THANK YOU TO ALL MY REVIEWERS, MY READERS, AND MY AWESOME NEW BETA!

CONTEST RESULTS-

Last week's contest winner was MagicManga, who correctly guessed that my favorite animal is a hyena. Congratulations!

Okay, so, I have some news. As the above thanks caption claims, I now have a beta; the most wonderful La Tigra. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR HELP!

She's the best. Hopefully there will be a noticeable improvement in the grammar and overall feel of my chapters from this point on. I think so. Also, to MagicManga, there was a little bit of editing that didn't happen until after you got the chapter. Everything's the same, just some rearrangement of words and corrections here and there.

NEW CONTEST-

This week's contest is based off skill, not guessing. The current summary is getting a bit tiring to me… I wonder if any of you would be willing to write a new one; 350 words or less, without without story warnings. Winner gets a oneshot. 5000-10000 words, based in HP, Avengers, Naruto, Twilight (shudder), or some crossover between two of the four. It can be a story under any genre, including romance. If you really want, I'll write you some smut, but that'll have to go on AO3.

SUBMIT VIA PM.

That done, let's move on to the chapter.

Enjoy.

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Harry groaned as awareness started coming back to him. He tried to roll on his side, and stopped with a wince, because even with his eyes closed the movement made his head spin. He whined in the back of his throat, and then something warm was pushing his head up, and then there was something pressed to his lips. It tilted a bit, and water dribbled down his neck, making him open his mouth to drink it in. It was taken away before he would have liked, and though he whined again, he felt immensely better from what little he had been given. He tried to open his eyes as the warm thing holding his head up, a hand, he told himself, left him. The world was blurry still, and he had to blink several times before it became clear enough to see anything around him.

The ceiling above him was a darker wood than the inn or the bar, and he didn't know where he was. His eyes fell, next, on the man, what was his name? Logan, as he leaned over him. He growled deeply before he could stop himself. His senses came back to him after the sound was already out, and he mentally cursed himself. But then, the strangest thing happened.

Logan growled back. It was louder and more rumbly than his own had been, and while there was no real word to it, the meaning, back down, came to him as clearly as if it had been spoken. He remembered the fight, how he had been bested, and almost against his will, he whined an apology, all the while doing a double take in his head because What. The. Actual. Fuck? Logan growled again, a softer, gentler sound this time, that he understood as him being forgiven.

"Where-" He chose to push his thoughts on strange, inhuman behavior aside for the moment and coughed as his voice came out raspy, then continued again, more solidly this time. "Where am I?"

"My place." He swallowed.

"Why?" Logan shrugged.

"Didn't know where you were staying. Didn't feel like looking. Didn't want to leave you on the floor." Simple, straight, and to the point. He nodded.

"Okay... Thanks." Logan only grunted, and made no move to help as Harry gingerly pushed himself up onto his elbows, and then into a sitting position. His eyes flew around once he was no longer laying down. He was on a tattered blue couch, in what looked to be a small cabin. There was another mismatched brown couch to his right, a fireplace to his left, and a kitchen combined with a dining room across from him. There were three doors. One was open, revealing a small bedroom, with little room for more than the bed. The other two were closed, but as one was built a bit differently, with a window next to it he decided that one probably led outside, and the other was likely a bathroom. The window revealed light, so it was daylight now. He winced at the thought that he had been here all night.

Severus was going to kill him.

Logan growled again, a quiet, drawn out noise that was much like a hug for Harry, calming him as though the emotion had been dumped over his head like a bucket of water. He stared at the Canadian, his nerves gone, and became very still, the way he might have done in animagus form just before pouncing on a deer. He opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut, changing his mind about what he wanted to ask. He was curious, more than curious, about who this man was, but it wasn't his right to pry.

"We're staying at the Blacklog Inn. I need to get back." Logan stared at him for a moment, making him feel almost like he was unarmed and staring down the length of a wand pointed at his face, before nodding wordlessly.

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The drive back to the Inn was quiet and comfortable. Logan's beat up green truck with its' fraying seats pitched and jerked uncomfortably over the rough roads, the blurred trees flashing by, the only distraction; it taking them ten or fifteen minutes to get back to town, as the logger lived just outside of it. Harry felt even better about having not asked the questions that had initially come to his mind. Logan seemed to be a person who very much appreciated his privacy, and he doubted that probing for information would have gone well.

He might have thought the ride back, as they didn't speak a word, would have been awkward, but if anything he felt at peace. It made him think of when he would be sitting in a hotel room drawing runes and Severus would be there reading something or other, while Muhammad laid across a bed chain-smoking. It was a comfortable silence, the kind that usually only came after you had known someone for awhile. It was strange to Harry, that such a silence would occur between he and Logan, but he chose not to question it for now.

