Man oh man. This chapter. 6500 words plus, and over a month and a half to write. And don't even get me started on the research. Jesus Christ. That said, it's not perfect, but I'm quite sure you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

Thanks to everyone who left a review! You guys are like, totes awesome :P Enjoy!

Cinna

Part One: Great Expectations

Chapter Eighteen: Luminiferous Aether

Tony is pissed off.

Not that Steve can blame him, really. Harry and Hermione had willingly gone and pulled the wool over his eyes on more than a few occasions. Over everyone's eyes really; though Tony seems the most miffed. The rest of his team (including himself to be honest) seemed to share a mix of mild frustration and disgruntlement, but Tony more or less refuses to talk to the pair at all on their walk to the edge of what should be the wards of the castle.

Especially after he worked out that he probably wouldn't be able to pass through them because of his arc reactor. Steve hadn't missed the way it had flickered on the day Harry had tried to touch his wand, and he's been balancing between concern and curiosity (though not as concerned as he probably should be, mostly because Tony has the resilience of a cockroach) as to how it's going to go with the magic users now sharing the tower. Natasha had tried to comfort him by pointing out the natural beauty of the lake, but the genius-come-billionaire appeared content to remain in his sulk, firmly ignoring the wizard taking the lead or the witch who'd fallen into step with Bruce at the back of their group.

Of course, if the going trend was anything to go by, there would probably be no reason for them to leave Tony behind in order to investigate the castle. So far he'd felt no compulsive urge to run back to the tower and turn off the oven, which Harry had said should have come into effect by now. None of the others are exhibiting any effects either, which was probably indicative of its general not-being-there-ness.

Harry seems to be thinking along the same lines too, if his listless shuffle of hands in pockets and longing glances at the lake are anything to go by. It's a very nice lake, Steve thinks. Deep and dark and flat as a tack, reflecting the miserable grey clouds hanging low in the sky and turning them into something that actually looks quite pleasant- especially with the sharp lines of the hills in the distance cutting through water. The forest is something else entirely- dark, seedy and unnervingly quiet- it reminds him of the Mirkwood from his old Hobbit book- lost long ago along with the rest of his belongings. He's rather glad they're walking along the shoreline, images of wandering from elf-made paths and being hopelessly lost filling his mind.

Harry draws to a stop and he almost walks straight into him, mind filled with dark imaginings.

"What is it?"

Harry doesn't turn to acknowledge him, humming some absent reply. His eyes- vicious green, like paint straight out of the tube- scan across their path and rove over the lake. His chews on his bottom lip, as though desperately trying to hold back his anxiousness and dismay.

"It-" he pauses to lick his lips, "It should start here. The wards. But I can't feel anything; not a shred of magic." He casts his eyes to Steve, black brows drawn together. "I don't think there's anything here; or anywhere." Steve claps a hand over the man-who-looks-like-a-boy's shoulder, offering him a slight smile of sympathy. Of all the people in their groups, he's probably the best to know the feeling.

"Join the club." He murmurs, thinking back to his months of shock and grief after waking, constantly searching for things that were no longer there; friends, films, music- even his favourite diner on a secluded corner of Brooklyn. Everything that he'd known, everything he'd held dear and cherished- especially during the war- had disappeared. It had been like waking to a new universe too.

Harry's lips part, drawing in air and his brows draw closer. Steve can see the question forming on his lips, but it doesn't feel like a tale to tell the wizard now, when they were supposed to be looking for his old school. He gives the man another smile, "I'll tell you later." He says before the query can burst from his lips.

Harry sighs and turns back to look at the lake, "Yeah. Alright."

Hermione draws up to them, "Harry?"

"It's not there 'Mione."

She sighs through her nose and looks out across the lake. "I know. But still…" she smiles wryly, shaking her head, "It was a vain hope."

"Mmm." Harry hums in agreement, staring down their path with a pensive look on his face, "Do you want to still check out the grounds?"

