This sonofabitch took two hours to edit. And that was after I'd edited it three weeks ago Goddammit.
So, the explanation you've all been waiting for. And boy, isn't there a lot of explaining in it. Which I hate, by the way. It's nice to finally clear things up for people, but seriously, so much dialogue that I don't really like. So sorry in advance if you don't find it as enjoyable. Sometimes, much needed explanations can get wordy and dull.
To Von, who made a valid note about plot convenience. I'm an author, writing a piece of fiction- most notably, fanfiction. I shamelessly use plot conveniences for my own... well, convenience. It's how we work. :P Also, you did point out Harry's induced coma. Tony of course claims that they'd put him under because they were concerned about any adverse affects his advance healing would have. That is just Tony's take on the story however. You never know; it could very well have been done from orders by Fury, or the head Surgeon because it gave people the heebie-jeebies, or were concerned about what he'd do to the place when conscious. Not that I'm likely to clear that up for you; it's up to you to make your own theories about it.
Also, finally some clarification on ages! Lucky you.
Thanks a heap to everyone who reviewed! You're all super babes! Hope you all enjoyed consumerism awareness day yesterday! Enjoy!
Cinna
Part One: Great Expectations
Chapter Twelve: Uhhh
Nick Fury doesn't know who this girl is, or who she thinks she is, but she is most certainly not a witch.
Although on second thoughts, given she's claiming to be a witch, maybe he does actually know who she thinks she is. Oh the beauties of the English language; confusing even the greatest of men.
The others at the table seem to share this sentiment (of the girl, that is, not on the English language). He sees various levels of disbelief on their faces, ranging from Stark's poignantly raised eyebrow that twitches his whole face out of whack to Agent Romanov's closed off expression that essentially says exactly the same. Captain Rogers looks confused, but believing, and Fury pins this mostly down to his relatively recent return to the world of the living- he was still, after all, coming to terms with the open existence of mutants and the gays. Thor looks sceptic, but also inclined to believe the woman, but that's likely due to his exposure to his psychopath/sociopath of a brother Loki, who'd certainly been no stranger to enchantments and the like.
Granger doesn't even look exasperated in the face of their (semi)-unanimous disbelief.
"Uhhh," Stark says elegantly, "by 'a witch' do you mean a mutant with witch-like powers, or something like a hedge-witch?"
Granger seems amused, "No, by witch, I mean a witch with witch-like powers. Harry has identical abilities, but his power is greater than mine."
"Harry's not a mutant." Tony points out, essentially ignoring her last statement. Granger still looks amused; Fury's slightly unnerved by how well she's taking the scepticism.
"No, he's not. And nor am I."
"You said you were." She smiles sardonically.
"And do I look incapable of lying, Mister Stark? I claimed to be a mutant because I learnt quite quickly that they existed openly in the public domain; magic-folk, I was not so sure of."
"Magic Folk?" Fury interrupts sharply, now concerned, "Are you saying there are more of you?" Granger grins impishly.
"Oh yes, great swathes of us! In some places entire villages. Living in secret right under your nose… but perhaps not in this universe." Fury just wants to go back to bed now; Granger sounds much too gleeful for this time of night, nor this kind of news.
"'Not in this universe'? What do you mean by that; are you actually from an alternate universe?" Doctor Foster asks; there's a smug gleam to her eyes.
Granger's face goes solemn and she looks down at her lap, "Yes. Harry and I come from an alternate universe. I presume so anyway. We were trying to escape some… bad people, and were thrown into the veil- a magical artefact of my world. I'd been conducting research on it not long before, and was fairly sure I knew what it did."
"So that's why you didn't know who I was!" Exclaims Stark, ever the egocentric, "I mustn't exist in your universe." Granger nods.
"As I don't in yours. I had never heard of mutants in my universe either."
"Say we believed you," Banner sounds cautious, "What exactly do your powers entail?"
Suddenly she's grinning again, all wicked wit and intelligence, "Many things," she smirks, "and much more than what your mutants can do, I'd gather."
"Such as?" that's Romanov, who still appears doubtful of her claims.
Granger tilts her head, almost birdlike, "It's hard to really describe the full scope of our powers; would you rather a demonstration?" Stark is nodding already, but Fury is more cautious.
"What kind of scope are we talking about?" She suddenly looks uncomfortable, as if suddenly unwilling to describe it. It's a strange reaction, given she'd been more than happy to provide them with a demonstration only moments before.