Especially since his head ached, his thoughts were still dazed, and he couldn't really tell if that was the aftereffects of the alcohol or the blow to the head.

"We're here, kid." He blinked, shaking his head a bit (cringing with a hiss when the motion reminded him of the state of his head) and gave a bit of a start when he realized they were parked outside the Inn. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, whatever they had been, that he hadn't even noticed them arrive and stop. He hadn't even noticed the engine had gone silent.

"Oh. I... Um... Thanks." He squeaked, and the awkwardness that had been absent before descended on them. Logan gave a nod and a grunt, and Harry managed a bit of amusement. It seemed that the Canadian was one of those men which communicated most often through the usage of the most manly type of sounds; grunting. He chuckled at his internal thoughts, and Logan gave him a look of vague curiosity; a sort of wondering at his thoughts that wasn't strong enough to question them. Harry smiled at him, and the awkwardness melted away, gone nearly as fast as it had come.

"Do you want to have breakfast with us?" He saw Logan's expression start to close off even before he had opened his mouth to reply, and there was this sudden sense of urgent panic; he couldn't let the man leave, not yet. "Please?" He pled. "I'll pay. All you can eat?" Some of the strange, unbidden desperation that had come over him must have shown on his face, because Logan stared at him with unfathomable brown eyes before nodding and half-heartedly grumbling under his breath about annoying and bothersome brats.

So it came to be that Harry, Severus, and Logan found themselves situated at a booth in the local old-fashioned diner. The former two were watching the latter with reluctant awe and hidden disgust, respectively, since he seemed to nearly pack away his own weight in food, though he at least had better table manners than Ron, and Harry, for his part, felt his wallet get lighter before the bill had even come. Perhaps it had been a mistake to offer Logan all he could eat; especially as he appeared able to eat quite a lot.

Harry eyed his father out of the corner of his eye. The man had that look on his face that brought back memories of detentions spent scrubbing cauldrons of nasty goop from whatever failed potions the other students had managed to concoct. The look on his face consisted of hard lines and eyes like obsidian; cold, hard and nearly emotionless. He swallowed and looked down at his own plate, nudging one of his eggs around with a fork, nervousness completely ruining his appetite. Severus had hugged him, the moment he had seen him and realized he was alright. If not for Logan's presence, however, he expected the man's next action would have been to yell at him 'til he was deaf. As it was, he wasn't looking forward to what the potion master would have to say once the Canadian had gone.

That was another thing. Just the thought of the man leaving left an acidic taste in the back of his mouth and an uneasy feeling in his gut. More than his father's anger with him made him reluctant to part ways with the rough man, and he had no idea why. He suspected, though, that this was just another of those things connected to the beast within him that he had never gotten around to understanding properly; like his love of fish and rare meat, or the growling session of the morning. As such, he wasn't sure how well he could trust his gut on this matter, and the thought of being unable to trust his own instincts, which had never steered him wrong, made him even more severely uncomfortable; which was yet another in a list of reasons for why he was mostly just poking and moving his food about with his fork, as opposed to simply eating it.

"So," He flinched slightly at the sound of Severus' voice. It was calm, and cold, like ice, which, much like his eyes, reflected to Harry how angry he was, despite, or perhaps because of, the absence of that emotion in his voice. "Mr. Logan, was it? What is your... Occupation?" The Canadian glanced up at him and leaned back in his seat, his brown eyes telling Harry that he either didn't notice Severus' bad mood, or didn't care.

"Logger."

"I see... You work at the mill then?"

"Mostly." He didn't elaborate, and Harry saw Severus' hand clench from the corner of his eye. He swallowed.

"Right. And how was it, exactly, that my son," Harry blinked a bit at the harsh tone of those words. What? Had he missed something? "wound up in your truck?" Logan stared him down, not a freckle on his face showing that he might be intimidated, as many often were when faced with the potion master; especially when he was in as bad a mood as he was. More than anything, he seemed entirely unfazed by Severus' anger, and, whatever that other emotion was that Harry couldn't place. He seemed to study Harry's father for a moment before replying, though what he was studying him for, Harry didn't know.

"I fought at the bar at last night. Your kid lost." Severus blinked, momentarily startled out of his stoic-angry look, having not expected that, and his eyes fell on Harry, who winced, as the Canadian continued. "Knocked him out and didn't know where he was staying. Took him with me till he woke up so he wouldn't get in more trouble."

"I see..." He spoke slowly, and though he still looked angry, there was something in the tense set of his shoulders that seemed to loosen, much to Harry's amazement. And it was that minor loss in tension that gave him hope he might yet survive Father's anger. "Do you work today?" He was still looking at Harry. Logan paused before replying.

"Yes."

"Then perhaps you should leave to prepare for the day." The words might have been a suggestion, but Severus' tone made it anything but. Harry couldn't meet his eyes.

