Someone's phone rang.
"So, your friend Bucky is the Winter Soldier, which according to you, Sirius, is a Soviet era ghost of an assassin who shouldn't exist." Harry was pacing back and forth in front of the bath, looking more stressed than a man his age had a right to be. However old that was… Harry hadn't exactly elaborated.
"Sounds about right," Sirius said, and tried to poke the Winter Soldier's cheek. Steve Rogers, aka Captain Rogers, aka Captain America, who was somehow now Harry's best mate, snapped a hand out, stopping Sirius.
"He's my friend. He wouldn't do any of that, not in his right mind. He's been brainwashed, somehow. So, I won't let you hurt him."
There was something impressive about Rogers' determination to protect his assassin buddy, despite Sirius's misgivings.
The phone rang again. Harry glared in the direction of the noise and abruptly it cut off, as if he'd silenced the device. Sirius raised his brows; that wasn't the kind of magic you learned by accident.
"We can't keep him here forever," Harry said in the quiet that followed.
All three of them looked down at the man lying prone in the bathtub.
"I could wake him up?" Sirius offered brightly.
Rogers grimaced. "I'd like that. But I'm also worried… you said he was planning to assassinate Harry. What if he's still trying to do that?"
"It's not like he'll cook me poisoned fish and set up an ambush for me," Harry said. When Rogers blushed scarlet and looked away, Sirius rethought his position on their friendship. Perhaps he could kidnap Harry and take him to a tiny little village in Wales where nobody would ever think to look for them.
As if Harry could read his mind, he narrowed his eyes as Sirius in the same eerie way that Lily had.
"Fine, fine, I'll wake him up," Sirius said. He cleared his throat and said, "hey, Robocop, open your eyes. I know you've been awake for most of this conversation."
The Winter Soldier's eyes snapped open. He didn't move and neither did anyone else in the room. Then he flexed, his arm whirring as he tried to escape the binds that Sirius had placed on him. They didn't budge.
"Did you know the whole time?" Rogers asked with a frown. Harry made the exact same face James used to make when he was trying to suppress a laugh. Sirius grinned and shrugged.
"I've had to stun him three times since capturing him. It was an educated guess."
Fury fumed.
Rogers was unreachable. Stark had, predictably, gone AWOL, but to their benefit at least, as he'd subdued Loki after a short brawl. The death count in Stuttgart was in triple figures[1], and the German government had launched a motion to extradite his captive.
Now they had Loki imprisoned onboard. But his eye itched. It had been too simple, although he daren't suggest that to any politician. Given Loki's apparent skill set, he'd bowed too easily.
He paced the bridge, joined soon by Coulson, whose frown matched his own.
"Phil."
"Fury."
"Report."
"Banner and Stark are at work. Thor's patrolling the upper corridors. Natasha's supervising the nerds."
All was well. It made him nervous. And that made him angry.
Fury continued to fume.
"What's the point of having a wizard on speed dial if they don't pick up the damn phone?" Tony grumbled, swiping at his phone to call Potter again, while typing with his free hand on SHIELD's terminal to run a ship-wide search for Loki and Thor.
"Sorry, what?" Banner said. He sounded absent-minded, like he hadn't properly heard, which could only be a good thing, instead occupied by a fiddly piece of equipment he was fine-tuning.
"Nothing, nothing, just thinking aloud," Tony said, "so, what's your deal, Banner?"
To keep himself occupied, Tony pestered him about his coping mechanisms: yoga, pot, and the like, while keeping an eye out for any sign that he'd pissed off the beast inside Banner. Impressively, Banner kept it together, even when Tony electrocuted him… twice.
When Tony went for a third jab, Banner finally huffed with annoyance, and ducked away. He turned to face Tony, although he was polishing his glasses with a sleeve to avoid eye contact.
"I wouldn't be here if I couldn't handle the stress. Just don't blast me halfway across the room with that suit of yours and I promise not to turn you into pate."
"Fair deal," Tony said. He was glad to see that Banner had some boundaries, else SHIELD would eat him alive.
"Walking a dangerous line there, Stark."
Tony's least favourite personal assistant materialised in the room as if she'd always been there.
"Doubt it," Tony said. "He's got a lid on it, somehow."
Romanov hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing, which was so entirely infuriating that Tony turned away to instead read the report that JARVIS had generated for him.
Apparently, Fury was producing hand-held weapons of mass destruction, amongst other dubious projects.
He wished he was surprised.
It was decided, after many hours of discussion, that the only way to ensure Barnes was safe was for Steve to stay with him in a safe house, and the only way to ensure Steve and the rest of the world stayed safe from Barnes was a complicated warding scheme. [2]
Luckily, Harry was a dab hand at those, having had many years to research his own, and admittedly Sirius knew a fair amount too. They'd been able to transform an abandoned cottage into a safe house in just under a day, and now Harry as setting the boundaries of the land.
"Is that a Tchiavoskia Ward?" Sirius said, as Harry raised a series of crystals toward the sun and then bathed them in both Steve and Barnes's blood.