"An almost exhaustive one. We can cast spells for protection that work like impermeable shields, turn ourselves into animals, create potions that heal skin, flesh and bones, spells and cloaks of invisibility and camouflage. We can turn turtles into teapots, teleport from one location to another, conjure birds from thin air, create objects of wondrous beauty and infinite power…" she pauses, the expression on her face growing darker, "I could immobilise you with a flick of my wand, read your minds and wipe your memories, strip you of your skin or turn you inside out. I could inflict upon you the greatest pain imaginable, without ever leaving a mark upon your skin," her voice turns pained, it lowers and her eyes look far away, "I could turn you into a personal puppet, unable to fight against a single command but aware of every action.
"I could kill with only a pair of words, and from that there would be no escape." Her voice is but a whisper by the end of her spiel. She looks very sad.
"Our power is a blessing, our magic a gift. It lengthens our lifespans and grants us abilities most could never even dream of. But it is gifted to the good and the bad, and for every good spell there is an evil one to match."
The room is deathly quiet. Granger's eyes focus on something on the wall; they do not stray.
"Well," breathes Bruce, "do I dare ask for a demonstration after that."
Granger gives him a shaky smile, "Sure," her eyes look red, as though she were about to cry. Fury hopes to God she doesn't. Her hand rises to a stick tucked into her sling and he sends Stark a dark look; it looks disturbingly similar to the one they'd found on Harry.
"I hadn't been aware Stark had given that back." Granger sets hard eyes on him; they offer no compromise.
"The return of my wand and bag was one of my terms." She pulls the stick/wand out and her gaze travels over the table before settling on the water pitcher. Her arm outstretches, her hand twirls and she murmurs a word.
They stare dumbfounded at the bewildered white cat that sits there instead.
"Oh man. That is so cool!" exclaims Agent Barton. Stark laughs in delight.
The cat lets out a confused "Mrrow?"
"Amazing," Bruce murmurs, beckoning the cat towards him; it complies, butting its head against his outstretched hand. He scratches beneath its chin, "It feels so real… is it an actual animal? Have you actually changed the form of the jug, or is it a replacement?" Granger shakes her head.
"The form has been changed. There are spells to switch between objects however."
"And is it alive? Have you actually created life from an inanimate object?" she shakes her again.
"No," the cat strolls over to her, tail twitching as it moves, "It is only a simulacra; it's not alive in the truest sense- no life can be made from nothing; it is one of the rules of magic. It acts out as a cat would, and if feels like a cat would, but in the end it was a jug of water, and in the end it shall return to that form." She waves her wand sadly and a pitcher sits on the table once more. It's now empty.
The table falls silent again.
"Another?" Rogers tentatively asks. She smirks and suddenly Stark's clothes are neon pink.
"That was not cool Queenie!" The others snicker.
"I don't know," laughs Barton, "I thought it was a pretty good demonstration myself." She flicks her wand again and his hair is now bright blue. Thor laughs heartily.
"Surely your magic is a great gift," he booms, eyes sparkling with mirth.
Granger smiles back at him, but there is a melancholic tint to her eyes, "It was the greatest moment of my life, when I discovered I was a witch. No other moment can compare."
"This power, is it shared by all of your kind?" Fury asks. Whilst conjured cats and neon Starks are all well and good, the other abilities are more than enough cause for concern; the way she'd put it made her sound almost invincible. How the hell is he going to manage to keep two of them to heel? Let alone an entire population. Jesus, just the fucking paperwork alone is going to be a nightmare.
"Yes. But much of our abilities are based on knowledge, and most magic folk need a foci; our words and our wands. Without either, delicate control of magic is rarely achieved; wild magic is potent, but it often lacks direction.
"Harry and I are light wizards; we only resort to dark spells; evil spells, when there is no alternative. But there are those who revel in the pain of others and dark wizards who find no qualms in manipulation and destruction. Many- but not all- of them are fanatics; they share a mindset that sets themselves above others- especially Muggles and Muggle-borns."
"Non-magic folks?" Tony guesses, remembering her half-baked explanation from that morning.
"Yes. It's the term we use to classify everyone who is not magical."
"And Muggle-borns?" Rogers' eyes are fixated on Stark's hair, which has still not returned to its original colour.
Granger suddenly looks self-conscious and Fury doesn't miss the way she shifts her left forearm in her sling, as if intent to hide something, "Our world, despite its brilliance, is far from perfect." She begins and her voice is all darkness and poorly concealed bitterness, "The magical community has been run for centuries by purebloods- witches and wizards who can trace their unbroken magical genealogy back numerous generations. The great majority of these share what many of you would call a conservative or protectionist political view of the world; they are highly prejudiced against anyone- magical or non-magical- who does not share their supposed 'blood purity' and go to great measures to separate themselves from them.