"Alright." He stood up from his seat, and looked down at Harry, who bit the inside of his mouth as his instincts flared with the need to ask him to stay. Their eyes met, and Logan growled again. It was a low sound, too low for human ears, but Harry heard it, and every bone in his body seemed to melt against his will, and his instincts faded down. Calm down, it said. "See you 'round kid. Thanks for breakfast." He nodded at Harry, and then turned around and left, his boots thunking along the wood with every step. He didn't look back.

Severus turned his gaze on Harry, and he winced, calm gone as though it had never been.

Shit.

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Harry rubbed his forehead, knowing the pounding headache he suffered was his own fault; born as it was from a several-hour-long lecture that had only been given because he had been stupid enough to challenge Logan to a fight, while drunk, nevermind that his being under the influence didn't leave him liable for any decisions he made. Aside from the lecture, he now found himself with a new bit of 'jewelry'; a single ear piercing one of the magical aborigines had been happy to provide. It was equipped with permanent monitoring, and tracking charms, so Severus would always be aware of where he was, and whether or not he was in danger.

The tiny stone hoop seemed heavy, and made him feel much like a dog on a leash. Still, it was better than being confined to the magical equivalent of a house-arrest. He was much happier with a leash that offered some semblance of freedom, as opposed to the alternative. It was, in fact, the only reason he had been allowed to leave the hotel for the night to explore again. Severus had told him he either had to be back by nine, or not until morning, but that if he got into anymore trouble, he could kiss his learning sessions with the natives goodbye, as they would immediately leave for New York.

He was tempted to go back to the bar anyways, but he resisted, and instead found himself a small bit into the forest, curled up on a dead tree that had fallen just so, ending up perfectly balanced, halfway atop a boulder. Taking advantage of the angle, Harry settled down to rest and gaze up at the stars. It was a full moon again, and the expanse of stars he could see made him think of Hogwarts, and Bogdon, and the desert in Oman. He found himself drifting into light meditation; the kind he experienced without Mitera.

He wandered through his own mind, poking and strengthening his shields, his headache ebbing away as he did so. He checked the threads of his translation necklace, and the walls around them for spaces. He felt like he was drifting through syrup all the while, his actions slow and lazy. A scent drifted to his nose, a change from the usual that grasped his attention and pulled him from his daze. He blinked, pulled from his daze and back into the night just as a small crunch was heard; making him look over his shoulder for the source.

He had assumed that Logan spent all his nights at the bar, but maybe it was only a weekly sort of thing. They watched each other for a few moments, and then the burly man came over and Harry looked back at the sky while he climbed up the fallen tree and settled down a few feet away.

"How's the head?"

"Fine. It doesn't hurt anymore." Logan grunted, and Harry heard the tale-tell rustling of pockets being searched. He pulled out a cigar, and Harry sniffed when he lit it. He had tried cigars once, back in Russia, but found he preferred Muhammad's cigarettes. Still, the smell was nice enough. He thought about lighting up himself, but he wasn't in the mood, and he had left them at the hotel anyways.

"Thanks for breakfast."

"You're welcome." The silence returned for some time, Logan having long-since finished his cigar, and they lingered until the lights of the distant gas station faded away; leaving them alone with only the light of the moon and the stars to see by.

"Can I stay the night with you?" He wasn't really sure why he had asked, except that he was certain nine had come and gone, and he didn't much feel like sleeping in a tree, though he had done so before. Logan grunted, hopping off the tree, and landing in a well-practiced crouch on the ground.

Harry took that to mean yes, and followed him.

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At least, when he woke up, he knew where he was this time. Harry despised not knowing where he was, especially after waking up in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, or the medical ward of Bogdon as many times as he had. Though he had woken up in the hospital wing enough times to be able to recognize the sounds and smells before even opening his eyes, so he supposed that no longer counted as much.

Logan was still asleep, or so he assumed from the slow breathing and closed bedroom door, and unlike last time, he felt no call to stay near the Canadian, so he found some paper to write a note of thanks, and then left. He didn't think the man was the sort who would find his actions rude, and he needed to head over to the reservation for the day anyways. He was almost done learning their protective spells, and he thought he should hurry up.

He was more than ready to visit the goblins about his property in New York so he did. After doing so, he learned that they would only have three more days in Canada before the set-up in New York was complete. He looked for Logan the night before they were to leave, hoping for a chance to say goodbye.

But the man was nowhere to be found.

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His townhouse, as he found out, was a huge five-story brownstone located within a small, warded, magical-only community somewhere in the Glendale area that was occupied mainly by magical non-humans; specifically humanoids such as vampires, veela, werewolves, and the like. That suited him just fine, since it meant he could go outside without his glamours if he so chose and not have to worry about too many stares or questioning looks. Originally, the house had been set up with each floor as their own apartments, but he asked the goblins to alter two of the floors; the first, to be made into a sort of communal living space, and the second to be used as a library, so he could bring his books over from Bogdon.