Barnes had been stunned for that process.
"How do you know?" Harry murmured, continuing to the next steps, which involved salt, newt spleen, dock leaves, and sage harvested in the moonlight.
"I'm a Black, Harry."
As Harry closed his eyes and cast the finishing spell that would seal Barnes indefinitely inside the bounds of the cottage they'd rented, he contemplated that statement. Certainly the Black magic was infamous for its prickly exterior, but he'd never found any books to back that claim up.
"And?"
"And we invented warding magic! Didn't you find the library?"
Harry ignored Sirius for a few minutes as he completed the protection spell. Barnes, should he attack unprovoked, would be paralysed for a minute, however it also allowed Barnes to protect himself should someone somehow attack him. Steve could come and go as he wished, however Barnes would have to content himself with the house and the land beyond.
As the spell sealed, Steve approached him, shoulders hunched, hands tucked into his jean pockets.
"Is this definitely the right thing to do?"
"It's this or turn him over to SHIELD. We can still do that, if you like… you certainly seemed to place your trust in them before."
Steve bristled at Sirius's sharp quip.
"Sirius!" Harry stepped between the two men to diffuse the sudden tension. "What my esteemed godfather means to say is that this is the best of our options." He clasped Steve's shoulder. "If your friend is somewhere underneath the Winter Soldier then he deserves the opportunity to remember himself without being experimented upon or imprisoned for actions that weren't fully his."
He turned to Sirius. "Give us some space."
"How am I the bad guy when he's the one that tried to drug you?" Sirius grumbled. He hadn't taken that story well. But he did step away, busying himself with charming wisteria to drape across the cottage windows.
Sirius's taunting has steeled Steve's reserve. "No, he's right. SHIELD can't be trusted and I can't think of a better option. Thank you, Harry. I'm sorry I couldn't join you on the rest of your travels. But my place right now is here with Bucky."
"We've got time," Harry said, wondering for a moment if Steve had realised he hadn't aged since the 1940s. He'd raise that gently at a later date. "Your friend's recovery has to take priority."
"Aye, sir," Steve agreed, a dopey smile on his face. "Just when I thought I'd have to start afresh. I can't say I'm glad to see him like this, but I am glad I'm here for him."
"Good luck," Harry said. Steve saluted and Harry smiled back before walking away. He'd return in a few days with food and motorbike, ensure that Steve had some company other than a potentially brainwashed, amnesiac assassin.
Sirius stepped in beside him. "Done?"
"For now," Harry said. "Steve has a lot of work on his hands."
Sirius scoffed. "That's for damn sure. Now answer my question. You've barely told me a thing about what happened after I left."
With a roll of his eyes, Harry turned to Sirius. "I've been rather preoccupied with the soviet assassin you captured. No, we didn't find the library. Grimmauld Place became unliveable in my seventh year and I sold it as soon as I could. The Greengrasses snatched it up."
Sirius muttered curses under his breath. "Of course they did. Slimy, conniving bastards. They've been after access to our library for years." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry. I should have told you. There was a lot of heritage you didn't learn from me, but should have done."
They were in the moors of Scotland, isolated beyond all belief. Harry had chosen the location, although Steve had requested somewhere remote. The fens sprawled before them, green and luscious this time of year, the ground damp and soggy beneath their feet. Mountains loomed over them, the Grampians a stark silhouette of craggy rocks and gloomy forest.
Pausing in their aimless amble, Harry turned to Sirius.
It was hard, seeing him. It had always been hard to even think of him, even as the years passed, even as Harry acknowledged they'd hardly known each other.
"You provided everything I needed," Harry said. He swallowed and looked up at the sky. The great expanse above had always reassured him. In the grand scheme of things, he was small, so small. The universe grew and grew and Harry was just a cog in a machine that had churned away for years.
"I wish I could have taught you more."
When Harry looked down, Sirius was smiling. It was a relief to see that smile so absent of the shadow that Harry remembered, that ever present darkness.
"How long have you been here?" Harry asked, glad Sirius had found some peace.
"Oh, a few decades," Sirius said, waving his hand dismissively. "Enough to have aged."
Harry smiled, then froze, clutching a hand to his chest. It throbbed a heavy beat and he gasped, reaching out for his wards with grasping hands.
Phil!
He was in mortal danger. Harry grabbed Sirius and Apparated.
Phil's lungs rattled as he breathed and forced himself to exhale. Loki's sceptre had entered through his back and protruded through his chest. He was dead, or he would be.
Foolish, to not expect the god of trickery to attempt such a ploy.
He was tired. He blinked, eyes closing, rasping yet another breath. And another… and another… and…
"Not today," someone whispered, as darkness took him.
Tony acknowledged that if he died, then saving the world was how he wanted to go, as the helicarrier began to freefall despite his best efforts at saving it after Loki's minions had attacked. Perhaps if there had been someone to manually restart the engines… it wasn't worth dwelling over.
"Jarvis, call Pep."
"Are you sure, Sir?"
Tony grimaced. "No. Don't do it."