"Included in this list are half-bloods- those born to a Muggle and magical parent, or second generation witches and wizards- and Muggle-borns- witches and wizards born solely to Muggle parents. Many purebloods view either classifications with a certain level of contempt, but in the end tolerate us because we are still magical. But there are some who see Muggle-borns as dirt beneath their feet- scum to be eradicated. Funnily enough, they seem to share similar views to those held by the Nazis in the Muggle world; the only difference being their definitions of the Übermensch."She looks back down at her arm, apparently steeling herself for something.
"When Harry and I were teenagers, the magical world was thrown into a war- one of many that had occurred throughout the generations. Had it carried on longer than it had, it would have ended much the same as the Holocaust did in World War Two, only with Muggle-borns and magical creatures instead of the Jews and the others of Hitler's undesirables."
Captain Rogers looks pained at the mention of the Second World War, the scars still fresh in his mind. For him, the war had only ended a year ago. Fury makes a note to check up with his psychologist.
"The war was spearheaded by a man who called himself Lord Voldemort," Stark snorts in derision at the name; Granger ignores him, "He had been responsible for the previous wizarding war, which had only ended in our infancy; but not before it had stolen the lives of Harry's parents, and many, many more. Voldemort hated Muggles, and considered Muggle-borns to be little better. His radical views drew others to him like moths to a flame. He grew in power; both politically and magically- investing himself in magic and curses that extended his life and granted him near immortality. His followers called themselves Death Eaters, and they followed him with a fanaticism and hatred that brooked no mercy.
"Harry lay in the centre of this mess. In the first war, a prophesy was made that tied Harry and Lord Voldemort together. In retaliation, Voldemort murdered his parents, but when he turned on Harry his killing curse rebounded, destroying his physical form. With his apparent death, the rebellion fell to pieces. Voldemort was thought to be gone forever.
"But Voldemort had found a way to prevent his soul from passing into the afterlife by tying a shard of it to an object or living creature. When we were fourteen, he was resurrected, and the war began anew. Harry found himself at the heart of the war. The prophesy that had killed his parents also labelled him as the Chosen One; our saviour. People believed that only Harry could destroy the Dark Lord; though myself and our best friend Ron did all we could to aid him."
"Wait- are you saying a fourteen year old was expected to destroy this man?" Interrupts Doctor Banner, appalled. Granger's face goes hard and brittle round the edges and Fury didn't miss the derision she'd inserted in parts of her story.
"No, a seventeen year old did. But yes, he was expected- by those who knew of the prophesy- to end Voldemort. I liked the idea as little as you seemingly do- we were teenagers for Merlin's sake. We should have been in school, scared but safe, whilst the adults sorted out their mess. But I was only a dirty Mudblood, Ron was an impoverished blood-traitor and Harry may have been the Chosen One, but the greater part of magical Britain had labelled him a liar and a madman and by the time they had realised Harry had been telling the truth about Voldemort's resurrection, it was too late." She waves her wand and the empty pitcher fills with water. She pours herself a glass with a shaky hand. Her eyes look even redder.
"In the end," she carries one, once she's collected herself, "the light succeeded- Harry destroyed Voldemort once and for all and the war ended with his fall. But it came at a terrible price. Hundreds dead. Almost an entire generation lost to the war. Decade's worth of political progress lost and a brand new set of prejudices born from the ashes of the old. And Harry… well, Harry had changed.
"In order to defeat Voldemort, Harry had been forced to collect a number of artefacts; items claimed to be gifted to an ancient family by death itself. What we hadn't known however, was that their combined possession had unknown effects on its owner. Harry stopped aging, and his healing was accelerated twenty-fold. It took us seven years to realise, and it didn't take long for others to notice his apparent youthfulness too." She pauses then, hand rising unconsciously to her left arm.
"I've always been a target- the Mudblood queen; the brightest witch of my generation and best friend to the saviour of the wizarding world. People respected me, but I was a Muggle-born all the same; I'd made plenty of enemies in the war for it. But Harry was our saviour, and sometimes surviving the war brought to him more trouble than seemed worth it.
"The Ministry, in its usual display of inadequacy and corruption, had failed to round up all the Death Eaters. Most likely because of their infiltration during the war. Some remained- hidden- fervently believing their master would rise again. He couldn't of course- we'd seen to that well enough- but that never stopped them from believing. They bred themselves a new fanaticism and turned their supposed devotion to the Dark Lord into something of a religion. They clung to the steadfast belief that Voldemort would be born again. He had done it once before, after all.
