A/N:
Hello... Sorry it's been quite a long time and I know I said that I'd update every weekend... But school started and homework hit me like the Hulk and my computer had decided to delete all my work not once or twice but thrice. So, I apologise for the long wait and I'll to to update every second weekend from now on. Also thank you to all who reviewed! It really does mean a lot to me :) And without further ado, onto the chapter!
Chapter Three
Harry sensed Clint Barton before they actually saw him. The Tesseract's power leaked from Barton's delicate mind like black tar. Harry stayed back as Natasha approached Barton and didn't even move forward when they engaged in a very hostile fight. Instead, he focused on Barton's mind, the Tesseract's power dripping through his brainwaves and controlling everything. His magic neared and the Tesseract 'hissed' at him, so, even when split off from the core group it communicates.
Leave!
The Tesseract clung onto Barton, daring him to tear it away.
Mine, leave what is mine!
The Tesseract shuddered but held, burrowing deeper in an effort to escape Harry's magic. Gritting his teeth, Harry wondered how he was going to remove the damn power. It was too integrated in Barton's mind, so he wouldn't be able to shield it from him seeing as it was already in his mind. There was also more of the Tesseract's power, seeing as it was injected straight into Barton, so a power play would only make it resist harder. It obviously wasn't going to listen to him that had already been proven. So what could he do? An idea whispered in his mind and he considered it. Legilimency? He'd never been able to properly cast it, only once with Snape but that was pure luck and anger on his part. But… he also now had the knowledge gifted to him by Death, as well as skills that he'd have never been able to acquire were he still mortal.
"Legilimens," Harry whispered, he slipped into Barton's already tampered mind with ease, memories rose up eagerly but Harry discarded them. He was only looking for one thing and many things he found. The Tesseract's power was everywhere, lurking through Barton's mind in thick, hypnotising tendrils. Harry latched onto one of the tendrils, enveloping it within his magic and crushing it into smithereens. Distantly, Harry felt himself collapse to the ground. The remaining tendrils tensed and grouped together, Harry just repeated his process using more and more magic each time. Slowly, ever so slowly, the Tesseract's power loosened its hold on Barton. Harry discovered another tendril and quickly smothered it, he 'turned' and was greeted by the surviving power, easily tripled what he'd previously vanquished and much more angry.
Leave.
It shuddered again but held. Harry edged nearer and noticed the way it seemed to creep away from him. He lunged and was quickly enveloped. Power pressed down at him from all sides, coaxing him to open his mind and let it rule.
Leave.
It pushed harder, the pressure starting to become unbearable. What in Merlin's name had he gotten himself into? And how the Hell was he not dead or one of Loki's minions yet? Harry heard his breathing falter in the distance.
LEAVE!
Harry exploded outwards, forcing the Tesseract's control to slip from Barton's mind. Bloody Hell, who knew breathing was so hard? And why is everything fuzzy? His eyes were fixed! Natasha's blurry form entered his vision.
"Hry? Hry? Me?" Her voice was muffled yet annoyingly loud.
"Sod off Natasha or at least don't yell." He growled shaking his head and clearing his vision very quickly.
"Harry, can you hear me?" She repeated.
"Yes I can bloody well hear you." Natasha exhaled. Harry shook his head again, more so in annoyance than anything else and started to stand but Natasha's hand kept him still.
"What?" He snapped.
"Do you feel any pain?"
"I'm fine Natasha." He rolled his eyes and stood up, dodging her grasping arms. For once he was actually telling the truth, his vision was restored and his magic rolled beneath his skin in happy waves.
"Harry," he turned his attention back on her, "Look down." He did as he was told, and blinked.
"How did that get there?" Curling his hands around the shaft of the arrow embedded in his chest, he slowly pulled it out and held it up to inspect.
"Barton had fired multiple arrows at me." Natasha explained.
"Ah, that makes sense."
"How are you..?" Natasha trailed off as she gaped at his chest. Following her lead, Harry saw the potentially fatal wound heal without leaving a scar.
"Erm, I can explain?"
"I'm all ears."
"Um…" Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and took a stance saying 'I'm not leaving until you tell me'. Harry looked at everything apart from her, the floor, ceiling, Barton's unconscious body, the floor again...