She nods. Steve agrees; deserted castle grounds sound pretty cool to him (provided there's even a castle to check out). Maybe if he can work out how to use that camera on his phone…

Hermione, oblivious to his ponderings, turns back to the team waiting curiously behind them, "You're in luck Tony." She says, sticking on a slightly forced cheery tone, "You won't have to wait outside the wards after all!"

He glowers at her; she smiles sweetly back and he looks away, folding his arms childishly. Still content to sulk then. She turns back around and continues on, Harry stumbling forward to catch her. Steve follows at a sedate pace and Bruce falls into step quickly.

"He's got a point you know." The scientist remarks quietly, as soon as the magic users were out of earshot. Steve turns his head to look at him, "They need to stop leaving us in the dark on things. You can't build a trusting relationship on shaky building blocks."

"But they don't trust us."

"Well of course not." Bruce eyes the pair in question, obviously thinking on their discussion from the previous night, "We're intimately tied to SHIELD; a huge, faceless organisation with more secrets than you can- or should, for that matter- poke a stick at. Hell, I don't think even Natasha and Clint trust it fully. But they do need to start trusting us."

Steve has only a vague idea of what SHIELD might do with Harry and Hermione should they push too many buttons, but what he's got is not good. The Director was nothing if not ruthless, and his uppers were even worse. "So we need to show them that we're not really part of SHIELD."

Bruce shrugs, "I'm sure Tony will manage that all on his own the next time he ignores SHIELD protocol and hacks into their mainframe- for whatever reason. Half of us at least aren't at SHIELD's beck and call." He gives Steve a pointed look and he shrugs back at him, "Hermione's already aware of it, so I don't think it's a matter of convincing them of that. Maybe it's something more like showing them we have their best interests at heart."

"Do we?"

"I'd say so. Does SHIELD?… Maybe."

They come around the curve of the lake at that point and fall silent as the other half of the valley comes into view. Harry and Hermione are waiting for them twenty feet away, staring out at the ruinous remains of a castle, sitting on a cleared hill. Thick forest rings the slope, cut off abruptly by a line of emerald grass that rises to lap at the foot of the crumbling masonry, the golden heads of the taller grass rippling in the breeze like the whitecaps of waves.

They're holding the other's hand like their life depends on it- knuckles white, fingers digging into skin. He can't stop the stab of pity at the sight. This is probably more confirmation than their visit to that funny little courtyard had been, and infinitely more tragic; he can tell. It had been the same for him after all.

Tony and Thor pull up beside him, Tony's eyes are glued to the silhouette of Hermione, face inscrutable. Thor regards the pair with a saddened expression and after a moment's hesitation, continues on to clap Harry on the shoulder softly. Clint and Natasha watch the goings on from the shade (or as close you can get to shade when the sky is that grey) of the forest.

"I am sorry, Harry, Hermione. It saddens me greatly to see that there are none of your kind on this Earth." Harry nods mutely at the condolence, glancing upwards to the Asgardian. Hermione ignores both of them.

"It was worth a try. At least now we-" he breaks off as Hermione lets go of his hand to walk onwards, back rigid and straight. The wizard sighs and gives Thor another strained smile. "At least now we know." He finishes. He huffs a laugh, turning back to watch his friend. "And anyway. It may be that we're not as alone as we'd first thought."

Tony perks up at that bombshell, "What?" he exclaims, moving forward to stand on Harry's other side.

Harry gives him a sheepish look, "Hermione and I suspect that a friend of ours- who was sent through the Veil seventeen years ago may still be alive."

"Really?" Tony murmurs, pulling out his phone almost on reflex, "And what was their name?"

Harry scrutinises the older man curiously, "Sirius Black. He was my Godfather- before he died." His face turns dark, "Or at least, before we thought he'd died." Tony's fingers are already speeding across the surface of his phone (another thing that blew his mind; touch screens and mobile phones in general).

"You got a picture?" Tony asks, eyes scanning his phone.

"No." The wizard replies tightly, a pained expression on his face, "They were all left behind."