The place had a basement, already set up as a potions lab, so Severus should be happy enough with it. The first floor living space would be mostly an open area, with a large kitchen, so they could eat their meals together, and each of them would have one of the top three floors to themselves. This meant, that for the first time in quite awhile, they would all have some privacy.

Harry wouldn't have said so aloud, but he was pleased with that. They had been travelling without end for almost two and a half years now, and during that time there had been little instances under which they had had any real privacy from each other. He loved his Father and Moo dearly, but he was almost twenty now. He needed his own space for once.

He was especially excited about being able to retrieve Oddball from Fred and George. When they had begun travelling, the little red puff had been left behind, since, while a blue snake might catch someone's eye, snakes were relatively mundane animals; a puff, on the other hand, especially one so brightly colored, wasn't the best thing to have when passing through muggle areas where it could be seen.

"So you move in-"

"Three days." Bruce smiled. He was a little early on his monthly visit, but he had wanted to see his brother before they got settled in.

"That's good. It must be nice to finally make a home for yourself." Harry shrugged, sprawled across Bruce's couch, and fiddled with a bead on one of his necklaces.

"I suppose so. It's been a little while since I've called anywhere home, but I don't know how long we'll be there." Bruce frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, home is the place you feel most welcome, right? That's kind of changed for me over the years. I guess Surrey was home for a bit, and there was Hogwarts, The Burrow, Grimmauld Place, Bogdon, Mahdi's farm... Home isn't really a permanent thing to me."

"Ah, I see. Well, how long do you want to stay there?"

"A few years maybe. I don't think we could manage staying there indefinitely." Bruce chuckled, the sound mixing with the shifting of paper as he shuffled through some of his notes.

"Is there even a place you could settle indefinitely?"

"If I could, I think I'd be happy living with the twins, if Severus and Muhammad and you could all be there too. It wouldn't really matter to me where." Bruce smiled, a far cry from the disbelief Harry had nearly expected. Since he had formally adopted him into his family, Bruce had, more or less, stopped being so surprised at the knowledge that Harry actually cared about him. At least most of the time. But that didn't stop him from being uncomfortable about it, coughing, and changing the subject.

"So, you mentioned something about an apprenticeship?"

"Well, it's not really a traditional one, since I'm teaching myself, but I just got my certification, so now-" And Harry was happy to let him.

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The townhouse was simple, tall and squarish, and made of a mix of dark stone and red brick. A concrete set of four steps led up to a pair of dark wooden doors; the wall above which had a sort of stone lip that was too small to really be an awning, but would still offer a bit of protection from the rain when unlocking the door.

Inside, the ceilings were a little shorter than he was accustomed to, and he could already tell that the doorways were only just big enough for Severus, tall as he was, to go through without bumping his head. There was some furniture, mostly old pieces that likely wouldn't have been out of place in the home of someone four times his age (but which felt perfect to him given his time at Hogwarts, where all the furniture had likely been the same since the founding of the school, and the only new things were toilets, and the cauldrons which often needed replacing, given the propensity for potion accidents). The walls were all painted a sort of dark creme color that put him at ease, and the building itself smelt like mothballs and dirt; neither of which he minded. He smiled. It felt old fashioned, and homey; he was instantly comfortable.

"So who gets what floor?" Moo was looking around the place, and Harry wondered for a moment how long it would take for the place to start smelling like his cigarettes too.

"I don't know. They're all pretty much the same, so far as I know."

"I will take the third floor then." Severus spoke up. "Since it will be the closest to the basement."

"And you?" Muhammad scratched his head.

"Is there a roof access?"

"Yes."

"I'll take the top then."

"So I'll be in the middle." He nodded to himself. "Sounds good to me."

"Harry?"

"Yes sir?"

"Exactly what do you intend to do about your need for water?" Severus asked.

"The goblins built a second basement. That was one of the renovations I asked for. It's the same set-up as Bogdon. Grimrok mentioned some extra passages that connect the floors. We'll have to hunt around for them, but there's probably one that connects your floor to the first basement, so if you find it, you could use that to go straight to your potions instead of having to slip down the stairs all the time." Severus smiled.

"That would be preferable."

"I thought you might like that. I'm not really sure how many passages there are, so it'll be a bit of an adventure, living here." He smiled to himself. It made him think of Hogwarts a bit. All the tunnels and trick staircases, hidey-holes and alcoves, secret rooms and doors that came and went. Granted, the house was barely the size of Gryffindor tower, let alone Hogwarts as a whole, but all the same...

"It can't be any worse than anything else we've done." Moo grumbled. "So where's the main staircase at?"

