Chapter Six
When Nick's phone rang half an hour after Phil had left his office, he answered with an irritable grunt.
For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of static. Then, as if from a distance, he could hear Potter proposing to a woman who answered in a muffled Italian accent.
"Don't go attempting to seduce the woman who makes the best coffee in New York, Harry, or I might actually have to bring you in," Phil rumbled.
Shite. Where was that place that Phil raved about? He muted his phone, cursing that he'd never taken Phil up on his offer to get lunch together.
Nick strode to the door of his office and looked out upon the bullpen. Dozens of wary faces stared back at him.
"Newbie!" he bellowed.
Immediately, three agents jumped to their feet: Parker, Hunt, and Johnson.
"Where do you go to buy Coulson's coffee?"
They stared at him as if he'd gone mad.
"Well?" he barked.
"Maria's!" Johnson answered. She was their most recent recruit from the CIA and sharp as a tack according to reports. "It's fifteen minutes down the road."
"Right. Potter's been located there. Someone get me a chopper! Johnson, you're with me. Sitwell, get the STRIKE Team mobilised."
The agents burst into action. Nick returned to his office, picking up the phone and linking it to his Bluetooth earpiece. He tucked the phone into his pocket and marched toward the helipad, Johnson following on his tail.
"Quite the charmer, aren't you?"
"Well, my Charms Professor did inform me that I had a talent for it, much like my mother."
"That's it, keep him talking," Nick murmured. Perhaps this time they'd be able to catch the bastard.
Of course, by the time he'd arrived at Maria's, Potter was long gone.
Tony bit back the urge to curse aloud, aware that he'd look like a madman talking to himself in public. Hank Pym had proven to be a dead end. The man was a disgruntled, argumentative old codger with a tenuous grasp on reality who refused to even meet with Tony. For some reason, he seemed to think that Tony owed him for the sins of his father. Pym was so crazy he'd even been booted out of his own company, but the new CEO didn't seem much better. To hell with both of them.
As Tony exited the New York Branch of Pym Technologies, his cell phone began to ring with a distinctive tune: the theme to BBC's Sherlock. Tony answered with a grin. JARVIS didn't often bother him with a phone call unless it was urgent.
"Hit me up, Jarv. What's kickin'?"
"Good afternoon to you too, sir. Mr Potter has made his first appearance in forty-three days in a coffee shop over in Queens. It would take you approximately thirty-eight minutes to reach his location in today's traffic, unless you wish to take the suit?"
Tony slid into his Audi, JARVIS automatically swapping over to handsfree. He revved the engine and ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the mirror to check the street for cars. With a squeal, he pulled away from the curb.
"Not today, J. He'll be long gone before I get there. Tape it and I'll watch it when I'm back at the tower. Who's he with?"
"Agent Coulson. It appears that the agent has notified Director Fury. The Director is already on his way."
"When will they learn not to mess around with this kid? Time for SHIELD to face the music: they simply don't have a big enough stick."
Tony swerved to avoid an idiot in a truck and accelerated into the next lane. Driving around Manhattan was a nightmare.
"I believe they're expecting you to provide them with one."
A ludicrous idea. Between Potter and SHIELD, Tony was more inclined to side with the wizard. He was fascinating. Tony wanted to take his magic apart and find out what made it tick. At this rate, SHIELD were going to hand him a dimension traveller on a plate, one that wasn't going to want anything to do with them. With that sort of leg up, Tony would be able to put pressure on SHIELD to be a little more transparent with information that they were currently withholding. Information like Captain America's status and Bruce Banner's location.
"Miss Potts is calling, sir."
Tony winced as he realised he'd missed a meeting with the Finance Department.
"Er, tell her I've got business. Official superhero business."
"She's asked me to inform you that she looks forward to hearing all about it at dinner this evening."
The day that SHIELD managed to convert Pepper was going to be the day that Tony signed away his company and disappeared to live out the rest of his life as a monk in the mountains of Nepal. He sighed.
"Tell her I—tell her I'll be there."
Now he had to figure out what to get in for dinner.
Harry had spotted someone watching his building. After a few days of observation, he realised that they weren't watching him—not really.
They were watching Steve.
There were a few watchers: a stout, muscular man with sharp vision; a lithe, red-haired woman with an aura of danger about her; a blond woman pretending to be a nurse in one of the other flats; and a tall, dark, and handsome man that appeared to be perpetually bored. Harry had only spotted the first two because they'd turned up on his ward scheme as potential threats. Of the latter two, the woman was a little too friendly with Steve and a little too suspicious of Harry, and the man was simply incompetent.
Steve seemed to be oblivious. At the same time, he exhibited all the warning signs of ex-Aurors suffering from war fatigue: hyper-vigilance, prone to twitchiness, and insomnia. There was probably a good reason he was being watched, even if Harry wasn't sure what it was. On paper, Steve was ex-military and worked in private security. Harry wasn't good enough with computers to figure out if there was more to it than that.
Luckily, Harry had other methods of interrogation.