Tony huffs a sigh and slips his phone back into his pocket, dejected. "We'll have to find him back home." Harry stares at the billionaire, a small smile touching his lips.

"I'd appreciate that," he murmurs, "Thank-you."

Tony shrugs, feigning nonchalance, "It's fun. Makes me feel like Sherlock Holmes." He gestures to Hermione, some distance away now, "Shall we?"

And so his funk is forgotten.

Natasha breaks off from her place with Clint to jog after Hermione. She links arms with her good one, offering no words of comfort. Steve's touched at the move nonetheless. For Natasha, that was about as good as it got. Their group watch the two women walk on silently, each consumed by their thoughts.

"So what exactly is the Veil?" Bruce asks Harry some five minutes later. "I mean, you've talked about it plenty of times, and it's pretty obvious that it's a portal… but you two talk as though it's got some sort of dark history behind it."

Harry grimaces, looking at the ground. "It does. For a long time it was thought to be a gateway into the afterlife; or more to the point, the realm of the dead. It's strange… certain people can hear voices passing through it- like second-hand whispers. It's like this weird, tattered sheet of fabric, held up by a stone archway, and it flutters like there's some sort of wind blowing through it; really, really eerie. Anything that's sent through it disappears, so centuries ago the Ministry decided to use it as a way of putting people to death. It was quick, it was painless and best of all, it never left a body behind to clean up.

"Of course none of this was helped by the fact that no one actually knew where the Veil came from. There are no accounts of who made it, when it was made or what its actual purpose was. It was all just a lot of guesswork." He kicks at a stone angrily, sending it flying into the lake "At some point the Ministry removed the death penalty and replaced it with a Dementor's kiss, which is infinitely worse, in my opinion. But you can't just get rid of the Death Chamber.

"They founded the Unspeakables around it, with the express intent of researching it. Over the years though it became a sort of on-and-off venture- it was too easy to get distracted." He smirks, "Wizards can make some very interesting things. Plenty of stuff to keep the department occupied with- and it didn't help that their grasp of the Veil was fundamentally flawed. According to Hermione, it wasn't until the 1950s that they started thinking that maybe it wasn't actually a portal to the realm of death, but another world- kind of like a permanent wormhole.

"Then the Unspeakables got distracted again by the various wars that came along and it was abandoned again; didn't get picked up until Hermione and her team restarted it. They'd only just proposed it as an inter-dimensional portal when the Ministry forcibly canned the project, for whatever obscure reason." Suddenly he sniggers, a small skip in his step as he eyes his friend paired up with Natasha, "You should have seen her when she found out." He whispers in a conspiratory tone. "She was fucking livid. Took two bottles of Ogden's to calm her down enough to tell me what they'd done. At first I'd thought they'd fired her."

Steve is guessing that 'Ogdens' is some form of alcohol.

"Are you telling me you were sending convicted criminals through to our universe?" Bruce asks, appalled.

Harry shrugs, sheepish, "For centuries, yeah."

The scientist rubs tiredly at his face in despair, "Jesus Christ."

The wizard giggles, stuffing his scarred hands into his pockets, "Amen, brother."

Steve rolls his eyes.

Tony looks thoughtfully out at the mirror-like surface of the lake, "We should probably look into what happened to them over here- the criminals, that is. There's probably at least one account in the history books of someone encountering a mad wizard turning up out of nowhere."

Harry grins, "I'd hope so."

Hermione and Natasha wait for them at the bottom of the hill, where forest makes way for grass. Steve's fascinated to find that from there the castle seems even more impressive. The mottled black and grey stone construction looms over them, each block at least half his height and as wide as he was tall. In parts the roof has caved in, but most of it's still intact and the walls stand tall and strong. From where they stand it feels as though even the Hulk wouldn't manage to knock it down. Harry and Hermione stare up at the wreck with a shared look of wistful longing.

"God," Hermione murmurs moments later, rubbing away at a stray tear, "I didn't think it would still be so beautiful."