"Behind that wall there, with the Lilies." He had been surprised when Grimrok had mentioned a wall design with the flowers on it, but seeing it now, he was happy for them; even without knowing who had put them there or when or why. There were several of them, all in an engraving of sorts and twisting about each other. They were a bit off-color from the wall, making them stand out just a bit, but he wasn't sure if that was the paint or just shadow and light.

He looked up at his Father as Moo pushed against the patterned wall, revealing that it slid just like a muggle glass door. He had a soft smile on his face, but the tell-tale sadness Harry had come to associate with that look was absent. Perhaps he was finally healing? The combination of the war ending, and them travelling the world and getting away from it all had to have done him some good at least.

He looked back to the opening, and the twisting, iron-wrought staircase leading upwards. For a moment, he was glad for magic, and being able to put everything you owned in shrunken trunks, since it would mean not having to drag heavy furniture up that staircase (something he didn't really think was possible anyways; how did muggles do it?).

"Let us go up then. We each have a great deal of unpacking to do." Harry nodded, a little giddy at the prospect, and Oddball, who he had nearly forgotten about, sure he had fallen asleep on Harry's head, made a happy little cooing noise.

"Yea! Let's unpack!" It would be the first time any of them had really done so in over two years after all.

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Harry sighed happily, stretched out sideways on a comfy brown armchair with his feet hanging over one arm and Oddball lazing about on his chest. He ran a hand through his red fur absently as he gave his new home a once-over. Each of the apartment floors were a little different, but his own made him think a bit of the twins' flat.

There was a single main room, with a tiny kitchenette and small round table with a couple chairs on one side, the 'living room' bit in the middle, complete with couches, armchairs, and a coffee table, and the other side of the room was a mess of desks, his map of the world (now free of pins), and various stacks and piles of books, scrolls, and free papers (many of which were covered in various runes, seal designs, tribal markings, and ward plans). Then there were two doors on the wall, each leading to a room, with a bathroom between them that both were connected to. He had turned one into his bedroom, complete with two beds that barely fit so that Metis could have her own place to sleep and be able to deactivate the collar if she wanted, a wardrobe, his old school trunk that looked rather battered these days, and a set of shelves that held a handful of knickknacks he had collected along their travels.

He had thought for a while, about making the other room into his 'work space' for his runes and seals and the like, but had inevitably chosen to use it as a guest room, so that the twins or Bruce would have someplace to sleep when they visited (assuming of course, that he could convince Bruce to visit at all). The twins were, in fact, coming for a visit, in a few weeks or so, once they started to grow accustomed to being here.

He yawned, tired from unpacking, and little Oddball shuffled a bit in his dreams. Maybe he could just sleep in the chair for the night.

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Harry frowned to himself.

"Something wrong?"

"Hmm?" He looked up as he came into the main kitchen. "Oh! Is that your tea?" Severus chuckled, and Harry pulled down a cup to get some for himself. It had been a while since Severus had made his special brew. Harry thought the last time he might have had it, would be before he left Hogwarts. He settled down at the little table across from his father and poured some for himself. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh as he took the first sip. Gods, he had missed this.

"Well?"

"What? Oh. Bruce isn't answering the phone, that's all. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about though. He probably just stayed late at the clinic again."

"I'm sure. That man would waste away helping others, if given half the chance." Severus said, and Harry laughed.

"No doubt. I figure I'll just call him tomorrow. If he doesn't answer then, or call me back before then, I suppose I'll be allowed to get worried."

"Will you pop off to India?"

"If I have to." He shrugged.

"I thought it was the job of the older brother to look out for his younger siblings, not the other way around."

"I think all family should look out for each other, ages be damned." Severus smiled into his tea and Harry sat back and sipped at it in silence, body relaxed, tail swishing about lazily. He could hear the sounds of cars, trains, people, and music just outside of the neighborhood. Closer he could hear someone singing, and a few of their neighbors talking and laughing. The noise was comforting, and the smells of food, cigarette smoke, and mothballs, was nice and familiar.

He didn't regret the choice to move here one bit.

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"Give them here!"

"I'm looking at them!"

"Muhammad! If you don't- WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON'T BEND IT LIKE THAT!"

"Why not? It's not like I'm breaking it or anything idiot."

"Give them back! I'm not done with them!"

"Just hold on you moxannas."

"I am not a sissy!"

"Pshh. Are too."

"Are not!"

"Are too."

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"I am not!"

"You're as sissy as a little girl!"

"YOU-" Harry pounced, and they went tumbling, the gauntlets he had been working on since they were in Canada flying a few feet away. They wrestled, rolling across the floor amidst grunts, hisses, and curses in various languages.