Natasha regarded Harry cooly, cataloguing every tiny little detail: like the way his body was tense, the hunched shoulders, the nervous hand combing through already unruly hair, and the eyes flitting about nervously. All were neon signs saying loud and clear that Harry Potter was not a trained professional, or that he was even better than her. Natasha sifted through her mind, gleaming up the information Director Fury had supplied to her when she'd been ordered to bring Harry back in. Back when he was just Mr Potter. The information file was achingly bare, only half a page long and filled with vague, missing-twenty-eight-pieces-of-the-puzzle facts, so that even Natasha had to struggle to create a picture of the elusive teenager. After detaining him, Natasha had been sent to Director Fury to give her analysis on the prisoner and she'd been ashamed to note that it was the least detailed report she had ever given.
-flashback-
"Agent Romanov." Fury greeted her in his usual dour tone, but the note of impatience and curiosity was tangible enough for Natasha to pick up on.
"His name is Harry Potter," she waited as Fury typed the name into the search database, not even asking if she thought it was false. Because if it was, she wouldn't have told him.
"Is he an asset?" He questioned, looking back up at her.
"He'll choose our side over Loki's, you were right, he does seem to have a hero complex. One possibly even larger than Mr Roger's." She replied, "He came willingly, once he noticed that a fight would have ensued."
"Good, I can work him in then. So, he doesn't want people getting hurt?"
"More likely he doesn't want people getting hurt because of him."
"Past experience?"
"That was my conclusion." This was how the majority of their conversations went, to the point and precise.
"Is the accent real?"
"Yes."
"Is he human?"
"No," Natasha clenched her teeth, knowing how her answer contradicted her previous one, "His actions around us were of someone who knew they weren't in danger. He was completely relaxed when I arrived and only gave me a bored glance." She didn't say that out of annoyance, both of them knew that she could make anyone wary, including Loki when it was needed.
"He's not Asgardian," Fury paused and Natasha waited for the 'but' that was about to occur, "But he's not from any of the nine realms either."
"Sir, that's not possible." She reminded, keeping her growing dread out of her expression. Fury gave her a knowing look, "Apparently it is."
"How?" That one question echoed in her mind and in the room.
"Thor informed me that Mr Potter is not from any of the other realms."
"How does he know?"
"Because the only way to travel through the realms is the Bifrost and that is in Asgard."
"Meaning that Thor would have known if anyone had used it. But what about the way Loki arrived?"
"The Tesseract has been monitored ever since we took it out of the ice. No one, or thing has ever come through without us knowing. Is that all Agent Romanov?"
"His past has not been kind to him." Fury eyed her seriously, "What led you to that conclusion?"
"His eyes are very expressive. Shall I go now sir?" Fury studied her for a moment before dismissing her. Natasha walked out and headed for the area Loki was being held in, all the while shutting the unwanted feelings towards Harry Potter in a little box, safe within her mind.
-end flashback-
That little box was still in her mind, albeit much larger and possibly starting to burst at the seams. She definitely felt a protectiveness around Harry, such a ludicrous emotion but she couldn't help it. Especially now, when he looked so young and lost.
"Harry, what are you?" Said person whipped their head around so fast she could almost hear the bones snapping.
"What do you mean what am I?" His eyes were guarded and his body language read defensive.
"You're not human, not from Earth and not from any of the other realms." Natasha said calmly. Harry threw his hands up in the air and shook his head, "What bloody realms?"
Merlin! This was just not going well, there was already a psychotic demigod interested in him, along with a very paranoid super spy and now he's just reached the top of Natasha's discover-all-of-his-secrets list.
"The nine realms, Earth is one, Asgard is another." Natasha answered.
"Um…"
"Where did you come from?"
"Somewhere…"
"Where Harry?"
"A place similar to Earth." He admitted.
"Where?"
"Merlin! Why are you people so bloody nosy?!" He exclaimed. They both turned when two guards in S.H.I.E.L.D uniforms approached and Natasha signalled for them to take Barton away. Her attention returned back to Harry but she didn't say anything, instead, her breathing came a bit harsher and she shook almost imperceptibly.
"Natasha?"
"Agent Coulson is dead." She said stiffly, "Director Fury wants you to meet him and the others at the bridge. Do you remember the way?"
"Yes," he said quietly, watching as Natasha gave a curt nod and left. Seeing as he was alone in the 'corridor' Harry slipped a hand beneath his sweatshirt and brushed the mark.
Magister?
"Why am I here Death?"
Balance must be restored Magister.
"And how am I supposed to bring balance to this place? Or any for that matter?"
There are individuals in all dimensions who are Anchorams, Magister.
"Anchors? What the Hell does that mean?" Harry let his hand fall back to his side and glared at Death.
Anchorams are what keep the dimensions existing, Magister.
"…what?" Harry really needed to start teaching Death the modern English.
Perhaps a visual description will be better Magister.
"Yeah, sorry…" Harry mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
Need not apologise, Magister.
Then Harry was standing in a blank landscape, all was just an infinite black as far as the eye could see. Floor and ceiling were discernible, leading to the thought that it was all a never-ending room. Something sparked to life far away, then another closer, and another, and another until multiple glowing pillars stood strong and proud against the barren room. Harry moved closer to the one nearest to him and took note that it was indeed, a glowing column holding up the vast ceiling. Further inspection revealed that roots from the pillar had burrowed themselves into the floor and ceiling. Guessing the columns are anchors, and the room is… a dimension? A light blinking out directed his attention away from his thoughts. Another one died and the ceiling sagged. The one in front of him withered into nothingness and the roof caved in even more. And that's how it happened, a column disappeared, the roof got weaker. One by one the pillars vanished and the ceiling broke against its own weight, not able to stay intact without the support. Harry gasped as the last beam fluttered out of existence and then the whole room crashed in on itself. When he opened his eyes, Harry was back in the corridor and Death was waiting patiently.
Do you understand Magister?
"Yeah, the anchors support the dimension, and if they die then the dimension dies with them." He summarised, "You could have just said that you know."
I shall try in the future, Magister.
"That would be helpful, thank you." He smiled at Death and waved goodbye as it vanished, much like the columns. Shaking the unsettling thought out of his mind, Harry started walking back to the bridge.
A heaviness cloaked the room as Harry entered, three sets of dull eyes latched onto him and followed as he walked to the table and kept standing. Stark and Rogers were the only ones sitting while Fury also stood. Natasha's absence was expected as she'd most likely be with Agent Barton, but where was everyone else? A glance at Fury yielded no answers, the only thing noticeable was the bloodied cards in his hands.
"These were in Phil Coulson's jacket," Fury started, raising his hands to reveal the cards, "Guess he never did get you to sign them," and with that he threw the cards onto the table towards Rogers. Rogers leaned forward and picked up a card, staring at it sadly as Fury kept talking.
"… Maybe I had that coming." Fury continued, shaking his head slightly as a bitter smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. "Yes," He started walking around the table, "We were going to build an arsenal, with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, 'cause I was playing something even riskier." He paused and looked at the three of them in turn, "There was an idea -Stark, knows this - called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of, remarkable people. To see if they could become something more, to see if they could work together when we needed them to. To fight the battles that we never could." He turned his gaze to Stark's back, "Phil Coulson died, believing in that idea. In heroes." Stark stood up abruptly, his body stiff, and walked away, not looking back.
"Well, it's an old-fashioned notion." Fury sighed. Rogers also stood up and excused himself, heading in the same direction as Tony. Harry waited until Rogers was out of sight before fixing Fury with a glare.
"What?" He snapped.
"I know that manipulating people is you're career, I also know that you've manipulated me. And that's fine, I'm an unknown, or at least was." Harry folded his arms across his chest, "But manipulating your own team?" He shook his head in disdain.
"Oh, and pray tell how, I've just manipulated them?" Fury's mouth was a thin line.
"Director, I've been manipulated since the age of one, and they only got better with every passing year-"
"And why were you manipulated? If you think it's so horrible, why'd they do it to you?"
"Long story short, I was like a pig being fattened up for slaughter. The only reason why I was protected was so I could die at the right time. But," he carried on, practically seeing the other questions whirring around in Fury's head, "We are talking about how you said that Phil Coulson is dead." Fury narrowed his eyes at Harry, "He is dead."
"No, he is not." Really, the nerve of some people, trying to tell the Master of Death that someone was dead! Although said people don't know, that he's the Master of Death.
"Agent Hill?" Said agent stepped forward almost immediately, "Is Agent Coulson dead?"
"Yes sir, the medical team determined his death seventeen minutes ago."
"May I just point out that both of you are super spies, and the medical team works for you so they can lie just as easily."
"Phil Coulson is dead, what in the world could make you think otherwise?" Fury ground out.
"A friend of mine told me." Harry answered, letting a sickly innocent tone wash over his voice.
"What 'friend'?"
"An old one." Harry smiled to himself and enjoyed seeing the artery in Fury's neck jump out.
"Will we be able to meet this friend?"
"One day." Everyone meets Death in the end, "But we are getting off topic Director, why fake Agent Coulson's death? Stark and Rogers obviously felt as though it was their faults. Why lead them on?" Harry stepped closer to Fury, all the while wondering aloud, "Unless you mean to use Coulson as a martyr so this 'team' of yours would join together in a common cause? But that seems to be a bit low, even for you Fury." The Director's jaw was clenched so hard it had to hurt and Harry was almost certain that the artery in his neck was trying to escape from beneath the skin.
"Phil Coulson is-"
"Alive, you can stop acting Director Fury. I know he's not dead and you will accept the fact that I know." Harry took one step closer and closed the gap between him and Fury, forcing himself to have to tilt his head up slightly to see into the spy's eye.
"You want to know why Mr Potter? The Avengers Initiative can only work if they themselves find the motivation and determination to make, it work." There was no need to ask who 'they' were.
"Do you think it will work?"
"Yes."
"Was there another way?"
"Yes." Not even a 'this was the best option' or 'the opportunity was the best we would ever have'.
"Then I hope you know what you're doing Nick Fury," Harry slipped away from Fury and headed in the direction of Stark and Rogers, "Because I'm tired of saving the world," tossed over his shoulder with a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips.
Yelling led Harry to a circular room with a conspicuous space in the middle and an operational trap door on the floor below the noticeable space.
"… This the first time you've lost a soldier?" Rogers asked as Stark brushed past him.
"We are not soldiers," Stark snapped, spinning around to face the Captain.
"Not all fights are fought with soldiers Mr Stark," Harry stated calmly, they turned to look at him, both with surprise written over their faces. Obviously they hadn't heard him approach. "In fact, the biggest fight I've been in" – technically a war – "Was fought by teachers and students."
"And how would you know?" Stark bit out, "How would you know the difference? How does a kid like you understand? How could you possibly understand?" Well one thing's for certain, Mr Stark has never lost a companion before.
"My country was at war before I was born Mr Stark. My parents and their friends played a big part in helping to defeat the enemy and so they became top-of-the-list targets. At the age of one, they were murdered because someone they had trusted betrayed them. I was the only one who survived, so I was sent into hiding for eleven years. The enemy had been defeated during that time and everyone thought that he really was dead, but instead, in my first year at Hogwarts, he returned and started killing people again. For seven years my country was in yet another civil war and my school kept being targeted. Life threatening situations happened annually despite the Headmaster's best efforts and my group always got mixed up in it. On the seventh year, a battle happened at my school and many students and teachers alike died until the enemy was finally and truly dead.
"My life has known nothing but war Mr Stark, and soldiers did not end the final battle. People who were forced to survive and protect those they cared about won the war. So don't you bloody tell me what I do and do not know." Harry finished with a glare.
"I know I haven't been around for quite a while," Rogers started, earning the attention of Stark and Harry, "But I'm pretty sure I would've heard about a civil war in Britain."
"I haven't heard of it either and I know that that is simply not possible." Stark commented. Harry rolled his eyes and looked up to the heavens before fixing them both with an infuriatingly patient look. He held up his hand, revealing his wand and hid the smirk that threatened to appear from Stark's facial expression. "Seeing as how Fury knows I'm not from around here and I haven't exactly hidden the fact well anyway. I might as well give you a little explanation. This," he nodded towards the Elder Wand, "Is a wand, I'm sure you've heard of those."
"What? So you're a wizard?" Stark scoffed. Harry grinned and carried on, "Why yes Mr Stark, I am, in fact, a wizard. I'm from a different universe where magical folk live in secret amongst non-magical folk." Harry's grin grew wider at Stark's face.
"A wizard?" Rogers questioned, somewhat hesitantly.
"Yes Captain, you don't need to worry about an invasion of any sort seeing as no one can pass through universes."
"You obviously did." Stark quipped, "How?"
"That is classified, as I have already told Director Fury. I am a wizard from another universe and my speciality is fighting for the good side." Harry gave them both a pointed look before slipping the wand into his magically enhanced back pocket.
"So, you're not going to turn us into toads?" Stark intoned, earning an eye roll from Harry.
"No Mr Stark, I am not going to turn you into a toad. Now, let's get back to the topic at hand, Loki." Stark's face turned pinched while Rogers' became grim.
"What's his play? All supervillians have a play, whether they want to become immortal and rule the world…"
"He made it personal," Stark realised.
"That's not the point." Rogers started.
"That is the point, that's Loki's point, he hit us all right where we live, why?"
"To tear us apart," Rogers answered.
"Yeah, divide and conquer's great, but he knows he has to take us out to win right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us he, wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience."
"Right, we caught his act in Stuttgart."
"That's just previews. This is, this is opening night! And Loki, he's a full-tilt diva, he wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a, monument built to the sky with his name plastered- son of a bitch." Stark muttered the last part and started walking. Rogers and Harry following behind.
"I don't suppose the Stark tower happens to have "Stark" plastered across it?" Harry inquired lightly. The dirty look Stark gave him was all the answer he needed.
"Captain, you get Natasha and head to the flight deck, I'll go suit up." And with that Stark veered off to the left and disappeared.
"Guessing that means you'll need to 'suit up' as well?" Harry asked Rogers who nodded.
"Meet you in the infirmary section then," Harry turned left at the next intersection and followed through with his excuse.
It took him a few moments to find the right cell – er, room – with Barton and Natasha. He cast an unlocking charm at the door and leaned against the now open entrance, Natasha was standing by the bed while said bed was suspiciously void of any Clint Barton's.
"You know how to fly one of those jets?" Harry asked her.
"I can," came a reply from the adjoining bathroom, Clint Barton stood there drying his hands.
"Brilliant!"
"Why do you need to know?" Natasha demanded, Harry gave her his most innocent expression and answered, "Because we need to steal one and go to New York without the big bad Director stopping us."
"Who are you?" Harry returned his attention to Clint who continued, "I swear I heard your voice in my head while I was…" He trailed off and glanced at Natasha, obviously referring to the fight they'd had earlier. Harry saw Natasha focusing on him from the corner of his eye. Before he could say anything Rogers appeared in his Captain America get-up.
"Barton can fly and isn't compromised," Harry supplied before the Captain could even open his mouth. A nod from Natasha led Rogers to acquiescing and asking Barton, "You got a suit?"
"Yeah."
"Then suit up," Rogers left and motioned for Harry to follow.
"Do you have a suit?" He asked once they were walking down an obscenely long corridor.
"Uh, wearing it?" Harry answered, looking down at his dirty jeans, dirty hoodie, very dirty sneakers and the Hallows.
"That cloak, it will be a hindrance." Rogers warned.
"Quite the opposite actually." Harry responded, still criticising his outfit. Jeans and a sweatshirt really aren't 'battle-ready' material, but it was the same kind of ensemble he wore whilst defeating Tom. Actually, it was the exact same outfit he wore, ewwwwwww. Maybe he should change it? This isn't his universe after all and everyone else is wearing cool outfits…
"Harry!?" Said person jumped and fixed his startled eyes upon Rogers.
"Er, yeah?"
"I said we're here." Harry peered about the room and noticed they were in a hangar of some sort and Natasha and Barton were approaching.
"Yeah, sorry, my mind was somewhere else…" He trailed off as Barton and Natasha met up with them.
"What?" Barton asked when he noticed Harry looking at him.
"You all have awesome outfits," he explained huffily. Natasha raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.
"What?" Harry echoed Barton's earlier exclamation.
"We're about to go on an unauthorised mission to try and save the world from an alien invasion and you're sulking over our outfits?"
"Hey! I am not sulking." Harry said, mentally wincing at the very sulk-like tone to his voice. That earned him eye rolls from all three of them, Harry raised his hands up in surrender and turned towards one of the jets that was so kindly opened and with just one person inside.
"How about that one?"
"It's as good as any," Barton replied and they all marched off. Really, it was a very march-like stride that gained a few stares and Harry smiled none too sanely at them. When they entered the jet, the one person in it – most likely a maintenance officer – stood up and stated, "Hey, you guys aren't authorised to be in here."
"Son, just don't." Rogers advised. The officer's eyes flitted between them all before he swallowed thickly. Barton, grabbed the officer by his forearm and hauled him out of the jet. They all took their seats, Barton and Natasha in pilot and co-pilot while Rogers and Harry were in the back.
"Everyone ready?" Stark's voice entered through the intercoms. Harry's "No" was heard over the others "Yes's".
"I don't have a custom-made outfit!"
"You're a wizard, can't you just magic something better?" Stark inquired.
"A what?" Barton and Natasha demanded.
"Tony Stark, you are genius!" Harry declared, transfiguring his jeans into black cargo pants and his sweatshirt into a close-fitting long-sleeved shirt (black of course).
"That's the point young Harry." Stark's voice was the only thing not filled with shock.
"Oh for the love Merlin, what?" Harry broadcasted to the interior of the jet.
"Your clothes-"
"They were-"
"How'd you do that?" Were the responses.
"Magic guys," Harry rolled his eyes, "Honestly! It's out in the open now, might as well make the most of it."
"What are you guys doing in there? It's time to go!" Stark reminded them. Almost coming out of a daze, Barton started up the engine and took off. They were out in the open air in no time, with Stark zipping in front of them and leading the way. Harry lifted his hand up to fix his glasses but only met air, shaking his head he slipped the Elder Wand back into his hand and waited. Maybe this battle would be easier, seeing as there were no magic users and no killing curses… Right?