"It still looks like Hogwarts." Harry breathes, awed. He suddenly pulls a face, eyes glued to the tallest tower of the building (though there'd clearly been several at one point but many had fallen; it almost seemed like the castle had been made from an eclectic collection of round and square towers, courtyards and thick walls, with no true sense of coherency. It probably should have been ugly, but instead gave off a certain air of eccentricity that Steve quite enjoyed), "We used to live in that one." He points out, "Griffindor Tower."

They walk up the hill, being careful to avoid the fallen masonry that hides in the grass; the two magic users all but running up the increasingly steep slope. Steve and his team follow at a more sedate pace, happy to let the pair reacquaint themselves with the structure.

When they reach the top, they find Hermione sitting down, leaning against the ancient wall and staring with a closed-off expression out at the Black Lake. Harry is pressed up against the dark stone, cheek pressed, arms outstretched, eyes closed. Steve is momentarily transfixed by his expression of utmost concentration, as if he were attempting to make himself part of the wall (which, when he thinks about it, the wizard could probably manage). His fingers itch for pen and paper at the sight.

A moment's stillness, the not-so young man's eyebrows drawn together, lips downturned, breath held; like a frozen image. Then it breaks, vivid green flickering back into existence and air leaving lungs in a heartfelt sigh. He draws away, fingers lingering on the weathered masonry.

"There's something there," he says, pensive, eyes landing on Steve, "But it's ancient and faded. It'll probably be gone in a hundred years' time." Once upon a time, one hundred years would have felt like an eternity to Steve, but since waking from seven decades of sleep, he's reprioritised.

Hermione looks up sharply, reluctantly curious, "What do you think?"

He frowns, pressing a hand back against the rock, "I don't know… it's not active. A ward, I'd guess… But a really, really old one. It must have been strong in its day, but there's been nothing here to maintain it for a long time. It's just a tingling of something there now." He turns back, cautiously hopeful, "Any of you happen to know anything about this place?" Steve shakes his head; medieval English castles hadn't exactly been an interest of his in the thirties and forties.

"Wouldn't we have said something by now if we did?" Tony asks peevishly. Harry pokes his tongue out at him and Hermione ignores them to imitate Harry's previous position, apparently determined to find the same thing.

"It was worth a try!"

Tony snorts and crosses his arms and Harry turns back to the wall, effectively ignoring him. His neck snaps back to stare up at the pitted expanse of stone. "It's funny. Like Hogwarts, but not. The stone feels wrong… rougher. And see those parapets?" he points at the masonry in question, directly above them, "They're not quite right. Too… square. It feels like they're not tall enough. And the windows are too small. It's like… it's like an imitation that's been lost in translation."

Steve wishes he had a point of reference for the man's observances. His words mean little to him with no image of the original to compare it to. All he can do is nod as though he really knows what he's talking about.

Hermione pushes away from the wall, frustrated and put out, "I can't feel anything!" She pouts, slightly envious, "You were always more sensitive to that kind of thing." Harry sends her a sheepish smile, rubbing at his neck.

"There must be something inside." She muses, "Wards can't survive extended periods of time without something to anchor them with. A keystone maybe… We need to find a way inside. It's strange though… I wouldn't have expected there to be anyth-" She turns as if to walk around the castle and cuts off her speech abruptly. They follow her line of sight on reflex.

A girl, only a few years younger than Harry appears, stands on the corner of their stretch of wall. A clunky camera hangs heavily from her neck, its straps hidden by long red braids split down either side of her neck. She looks mildly surprised, and curious by no small amount.

"You weren't on the bus." She remarks in an accusing tone.

Harry steps forward slightly to meet her, put on the defensive, "How did you get here?" He sounds almost… territorial to Steve in that moment; like a religious zealot catching a trespasser on sacred ground.

"Uhh… the bus." Her words have an inflection common for the southern states. "How did you get here? I didn't see any cars in the car park."