Harry yelped as they hit the stairs, both of them going down it quickly and painfully. He'd been working in the library for once, talking to Frode, who he hadn't spoken to since they left Bogdon, and as they fumbled down the stairs they landed in the living room, their roll ending when they slammed against the back of the couch with a bang. They both groaned, and Harry rolled off of Moo with a grumble.

"Bloody hell."

"Ibn il-mitnaaka!" Harry raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look at Muhammad.

"I don't think I've ever heard you use that one before. What's it mean?" For whatever reason, his translation necklace tended to have trouble translating curse words.

"Son of a whore."

"Ah."

"Language boys." Harry blinked up at Severus, who had come to lean over him, and smiled nervously up at his amused expression.

"Sorry Father." Severus hummed, and Harry jumped as the sound of a telephone suddenly rang out. It took him a moment to realize it was his 'Bruce-phone', and he fumbled around to pull it out of his shirt and enlarge it from its' shrunken state.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Sorry I missed your call." Harry blinked. Bruce sounded... Nervous.

"It's fine. Everything okay?"

"Yes. Well... Actually no, not really." Harry sat up, ignoring the minor soreness.

"What's wrong?" He could see Muhammad sit up, he and Severus listening in.

"Um, it's uh, it's kind of hard to explain. I need your help with something."

"Should I portkey to India?"

"Actually, I'm not really in India right now." Harry frowned.

"Where are you?"

"New York." Harry blinked and stood up.

"You're here?"

"Yea. I'm at Stark Tower." Harry thought of the huge downtown building with Stark glowing at the top in blue letters he had first noticed when they moved in over a fortnight ago. He could see it from his bedroom window.

"What are you doing there?"

"It's... It's a long story. Could you come down?"

"Sure." He headed for the stairs. He would need to find his glamour band, and his boots. "What do you need my help with?"

"It's a rune thing?"

"What?"

"Just, I'll explain everything when you get here. Or as much as I can anyways."

"Alright. Give me fifteen minutes." There was this little chocolate shop he'd found that was only a block away from the tower. It had one of those dark and creepy allyways next to it that you wouldn't want to be caught dead in at night. Severus had, successfully, taught him how to apparate back in China, and, though he hated it more than portkeys, and tried to avoid it at all times, he could do it for Bruce's sake.

He slipped his glamour band on, barely feeling the illusion settle over him; so used to it as he was now. He glanced at some of his papers. Bruce had mentioned runes. Should he take some of his rune supplies? He bit his lip in thought a moment, and then grabbed his backpack and started to fill it. He may as well.

"What's going on?" Severus stood in the doorway, not entering his room without permission despite the fact he knew very well that Harry didn't care. Harry waved him in and he took a few steps forwards, eyeing some of the organized chaos of his workspace with a small frown.

"I don't know. Bruce is in town, and he said he needed my help with something to do with runes." He shrugged at his father's raised eyebrows. "I have no idea what's going on."

"Should we come with you?" Harry shook his head, settling some of his magical carving tools into the bag alongside a few materials.

"Nah. He would have asked for all of us if it was something dangerous. Besides, with the Hulk, I think he can more than take care of himself. I'll call when I know for sure what's going on. We have a house phone now."

"Alright." Where on Mitera were his boots? Ah! Under the couch. He double checked everything, and silently accepted the emergency potions his father gave him for 'just in case'. Should be bring...? He eyed the small bag sitting on his smaller work table, the contents of which he had made for Bruce (awkward as they were). He wasn't sure how appropriate it would be under the circumstances, but he shrugged and threw it in anyways before he sighed, and tossed the bag over one shoulder.

"I'll be back." Severus nodded.

"Stay safe."

"Yes sir." And with a violent crack, he was gone.

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He saw Bruce almost as soon as he entered the Lobby of the huge building. He had sort of admired the skyscraper the first time he had seen it from his room. It was oddly-shaped, but all sleek metal and glass, much like the majority of the Stark products he had seen while wandering about the city he now called home. He'd be damned if he could tell anyone what all of those products did or how to use them, but still, they were 'pretty'.

Bruce was pacing back and forth in a nervous manner, and he looked up at the sound of Harry's footsteps. The young man saw immediately how his whole body seemed to relax, as though Harry's presence lifted a weight from his shoulders. He walked quickly to meet him and they embraced shortly in greeting. When Harry pulled back he met Bruce's eyes, and would have asked then and there what was going on, when someone cleared their throat.

He looked up to find a man in a suit standing a few paces away from them. He was older, maybe in his forties, with a balding head. He was taller than Harry but shorter than Bruce, not particularly large in stature. Harry might have called him average, but there was something about him... He was smiling at them, and as Harry tilted his head slightly in question, he came closer and held out his hand.

"Hello there. I'm Agent Phil Coulson."

"Harry Black. Agent?"

"I work for Shield." Harry was only more confused.