"When the wizarding world realised Harry was no longer aging, he hid. We all knew what the revelation would mean; we'd heard the rumours of their rising power. And we were right; the Death Eaters came out- slowly but surely- in search of Harry. They thought he had found something, something which would grant him immortality. Something that Voldemort had been searching for himself when he was still alive.
"If they could catch him, they figured, they could bring the Dark Lord back. Their attempts failed- by then we'd made Harry's home unplottable; no one could find it unless they were told of it by its secret keeper.
"Only-" she chokes, voice catching and oh God but now there are tears trickling down her face. Fury is unnerved and uncomfortable as he watches her soldier on, "Only… then they found his secret keeper. Ron w-was an au-auror- like Harry had been, before he was forced into hiding. It was s-such a public job… They were on a mission only it-it was a trap. They captured him, tore the address from his mind and before we could do anything they were storming the home and stealing us away." Granger stops, face breaking for a moment. Banner extends an arm around Stark (who just looks awkward) and squeezes her arm comfortingly. She gives him a watery smile and wipes away the tears. When she resumes her story, her eyes are dry and her voice is cold. He's rather glad that it was over so quickly.
"They hid us in the Ministry. I worked as an Unspeakable- a researcher- and I was so-so stupid!" She's bitter again, and angry, "My job was so anonymous… I hadn't realised just how deep the corruption ran- too fucking blind- I'd thought they wouldn't let it happen again, but I should have known better. Sometimes wizards never change.
"They hid us in the depths of the Ministry, where they figured no one would ever find us. Where no one would ever think to find us. And they didn't… but one of their own did." Her smile is wicked, vicious and disgustingly smug, "Malfoy had been infiltrating them for years. He'd always been a wild card- not that anyone would have known to look. He'd been a prat in school, and a prat he'd remained. But after the war, I think he made it his personal vendetta to destroy the Death Eaters once and for all. He blamed them for how his life had turned out- penniless, the noble Malfoy name in tatters; his father worse than dead and his mother not far off. Kind of surprising he didn't turn on us, actually." She smiles sardonically at the thought.
"His connections made it easy to join them- and he'd spent the last decade slowly worming out the dregs. But he was still a bastard; he didn't just want them gone, he wanted them destroyed, falling from as high as he could get them. So he buttered them up, did favours for them, got the smart ones into positions of power.
"And then they captured us. Malfoy must have figured they'd gotten as high up as he could want, I'd guess, because we were only held captive for a week before he rescued us." She goes angry again, eye's darkening.
"Of course, given Malfoy's general dickery, instead of sending us home, he decided to lead us further into the Ministry, until we ended up in Unspeakable territory. It was stupid of him- you can't apparate out of the Ministry, but there are no floos in the research division to escape from either. But Harry was only half-lucid, and I wasn't much better myself. When Harry hadn't cracked the traditional ways, they'd tried using me as leverage- so we just blindly followed him.
"Before I knew it, we were in the Death Chamber, the Death Eaters hot on our tail. And then- and then-" Granger suddenly looks so furious he fears she might burst into flames.
"-He threw us into the Veil!" She hisses, outraged; disgusted, "He could have saved us, but he threw us into the Veil! We didn't even know where the veil ended up! Fuck! He shouldn't have even known what it did!" she looks tempted to throw her glass at something; Fury hopes it ends up directed at Stark.
"And that- Director Fury-" her voice is clipped, dripping with anger "Is how Harry and I ended up here."
They stare at her, a mix of curiosity and mild disbelief. It was a fantastical story; a world of witches and wizards and resurrected madmen. Any normal person would not be thought less of for calling her mad, really. But Fury had seen some weird shit in his past, and had met his fair share of fantastical people, and he didn't get this far in life- this far in SHIELD- without knowing when to count a story as bullshit, and when to count it as far-fetched but true.
And his gut instinct was telling him Miss Granger's story could well be true; though he's sure there's been plenty she's left out.
There are however, some aspects of the tale that make him nervous (but only deep, deep down).
"You said, before you were thrown into this… veil, you were being pursued? Is it likely the Death Eaters will follow you?" He'd really rather not have to deal with a sudden influx of magic-wielding racists.
"No," she replies, shaking her head, "It's very unlikely. The Veil was traditionally used as a method of execution. It's full effects were unknown, but that didn't stop the Ministry from using it as their dumping ground for criminals and murderers- it got rid of the body and that was a good enough an explanation for them. The research that my colleagues and I had been conducting was all very hush-hush. Nobody was supposed to know about it, and it's likely that the Death Eaters still considered it as just an element of the Death Chamber."
