls, then Death would choose for me. I tried to fight, I tried to argue, but it was useless. Death showed me how until the ledger was clear than I had a duty to provide It Souls."
Harry paused, taking a deep breath, "I tried being It's Master for a single day. The universe was kind; I only needed to provide a singular soul per day for my 'duty' to be collect. I had even been granted extra powers – the ones you have seen me so casually using – in an effort to provide these souls easier."
They were outside the gates now, and Harry could no longer concentrate on the world around him. He was too lost in the memories of the past. He couldn't even feel himself being directed to a tree stump to sit on by Natasha.
"I tried for one day. I condemned a singular soul over to Death. I felt horrible. I didn't even feel human anymore. Death smile at me when I made the decision. I was happy to accept being tossed in my prison if it meant I didn't have to experience that decision again."
Harry looked up, and held a piece of parchment out to Natasha, which she hesitatingly grabbed.
"The Culling never stopped," Harry breathed, "Without Its Master Death did not respond kindly, decided to go after the people that locked me away, deciding that the entire magical world deserved its reckoning."
Natasha looked over the parchment, finding it to be a chronicle of the final days of the magical world.
"Bozhe moy," Natasha whispered under her breath. She looked up at Harry, who was barely holding it together. At that moment Natasha didn't see the man with the restrained power at his fingertips that had been present before. Now all she saw was a broken soul, one that had much placed on its ledgers with no hope of recovery.
She gently placed her hands over his and brought his hands up to her temples. She brought a thought to her head, of a place that she had never even brought Clint to.
"Let's go here, Harry," she whispered.
They left with a pop, not noticing that a wraith like figure had been observing them from the dark.
X X X
Bruce Banner stood looking out the window of the Helicarrier. The Other Guy had been sensing that something was brewing down below, and he had learned to trust his instincts. A stir had been caused by the Black Widow just walking out on SHIELD, but Fury had instructed the rest of them to just let her go. He had said that she would be back when she was ready.
Bruce wasn't dumb, he knew that she knew more about what was going on than what Fury was relating and didn't agree with his approach. Natasha would never publically disagree with Fury, so she did the only thing she could do without undermining her boss: she had removed herself.
Currently Tony was working with Agent Hill on a way to track down the Wizard known as Harry, the one who had quite literally appeared in the middle of Fury's office after being trapped in a painting and then disabled the entire Helicarrier. Fury had told the team that the Wizard was dangerous, that the people who had locked him away had left a warning to the world that Death preceded him.
He needed to be found, Banner agreed with that. He just didn't know if the sense of foreboding that he was feeling was related to what would happen when that occurred.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone walking towards him, Agent Barton it turned out. Bruce liked the man; he had a touch of Tony's personality without becoming completely overbearing. He also knew what buttons not to touch, which he couldn't say about Tony, although he did have to admit to himself that was one of the reasons he enjoyed spending so much time around the Iron Man.
"Tell me this doesn't smell right to you," the man known as Hawkeye said to Bruce as he walked up.
"I really don't know how this smells," Bruce replied, "I know Fury knows better than to lie to us anymore, Rogers and Tony would both murder him. Natasha though…why would she leave like that?"
Here Clint hung his head slightly in shame, "She's been mad at me lately, there have been two missions now in a row that went wrong that I know she blames on me. I think she might have finally reached a point of burn out."
Bruce considered this, and decided to keep his thoughts of Agent Romanoff and her decision to remove herself from a decision that she disagreed with to himself.
"I don't know," he said instead, "The Other Guy…he's practically screaming a warning in my head that something doesn't feel right."
"I can hear him over here," Clint said with a smile. Bruce was about to respond when sirens started blaring on the Helicarrier.
"That can't be good," Bruce mumbled as he followed Barton inside.
X X X
Natasha smiled as she watched Harry pound back another shot of vodka. It turned out that he had a tolerance on level with Captain Rogers and Thor normally, but if he relaxed his magic he could actually allow the affects to wash over him. He was actually smiling, and it looked good on his face.
"You should probably smile more," she told him, noticing that after spending the past hour here that her words had started to take on more of her accent that she normally kept buried, "It makes your face look better."
"You're one to talk," Harry responded, his green eyes dancing, "Your smile probably would have stopped Voldemort in his tracks."
Natasha actually blushed, before sticking her tongue out at Harry. They both laughed at the immaturity. The bartended came back and asked the two in Russian if they wanted something else to drink. Harry ordered two more shots.
In Russian.
Natasha just stared at him, waiting for him to turn back. When he did, he looked at her with an odd expression on his face.
"What?" he asked.
"Do you know what you just did?" she asked, dropping into her native language.
"No, should I be worried?" he replied in the same. It was a testament to how much he had let his magic relax that it took him more than a second to realize what he had done, "Am I speaking in Russian?"
Natasha nodded her head, looking at him oddly. Before either of them could respond her phone rang, the number appearing as blocked. The only number in the world that did that to this phone was SHIELD.
"Da?" she questioned, answering it.
"Natasha?" it was Clint on the other end, "Please tell me that you actually went out to find the Wizard."
"Why?" she questioned, preferring to keep as much difference between Harry and SHIELD as she could.
"Because we need him," was the answer, "something happened that Fury said we needed the Wizard for. Not as a trap, but as help."
"Why?" was her response again, her hand reaching out and finding Harry's for a reason that she honestly could not explain to herself.
"A being that is directly referred to in Fury's intel of Harry has appeared," Clint relayed, "One that it says should be dead, and Harry had defeated before. Something called Voldemort."
Natasha dropped the phone from her ear and slowly hung the phone up.
"He's back isn't he?" Harry asked, his face becoming sober immediately.
"Yes."
End Chapter Four
Author's notes: Thanks for the incredible response so far! I love reading all your reviews!
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