"The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division." He was still confused, but he nodded, gathering at least that this was some sort of important agency of the American muggle government. He glanced once at Bruce, who seemed calm enough, and who gave him a strained sort of smile.

"How can I help you, Mr. Coulson?"

"Dr. Banner here tells us you're very good with something called runes."

"I suppose so." This man was a muggle, but he knew? Harry mentally frowned. Was he going to get in trouble with the Union for all this?

"Then we need your help. An artifact has recently come into our possession, and it's of the utmost importance that we learn all we can about what it can do, and how to counter it."

"And this involves runes?"

"Dr. Banner believes so, yes." Harry frowned. A part of the muggle government had a magical artifact? And the Union allowed this? Unlike when he had taken up roots in Bogdon, he had never bought a law book on the American magical government and its' rules. He knew, however, that it was a relatively small government, not much bigger than the government in the U. K., even though the country was much bigger. Maybe they had a closer involvement with their muggle counterparts than most, like Australia did. He would need to correct his lack of knowledge on the subject later, when given the chance.

"And you'd like me to take a look at it?"

"If you'd be willing to, yes." He nodded, the thrill of a puzzle, and a real runework job exciting him. He would worry about the rest of his questions and confusion later.

"Alright. Where is it?" Coulson smiled again.

"Not here, I'm afraid. If you'd please come with me?" Harry nodded, and found himself striding side by side Bruce behind the Agent, until they found themselves in an elevator. He wondered a little as they went up in a quiet, awkward atmosphere, why they had met at Stark tower. Was the company involved with this somehow?

The elevator, was, mercifully, fast, and when they stepped out, they were someplace rather different. The Lobby had been all metal, tile, and clinical atmosphere. This floor, on the other hand, looked more like a fancy hotel room; a penthouse. He looked around as they walked, still following Coulson out onto a sort of landing, and, more importantly, a helipad.

He had only ever seen a helicopter once, in an educational movie in primary school, and the teacher had had to explain to him what it was. He had never seen one in person, and, as Coulson climbed into it, he realized that not only was he getting to see one, but that he was getting to ride in one. He hadn't even perceived that he had outright stopped, until Bruce was tapping his arm, and he noticed they were the only two not yet on the craft.

"Harry?"

"You alright there Mr. Black?" He glanced up at Coulson, who was already buckling himself in.

"I'm fine." He came up and climbed inside carefully, settling himself into one of the seats and looking at the various straps puzzledly. Bruce, mercifully, helped him to get himself buckled in, and the moment they had, the helicopter suddenly came alive, and Harry realized there was a pilot in the front compartment, though he, or perhaps she, wore a helmet that concealed their face.

His claws pushed through his glamour to dig into the backpack on his lap as the noise of the whirring engine grew louder; violently assaulting his sensitive ears. Bruce slipped some sort of headphones over them that helped to block the sound a bit, and make it just short of unbearable, as opposed to it making his ears bleed. Still, he grit his teeth and closed his eyes, calling Mitera's presence up in his head a bit more. She sent him the music of birdsong and streams and wind rustling trees, and he was able to relax a bit and open his eyes enough to be at least vaguely aware of the world around him.

Either the helicopter was very fast, or where they were going wasn't very far, but they had only been in it about fifteen minutes when he felt it begin to slow, and looked outside. His eyes widened, his mouth parting in surprise. He had never, not in all his life and travels, involvement in magic or even on television, seen anything like what was in front of him.

It was huge. The main body of it looked a little bit like an aircraft carrier, though he wasn't too sure, since he had only seen them in movies. There were, however, four large cylinders on the sides of it, with what he thought might be giant fans spinning about inside them. It was an aircraft of some sort, but it was so large, and so magnificent, he knew it couldn't possibly be any normal sort of craft. He had a moment, as the helicopter circled around to what he thought might be the back, to think that Dad was very much right, when he carried on about how incredible muggles were.

If he was impressed by rubber ducks, Harry wondered what he would think of this.

A sort of opening appeared in the back, around what he thought was the middle floor of the thing and they flew steadily into a large room of sorts, that had a few other small aircraft in them; mostly other helicopters, and things he thought were planes, but looked awfully smooth. Mitera slipped back as the engine of the craft started to die, and he sent her his gratitude as he went about figuring how to unstrap himself.

Then he, Bruce, and agent Coulson were all slipping out, and walking. Harry dutifully followed the agent as he had in the Stark lobby, his boots clinking against the metal floor with every step. He glanced about him in wonder as they went, looking at all the various craft and tech, and, also, the men in black uniforms carrying large guns. Perhaps the 'enforcement' part of their name should have tipped him off, but only now did it sink in that Shield must be some kind of military branch of the government. His mind flashed to the Hulk, and he suddenly found himself on guard as his thoughts slipped over how Bruce had, until now apparently, been on the run.