The ground was quickly approaching. Even if the suit managed to reboot after the electrical shock it had taken, the helicarrier would crush him, tumbling from the sky above. Pepper didn't deserve to hear his last moments.
Hopefully Banner had survived.
"Come on, come on!"
The familiar whine of the repulsors brought him joy, but it was soon followed by despair. As Jarvis calculated probable routes out from beneath the falling debris, it became immediately obvious his chance of survival was less than 4%.
"J, tell her I love her," Tony said, aiming for the quickest route and sending all thruster power to his boots. He'd survived worse odds, surely.
"She knows," Jarvis said, fondly. "Sir. She knows."
Harry materialised, Sirius at his side, and staggered, clutching onto a door frame as the floor they landed on groaned and shook beneath his feet. His gaze, however, was transfixed to the tether of the spell he'd cast offhand many months ago. A simple ward, one that would alert him if Phil were in danger and allow Harry to Apparate to his side.
Blood pooled through Phil's shirt and stab jacket from a wound in his chest, as a spear withdrew from his back. Phil collapsed to the floor, soon to be dead. Harry's hands trembled with an anger he'd not felt in over a century.
He had tried not to interfere. He had tried so hard. Yet trouble always seemed to find him and those he cared about. Harry swallowed, taking stock of the situation.
They were in some kind of airborne transport that was rapidly losing altitude. The dark haired man who had just stabbed Phil now faced off against someone else, a blonde man, who was trapped inside a circular glass cell that suddenly dropped out of the floor with a rapid press of buttons.
"That's Thor, unnaturally fast and strong," Sirius whispered. "Shit! I'll grab him." Sirius Disapparated with a crack, no doubt attempting a rescue.
Harry didn't care. Phil was dying. That could not be allowed.
The Wand of Death. The Stone of Resurrection. The Cloak of Invisibility.
Harry called on that of which he was the master and they came to him, eagerly, with glee and pride, shrouding him in Death's mantle. His breath rattled and his bones ached as he became the Infinite End, the Empty Hourglass, the Darkness that Walked, with names as many as lives ever lived. He was everywhere and nowhere. He was a million souls dying with every breath and he was the constellations shining above.
Harry stepped out of time and the world around him froze. Feathered wings of shadow burst from his shoulder blades and each step he took bled frost onto the metal beneath his feet. Darkness crept across the room, devouring light and colour, casting the world into silver and grey.
Phil. Pale, crimson blood now black ichor in the twilit place of eternity. He looked at peace with his death. Perhaps he ought not save him…
Take his soul… he's ours… you'll be able to keep him for all time… shroud him from harm… take him…
With a shudder, Harry knelt by Phil's side and placed a hand on his chest, gently beginning the healing process. "Not today," he murmured. Every time, it became harder to refuse.
It's his time… a mortal's life is but a blink of an eye… you only continue his suffering… join him in death…
Harry grit his teeth against the whispers of the Hallows and fed Phil a blood replenishing potion, satisfied to see the rush of pink in his cheeks.
Revenge at least… we thirst for revenge… burn for it… who dares touch that which is ours?
Aware that the building fury inside him was only being fuelled by the Hallows, Harry fought to prevent it from consuming him.
His name… what is that murderous bastard's name?
His name? You ask his name, Master? We know his name! We know all!
Tell me his name!
His name is Loki…
Staggering to his feet, Harry allowed time to resume. Reaching for that infinite well of power, he cast Arresto Momentum. The ship could not be allowed to crash, not while people Harry cared about were still on it.
Not while Phil was still on it. With an echoing groan, the transport righted itself. Although still descending, it would land softly, rather than shatter upon the ground.
Loki, finally aware of his presence, looked at him and recoiled, hissing like a startled cat.
"What are you? No. It matters not... Whatever powers you may have, mortal, you will find that interfering in a god's plans bodes you ill. Flee while you can!"
A jet of blue light spat from Loki's staff. It fizzled against Harry's shield. Harry smiled and smiled wider when Loki recoiled.
"You are all mortals to me," Harry said. "And you have made a grave mistake. Phil Coulson was under my protection."
"And what of it?" Loki sneered, his facade of superiority cracking like glass.
End him… kill him… reap his soul… take your revenge… he touched what was ours… kill him…
With a cry Harry thrust forth his power. He was the master, not they. Phil would not thank Harry for killing in his name.
"For now… sleep!"
A/N:
Writing this chapter took me places I had not expected to go. Please tell me if that was as satisfying for you as it was for me. I've always enjoyed a Harry who has to resist the temptations of the Hallows, because nobody is perfect.
[1] I am aware that the official death count for Stuttgart was 87. However, in this world, Steve has no idea about Loki and therefore isn't there to take the blow for the brave man that stood up to Loki. Many more died as a result.
[2] I'm sorry for skipping over the Steve & Bucky memory bs but this isn't a Steve & Bucky story and it's been done to death. I think it was why it took me so long to update, because nothing in me wanted to write it. There are thousands of Steve & Bucky out there, a personal favourite of mine is This, You Protect by Owlet on AO3.