"We flew here." Tony interjects smoothly, moving forwards to draw attention away from the wizard. A moment's blankness, then the flicker or recognition sparks in her eyes- he'd taken his disguise off as soon as they'd gotten out of the public eye (they all had, which seems to be quickly turning into a bad idea).

"You're Tony Stark." She points out calmly. Tony gives her a shark-like smile and Steve can see the girl forcible stopping herself from immediately taking a photograph. He's mildly impressed by her restraint.

"That I am." He smirks, but their intruder's attention has already passed on, her mouth falling open.

"Oh my God." She breathes, "You're them, aren't you?" Out of the corner if his eye, he can see Harry and Hermione slowly back away, moving to shelter behind the towering figures of Thor and himself. The girl lets out an awed giggle, "Can I- can I take your picture?"

Steve and Tony share a look. Tony's up for it- Steve can see it in his eyes- but the implications for inevitably turning up on the internet leave him wary. Though he finds it unlikely that anyone would question their visit here (past mere bewilderment), he suspects their guests might have an objection to being placed permanently on the global network. Fury at least, would likely be displeased at the destruction of their anonymity. As it was, the director was probably unhappy at them leaving in the first place as a large group. Steve's not naïve enough to imagine that he wouldn't have rejected the request were it not for his desire to see their group 'bond' (which was still speculation, but extremely likely in Steve's mind).

"They'd rather you didn't sweet-heart. They're all a bit camera shy." Tony drawls, skilfully directing the attention back onto himself. He smirks, "But you're free to take one with me."

The girl looks slightly crestfallen, but takes in in stride. After all, Tony was still Tony Stark; the Iron Man and an active member of the Avengers. It's not as if she were being denied the privilege completely. She smiles at the billionaire, "That sounds awesome."

"What's your name?"

"Sarah."

Tony smiles again and motions to the camera hanging from her neck, "Well Sarah, why don't you give your camera to Bruce over there and he can take the picture for you." the girl all but throws her chunky camera at Bruce.

"Thank-you so much!" she breathes, sidling up to Tony. He grins at her again and slings his arm around his shoulder. The girls looks like she's about ready to faint with awe.

"Smile for the camera," Tony murmurs, bringing up his hand, his index and middle drawn out to form a V. She complies, though her eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights. The camera flashes and Bruce hands the camera back quickly.

"Oh God, thank-you!" she says again, cradling her camera as if it were some holy relic as Tony moves away, "Cassidy is gonna flip!"

"Great, Great!" Tony rubs his hands together eagerly, but his face is relatively serious, "Say, do you think you could tell us what you know about this place? We just randomly ended up here on a whim."

"Oh." Sarah falters, eyes flashing over to the castle walls, "Well…" she scratches the back of her head absently, "It's a weird castle, apparently. I don't know; Mom thought it was a cool concept- I just came for the pictures." She waves her camera around to prove her point.

"Is there someone who could give us some information? Your tour guide maybe?"

She nods, "She gave us some big speech about Hogwort on the bus, but-"

"Hogwort?" Hermione interjects, pushing her way through her meat shield of Avengers, "Don't you mean Hogwarts?"

Sarah frowns and shakes her head, "No… it's definitely called Hogwort- Oh!" her face brightens, "I have a some info here somewhere!" she rummages through the satchel that slings down low on her hips and pulls out a crumpled sheet of yellow paper triumphantly, "They gave it to us at the start of the tour."

She hands it to Hermione, who takes it gratefully, "Thank-you."

The girl shrugs, "No worries. Mom's got a copy of it anyway, so you can keep it."

Hermione hums appreciatively, but her attention is already on coloured sheet of paper, eyes rapidly scanning the information.

Sarah shuffles her feet, unsure of herself now that her usefulness has passed. After a moment she squares her shoulders and sends the group a smile.

"I should get going." She says graciously, "They told us not to go around here in the first place, but I couldn't resist." Tony laughs at that.

"I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference." He quotes. Steve smiles at the poetry reference. He'd always liked Frost.

The girl laughs, "That it has, Mister Stark." And with that she turns around, extracting herself before it could get awkward.

"Thank-you!" Steve calls after her; she sends them another smile from over her shoulder as she turns the corner.

"What does it say?" Harry turns on Hermione as soon as the girl had disappeared. Hermione looks up, lips pursed unhappily.

"I can safely say that it isn't this universes' version of Hogwarts," she replies slowly, absently passing it onto Tony's grabbing hands, "It is an imitation of it though; I'm quite certain… I suspect that someone sent through the Veil made it as some reminder of home, maybe. It explains why there are subtle differences to it.

"I mean, listen to this-" she steals the page back off Tony, "Hogwort Castle- note the name there. I think it might have been lost in translation at some point- is one of the best kept secrets of medieval Britain. To the architectural buff it is an interesting but not unusual combination of structures from various periods built over the last; the result of centuries worth of growth and technological development. Hogwort Castle-" she grimaces at the name, like it doesn't sit right with her, "-however, is different. There is clear archaeological and historical evidence that its entire structure was built in the late eleventh to mid-twelfth centuries.

"Whilst imitations of older architectural styles are uncommon, they are certainly not unheard of- though they are exceedingly rare prior to the thirteenth century, and most follow a single design; making Hogwort an obvious outlier. Its seventy years of construction has baffled historians; the average duration for a castle of Hogwort's magnitude should be twice that. Its speedy completion should not have been possible with the construction methods of the eleventh and twelfth century.

"Furthermore, the name 'Hogwort Castle', which is documented to have been around since its conception, did not originate from its founders, nor the area in which it resides. One could imagine that it bears resemblance to the plant, Hogwort. Hogwort however is a North American herb and was not discovered and named until the early seventeen hundreds." Hermione purses her lips again, sending a look at Harry.

"This is the most interesting part, in my eyes: Alderich Bolton commissioned the construction of Hogwort Castle in 1089. Research of historical records can find no record of him or his family prior to its construction, however there are numerous mentions of him after its completion, with several notable historical figures of the time mentioning a young man of no consequence who came into a great deal of wealth in a short amount of time. Hogwort Castle was inhabited by the Bolton's until the last of the line passed away in 1675. It has remained mysteriously uninhabited since."

She raises an eyebrow, smiling in amusement, "What do you think? A Veil traveller with an attachment to Hogwarts? Passed through and decided to make the most of his new circumstances?"

Harry snorts and sends a look back up to the castles parapets, "Explains the residual magic," he rests his hand against the stone again, "I'd like to get inside and check it out." Hermione smiles, pleased that he mentioned it.

"What about the tourists?" Natasha asks, quirking a delicate brow, "I can't imagine their guide would let anyone inside."

Harry opens his mouth to say something but stops short. He frowns slightly, "We could cast a notice-me-not charm. It averts attention away from your person. You're still visible, it's just that people's eyes are repelled from the place where you're standing."

Natasha smirks slightly, but nods, "That sounds okay," she drawls quietly, obviously amused by something. Harry shoots her a small smile.

"Sounds good enough to me!" Tony remarks, spreading his arms wide, "Bring it."

Hermione gives the man a long suffering sigh, though she's clearly amused by his antics. She looks at the rest of the group, "Do you mind? You won't feel anything different, and you'll still be able to see each-other. It's not permanent either; it will either wear off or be taken off."

Steve nods his permission, as do his companions, and she pulls her wand from her sling. A soft murmur of words and a wave of her wand and the spell is cast, apparently. It all seems unfairly simple in Steve's opinion, how easily things came to those with magic.

"Well," he murmurs, slightly unsettled, "lead on."

And lead on they do, with purposeful and unwavering strides, winding through the fallen masonry like they'd been there their whole life. Which, Steve guesses, isn't entirely untrue, just in a different capacity. They pass several camera happy tourists as they go, and he's simultaneously unnerved and fascinated by the way they seem to completely overlook the large collection of superheroes. In a way, it reminds of him of life in Brooklyn, before Doctor Erskine and the army changed him. It would almost be nostalgic, he thinks, were it not for the fact that this wasn't Brooklyn and he'd been displaced from his own time by some seventy years now.

The entrance, when they finally reach it (Hogwort Castle was huge. Way bigger than what he'd imagined it to be… though it could just feel that way because of how close they walked to the wall), is nothing short of very impressive. He yearns for his sketchpad at the sight of the pointed arch entrance; tall enough for even the Hulk to walk through and flanked on both sides by a mass of chimeras, features still sharp despite being (presumably) over 900 years old. The solemn mien of their faces seem to emanate an alertness that shouldn't be there, as if they were watching him. It secretly terrifies him.

Harry ignores the eerie statues, eyes focussed intensely on the sunlit innards of the castle that lie beyond the thin chained fence with its DANGER: NO Unauthorised Access sign strung from wall to wall. Hermione is not so unobservant however, and eyes the statues warily.

"Do you feel it too?" he asks the witch softly. She nods slowly.

"Yes… it's weak. I suppose once upon a time they would have been part of the castle's security." She smiles wryly, "I guess we should be grateful that they can't talk… anymore."

He stares after her in horror as she walks past him and casually bypasses the barrier, as though it were meant only for lesser mortals. Harry copies her seconds later.

Talking Statues. Bloody hell, what can't they do? Magic just all seemed so overpowered and intrinsically unfair in the order of things.

Tony pats him sympathetically (condescendingly) on the shoulder as he, Thor and Bruce follow the magic users, "It's okay Gramps. At least we've got the two of them to keep us safe," he jokes.

Steve scowls, but takes a moment to compose himself. It wouldn't do to lose his temper, not with the shaky grounds of trust they were trying to create. He could get over his aversion to the seemingly unlimited nature of magic, just as he had with Bruce and his anger management issues. Just as he had the acknowledged existence of immortal aliens and the ever growing population of mutants, with their extraordinary abilities and troubled evolution (though at least mutants seemed to only have a handful of fantastical talents, instead of this bottomless pit of power). It would just be another metaphorical notch to add to his growing awareness of the twenty-first century.

He follows the retreating figures of his team mates, waiting for him patiently on the other side of the chain. Natasha and Clint remain where they are, content to keep watch, as it were (more likely, Clint wants to climb the castle and Natasha wants to watch, but he won't pull them up on it; that's Fury's job, if it were anyone's).

Steve half expects to feel something as he crosses the castle's threshold; some kind of profound change in the atmosphere, as if he were walking onto sacred ground. It's dishearteningly uneventful. There's no marked change in temperature; no rumblings of static flowing crackling through the air; no sudden shift in perceptions. Nothing. Nothing to suggest that he'd just walked into a fortress of memories and magic.

He pushes down the puzzling feelings of disappointment and surveys the entrance hall. Sunlight shines down weakly through the vast opening of sky where a roof should once have been. A grand staircase grows up to the second floor on the right side of the room, its carefully carved balustrades curving around on each side to guard the mezzanine floor and its darkened doorways. Two darkened rooms hide underneath the balcony. The stairs just seem to go on forever and he feels awed and humbled at the sight.

In front of him is another doorway, almost as large as the one he'd just passed through. The doors on this one are still intact; massive oak creations carved with the splintering remains of great battles and mystical creatures. They are infinitely beautiful and heart-wrenching. To be left to such disrepair feels almost as if it were physically hurting him. He wonders why Heritage hadn't bothered to restore the place. Surely they'd make a killing from a place like this as a tourist destination.

Harry and Hermione are waiting patiently for them beside the ancient doors that hang open just enough for them to slip through. Hermione twirls her wand between her fingers absentmindedly. She turns and glides into the dark room beyond as they draw closer wordlessly; Harry rolls his eyes, but there's a small smile resting on his lips. He nods silently, indicating for them to go through.

Steve complies, curious. The doors smell like mould and freshly cut timber and something close to incense. The inside of here is dark and eerie, and the overcast nature of the sunlight today doesn't let much of it through the numerous windows that span both sides of the great hall. He can imagine there being stained glass in them once, but if there were, they'd broken a long time ago. As his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it becomes increasingly clear just how big the hall actually is. He stares at the ribs of the vaulted ceiling, grimy and musty from centuries of abandonment. He can just imagine the spider's webs.

"What was this place?" he whispers; awed. He knows the answer of course- or at least, he knows the answer of what it was in Harry and Hermione's universe, but to see it vacant and neglected; it's hard to see it as anything more than a tragic husk. Something that should be, but is not.

"The Great Hall. Students would have their meals in here, in tables that ran from end to end. The ceiling was enchanted to show the sky; when I first arrived here, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen," Harry replies with a hint of tragic nostalgia in his voice, "The teachers would sit down that end," he points to the far end of the hall where Hermione is making her way to, her wand pointed straight ahead. The super-sized statue of a robed man, his hands resting on a bastard sword, stands before the wall, centred beneath a glassless window that almost reaches to the ceiling.

"This castle," Thor rumbles solemnly behind them, "Feels wrong. As though something were missing. I feel the magic now, and it is seeking something."

Harry hums, "I can feel it too. It can sense our magic, I think."

"Should we be worried?" Steve asks, glancing at the walls now as though half-expecting them to suddenly close on them.

Harry shakes his head, "No... I don't think so. I think it's just… missed magic, is all."

"Please tell me this castle isn't sentient."

Harry sends him a helpless look and Steve's suddenly overcome with the desire to bash his head against something hard and flat- the wall looks like a good contender, actually. Harry laughs at the look that must be showing on his face, "It's not like it's going to eat you Steve."

He glares at the ceiling that now feels too close to comfort, "I'm sure." Harry just shakes his head.

"C'mon," he grabs his arm and drags him down the hall, down to Hermione. His hand is cool and rough, "Just stick with us and you'll be fine." Steve somehow doubts that, but chooses to say nothing. And really, he shouldn't need reassurances- he was a supersoldier.

Hermione is kneeling at the foot of the statue when they reach her. Her lips are moving furiously, brow drawn in concentration as she waves her little stick about- the occasional light spurting forth and making her frown even harder. When he looks closer, he realises that the statue stands on a podium of black granite, carved into sharp relief with runes that cover almost every inch of it.

"That's the keystone, isn't it?"

Harry nods, eyes glued to the stone, "That's it," he offers in a strangled voice, "It's no ring of stones like Hogwarts, but it's done well enough for nine hundred years."

"It's beautiful." He's not lying either. He might be leery about magic, but he can't help but appreciate the uncanny beauty of the stone. At the very least, he can enjoy the craftsmanship.

"I give it fifty years. Sixty; tops," Hermione announces, abruptly standing up. Her wand arm falls to her side, "Keystones like this weren't made to last indefinitely- they decay over time with nothing to feed them. As it is, the wards it maintains are severely degraded. The runes designed to protect the castle from the old age failed first- centuries ago. The spells fuelling the chimeras outside went next. There aren't any runes to prevent muggles from entering the ground on here- which explains the tourists- but there's something almost like a notice-me-not charm written into the wards that's been slowly disintegrating ever since the castle was abandoned. I'd say that's why it's been uninhabited since the 1600s."

"Do you think you could repair them?" Hermione shakes her head, staring down at the keystone mournfully.

"Not without a massive amount of magic… which makes me wonder how the Bolton's managed to make it in the first place actually… but there'd be no point. And besides that, I think the sudden restoration of the wards might spark suspicions in a fair amount of people; especially if they've booked a visit and keep on 'forgetting' that the castle is there."

Harry nods as though her answer didn't surprise him. It probably didn't.

"I guess that's that then," he says, staring wistfully up at the ceiling. He huffs a laugh, sending Hermione a wry look, "Let's go home then."

Steve wisely says nothing about his choice of words.

It's progress at least.

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Ciao!