Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Marvel.

A/N: I. Am. Back! Yes, it has been a while, both for this and Risen Once Again. What can I say - exams suck.

I am back now, though, and will endeavour to release regular chapters for both fics. Now, reviews! I am so pleased so many of you are sticking with this fic, and I see some are looking forward to Harry meeting the X-Men. That will happen soon, with this chapter being a bit of a teaser when it comes to Harry in the world of mutants. He must, however, return to the magical world before this can happen, so sit tight!

Anyway, here is my second interlude chapter, focused on Harry/Tom and Daken:

Chapter 14 - The Wolf's Den

"Now this is more like it," Tom snarked as he threw himself onto the dusty couch Daken kept in his hideout. "Dust, grime, mess? What more can a bloke want?"

"Can it," Daken growled, opening the fridge. "Beer?" he asked, holding the amber liquid out.

"Might as well," Tom shrugged. "Can hardly be called a kid, now can I?"

Daken shrugged. "If your healing factor is what you say it is, I doubt you'll feel much. I sure as hell don't."

Tom shrugged, throwing the bottle back. "Ah, that hits the spot. Could do with a bit more of a buzz though."

"Just as I said," Daken grunted, dropping onto the couch beside him. "So. The future."

"What about it?"

"We have a deal," Daken said. "You'll be joining me in the mercenary business."

"Until I have the capital to fetch X23," Tom reminded him.

"Whatever," Daken spat. "We'll fetch your girl."

"She's not my-" Tom began, before sighing. "Right. Mercenary business."

"First things first, we need you a merc name," Daken grunted. "Can't go around giving your real name, now can we?"

Tom raised an eyebrow "What about you? Not that I would use my own name, anyway."

"You think Daken's my real name?" He barked a laugh. "Nah. Was born as Akhiro. Daken's Japanese for mongrel."

"Huh," Tom grunted, taking another sip of the beer. "I think I'll stick with Weapon M."

"People will make the connection," Daken warned.

"Good. They shouldn't underestimate me," Tom smirked.

"Either that, or they'll think that you're a fanboy," Daken spat.

Tom scowled. "I am far superior to your father."

"He is not my father," Daken hissed. "Now, your abilities."

"You first."

Daken grimaced, but chose not to argue. "My mutant abilities mainly take the form of Weapon X, minus the adamantium grafting, with the additional bonus of minor pheromone manipulation." He stretched out over the sofa. "I am a master martial artist, and an expert sword master. I am fluent in sixteen languages, and am a decent marksman. Your turn."

Tom finished off his drink, throwing the bottle behind him. "My mutant abilities all stem from my ability to integrate foreign bodies into my own. In addition to a general physical enhancement equal to Captain America's, I have your father's mutation, a high resistance to pain, kinetic energy storage, potential energy manipulation, line of sight teleportation the ability to phase, the ability to turn my skin to adamantium for a second and retractable wings. To top it all off, I have a photographic muscle memory alongside an eidetic memory."

"Yeesh, kid," Daken spluttered. "Even without training, you're a damn powerhouse. And your skills?"

"Thanks to my photographic muscle memory, training new techniques is simple," Tom began. "I'm an expert marksman, and a proficient brawler, with passing skills in various martial arts, though I have no doubt that I can enhance them. I'm a demolitionist, I'm a genius, I'm a master swordsman, I can throw a shield on par with Steven Rogers. Give me a small blade or a taser, and I can challenge the best there is. I can temporarily use another's mutation through an injection. I speak sixty three languages, and can read fifty. I have a split personality that I can, at times, communicate with. I'm a covert agent, an assassin. I am the best there is."

Daken huffed. "You sound good, kid, but don't get cocky. Arrogance kills."

"I know," Tom grumbled. "The Winter Soldier has a mighty left hook."

Daken blinked. "You survived a run in with the Soldier? Impressive."

"Yeah, and a Gringotts employee," Tom added.

Daken shook his head. "Those folks are fucking elusive. But it sounds like you'll make a good partner - that power set is pretty versatile, and we can work on bringing your martial arts up to scratch."

Tom frowned. "Oh yeah," he mumbled. "There's something else."

Daken snapped his head round. "What?"

"There is something else, something I found out about recently," Tom mumbled. "It's an energy within me, an energy that can do things. Things that I know Windsor didn't put in me."

Daken frowned. "What kind of things?"

Tom shrugged. "It's all been kinda accidental so far. Touch based telepathy, minor shapeshifting…"

Daken blinked. "Blood test. Now."

X

"This is impossible. This isn't fucking possible."

"How about you tell me what isn't possible, and maybe I can help?" Tom grumbled.

"You have the motherfucking M-Gene!" Daken cried, arms raised in exasperation.

"Never heard of it," Tom scoffed.

"You wouldn't have," Daken replied. "Those who have it kind of withdraw from society. It isn't documented at all. But one thing I do know is that it doesn't like the X-Gene. Like, it kills a host that has both."

"My mutation would probably prevent that," Tom shrugged.

"Yes," Daken nodded. "Well, congratulations, Tom. You have magic."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Pull the other one."

Daken barked out a laugh. "Stop being so sceptical. There's magic right out in the open! Maybe not M-Gene magic, but just look at Doctor Strange."

"Manipulation of dimensional energies," Tom drawled.

"Scientific jargon for magic," Daken insisted. "That gene? It allows you to summon that energy from within you. And not only are you magical, you also possess a pair of rare traits - psychometry and metamorphism."

"The first is a recorded mutation," Tom said. "Jean Grey is capable of it - the enhanced intake of psychic information through skin contact, both telepathic connections and psychic residue."

"Exactly!" Daken cried. "You have psychometry, but not latent psychic potential. As for metamorphism, well, it's humanoid shapeshifting!"

Tom hummed. "That could prove useful."

"Right," Daken nodded. "First thing tomorrow, we're going to fetch you some gear. Including for your magic."

"What, you're going to get me a magic wand?" Tom scoffed.

Daken nodded. "Exactly."

X

Harry glanced around the streets of night-time Manhattan, growling at passing pedestrians.

"Shut up," Daken hissed. "You drew less attention as Tom."

"Well, Tom's gone, ain't he," Harry spat. "You got me. Capische?"

Daken growled in anger. "Come on."

They made their way to a dirty looking garage, where Daken waited impatiently.

"Ah, great," the man who emerged grumbled. "Just what I need."

"Melvin Potter," Daken grunted. "I need a suit."

"What do you need a suit for?" Melvin huffed. "You just tear it off every time."

"Not for me," Daken corrected. "The kid."

"I ain't making nothing for no kid," Melvin spat. "I ain't a loony."

"He's a Weapon," Daken muttered. "With a capital W."

Melvin blinked owlishly. "Now, why didn't you say so? Come in, come in!"

Harry stepped into the room, following the tailor as he pulled away a floor tile, revealing a hidden basement.

"Welcome, kid, to the best tailor for supers all over," Daken grunted, gesturing to the room.

Row upon row of body armour was laid out, with components and tools lining the walls. He could smell the scent of Kevlar, unstable molecules, even vibranium.

"What do you have in mind…?" Melvin asked.

"Harry."

"What do you have in mind, Harry?"

"Something strong, but manoeuvrable," Harry said immediately. It had been a topic of conversation that came up in one of his conversations with Tom, conversations they had learnt to trigger through deep meditation. "Combat boots, retractable spikes. Concealed pockets and a utility belt. Knife belt, and a belt for vials. Katana sheaths, pistol holsters. A belt with hooks."

"Hmm," Melvin murmured, pulling out the additional things while pondering the main material. "You won't want body armour, and you won't want Kevlar. I know - graphene weave. Won't do much to disperse blunt force, but will stop a bullet, or a blade."

"That's fine," Harry said. He would need to receive the force to add it to his kinetic store. "Also, a mask."

"A mask?" Melvin clarified.

"Full head," Harry nodded. "Three pieces - left, right and front. Smooth, with a single eye hole on the left."

"For the discerning gentleman missing an eye," Melvin laughed. "I can certainly do that. Material?"

"Vibranium."

Melvin's smile faltered. "I'm afraid I don't have that."

"Yes you do," Harry corrected. "There, behind the fake wall."

Melvin looked to Daken. "Can you afford it?"

Daken looked Harry over critically. "Yes. Throw in a pair of vibranium katanas too, and a dagger."

Harry frowned. "You willing to sell arms?"

"I do," Melvin replied. "Will there be anything else, or shall we get onto aesthetics?"

"A pair of handguns," Daken said. "High quality. Ten knives - steel. Telescopic shield, twelve inch radius. Police issue taser." He glanced at Harry. "Anything else?"

Harry nodded. "Grenades. Flashbangs and smoke bombs, too."

Daken looked back at the tailor. "You heard the man."

"Got it," Marvin nodded. "Aesthetics?"

"Make the guns coal black," Harry said. "And make the suit crimson and black. Blood red, you know? Make sure the helm is red."

"Alright," Marvin agreed. "Anything else.

"Carve an M where the other eye socket would be," Daken said. "Inlay that with black. And integrate a HUD into the helm."

"Naturally," Melvin drawled.

"You know what?" Harry grinned. "Throw on a hood. Black."

Melvin nodded, finishing his notes. "That will be ready in a month."

Daken nodded. "Harry, we're leaving."

Harry nodded, following his mentor out silently.

When they had walked a fair distance, Daken spoke. "You have an eye for aesthetics, I'll give you that."

Harry smirked. "It was mostly Tom."

"Naturally," Daken nodded. "Now, we'll be headed to Siberia."

"Why?" Harry asked, eyes narrowed. "You never mentioned Russia."

"Magical gear is hard to come by," Daken explained. "Even harder to find it unregulated. If we want it, we'll have to go to Russia."

"I don't see why I need it," Harry grumbled. "A gun can do the job just fine."

"Sometimes a job requires a magical," Daken grimaced. "Certain areas a non magical can't get into without one."

"And they tend to pay well," Harry assumed.

"You got it, kid," Daken smirked.

X

Harry didn't mind the rain. He didn't mind the snow. He did, however, mind sleet.

"Make up your mind!" he growled at the sky. "Pick one!"

"It's summer," Daken laughed. "This is the best you're going to get."

"How much further?" Harry grumbled, looking around the soaked village.

"Right over there," Daken said, pointing at a pub down the road. "That's where Vladimir agreed to meet us."

Vladimir Cheslov. A local warlord, who just so happens to trade in dubiously acquired magical goods as a side hustle.

"The Magic Wand," Harry translated. "Really?"

"I didn't pick it," Daken argued, pushing open the door. "There he is."

The man was short, but muscular, with barely a scrap of flesh not covered by wiry hair.

"Meester Daken, da?" he asked, accent thick.

"Indeed," Daken said smoothly. "You have the goods."

"Da. Vand chooses vizard, but close vuns work just fine," Vladimir chuckled. "Meester M is a killer, no? Vell, these are killer's vands." He pulled out a case, within which were six wands. "Run your hand over dem, find your affinity."

Harry waved his hand over them, touching them briefly, before coming to a decision. "Those two."

"Two?" Vladimir barked. "I offer only da vun!"

"We will pay double," Daken growled, handing over the money. "He wants both, and so will get both."

"Fine," Vladimir grumbled, picking out the first wand. "Aspen and veela hair. A vood for da strong-villed and determined, and a core for vild vuns, the temperamental. A feral vand indeed, a vand for a revolutionary, a leader."

"Fitting," Daken noted. "The other?"

"Yew and thestral," Vladimir said, after handing over the first to Harry. "Da vood is notorious for producing killers, and da core is for the unstable, for dose without qualms over the death. A killer's vand indeed, for the sadistic and calculating."

Daken nodded. "Tom's wand."

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Vladimir looked at the boy nervously. "I must say, Meester M. I fear vat vould happen if I vere to cross you."

Harry gave him a feral grin, a grin that hinted at the future yet to come. "I suggest you never find out, Mr Cheslov. Good day."

Vladimir shook his head. That boy was no boy. He was a beast in mortal form.

A/N: So, how was this as a return chapter? Harry/Tom get their Merc suit, we see a bit of Daken, and we have our first glimpse of magic!

Next chapter will be the beginning of the next arc, the Education Enigma, which will see Harry's return to Hogwarts, and the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament. I can't wait!

I have a new question for my reviewers. Tom, as I am trying to show, is a separate entity to Harry, a living personification of Harry's cold logic. As such, and with his hatred for X-23, he will be having a separate pairing to Harry. Now, while I have some ideas, I would like to here your thoughts.

I have also started writing a High Fantasy Comedy, titled Half-Decent Wizards, so expect that to make an appearance in a year or so.

As always, please fave, follow and review, they are the energy that fuels my commitment to writing.

Until next time, this is JaguarAJG, signing off.