She smiles ironically, "The funny thing about wizards is that they are quite content to live as though it were the dark ages- once they'd reached a certain level of knowledge, they found no reason to progress any further."
Doctor Foster is frowning thoughtfully, "Miss Granger… from the way you've put forward your story, it sounds as though you entered the Veil at roughly the same time as Harry. But there was just over a week between his appearance and your own." Granger is frowning too now.
"That's… quite true," she turns to Stark, "What's the date?"
"August sixth, 2013." She stares at Stark, lost in thought for a moment
"That was almost two weeks before Malfoy 'saved' us. Perhaps there's a deliberate time delay on the portal…" She seems confused at the mere suggestion of it.
"2013?" blurts Stark, "But that would make you-"
"Almost thirty-four, yes."
"But you don't look older than 28!"
She smirks, "Magic, Mister Stark, gives one more than just the ability to wave our wand and do impossible things. It preserves our bodies- to a certain degree- thus decelerating our aging. The average witch's lifespan is 100 years."
"But that's not fair!" he sounds so outraged at the suggestion that if Fury were a lesser man, he would have been tempted to burst into laughter.
"You cannot fault my good blood Tony." He sticks his tongue out and sulks. Barton snickers.
"Why did Harry pop up thirty thousand feet above sea level when you landed safely on the ground?" Granger shrugs helplessly at Romanov.
"I honestly don't know. I may have studied it, but our research was far from complete when the project was canned. I would have thought it would deposit a traveller in the same place that you entered… It could be that the veil had never been finished, or was damaged at some point in history, making one's arrival in this universe a bit of pot luck. Or maybe, that just never occurred to its creators; sending something to an alternate universe was good enough."
It's a far from satisfactory answer, and Granger looks far from satisfied for providing it.
"How the hell did Harry manage to survive in the first place? Even with advanced healing, his body should have been destroyed on impact with the water." Stark demands.
"Wild magic, I'd imagine. I couldn't really be sure, but I'd guess that even in his state, Harry would've been aware of his predicament. It's possible that his magic reacted to his panic and created some kind of shield that dispersed the energy of the shockwave from his impact. Or maybe it slowed his velocity down. I don't know; I'd have to research it."
"But Harry didn't appear awake in the footage we have of him falling! How could his magic react to his panic?" Granger looks irritated now.
"And I'm just guessing here! I don't have answers for everything!" Stark looks like he wants to continue arguing, but a hand on his arm from Bruce stops him.
"So what now?" asks Rogers. He still can't seem to get over Stark's hair. Granger's face twitches.
"Now, if you'll let me, I heal Harry and search this world for a magical community. Hopefully, there is one; your world doesn't seem that different to my own… well, besides the lack of mutants and the Avengers, on our side. Perhaps, if we are lucky, the British Ministry of Magic in this universe has its own version of the Veil. It would take some research, but it's possible I could determine whether or not it would return us to our home."
"And if there is none?" rumbles Thor, his voice cautious and slightly sad. Granger's face becomes drawn.
"If there is none, then I don't know what we'll do." She fiddles with the edge of her dress, and for a moment she looks very young; childlike in her vulnerability.
"Well you're not welcome in my tower." Stark quips lightly, pretending to scowl at his hair, "Not if this is what you're going to do to me all the time. I have a business to run, you know." Granger laughs, and with of flick of the wrist his hair and clothes return to their normal colouring. Agent Barton pouts.
"I kind of liked that look." Stark raises his eyebrows at the archer.
"I'm sure you did Birdbrain." Granger coughs to hide her smile but goes serious not long after. She turns to Fury.
"But what about you, Director Fury? What are you going to do with us?" there's a challenge in her eyes. It dares him to say 'hold you captive for research' but Nick Fury is smarter than that. He knows that if he were to utter those words, the chances of him waking the next day remembering their discussion- or anything about the Falling Man- would be next to nothing. The others may seem blasé about it, but he has not forgotten about her supposed ability to tamper with the mind.
Besides, if they are the only witch and wizard on the planet (and he has a suspicion that they might be, because it's very unlikely an entire fucking population of magic folk would have gone under his radar), it would be a very, very smart idea to keep them on SHIELD's side. And who knows? Maybe, if they got really lucky (and are not complete psychopaths), they'd agree to join the Avenger's initiative. It would be nice to add more people to the team- if only to make up for any possible future losses.
"I think we can come to some sort of agreement as to your stay in this universe."
The smile on Granger's lips is nothing short of victorious.