Clint had been minding his own business, watching Steve Rogers from afar using the scope of his sniper rifle, when there was a loud crack behind him like the snap of a whip. He jackknifed to the side and rolled onto his back. A streak of red light shot over his shoulder, splashing against the concrete where he'd been laying.
"Ooh, good reflexes," said the man who was standing on the other side of the roof. He was holding a stick in his hand and seemed unperturbed that his attack had failed. His accent, weirdly, was British.
"Who the fuck are you?" Clint said, scrambling to his feet. Without giving the man a chance to answer, he lunged forward, only to tumble to the ground, stiff as a board, hands pinned to his sides.
Heart racing in his chest, Clint tried to move or speak. He failed. All he could do was blink.
"Ah, sorry about that," the man said. Clint squinted up at him. He was tall, with dark hair and green eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses. For some reason, he seemed familiar.
"Really, I try to catch people when I petrify them. You're fast, though, so I didn't want to take the risk I'd missed."
As the man got closer, Clint realised that this was Phil's mysterious teleporting, spellcasting, dimension traveller. While it was exciting to finally get to meet the man (he was a wizard!), he couldn't help but wish that circumstances were more in his favour. He also wished he could remember the man's name. Porter? Parker?
More importantly, how the hell had the wizard even known where to find Clint?
"Now, don't blink," the wizard said, then chuckled. "Legilimens."
Before Clint could wonder what the wizard was on about, a series of memories flashed before his eyes.
"They've found Steve Rogers? Captain America? The Captain America? Phil, you're messing with me."
"I'm serious… we need you to keep an eye on him, he's vulnerable in today's world…"
#
"Did you hear? There's another Asgardian in New York. This one can teleport!"
Clint cuffed the back of Peterson's head. "That's classified, you idjit. Shut your mouth and focus on your own assignments."
As Clint stalked away, Natasha fell into pace with him.
"Fury's on the warpath. Stark found the guy then let him leave."
"Phil thinks he did the right thing."
"Not every day that Coulson agrees with Stark…"
#
"This report is ridiculous," Clint muttered, staring down at the science nerds' official findings on one Harry Potter's belongings.
"Tell me about it," Phil sighed.
"I never thought I'd see the day I believed in magic."
"Haven't you heard? Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."
"So he's a mage. A dimension travelling mage?"
"Put my case file down and focus on your own… how's Captain Rogers?"
"Wouldn't you like to know…"
#
"Any luck with the wizard?" Clint grinned at Fury, who scowled back and scoffed.
"Wizard? What gave you that idea?"
"Sounds better than sorcerer, doesn't it? Harry Potter, the wizard."
"Get out of here, Barton," Fury growled. Clint knew he was laughing on the inside.
"Sir, yes sir."
Clint gasped as his mind was released, his memories becoming his own. A migraine blossomed behind his eyes.
"Interesting," Potter said, tapping his wand like a drumstick against his thigh. "Very interesting. Sorry about that, old chap. Didn't realise you were one of SHIELD's goons. If I release you, will you agree not to attack me?"
Suddenly, Clint found that he could speak once more.
"Sure, if you agree not to do whatever that was again."
Potter smiled down at him.
"Agreed."
Clint was free to push himself to his feet. He'd like to lay on the ground a little longer and rest, but Potter was a threat and Clint wasn't the type to just lie around while threats looked on. He massaged his temples before glaring at Potter.
"You're a right bastard, you know."
Potter smirked. "Takes one to know one."
Clint grimaced, rubbing at his eyes. Seconds later, there was a quiet pop . He glanced up.
Potter was gone, as if he'd never been there at all.
Phil stared down at Clint's most recent report. He'd been there when they'd debriefed Clint, who'd not had much new to say about Harry than what they already had gathered. Nick'd had a conniption about Harry's ability to read minds, but Phil didn't think that was much worse than a drug that forced someone to speak the truth.
There was one piece missing from the puzzle: how the hell had Harry known that Clint had been on that roof? Something was niggling at him, something he ought to remember.
He reread the first paragraph.
Arrived for duty at 18:00. Rogers and neighbour Weasley had finished dinner and were eating pastries that Weasley had provided. Subjects proceeded to watch TV until 21:48. Weasley retired to his flat at 22:04 and Rogers retired to bed. No action until 23:17 when unsub Harry Potter arrived behind me using teleportation.
Phil sighed and set aside the report. It was nearing eight in the evening and he'd not yet had dinner. A cup of coffee from Maria's would give him the boost he needed to get home.
It would come to him, whatever was stewing away at the back of his mind.
A/N: Thank you to my wonderful reviewers for the previous chapter: marsolino, Separ, AnimeFreak71777, untoldpleasure, gms, Wonderland-fae, fandomsneverdie, patricia . pc, Celestialuna, Sugar0o, and Vladimir Mithrander!
Separ - at this point, Harry is in disguise, so Steve would be unable to put together 'Harry Potter the wizard' and his neighbour 'Harry the writer'.
fandomsneverdie - you raise some interesting questions, but for the sake of suspense, I'm not going to answer them... sorry!