If any one of these people thought for a second they could hurt his brother, he would separate their heads from their bodies.

They were led through metal corridor after metal corridor, occasionally passing by other people, and Harry was, if only barely, able to keep track of the path they took. Time in the confusing halls of Hogwarts had been well spent as he found he could, if nothing else, find his way back to the aircraft room. What good that would do them if they found themselves in need of escape, he didn't know. It wasn't as though he knew how to fly a plane, and he doubted Bruce did. He was wary about apparition, since he wasn't sure how far they now were from New York, and he had never side-along apparated someone before; and he had no idea how to make a portkey.

Maybe he could make something that flew though. He thought on that as they were led into a small room with a table and chairs; everything once again made of metal. He could tear a metal strip off of the walls if he had to, something big enough for he and Bruce to stand on. He was momentarily distracted from his thoughts by Coulson who had put a hand to his ear and said something, as though speaking through a radio. Seeing as it had nothing to do with him or Bruce, he ignored the man for now. He would need to use a floatation rune set of some kind. Would he have to modify it for the air, given its' typical use in the water?

"It'll just be a moment, if you'll please have a seat." Coulson almost sounded like a secretary when he spoke, following his own order in the same breath. Harry and Bruce sat down side by side, across from him. There was an elemental water rune in the configuration, could he just trade that out for air? Would that work? He thought so, but then there was still the matter of controlling the height and direction, and making it travel quickly. And what about the wind and the altitude? They would need some sort of shielding, and an air bubble.

He continued to think for a few minutes, eventually coming up with a configuration combo in his head. It would take him something like fifteen minutes to make, if he rushed it, but it would work, and while he was setting it up, he could make a shield to protect he and Bruce from anything else. It would be sloppy, but it would get them back to New York, where they could vanish into the magical areas, go to the townhouse, and even floo over to Bogdon and put the castle wards back on lockdown if it was needed.

Satisfied with his 'plan A', he started to consider a 'plan B' just in case, when the door opened again, and he looked up. Two people came in, the first nodding to the guards outside as he passed. He was a large black man, not as dark as Imamu, but chocolate colored. He was tall, but not quite as tall as Severus, and he carried himself with his head high and his back straight. He was bald, and had only one brown eye, the other covered by an eyepatch, with twisting scars just visible on the skin around it. His expression was severe, and when his eye fell on Harry, the young man couldn't help but to stand, out of respect. This man was hardened by battle, he could feel that as surely as the blood in his veins, and he thought, for a moment, of Moody. The man dipped his head at him.

"Name?"

"Harry Black, sir." He nodded.

"Nick Fury. I'm the Director of Shield." He moved his hand towards the other person beside him. "This is Agent Maria Hill." He only took stock of her now, too focused on Fury before. She was considerably smaller than him. He thought she might even be shorter than himself, and was thin, with black hair that was pulled back tightly. Her eyes were brown and sharp, and she carried such a no-nonsense air about her, that he had to hold back a smile when she reminded him of McGonagall.

"It's an honor to meet you both." Fury nodded sharply.

"How much do you know?" He said, getting to the point. Harry almost thought he might be in a hurry.

"Only that you have some sort of artifact that utilizes runes, and you'd like me to take a look, and tell you anything I can."

"It's a weapon, not an artifact, and so far I've seen it cause physical damage, and be used to take over the mind of one of my men." His voice was harsh, and Harry couldn't blame him. He thought of the imperius curse, and had to bite back a snarl.

"You want me to see if there's some way to reverse it?" He nodded.

"Yes."

"I can certainly try, sir. Is there anything else I should know?"

"There's nothing else you have the clearance to know." Harry swallowed, and nodded resolutely.

"Yes sir." Fury watched him a moment longer, meeting his eyes, and then looking him up and down once. Then he nodded softly, almost to himself.

"Agent Coulson will escort you and Dr. Banner to the lab. Mr. Stark will be there analyzing the technical aspects of the weapon. Don't get in his way. Coulson."

"Yes sir?"

"If Stark opens his big mouth, you are authorized to shoot him."

"Yes sir." Then he turned around and left, no mark of a farewell, and as he exited the room, Harry felt lighter, as though his presence had created a weight on his shoulders he hadn't been aware of until it was gone. The agent smiled pleasantly at them.

"Right this way." And they were being led again.

Harry wondered what Bruce had gotten him into, and thought maybe he should have let his father and Muhammad come anyways.

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I couldn't help writing that scene where Severus totally thinks Logan and Harry did something, and becomes protective, and the only one who doesn't know that is Harry, because he's oblivious.

Now then, before we go.

I have just recently created a tumblr account. If any of you are willing, I'd appreciate a follower or two. I'll be posting updates on the story there, occasionally between parts also (when we're in intermission), random crap, and photographs.

Good luck on the contest, and I'll see you all next week.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate