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Chapter Text

The mission is simple. Get the boy, bring him to his handlers, to HYDRA. There are to be no witnesses. The Asset does not remember his last mission, but the idea of not leaving witnesses is as familiar as the action of shooting a gun.

At 1824 local time, the Asset arrives at Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England. He has been out of the cryo tank for the past few days.

If the houses did not have numbers on the front doors, there would be no way to tell them apart, since this street, and many others around it, are lined with rows of identical houses. Each house is the same nondescript tan color with a brown roof, and the houses have only a few standard places of entry or exit- the front door and the back door, although the windows would work as a backup. The locks will be pathetically easy to break. Each house also has a perfectly trimmed lawn.

The Asset arrives at his destination, Number 4 Privet Drive- the residence of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, the Asset had been told during the mission briefing. There are two boys residing in the house as well, but HYDRA is only interested in one of them. The Dursleys' own son, Dudley, is of no use.

HYDRA wants Harry Potter. The Asset does not know what his handlers want with a four-year-old boy, but it is not the Asset's place to know the reason behind his missions. His job is to do as instructed, not ask questions. Asking questions results in punishment, sometimes the chair.

It's already dark outside, which makes things easier for the Asset, although the Asset is skilled enough to do this in broad daylight if required. It's easier to go unnoticed in the dark, and that darkness also means Privet Drive is empty of playing children. Most of them are probably eating dinner at the moment, but the Asset's only concern is what the Dursley family is doing.

Circling to the back of the house, the Asset finds a concealed spot in the bushes with an optimal view of the kitchen. Just because it is dark does not mean the Asset should stand in the open. The Asset crouches, still and silent in the bush, spying on the residents of Number 4.

Mr. Dursley and a boy are seated at the dinner table. Both the man and boy are in horrible physical condition and massively overweight. The boy is blonde, so he must be the Dursley boy, not Potter. The Asset was told in the briefing that the Potter boy has black hair, green eyes, and an unusual, lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

There's an even smaller, skinny boy with messy black hair and taped glasses by the stove. That is the target, that is Potter. Potter is so young and short that he requires a step stool to reach the pot that's cooking on the stovetop. The boy's ragged clothes are sized as if they once belonged to the Dursley child and would already be far too big for Potter if he was a healthy weight.

The Potter boy is not a healthy weight, but in the opposite extreme of the Dursley patriarch and child. His arms are like sticks waiting to be snapped at any moment.

The boy is small and young, not seeming like he could be of any benefit to HYDRA, although the family has clearly tried to find a use for the boy. The Asset does not think HYDRA wants Potter for his culinary skills- or lack thereof, since Potter is struggling at flipping the grilled cheese sandwiches on the pan.

Next to the Potter boy is a thin, long-necked woman who is scowling as she watches the tiny child struggle to cook.

The Asset's enhanced hearing means he can make out the sounds from the kitchen even though the windows are closed. "Flip it quickly or it will burn!" Mrs. Dursley snaps at the boy, slapping him on the back of the hand with a wooden spoon. Potter lets out a little yelp. "I won't have you messing up my precious Duddy's dinner."

"You better not burn anything, boy." Mr. Dursley barks angrily, and Potter flinches in terror. Mr. Dursley seems to enjoy seeing that reaction.

"I'm hungryyy! Mummy, I wanna eat noooow!" The Dursley boy's whining voice makes the Asset want to shove his fingers in his ears to block out the sound, but doing so would be mission noncompliant. Auditory input is necessary for complete surveillance. "Make him go faster!"

Potter quickly moves to serve the grilled cheese to the Dursley boy before going back to the stove and putting a large steak on a plate for Mr. Dursley, along with some potatoes. Mrs. Dursley waits for Potter to serve her and then tells the boy to go stand in the corner.

The Asset is reminded of his handlers, even though he is never ordered to serve them food. At least Potter knows how to follow orders. Whatever HYDRA has planned for Potter, compliance will be expected. Failure to comply leads to correction. Potter seems to know that already. The Asset watches the boy hunch his shoulders and scurry to the corner of the kitchen, looking down at the floor.

Throughout dinner, Potter is not offered anything to eat despite his obvious lack of nourishment. The Dursley boy, on the other hand, demands several more grilled cheese sandwiches after gluttonously eating the first few.

Potter is forced to make the other boy more, but leaves them on the stove for too long, resulting in a burnt odor that the Asset's enhanced olfactory senses pick up.

Potter looks terrified as Mr. Dursley lurches angrily towards him. "What did we just tell you not to do, you freak?" He spits the last word like a curse.

"N... not to b-burn the food." Potter stammers out. "'m sorry, Uncle Vernon, sir."

"Sorry doesn't change the fact you burnt it, boy!" Potter's uncle roars as he grabs the boy and presses the Potter's tiny hand into the hot pan, and the familiar smell of burnt flesh invades the Asset's nostrils. Potter screams, and something inside the Asset's chest burns as he watches.

The Asset is sure that, whatever this malfunction in his chest is, it will be fixed when he returns to his handlers.

Potter is trying to stifle his sobs as Mr. Dursley carries him into the hallway and dumps the boy unceremoniously into a small cupboard under the stairs. He slams the cupboard door shut and stomps back to the kitchen.

The way Potter is locked up reminds the Asset of how he is cryogenically frozen between missions. The feeling in the Asset's chest grows stronger.

After dinner and dessert- the Dursley boy had thrown a tantrum in order to have both cake and pudding despite having already eaten more than enough, and surprisingly he was not punished- Potter is called out of the cupboard to wash the dishes in the kitchen.

Potter obviously is not a master at working through pain yet, neither does he have enhanced healing like the Asset. The boy's burnt hand causes his progress on the dishes to be extremely slow and clumsy, since he has to do everything with his left hand. Potter is clearly worried about dropping something or not working efficiently enough. Of course such an act of carelessness would be punished harshly, the same goes for the Asset. Which is why he will not fail this mission.

The Asset can hear Potter's stomach rumble with hunger, but Mrs. Dursley watches the boy like a hawk to make sure he does not swipe any food for later. The Asset does not know when the boy last ate, but he is clearly not given enough sustenance to fuel optimum performance, like the Asset is.

Yet the odd feeling in the Asset's chest has only increased as he watches the Dursley's force the injured boy to do chores while the Dursley boy watches some sort of mindless program on a box with a screen in it, guffawing with yet more pudding smeared on his face. At the fact Potter is not even fed.

Then it happens. Potter drops a plate, and it shatters on the floor. This leads to Potter's second punishment in the evening.

As he watches Dursley beat Potter, where the boy's body had fallen on top of the shards of the broken plate, something briefly flashes through the Asset's mind. A mental image of an older, blonde boy who's not quite as scrawny as Potter, but close, getting beat up in an alleyway by some larger boys. The boy in the mental image looks familiar, even though the Asset has never seen him before. The image is accompanied by the overwhelming need to protect, protect him.

Whatever that strange vision, whoever the scrawny blonde boy was, the vision will be gone when the Asset returns to his handlers after completing the mission. Once he's in the chair, it will be gone.

The chair always hurts, but the Asset's pain is unimportant.

The Asset refocuses on the current target. Negligence and loss of focus are mission noncompliant, and usually punished.

As he watches Potter being punished by Dursley for those same offenses, the Asset thinks he may have decided to terminate the Dursley's even if no witnesses was not specified in the mission. It does not make sense that he would think that, when the punishment makes sense itself.

Potter is once again discarded in the cupboard under the stairs, and from the way the boy's shirt was staining red, he's sustained some injuries, probably both from the porcelain plate shards and the beating.

The Asset could barge in now, choke the life out of Mr. Dursley, but the man's wife or child might make enough noise to alert the neighbors. It will be easier to wait. Make it look like an accident, is part of the mission.

The Asset moves only to pull a protein bar out of his backpack pocket and eat it mechanically.

At 2221, the majority of Privet Drive is dark and quiet, the residents of the street having gone to bed. The Asset continues to sit silently in the bushes, waiting. By 2248, the last light at Number 4 goes out as Mr. and Mrs. Dursley go to bed.

He waits until 2308 to allow the Dursley's to fall asleep, going by the average time it takes. Then, the Asset creeps out of the bush and to the back door of Number 4. Disabling the alarm and picking the lock are not even a challenge, merely a tiny inconvenience. The Asset is capable of breaking into much more secure places than a civilian house. He could have simply broken the door, but that would leave evidence of his breaking and entering, and would probably make enough noise to wake up the house's residents.

The interior of Number 4, and of course the Asset does not turn on a light, instead wearing a pair of night vision goggles from his backpack. His booted feet make almost no sound on the tiled kitchen floor. Most people would be clomping around clumsily, loud enough to wake the dead, but the Asset is highly trained. Staying silent is almost as natural as breathing.

He walks past the door to the cupboard under the stairs, noticing that is locked. He'll come back for Potter after he's dealt with the Dursley's. He can hear the boy sobbing almost silently in the cupboard, but when the Asset creeps up the stairs, making only the faintest sound on a creaky stair, he hears the boy hold his breath in panic. Of course the boy would hear any sounds on the stairs when he's under them.

Upstairs, in the first bedroom, the Asset finds an unoccupied bed and piles of toys, most of which are broken.

Is this bedroom Potter's? The Asset turns and walks out of the bedroom. It does not matter, since there is nobody here. That question is not related to the mission.

The next bedroom is much like the first, filled to the brim with toys, but the Dursley boy is snoring loudly in the bed.

The Asset follows his orders, but something in the back of his mind protests as he slowly smothers the Dursley boy, even though the Asset is fairly certain he's killed children before. Besides, the boy is expendable, only Potter must survive.

He then stalks into the bedroom of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. They are asleep, rather than engaged in other activities. The Asset would not want to see that. His mind does not protest as he simultaneously curls a fist around each of their throats. Their wide-eyed looks of terror and choked pleas mirror Potter's as they slowly stop thrashing.

He shuts their eyes so it looks like they're asleep, but they won't wake up again. He leaves their room without glancing back.

He can hear Potter's breath hitch as he walks down the stairs. The Asset quickly breaks the lock on the cupboard door and pulls it open, his night vision goggles letting him see inside without turning on a light.

Inside the cupboard is a small, stained mattress that is too small to fit any of the bed frames upstairs. There are some shelves lined with various cleaning supplies, a couple broken toy soldiers on the floor, and a headless stuffed bear. There is a bare lightbulb that the Asset does not turn on.

Potter is curled in a fetal position on the mattress, staring at the Asset with wide green eyes and clearly trying not to cry. The Asset can see the telltale lightning bolt scar on his forehead now. One of the identifiable features in the mission report. It did not say how Potter got such an odd scar, but that information is not important to the mission.

The Asset reaches into the cupboard and pulls the boy out, standing him up and quickly looking him over. There are a few shards of glass embedded in his palms (even the burnt one), and at least one in his side, having punctured his shirt.

"Stay." The Asset commands in English. He does not usually speak English, but he rarely speaks at all. His handlers mostly use Russian. Turning, he heads to the bathroom in search of a first aid kit. He does not find one in the downstairs bathroom, but the Asset saw a bathroom upstairs.

"You'll wake up da Dursleys." Potter whispers with scared eyes when the Asset starts to climb the stairs.

The Asset doesn't answer, but he knows the Dursleys will not wake. In a cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, he finds what he was looking for. The first aid kit comes complete with bandages, sterile gloves, tweezers, scissors, antiseptic cream, cleansing wipes, and more items that are irrelevant.

When he goes back downstairs with the first aid kit, he sees Potter has not moved a centimeter from where the Asset left him outside the cupboard. The boy does not know him and he still follows orders.

That trait will serve him well.

The Asset guides the boy into the kitchen and removes the boy's shirt, quickly checking to see if there is any more porcelain stuck in his small body.

Grabbing one of the boy's hands, the Asset pulls a shard out of Potter's palm with the tweezers. Potter whimpers.

The Asset knows what painful healing is like. Whenever his handlers work on his prosthetic arm, there is always a lot of pain.

He tries to cause Potter as little pain as possible as he first removes the shards of glass from the boy's palms and side. He cleans the cuts before bandaging them.

He then runs Potter's burnt hand under cool water and covers it with a sterile, non-adhesive bandage.

Potter stares at the Asset's prosthetic arm and eventually whispers "Are you a robot?" The boy tenses immediately after asking, as if expecting a rebuke for asking. Speaking out of turn would get the Asset at least a slap.

"No." The Asset says tersely. It is not critical to the mission that he answer the boy's question, but maybe he won't ask more. He was not instructed to slap the boy, so he doesn't. The part of him that protested killing the Dursley boy would have protested slapping Potter, as well.

The boy is quiet for a bit longer as the Asset finishes patching him up. He seems almost shocked that someone is bothering to do so. The Dursley's almost certainly hadn't helped him heal.

The Asset is not entirely sure why he is. The mission briefing had nothing about patching the boy up, just that he was to remain alive and relatively unharmed. Had his handlers known the boy would be harmed?

Delivering the boy in the best condition possible would be the most successful mission outcome. That's why he is doing it.

But there's also the thing in the Asset's head saying to protect the boy.

Once he finishes picking porcelain out of the boy's side and bandaging it up, he hands Potter his shirt back. It does not matter if his shirt looks like little more than rags, the Asset knows. It is not important.

The boy is skinny. He needs to eat. Proper nutrition is required for optimum performance. The Asset ignores the refrigerator- too cold- and instead pulls another protein bar from his backpack and hands it to the boy.

Potter stares at him as if he's not sure if this is a trick.

"Eat." The Asset commands. Potter does not need to be told twice, tearing the paper off and cramming as much of the bar as he can in his mouth.

The Dursley boy surely would have refused to eat it and complained about the taste. It is fortunate the Asset does not need to put up with the Dursley boy. At least Potter is well-behaved and knows how to follow orders.

"Thank you, sir." Potter says softly, probably about treating his injuries, or the food. The Asset says nothing, but it takes him by surprise. He is a weapon. Nobody calls the Asset sir.

Potter probably will not be thanking the Asset when he is delivered to HYDRA. The thought makes the Asset frown, but he does not know why. He will have completed his mission.

"Come," He mutters to the child.

"I don't haf'to stay here?" Potter asks in a hushed voice, eyes wide with awe.

"Come." The Asset repeats, trying to ignore the way his stomach twists at the thought of where the boy is headed. There is no reason for his stomach to twist.

The Asset does not want the boy to go through what he goes through. The chair, the cryogenic tank. The Asset does not want to go through them himself. No, the Asset is a weapon. The Asset does not have wants. The Asset completes the mission. Not delivering Potter would be failing the mission. Failing the mission would be worse, would lead to punishment.

The boy means nothing to him, he is just another mission.

Even if Potter goes through a similar fate as the Asset, it is none of the Asset's concern. His young age means nothing. The Asset might have been as young as Potter when he started. He does not remember, has no way of knowing.

When the Asset returns to his handlers, these malfunctioning thoughts and feelings will be wiped. They are mission noncompliant.

The Asset simply grabs the boy with his flesh arm and holds the boy to his side. Potter stiffens slightly, but does not try to wriggle free. Stopping briefly back at the cupboard, the Asset grabs the boy's taped glasses and puts them on his face. The boy blinks.

The Asset does not grab any of the toy soldiers or the bear. They are pointless.

He heads to the kitchen, still holding the boy, and fiddles with the stove, setting it to catch fire and explode. Then, he steps out the back door, closing it behind him.

The mission is almost complete. It will look like the Dursley's merely perished in a fire. The authorities will probably not know that Potter was even there. The Dursley's made that easy. There were no pictures of Potter in the house, but plenty of the Dursley boy.

The house explodes when he's a street away, and lights in houses flicker on around him. The Asset is already keeping in the shadows and he is not spotted as he stealthily moves in the dark, still holding Potter. It takes several minutes before the sirens of fire engines are audible.

With every step the Asset takes towards where he will meet his handlers, some malfunctioning part of his brain tells him to turn around and walk the other way.

Chapter Text

Severus Snape is not happy when he is woken in the middle of the night by Dumbledore's Floo call. He gives the old coot a glare that would make any first year, and a majority of the upper year students, wet their pants in fright if he used it on them in Potions class, but of course Dumbledore is immune.

"Severus, I need you to find Harry Potter." Dumbledore's head says from the fire without preamble. "Come to my office."

The head disappears from Severus' fireplace, and he quickly Floo's to Dumbledore's office, so quickly that Dumbledore has not even walked back to his desk by the time Severus arrives.

Dumbledore's demeanor is grave, when normally he's jovial, and he seems to have aged another fifty years. The usual twinkle in his eyes is so dim that it's almost gone, and for once he does not offer Severus a lemon drop or any other sort of sweet.

"Why, pray tell, is Potter missing?" Severus questions, scowling. It is the middle of the night, and Potter is not even five years old. He is not some sort of teenager staying out well past curfew, and even if he was, why in Merlin's name would Snape be sent to fetch him?

Had the brat simply run away from home, perhaps to punish his guardians after a petty squabble or tantrum? No, that can't be it. Surely Potter is waited on hand and foot by his doting relatives, although breaking rules is definitely nothing new for a Potter.

"Arabella Figg just called me, frantic, saying the Dursleys' house has exploded." Dumbledore tells him.

"If Potter was in there, he surely did not survive." Severus says. Which could be very bad, if he really is the one to bring down the Dark Lord as prophesied. Despite what most wizards and witches naively choose to believe, Snape does not think the Dark Lord had been completely defeated that Halloween night.

"Harry's name is still down for attendance when he turns eleven." Dumbledore answers. Severus gets the message without Dumbledore elaborating further.

Potter is still alive, then. If the boy was dead, his name would have been automatically removed from the future attendance list.

Had he been sleeping at a friend's house?

"With his family dead, the blood wards' protection is no longer effective." Dumbledore tells him gravely. "Harry is no longer safe."

"He was not exactly safe in the first place, considering he could have easily been in that house when it blew up." Severus almost cannot believe that Dumbledore has failed to mention that. Perhaps Potter's muggle family let their other idiot child play with firecrackers in the house, or they stupidly left something in the oven. Regardless, there was most likely a severe lack of discipline in that house, and Potter undoubtedly has no regard for rules.

"Their deaths are a tragedy, but Harry is in danger. Any of Voldemort's followers are theoretically capable of finding him now. You must find him first, Severus."

That would still count as one of the Dark Lord's followers finding the boy, since Severus was a Death Eater before, but he does not point this out.

"Do you have any clue of his whereabouts? Severus asks, scowling, and Dumbledore smiles slightly, although it doesn't reach his eyes. By asking this, Severus has basically agreed to go find the little brat. Not that he could have refused, exactly. Less than three years ago, on that fateful Halloween night, he had sworn to protect the boy in Lily's honor after Lily and Potter were murdered by the Dark Lord.

Severus didn't think the oath to protect the bloody child would come into play until another seven years from now. His hopes that Potter would remain out of his sight and mind until arriving at Hogwarts when he turns eleven have been thoroughly crushed as if they were one of Severus' potion ingredients.

Severus stalks out of Dumbledore's office, black robes billowing. As he quickly walks through the halls, he transfigures his night robes into appropriate muggle attire, still keeping with his usual color scheme of black.

Crossing the grounds of Hogwarts, he reaches the end of the Anti-Apparition wards and apparates to Privet Drive as soon as possible.

He arrives on the usually dull, plain street. It is nowhere near ordinary now. Dumbledore's description of Arabella Figg's message is accurate. Number 4 did not simply catch fire and slowly burn, it appears to have actually exploded like an idiot Gryffindor or Hufflepuff's potion.

He searches for Potter, growing frustrated when he does not find the brat.

The Asset does not slow his stride as he slips from shadow to shadow, avoiding lampposts that would reveal his location. No witnesses. The mission pounds in his head, almost drowning out the sirens that steadily grow louder as fire engines rush to reach the hopeless, smoldering wreck that was once Number 4 Privet Drive, before the Asset blew up the oven.

With every step he takes, the new mission- turn away, protect Potter- echo in his head. The new orders were not given by a superior, yet they demand obedience as much as the mission.

There is a 10% increase in respiration and heart rate. The Asset cannot follow both orders, they are contradictory to each other.

Civilians are looking out their windows, coming out of their houses to see what the explosion was. The Asset stays in the shadows. If nobody sees him, he will not have to kill more witnesses. Less killing makes the mission easier, in multiple ways, some of which the Asset does not understand. He understands that he does not have to hide bodies and evidence the fewer people he kills, but the part of his mind that objected to the Dursley boy's death thinks that there's some other reason. It is unimportant.

"''s on fiwe." Potter's speech is almost unintelligible through a mouthful of protein bar, although the Asset is pretty sure that young children do not have perfect pronunciation in general. "Why?"

The boy is clearly rattled from watching the house explode. Potter knows the rule about not asking questions, since the Dursley's seemed to have had similar rules to the Asset's own handlers, yet Potter still asks.

"Be quiet." The Asset orders. Potter stiffens slightly in his arms, but the Asset does not correct the boy beyond that. He does not have to slap the child like he would be slapped himself for speaking out of turn.

Some civilians are even stepping outside their front doors to see what is going on and confer with their neighbors for more intel. A couple children, standing in doorways with their parents, are echoing Potter's question.

An old woman walks out from the house the Asset is currently sneaking past, followed by several cats. The Asset stills, hidden in the shadows. The lady is looking in the opposite direction of the Asset and Potter, distressed at the sight of the fire. She says something about Potter as if she knows him.

A white shape darts out the door of the old lady's house, and runs in the Asset's direction. It turns out to be a feline, and the Asset debates punting the creature away, but that would reveal his presence more than the feline staring at him and possibly mewling for the old lady. It rubs against the Asset's booted feet, purring slightly.

"Snowy." It does not seem like a reference to one of his other codenames, the Winter Soldier. The Soldier figures Snowy is the feline's name, since Potter seems to recognize the animal. The boy once again tenses in the Asset's arms, clearly awaiting punishment for not remaining silent, but the Asset does not deliver the correction.

The old lady most likely does not have enhanced hearing, perhaps she's even suffering from hearing loss associated with age. She does not appear to have heard Potter, but it is better for covert movement if the boy remains silent.

The feline's purring increases in volume as it continues rub against the Asset's boots, and the old lady turns around, asking "Snowy?"

The Asset is already slipping away as the boy says an irrelevant statement about a fig, sounding distressed. The old lady had not noticed them, the Soldier notes. If she had been a witness, the Asset would have failed a mission protocol.

The two sets of orders continue to clash.

Once he delivers the boy, he will be wiped, frozen and stored away until his next mission.

The sirens are getting closer, and the boy does not seem to like the sound. He wriggles in the Asset's arms and whines.

The Asset does not stick around for the fire engines to arrive, with their flashing lights that could compromise his concealment in the night. He slips down a street that is not as awake at the moment as the streets surrounding Privet Drive.

Two escorts are waiting for the Asset in a car. They are not the usual handlers, but they are still to be obeyed. The man in the driver's seat is drumming his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, but they both get out when they see the Asset approaching with Potter.

The Soldier straightens, standing at attention in front of his superiors.

"Took 'em long enough." One of the escorts mutters to the other. The Asset is used to being talked to as if he is not there. One does not talk to a weapon such as the Asset, except during mission briefings and debriefings.

There was not a specified time limit for mission completion in the briefing, but perhaps the Soldier will be punished for 'taking long enough'. If he had gone into the house upon arrival rather than waiting for the street to fall asleep, he would have returned with Potter hours ago, possibly as early as 1840 instead of the current time of 2336.

Potter gives a whine and stares at the escorts with wide, frightened green eyes, shoving some of his fingers in his mouth. He looks like he wishes he could turn invisible so the escorts will stop looking at him.

"Mission report." One of the escorts orders, looking at Potter instead of the Asset, as if to make sure Potter is the right child. The Asset would not make a mistake and bring the wrong one.

"Target Harry James Potter acquired with no injury inflicted by the Asset. Injury was inflicted on the target by Vernon Dursley and a broken plate." The Asset recites, tonelessly as always. "The Asset successfully terminated the Dursley's and left no evidence. There were no witnesses. Mission was completed according to instructions."

"Status." The second escort has a bored tone and picks at his nails.

"The Weapon is functioning within operable parameters." The Asset replies, because that is what it is. A weapon. "There is a malfunctioning in the chest: unidentified cause."

"What kind of malfunctioning?" The first escort asks, and mutters that the Asset cannot get heart attacks. He is correct about that, the Asset's enhanced body is not susceptible to heart problems.

"Heat." The Asset answers. "It is gone now."

The escorts share a look that seems almost worried. When the Soldier follows up by reporting that it is malfunctioning by having the vision of an unknown skinny blonde man, the worried, displeased demeanor of the escorts only increases. Weapons are not supposed to have visions. Will it be punished?

"It will go away when you are in the chair. You will be fixed." One tells the Asset. Visions are hinderances to the mission. The chair is required for optimum mission performance.

"Hand over the child." The first commands. Potter whimpers slightly and tries to clutch the Asset's shirt with his bandaged hands, dropping the rest of the protein bar on the ground and hiding his face against the Soldier's flesh shoulder. Potter had only eaten half of the offered rations.

The Soldier does not let go of Potter. The voice in the back of its head, the one that had told it to turn away, had protested killing the Dursley boy, is screaming orders to not hand Potter over.

Perhaps the voice in the head will be gone, too, after the chair, along with the feeling in the chest. Both are mission noncompliant.

Deliver Harry Potter. No witnesses. Those are the orders, that is the mission. The mission does not involve turning around or walking away, or continuing to hold the boy despite instructions from superiors to hand him over.

The new orders in the Soldier's brain did not come from its handlers. The Asset ignores them, it does not turn away from its superiors, no matter what the head says.

The true mission is delivering Potter, but part of the brain protests.

The mission echos in his head, demanding obedience. Deliver Harry Potter.

"Soldier, comply." The first escort orders in a harsher tone than before.

COMPLY. COMPLETE THE MISSION.

"Give me Potter. Now."

The Soldier's sole purpose in existence is to complete any assignment it is given, to obey any order. It was created for that purpose, and is useless if it does not obey. Failure results in correction.

Yet the Soldier's arms do not move. It continues to hold the child, delivering Potter is the true mission.

The Asset is malfunctioning, obeying false orders instead of the true ones given by its superiors. Respiration and heartbeat increase another 5%.

One of the escorts delivers a backhand to the face forceful enough to snap the Soldier's head to the side, but the Soldier does not react otherwise. Potter is yanked from the Asset's arms.

The child, already stressed, starts to squirm and cry. The lamppost on the other side of the street explodes with a shower of sparks. The Soldier's arm whirs. Functionality of the arm is decreased by 2%, but it does not impede movement.

The child is screaming now, a high, shrill sound that mixes with the sirens a few streets away on Privet Drive. It makes the chest malfunction again.

"Shit, he's going to attract attention." One escort grumbles, and clamps a hand over the boy's mouth, effectively cutting off his cries. Potter's eyes are even more scared, and tears stream down Potter's cheeks.

Chest malfunctioning increases by 4%. The unofficial order, PROTECT, screeches in the Asset's brain.

"Get in," The car door is opened and the unofficial orders protest, the Soldier hesitates. It is shoved in, and Potter is thrust into the Soldier's lap. New orders are given, keep Potter quiet and secured.

One way to silence is to cut off oxygen with a hand around the throat. Instead, the Asset covers Potter's mouth with its flesh hand, and does not squeeze. The child is already silent, there is no need for corrective pain or fear like the escorts had given the boy. The boy sobs spasmodically, face streaked with tears and snot that soon cover the Soldier's flesh hand. Mucus would impede with the prosthesis if it got between the metal plates or into the servos.

As the escorts slam the rear door shut, the Soldier only thinks of how it failed the unofficial mission, even though it completed the official one.

Potter is not anywhere near Number 4, and Severus goes to find Arabella Figg. She has a snowy white cat in her arms and meets Severus halfway between her house and the ruined Dursley residence.

Her job has been to watch over Potter the past years. She reports that she had not seen Potter since yesterday, but she saw the Dursley's son, Dudley, and Petunia at the play park earlier today. She tells Severus that Petunia said Potter was sick when she asked where he was.

Perhaps he was, but August is hardly the time for colds. And why would Potter have been out of the house tonight if he was sick?

He really hopes that the boy, now that he doesn't have any living family, isn't going to come live at Hogwarts. Severus doesn't have to put up with the brat for what should have been almost seven Potter-free years.

He is just asking Arabella where the last few places the brat had been are when the unmistakable scream of a child fills the air, coming from another street. Severus sees the streetlights flicker and die, as if blown up by accidental magic.

Potter.

Snape sprints to the other street in time to see a man shove Potter into the back of a car and slam the door shut while another man starts to climb into the front passenger seat on the left.

Had these men taken Potter from his home before the explosion, perhaps blown the house up on purpose? It's a lot more plausible than Potter playing on the play park across the street and the men just happening to abduct a random child.

With four quick flicks of his wand and a silent Reducto, Severus blows up all the car's tires, assuring that it will not be going anywhere. The two men whirl around, producing guns from their belts.

Obviously the two men are Muggles, not Death Eaters, which is a bit of a relief. But why are muggles kidnapping Harry Potter? Do they know who he is, or is it just a coincidence? The house blowing up doesn't seem like a coincidence, especially when it turns out Potter was being kidnapped.

Regardless, now is not the time to be pondering this.

Severus casts Expelliarmus on them both, and they two men look shocked when the guns fly out their hands. Before they can attempt to grab their weapons again, Severus hits them both with Petrificus Totalus. Their bodies go rigid and fall to the street.

That was almost pathetically easy.

He stalks towards the car, wand still drawn even though the two men are immobilized. Something- no, someone, someone who is much to large to be Potter- throws open the door and leaps from the interior of the vehicle with incredible speed.

Before Severus can react, he finds himself pinned to the ground with a rather metallic hand wrapped around his throat. The moonlight glints off a knife blade poised above him.

Severus apparates from under the man to the other side of the street where the play park is, quickly firing Expelliarmus at the attacker, who he now notes is a man with long, dark brown hair, a scruffy face, and goggles. But the most noticeable thing about the man is the silver, metallic armor on his left arm that almost shines in the moonlight.

The man is currently shutting the car door, trapping Potter inside, and but does not take his attention from Severus. He does even not react with surprise at Severus' apparition, but briefly glances down at the two petrified men as if awaiting orders.

Still, he dodges Severus' spell almost instinctively, again much too quickly for a person. The third kidnapper is not nearly as easy to take out as the first two. He adjusts to the fact that Severus is now far away by tucking away his knife and drawing a gun in one fluid motion. Severus only barely has time to conjure a shield as the man aims and fires with astounding speed and precision.

Unlike most guns, this one apparently does not have a loud gunshot. Severus barely hears the weapon fire, his own apparition actually sounds more like a gunshot than the gun. Have Muggles invented ways to keep guns silent?

The man continues to stalk towards Severus like a predatory beast, firing a few more bullets in an obvious attempt to weaken Severus' shield while perhaps unintentionally preventing Severus from apparating away or disarming the man with Expelliarmus, like he had with the other two men outside the car. Or the man might be preventing Severus from doing anything but conjure a shield on purpose, since he seems extremely adept at switching tactics at a moment's notice.

He seems more like a highly trained assassin than a standard kidnapper.

The man continues to shoot with his right arm. The plates on the armor of his left arm shift in an almost rippling fashion, and the Potions Master realizes it's not armor at all- it's some sort of advanced prosthesis.

The gun clicks as if it needs to be reloaded, and Severus takes the opportunity to lower his shield and cast Expelliarmus, but the man's metal arm shoots up and the spell actually ricochets off, flying harmlessly into the night sky, so he still has the gun.

That complicates matters, Severus thinks as the man finishes reloading his gun before he can even fire off another spell.

This time, the man rushes Severus with a knife while simultaneously shooting, and he quickly whirls around when the wizard apparates, not even giving Severus a chance to take him by surprise.

Who is this man? He's clearly a muggle, but he's more than a match for a highly skilled duelist like Severus. Snape almost would like to see the Dark Lord face off against this man. The Dark Lord would hate potentially losing to a muggle.

Hopefully Snape doesn't meet that fate.

Perhaps Incendio will take care of the metal arm, Severus hopes. Again, the man dodges the spell, but only barely this time. It singes his long hair.

When Severus casts it again, the man doesn't even let it touch his arm, instead ripping a swing off the swing set and using it as a shield. The next moment, the flaming swing seat is flying towards the Potion Master's head, and the man charges at him, obviously trying to get up close and personal, something most wizards do not do. Severus only just apparates away.

When Severus finally manages to hit the man with Stupefy, the actual armor- which looks nothing like the suits of armor at the castle and instead looks more like a thick cloth vest- takes the impact and the man doesn't even falter for a second, drawing his gun again. Severus throws up another Protego.

With the prosthetic arm, the man somehow rips a teeter-totter out of the ground and swings it like a club at Severus, essentially attacking him in two ways simultaneously.

Severus has no choice but to extinguish his shield and apparate away, even as the man squeezes off another shot, which thankfully doesn't hit him. The Potions Master reappears right behind the man, hoping to catch him by surprise.

The crack of apparating gives Severus away and the man whirls around, grabbing him in another chokehold and hurling him across the play park, hard enough that Severus actually dents a metal slide.

Being a wizard does not mean one cannot be stunned from physical injury, and before Severus can recover, the mysterious man delivers a blow to the side of his head with a metal fist, and Severus' world goes black.

Chapter Text

The mission should have been simple. It had almost been complete, at least the Soldier's part of it. All it had left to do was keep Potter quiet in the back of the car, the last orders it had been given, as the escorts did their job.

The attacker has set the mission back by immobilizing the escorts and blowing out the car tires. The Asset had delivered the boy to the escorts, but now the escorts are stiff and useless, no longer capable of driving him back to the airport and flying him back to the HYDRA base.

The Soldier looks at the limp form of the attacker it had just knocked out, making sure he is completely neutralized and will not wake up for a while. The attacker has long, greasy dark hair and black clothes.

The escorts had not explicitly ordered him to fight the attacker once he had taken them out, but it had not been necessary. The Soldier could not let the attacker take Potter as it seemed he'd been planning to do.

The enemy asset had been a unique opponent with abilities and a weapon the Asset has not encountered before. Perhaps he is an asset for the enemy.

The Asset had defeated his opponent. Losing would have been mission-noncompliant and punished.

The odd, weaponized stick has fallen from the man's limp hand. The Asset quickly frisks the unconscious attacker, but finds no other weapons or any source of identification. All the man has is the weaponized stick. With it, the enemy asset had been able to project shields powerful enough to stop the Asset's bullets, and had shot out various energy blasts that the Asset had been able to dodge with its enhanced speed. Most people would have been unable to dodge greater than or equal to 90% of the man's attacks.

Some of the energy blasts the weaponized stick shot had set things on fire. The man had tried to burn the Asset's prosthesis, so he had not let those hit him like the one that was deflected off his prosthesis. The Asset had been sloppy in dodging and one blast had singed some hair, but otherwise no damage was sustained during the battle.

The man had been limited by only being able to perform one action with the weapon at once, and by having only one weapon in the first place. The Soldier had taken advantage of each limitation, as always.

The Soldier's metal hand hovers over the weaponized stick, which currently looks quite harmless. He does not know if the weapon will go off if picked up, nor does he know the extent of its capabilities.

HYDRA would most likely like to know about this new weapon.

The stick could prove useful. The Asset cannot teleport or make guns fly out of opponents' hands and petrify opponents like the attacker had with the weapon. It's as if the man was some sort of wizard with a wand, but both are fictional.

The Asset carefully picks it up, making sure to point it away from any body parts. The weapon does not shoot out any energy now, seems to be no more than an ornate stick.

Heading back to the car, he checks on the escorts. They have not moved since falling to the street. The escorts' bodies are frozen and rigid as if in cryostasis, like the Asset between missions, except the escorts' temperatures are still around the average of 37 degrees celsius, and their eyes are open and moving, indicating consciousness.

The Asset does not know how to reverse the effects of whatever the energy blast had done to immobilize his escorts, but he does not try to wave the weaponized stick to counteract their paralysis.

The escorts are now useless to the mission. The Asset will be punished for that, even though it was the rival asset who took them out.

The escorts' mouths are shut, preventing speech and rendering them incapable of providing further orders or corrective punishment.

It is up to the Asset to bring the boy to the base now. It should not be too difficult.

It would not be difficult, if the Asset was functioning properly. He is not.

The unofficial orders in the malfunctioning brain command him to do just that, trying to reset the mission. The escorts can not stop it like they had before. The voice in the head giving the new orders will not be quiet.

The voice is jeopardizing the mission.

Deliver the boy. The Asset thinks. That is the true mission.

The car is also useless with its tires blown. There are spare tires, but it would take too long to change them, and the man he'd just fought might have backup or other agents of his own. The Asset will not stick around here to find out.

Seeing the car in the middle of the darkened road brings forth another vision, of sniping a car so it crashes on the side of a different abandoned street in the night. Of wrapping a hand around the woman's throat, cutting off her choked pleas as she sat in horror over her dead husband.

The dead man in the vision seems familiar, as if the Asset had seen him before being ordered to kill him. The Asset thinks that was a previous mission as he remembers grabbing a case from the trunk of that car.

The vision fades, leaving the Asset standing in the middle of Magnolia Crescent.

Past missions are irrelevant. The only mission that matters is the current one. Potter.

The Asset grabs the backpack from where he'd dropped it in the street to increase mobility during the fight and slips the stick into one of the side pockets. Right now, it seems to be just a stick instead of a weapon. Perhaps it was calibrated so only the man he'd just fought can use it, in which case it might be useless to his handlers unless they can modify it like they modify him.

His handlers might not be as mad about the escorts being petrified if he delivers another weapon, in addition to himself and the boy. The Asset will still be punished, of course, but it might be less severe.

After putting on the backpack, he opens the car door to grab the boy, and is immediately hit with the unpleasant new smell of urine, plus the lingering scents of burnt flesh, blood, and antiseptic from earlier. The Asset wants to yank his nose off and throw it away, because enhanced olfactory senses are not advantageous in this situation, or when he is being operated on.

Potter is not sitting in the backseat, but rather wedged on the floor where the rear passengers' feet go, pressed up against the door farthest away from the play park where the battle took place. The child's body is shaking almost as much as the Asset's does when first being unfrozen from cryo, only it for Potter it seems to be out of fear instead of the aftereffects of being frozen. The boy's respiration has increased by 6.2% from when the Asset held him briefly in the car, before the attacker showed up and the fight started, and it had already been 9% higher than average from the escorts handling him.

The Soldier leans into the car to grab Potter from the foot space, and the child lets out a terrified whimper, trying to curl into an even smaller ball on the car floor.

"'m sorry, sir!" The boy blurts as the Asset hoicks him up and prepares to settle the child against his hip. Apologizing is completely useless, a waste of breath- it hadn't worked on the boy's uncle, nor does it work on handlers. The boy still tries, for some reason. "I'm s-sorry."

The boy is not supposed to talk. The escorts ordered the Soldier to keep him quiet and still when handing him the child in the car. They are incapacitated, yet conscious.

The unpleasant new odor gross stronger when the Soldier brings Potter closer. The boy's tattered, stained shirt, which reaches his knees, has a dark spot from where it soaked through both the shirt and the shorts underneath.

Urinating in one's pants is not against mission protocol and does not require correction, even if it smells disgusting. But the handlers will be angry at the child if he constantly makes a mess, and will most likely punish him. It is not the boy's fault.

"Are you incontinent?" He asks the boy. That could be important intel to report.

Potter just stares uncomprehendingly.

"Do you know how to properly relieve yourself?" The Asset waits expectantly. Potter is clearly trying to work out an answer that will let him avoid punishment.

"Sorry, sir! I t-tried to hold it but I... hadda go to da bafroom." Potter does not directly answer the question, does not even seem to know what the question meant. "I only went b'fore dinner an' I c-couldn't hold it..." Before the dinner the boy had been forced to make yet had not been allowed to eat. That means the boy had not relieved himself since at least 1824 when the Asset first started surveying the house. It is now 2354.

Of course, the Asset has not relieved himself in those 5.5 hours either, but Potter is small and has an equally small bladder. The Soldier is fairly certain that Mr. Dursley would not have been happy had Potter urinated in the cupboard.

"Don't hit me, p-please, sir." Potter is sobbing again, although it sounds like he does not expect his plea about avoiding punishment to be granted. "I didn't mean to!

Not only is the boy is extremely emotional- emotions interfere with performance, any emotion is corrected by handlers or the chair- but Potter also seems to constantly leak unpleasant substances from various orifices. Earlier, he'd smeared the Soldier's flesh hand with tears and snot, the boy's shirt is crusty with dried mucus, as well as the spot of urine.

The Asset continues with the mission before he can malfunction more.

He takes the guns that the attacker had made fly out of the escorts' hands earlier. The escorts have no use for them when they're lying on the pavement stiff as logs.

He also grabs the half of the protein bar the boy had dropped on the ground. The Soldier has been taught not to waste food. While the Asset is fed adequately during missions to ensure optimum functioning, food is often withheld by handlers as a corrective measure during training and recalibration. They decide everything about his eating at the base, including if he eats at all.

The street is unhygienic and the boy's malnourished immune system is most likely weak, so instead the Asset shoves the remainder of the bar into his pocket to eat later, himself. His immune system can handle germs.

Then, they are on the move. The Asset jogs with Potter in his arms although most people are too slow to consider the pace is is moving at 'jogging'.

After 1.74 minutes of jogging, Potter makes a retching sound. The Soldier manages to turn him away before he regurgitates on the Soldier's kevlar vest. Bile and the meager contents of the boy's stomach splatter on Potter's bare feet and the ground. Potter's tiny frame shakes and the boy uses his shirt- which is already crusty with mucus from his crying and has small spots of dried blood on it from cuts caused by the plate shards- to wipe bile from his mouth.

The boy must be in good condition when he is delivered to the handlers. The shirt had been big on Potter when the Asset had first seen him, but it had been relatively clean. Now it is filthy and odorous, covered in urine, mucus, tears, blood and bile.

The handlers will not want a disgustingly smelly child.

The Soldier has not been cleaned since he was hosed off with a jet of cold water after being removed from the cryo tank 52.4 hours ago, but he has remained clean on this mission, even after the battle and hiding in a bush.

New mission sub-objective: acquire cleaner clothes for the boy that do not smell like urine and bile. In retrospect, he should have grabbed from some the Dursley residence before blowing it up, but he did not think it would be necessary. He did not know Potter was going to urinate.

"Please, don't send me back to Uncle Vernon an' Aunt Tuna!" The boy's voice is even more fearful and quiet than before.

"We are not going there." The Soldier tells him. That is both impossible and mission noncompliant.

"Really?" The boy makes it sound like it's too good to be true, as if he hadn't seen the house explode. The Asset does not answer, Potter should not need clarification. The handlers do not expect to have to repeat orders. The boy will have to listen and obey the first time, like he had when the Asset observed him with the Dursley's.

"Why?" The boy asks after 4 seconds of silence from the Asset, and Potter hastens to add "Sir?". The boy still tenses more in his arms, expecting punishment for the question.

"You are the mission." He replies.

"But... I'm not missin', I'm right here." Potter clearly does not understand.

"My mission is to deliver you to my handlers." The Asset states. "The mission will be completed."

Once he completes the mission, he will be wiped and the malfunctions will be fixed.

What HYDRA wants with Potter is not his concern. The Dursley's are not influential, there is no way Potter is a political prisoner. But there is not much use for such a small child. If they subject the child to painful medical experimentation, it should not matter.

The boy is small and unhealthy. What if HYDRA does not feed him properly? Surely they do not want the boy just to starve him.

The boy has already experienced correction by starvation at the hands of the Dursley's, as well as slaps and beatings. HYDRA will just be more severe. The Asset's chest should not have malfunctioned when watching the Dursley's, it should not be doing so now as he thinks this.

It does not matter. The boy should not matter. He is a mission, that is all. If the Soldier is ordered to kill the boy, he will do so.

The new mission protests him thinking that, throbbing in his head. Protect. It brings up an image of the scrawny blonde boy in an alleyway again, older and with a black eye. The Soldier growls slightly, the image gives him the urging need to protect. He is a weapon, meant to kill. He does not act as protection detail unless ordered to, which he does not remember ever happening.

He is malfunctioning again, with more visions and unexplained pains in his chest and stomach. Something is wrong with him.

He'd malfunctioned when the voice told him to turn and take Potter away, and when he had not handed Potter to the escort as ordered. He needs the chair, then the malfunctions will be fixed. The thought of the chair increases respiration and heart rate by 6%. He is not anywhere near the chair.

The unofficial mission's voice has gotten stronger, since the escorts have been immobilized, leaving the Asset alone to deliver the boy. The Asset could walk away without being stopped.

Deliver Potter. Then it will be over.

"You're big an' strong an' dark... like Batman." The boy sighs tiredly and fiddles with a bit of the Asset's long hair. "You helped and heroes help so I think..." The sentence is interrupted by a yawn. "...maybe you're Batman."

"Batman is not an authorized designation for the Winter Soldier." The Asset tells him flatly. Potter ignores that comment entirely.

"Sol-ders fight and don't let bad guys hurt people." Potter mumbles. "You didn't let 'em hurt me." It is unclear if he means the Dursley's, the escorts or the enemy asset who the Asset had defeated. Perhaps all of them, but Potter does not know about the Dursleys' demise.

The escorts had not been incapacitated for Potter's sake at all, despite what the boy seems to think. The Asset had still been in the backseat with Potter when it happened- does he know it was the attacker who did it? If the mission went according to plan, the escorts would be driving them back to the plane right now.

"You are not supposed to be talking." He mutters to the child, who flinches. "Go to sleep."

The Asset can be ordered to sleep on command, but he is fairly certain children are not the same way. The Dursley boy had proven this by putting up a huge fight about going to bed, and Mrs. Dursley had catered to her son's every whim and allowed him to stay up until he fell asleep watching mindless programs on the screen. Something in the Asset's brain tells him that this is abnormal for parents. Petunia had been Potter's handler but the Dursley boy's mother. Certainly handlers would never behave as Petunia Dursley had to her son, but she had treated Potter as a handler would.

The local time is 0016. The boy's adrenaline rush from the night's events seems to be wearing down finally.

As the Soldier walks, Potter falls asleep in his arms, the side of his small face resting against the metal shoulder, glasses askew on the boy's face.

First task: complete mission sub-objective of making Potter presentable.

At 0039 the Asset finds a store called Tesco with a parking lot that is empty but lit up. He does not walk through the lit space, instead staying in the shadows until he is as close as possible to the store.

Breaking into the store is only slightly more work than breaking into Number 4 Privet Drive had been, partly because he is holding a sleeping little boy. There are security cameras, but he disables them, destroying the evidence. Just like in the Dursley residence, the Soldier wears his night vision goggles instead of turning on a light and alerting any outsiders to his presence.

Threat assessment of the Tesco store: low. Lower than even the Dursley residence. There is nobody here who might be awoken aside from Potter. It is too early in the morning for trucks to start bringing produce or other goods. Even if someone does happen to find them here, the Asset will easily be able to handle them.

The carts have seats designed for children near the handles. The Asset plops Potter in one and wheels it past darkened aisles.

There are signs stating what is in each aisle. The Tesco store has more than just clothes, which is what he came for. For some reason, he didn't think stores carried so much stuff. It has food on one side, electronics and irrelevant things such as toys and books on another, clothes and household decorations and appliances in the middle.

The unofficial mission notes that it would be easy to obtain a lot of supplies that would make it easy to survive if he slipped away. The only thing he wouldn't be able to get is ammo for his guns. It tells him to take advantage of the supplies, grab food, take the boy far away.

What is wrong with him? He has never had a voice trying to change the mission before. Is it because he's been out of cryo for too long? That he needs the chair? Neither are an option right now.

The Asset forces himself to ignore the voice in his head and continues past the food, clenching his fists hard enough that the metal hand crushes the part of the cart handle it's wrapped around as he heads towards the footwear aisles. The boy is barefoot at the moment.

Choosing footwear temporarily distracts the Soldier from the missions battling in his head, although the prices (which he automatically tries to convert to American Dollars in his head for some reason) are obscenely high. One pair of toddler shoes is more than a month's rent money. Why did he think that? He does not pay rent.

Whoever thought to equip toddler shoes with lights that flash with every step probably did not have to worry about covert movement and avoiding detection, about there being no witnesses. Also they were a moron. The Asset does not choose light up shoes, and is glad that Potter is not awake to whine for them. Not that whining would do the boy any good.

In the end, the Soldier chooses waterproof "Wellington" boots for the boy, without any laces. This way if the boy regurgitates again, they will be easier to clean. The ones on display are, inconveniently, not the right size for the boy, so he has to hunt through the shoeboxes to find a pair that fits.

In the children's clothing section, the Asset grabs a shirt (not the shirt with the stupid-looking anthropomorphic blue locomotive on it) and holds it up to Potter for size. He discovers that Potter, despite having turned four under a month ago according to the mission briefing, is 11.5% smaller than the clothes designed for boys his age. The clothes designed for two or three-year-olds are more Potter's size.

Potter should not be so small. He is probably 6 kg lighter than his cousin had been, which at his age is a dangerously significant amount.

The Soldier finds a couple shirts without pictures, all of which appear green due to the night vision goggles, and throws them in the cart, along with pants, socks, and underwear. They apparently do not make plain toddler underwear, everything has some sort of pointless design or cartoon. He really hopes Potter knows how to properly relieve himself, but if not, there is an aisle with diapers.

Potter continues to sleep as the Asset pulls off the disgusting, large shirt and slips a new plain one over the boy's head of wild raven hair, maneuvering the boy's limp, skinny arms through the sleeves. For the pants, he has to lift Potter out of the shopping cart seat.

With the amount of fluids the boy leaks through his nose and eyes and how disgusting his shirt became, the Soldier considers finding a waterproof jacket for the boy.

Hunting through the racks of clothes, he finds one, but does not put it on the boy right now.

Mission sub-objective complete.

There is no reason for him to grab a hooded jacket from the men's section and slip it on, but the new mission's voice told him to. There is no reason to cover his prosthesis or hair, he should not disguise himself from his handlers. This is not part of the official mission.

As he starts to head towards the exit, pushing the cart past aisles of processed food, the new mission screeches orders to grab supplies. He malfunctions even more, turns the cart into an aisle with canned soup.

He knows he is malfunctioning, but he still puts cans of soup in his backpack. Mission sub-objective of the new mission is also complete. He should not be completing the new mission. It was not assigned by his handlers, it is contrary to the mission.

He is broken, he thinks again as he adds granola bars and bottled water to the stash in his backpack.

He grabs some juice for Potter, because the boy needs something after emptying his stomach. He is not sure if Potter had regurgitated because he could not handle the solid protein bar, so he will try liquids. The juice has nutrients, if not many calories.

Potter's sleep becomes fitful. He wriggles around, crying and making small, fearful noises of protest. He wakes with a gasp, tiny hand rubbing not his eyes but his forehead where the odd lightning bolt scar is. The boy gasps for breath in a way that is vaguely familiar to the Soldier although he has no idea why. The current respiratory problems are likely a result of fear, not asthma, although asthma is extremely familiar in his brain. But the Soldier does not know anybody with asthma.

Unlike the Soldier with his night vision goggles, Potter cannot see in the dark. He makes small, confused noises as he continues to shiver in fear, face again leaking tears. His knuckles are pressed into his mouth to stifle his sobs while he continues rubbing his scar as if it hurts. Had he sustained any damage to the area from Dursley's beating? That could affect his usefulness for HYDRA.

Potter is surprisingly quiet for a child who just had a nightmare, the Asset thinks, although he does not know how he knows this. Most children would scream and cry noisily.

The Asset looks at his backpack, stuffed with non-perishable food. This is not the mission. The mission does not require this much food, even now that he needs to make the trip back to the base without his escorts.

When he turns around, the sees that the boy is about to wipe his eyes and nose on the collar of the new shirt.

"Stop." The Soldier tells him. The child stills at the command, eyes wide and worried. "I do not want to change you again."

The child wipes his nose and eyes on the back of his hand instead of his shirt. Still disgusting, but he had followed orders.

Does the Asset have to give the child a bath? Will HYDRA simply hose Potter off as they do with him?

Potter reaches out blindly, blinking owlishly in the dark.

"... My strong sol-der man...?" The child murmurs hesitantly, as if he's not sure if he'd simply dreamed about the Soldier or not. Potter had used an incorrect pronoun. He is not a handler, therefore he cannot claim ownership of the Soldier. The boy sounds almost hopeful that the Soldier is there.

"I am not your Asset." The Asset corrects.

"A'set." Potter murmurs, smiling slightly when he hears the Asset's voice. This is new. He is merely a weapon, his targets certainly do not smile and neither do his handlers, not even when he successfully completes a mission. But Potter smiles, and has also called him sir. The child is strange. "A'set."

"You need to keep your clothes clean. You should be in the best condition possible when delivered to the handlers."

Grabbing the waterproof jacket from the cart, he starts to dress Potter.

"Wha?" Potter murmurs. "Not Dudley's..." The child voices his dawning realization that he's wearing different clothes, including boots. Distressed, he tries to shift around enough in the cart seat to remove the boots, but the handle is getting in the way.

He almost seems scared of the clothes. What can be distressing about clothes?

"Leave them on." The Asset orders.

"But Aunt Tuna says freaks don't d'serve new clothes." The boy makes a desperate attempt to pull off a boot. Potter seems unable to fully comprehend the notion of wearing clothes that did not once belong to the Dursley boy, of wearing clothes that actually fit him. "Freaks are un-g'ateful. Freaks ruin new things."

"Do not remove them." The Asset repeats. At least with Potter in the waterproof coat, the Asset does not need to worry as much about mucus getting on the boy's clothes.

37 seconds later, one of the "Wellington" boots hits the floor, having been kicked off. Potter seems to be malfunctioning, like the Asset, because he does not follow the orders.

The Asset bends down, slips it back on the boy's foot. He pokes a straw in a juice box and hands it to Potter. The boy looks at him in confusion, saying that juice is "only for Dudley" and that he himself only gets water when he's good.

The Asset orders him to drink it anyways, and Potter almost suspiciously puts the straw in his mouth.

He leaves the store at 0123 with his backpack and a few extra bags full of food and other supplies he is not authorized to have, and plans on stealing a car.

He chooses an car at a house with toys in the yard, because there is a car seat for small children in the back. Children are supposed to be in such seats when they are young, it optimizes safety.

Breaking into the car is simple, and Potter is limp enough that he does not protest being strapped into the child car seat. The seat does not look nearly as uncomfortable as the chair the Asset is subjected to.

The Asset knows how to hot-wire vehicles, and by 0140 he has successfully pulled the car out of the family's driveway.

The airport where the plane is at is only another seventeen minutes away.

Deliver Potter. The mission tells him as he drives to the airport.

Drive far away. The voice in the brain, the one he had started brokenly following in the food aisles, counters the official orders. Do not return to the base.

His world is no longer as simple as following orders, because now there are two voices giving orders in his head, clashing with each other.

He realizes he's turned down a street that does not lead to the airport.

The Asset scowls and slams on the breaks, trying not to crush the steering wheel in his fists. The voice in his brain giving the unofficial orders needs to be silent and let him complete the mission in peace. He needs to turn around and go to the airport.

He needs major maintenance. He needs to be wiped. The chair will almost be a relief, because then there will be no more clashing orders. Everything will be as it should be.

But if he continues malfunctioning and following the false orders, he might not manage to complete the mission.

Chapter Text

When Severus comes to, his whole body aches with numerous pains and his mind throbs horribly in his skull. He'd much rather still be out of it right now.

The pain isn't as intense as the Cruciatus Curse, but Severus has physical injuries at the moment. There's a lump in the back of his head and his body is heavily bruised, especially his throat.

The memories flood back quickly. He's still laying on the dented slide that the long-haired man with the metal prosthetic arm had thrown him into. Severus' own body had been the thing to dent the metal slide, and there are a couple sharp parts poking into his body.

The boy. Potter. Where is he? Obviously, the muggles were kidnapping him, but for what purpose? Do they know how important he is to the wizarding world? The vast majority of muggles don't know about magic, of course, but it seems more than a little coincidental that they were going for the Boy Who Lived.

Severus gropes around for his wand and doesn't find it anywhere. He tries to wandlessly summon it with Accio but still nothing happens. What in Merlin's name?

Had the attacker taken his wand?

The Potions Master sits up from his crater in the slide, aching body fiercely protesting the movement. Just in case, he scans the ground for any sign of his wand, in case the wandless charm simply hadn't worked.

No sign of it. Apparently it had been misappropriated by the attacker. Severus scowls furiously- being without his wand is the last thing he needs right now.

From the looks of it, the attacker is gone.

Potter is nowhere to be seen, as well. So that attacker had successfully kidnapped Potter and is Merlin knows where with the brat right now. Obviously, he hadn't taken the car that Severus disabled, but he could have made it a fair distance on foot by now- the man was inordinately fast- or perhaps even obtained another vehicle.

Either way, there is an incredibly slim chance of him finding the man, let alone catching up to him, without a wand.

This was not how Severus thought the night was going to go. He was hoping to find the Potter brat quickly and let Dumbledore find another home for him, since his relatives are indeed dead.

The two attackers he'd petrified are still laying motionless on the street. The situation is nowhere near as dire as if they had not been here. It should be simple to extract the location of wherever they were planning on taking the boy, which is presumably where their metal-armed associate is now. Without a wand, though, Severus cannot un-petrify them, or contain them if they try to run.

Sticking his wand arm out over the street, he summons the Knight Bus. If he had any other choice right now, he'd chose that instead of the Knight Bus.

The triple-decker purple bus can be used by Squibs like Mrs. Figg, so he doesn't need a wand to summon it. Also, the attacker had apparently decided to leave Severus' money with him. Perhaps he thought Galleons were fools' gold.

The triple-decker purple bus appears with a bang in the street, and the abandoned car and the two petrified goons' bodies are magically thrown out of the way of the bus.

The behemoth of a vehicle screeches to a stop without any regard to momentum. The conductor comes out while Severus starts to try to carry the two petrified kidnappers. His own aching body protests, and even if he was in his best condition it would be hard to carry the bulky men.

The conductor seems a little confused to be helping Severus with his 'baggage', but the Potions Master makes up a story involving copious amounts of Firewhiskey and stupid dueling bets.

Unfortunately, Severus has to buy tickets for the attackers as well. The Knight Bus is full of beds right now rather than its collection of mismatched chairs that it has during daytime. After shoving his two statue-esque captives onto beds, Severus sits on a third. There's no way he can sleep on this thing.

"Where to?" The conductor asks.

"The Leaky Cauldron." Snape replies, planning on using Floo powder from there.

The bus shoots forward at incredible speed and all the beds slide towards the back. Why they haven't applied sticking charms to them so they stay in place is completely beyond Severus. He scowls slightly, noting the gleam of terror in his petrified would-be kidnappers' eyes. It lessens his scowl slightly.

After a harrowingly reckless but thankfully quick ride in the bus, Snape and his two frozen captives are dropped off outside the Leaky Cauldron.

Severus Floo's to his office with the two captives, depositing them on the stone floor.

Dumbledore comes to Severus' office before he can even decide whether to call the Headmaster or not.

"Severus, where is Harry?" Dumbledore asks. "His new living arrangements have not been settled. Without the blood wards provided by his Aunt, he is in danger from Voldemort's supporters."

"He is in danger already." Severus informs the old man. "I was about to question these two, who were involved in an apparent kidnapping." He glares down at his petrified captives.

Potter had clearly been terrified. His scream, as well as the bout of accidental magic had made that obvious. And now he's with the most dangerous member of the group of three kidnappers.

Even though the boy is James Potter's son and Severus certainly doesn't like the brat, they need to rescue the boy. Who knows what's being done to him right now?

Hopefully these two can provide some answers.

The two goons groan loudly when they are un-petrified, stretching their stiff bodies. Severus debates conjuring ropes to bind them, but they are not a threat like the third one had been. They do not even have guns this time, since Severus had disarmed them.

"Do you know who the boy you were taking was?" Dumbledore asks them in a calm voice, as if this isn't an interrogation but a simple chat. Severus had been wondering the same thing- they're muggles, after all, what use do they have for the Boy Who Lived- but why hadn't Dumbledore immediately asked where Harry was?

The men pointedly remain silent.

"Where were you planning on taking the boy?" Severus demands harshly. Again, silence. Maybe it's time to break out the Veritaserum. That will get them talking.

"...Hail HYDRA" The two goons mutter, not quite simultaneously, before biting down on something in their mouths.

They almost immediately begin to experience what appear to be seizures and heart attacks at the same time. Severus grabs a couple of bezoars and crams them down the kidnappers' throats. Whatever poison they seem to have used is apparently incredibly fast acting, and they already seem mostly dead by the time he shoves the bezoars down their throats.

The bezoars work on whatever poison they seem to have used. The men gasp and shudder but are no longer at the brink of death.

They seem extremely confused when they realize they're still alive, and surprisingly ungrateful.

Severus pries open one man's mouth and sees a gap in his teeth along with remains of a fake tooth. Severus has read about suicide pills being used in Muggle militaries for people at a high risk of being captured. Are these two men with some sort of military? Why would they be interested in Potter?

From the looks of it, there are no more fake teeth with suicide pills.

Regardless, in a silky yet dangerous voice, Severus tells them "Don't try that again."

He stalks to his shelves and grabs a couple flasks of Veritaserum. The Ministry of Magic has strict regulations on the use of the truth-telling potion, but they do not need to know about this. Besides, these men will be obliviated once they have what they need, since they are muggles and shouldn't know about magic.

The men try to hold their mouths shut even though they most likely do not know what the potion does. Pinching one man's nose cures him of that, and Severus pours some of the truth-telling potion into the man's mouth and them clamps a hand over so he can't spit it out. The man reluctantly swallows, and Severus repeats the process with the other kidnapper.

"Why did you kidnap Harry Potter? Where were you taking him?" Severus demands.

"We were ordered to drive the Asset back to the airport once he extracted the Potter kid." The second kidnapper looks extremely shocked that those words just came out of his mouth. Snape smirks slightly when the other kidnapper sends that one a look telling him to be quiet.

"The Asset?" Dumbledore questions. Severus assumes that the kidnapper is referring to the infuriating man with the metal arm who had managed to somehow beat Severus in a duel.

"The Winter Soldier." The first man says, looking just as surprised as his companion had about blurting out what is obviously supposed to be classified information.

Yet, when they ask who the Winter Soldier is, the two don't have much information, other than that he was "malfunctioning" by appearing to be angry, as if the soldier wasn't supposed to even experience emotions, let alone show them. From the way they talk about him, it's clear the Soldier isn't even regarded as a person in their eyes.

They do reveal something vague about wiping the Soldier's memories with a chair, although apparently these two are never involved with it and are rarely involved with the Soldier at all. Since when had Muggles invented something that has the same effect as Obliviate?

One of the kidnappers speculates out loud, of course having no control over his tongue, that perhaps the Soldier might not have gone to the plane at all.

These kidnappers are not nearly as informative as Severus had hoped, and his chances of finding Potter are growing slimmer by the second.

The Asset should be aboard the plane by now instead of sitting in a parked car. It was a seventeen minute drive to his destination, and it has been twenty-two minutes. But at 0159, he'd realized was following the wrong orders and was not driving to the destination.

He sits unmoving in the parked car for 5.1 minutes, head throbbing as the battle between missions rages on in his mind without his consent. Not that his consent is ever considered for anything.

Weapons cannot give consent, they simply do what they are made to do.

Unless they defect.

TURN AROUND. GO TO THE AIRPORT.

The mission pounds even louder in his head, practically shouting, as he sits in the unmoving car.

DELIVER POTTER. RETURN TO HANDLERS FOR MAINTENANCE. COMPLETE THE MISSION.

The Asset cannot hear himself think over the blaring mission. That is good. His job is not to think, it is to complete assignments.

Even as he starts to put the car back in drive, the new mission once again counters the official mission. Unfortunately, it rises in volume to match the mission.

NEGATIVE. MAINTAIN PRESENT ROUTE, DO NOT RETURN TO THE AIRPORT.

The two missions continue to argue, and the Soldier longs for the peace and quiet of having one set of orders to obey.

The Asset turns on the radio, trying to drown out the new voice in his head that he knows he's not supposed to obey. But the voice commands compliance, same as the official mission.

If he can just get rid of the unofficial voice long enough to deliver the boy, his handlers will fix him and everything will be quiet again.

He cycles through frequencies on the radio. Of course, none of them match the frequencies of HYDRA communication devices. Even if they did, the passwords have probably changed.

He cannot contact his handlers and tell them to come get him because he is defecting and jeopardizing the mission. They would surely punish him, but they would fix him, too.

A lot of the different radio stations blare noises that sound like young men being castrated. If it weren't for the screeching guitar riffs in the background (guitars do not sound like that at all, what is wrong with this), he would have wondered if he somehow picked up on frequencies from an interrogation room rather than what is probably supposed to be music.

The torture-music only makes his head throb more, and does nothing to overpower the voices, so he quickly skips past those stations. The weather and traffic reports at least hold useful information, although there is no traffic on this quiet side street.

TURN LEFT. The mission directs at the next intersection.

TURN RIGHT. The new voice counters, sounding just as commanding.

His hands want to yank the steering wheel left and right at the same time, and for a moment he wonders if he's going to try to do both and end up ripping the steering wheel apart.

Instead, he drives through the intersection without turning either way.

What's happening with the Asset isn't like a gun misfiring, it's worse, like a missile that veers off course, a missile that has been hacked. He's certainly not choosing to defect.

The escorts had obviously been worried about him malfunctioning when he had reported the odd feeling in his chest and the visions of the skinny blonde person (he'd been a child in one vision, but a man in another). The Soldier had not reported the contradicting, unauthorized orders. They hadn't been orders then, just a small voice that, up until an hour ago, he had been able to ignore.

The path their car travels reflects the battle in the Soldier's mind. He speeds towards the airport a few times- the Soldier's job is to complete the mission- but he always malfunctions and changes routes before he can even see the landing area or the HYDRA plane.

Even if he reached the plane, he is broken enough that he might not fly it to the base.

In the backseat, Potter alternates between dozing and staring out the window, juice box sitting in the cupholder on the child car seat. At one point he points a tiny finger to the window and says something about a purple bus. The Asset briefly wonders if the child is hallucinating, because he appears to be awake instead of dreaming. But children have wild imaginations, so perhaps it is simply that.

The boy looks as if he expects to be shouted at for imagining a purple bus. HYDRA would not like nonsense like that, but at the moment it does not matter.

Somehow, the Asset drives farther away from the airport. His head throbs harder, as if punishing him for going rogue. The mission-noncompliance on his part is not intentional.

RESET REQUIRED.

He cannot reset himself, cannot give the trigger words to himself. Handlers are required. Until he gets to the chair or his handlers, his malfunctioning will continue.

The Asset's mind aches horribly, but in a different way than it does after the chair. It's too full now, and the fighting missions have exhausted him mentally. After the chair, his mind is always empty, waiting to be filled with the next mission.

His body is now shaking involuntarily, in a manner similar to when he gets out of cryo, but not quite as bad because at least now everything isn't freezing. If anything, he's currently warm, but that is almost a welcome change.

At 0626, the Asset finds himself stopped outside a building next to some hills a little ways off the road. The hills appear to have some sort of pulley system on them, although they don't look like they'd support particularly heavy cargo.

Unless this is a HYDRA base, he has been following the unofficial mission that he should have disregarded.

Admittedly, HYDRA is fond of having bases out in the middle of nowhere, but a HYDRA base would most likely not be advertising itself as a place to go skiing. Unlike some bases, this is not too far off from civilization in the first place, but the hills make it seem a little more isolated.

The place appears abandoned, which would make sense if it really is a ski slope. It is August, there is no snow.

He sweeps the area for any kind of bugs or surveillance equipment anyways. There is one camera on the hill, but that is it.

Some more quick but thorough reconnaissance on the Soldier's part confirms that this is not a HYDRA base, it is indeed just a small ski establishment. There is no tank or chair here for him, just a lodge and hills.

That should be his cue to leave, not to go into the lodge, but he can't control himself. He keeps trying to deliver Potter like he should, but it still doesn't work. His handlers will be furious, as they should be. He will deserve whatever punishment they give him, will take it without protest as he always does.

If he does not deliver Potter to his handlers, as the new mission is instructing, what is he supposed to do with the child? Potter will surely die if left here on his own. What is the final objective of this unauthorized mission? If there is no report to handlers, no cryo tank, does this false mission even have an end?

Keep away from HYDRA. The voice says it as if he's not only supposed to keep the child away, but that he's supposed to stay away, himself. The thought is almost incomprehensible.

The mission sounds louder in his head as if in protest. RETURN TO BASE. DELIVER THE PACKAGE. REPORT DEFECT.

Are his handlers looking for him, now that he is not at the base with the boy? He should not have made it so difficult for them to find him.

The Soldier does not choose to ignore the mission and malfunction yet again, but he does.

He unbuckles a sleeping Potter from the car seat and grabs the backpack and bags before heading towards the lodge. The locks are simple, of course, but he locks the door behind him. The likelihood of anyone- including HYDRA- finding them here is low, and there is nobody inside the building.

The only challenging part about this mission so far is that he keeps defecting, because this is not the actual mission.

The main part of the lodge's interior is split into a large sitting area with several couches and fireplaces and a dining area obviously meant to seat many people. The kitchen is split off by the door. Towards the back are several bedrooms for guests, each with an attached bathroom.

The Asset puts the food down on one of the tables and then enters a bedroom. He sets the sleeping boy down on the bed. Potter is sucking on his thumb of one of his bandaged hands in his sleep. He is not a baby, but he is still quite young at only four years and twenty-two days. He looks even younger than his true age.

He pulls off the boy's coat and boots and old glasses, leaving Potter in the rest of the new clothes.

Although changing Potter's clothes helped, the boy is still dirty. His small face is still encrusted with dried tears and snot, and his mouth has bits of bile around it along with the new addition of dried apple juice from the box the Soldier gave him in the store.

Bathing the child will have to wait. Potter is asleep, and the Soldier is functioning at only 58%, which is well below acceptable levels.

The Soldier does not remove his tactical vest, but he does remove his stolen hooded sweatshirt and his weapons (including the escorts' guns).

He carefully arranges his weapons He stretches out on the floor beside them, near the door. If something threatens them, he cannot waste time gathering his things.

A bed would be too comfortable to sleep in. He does not know the last time he slept in a bed, or if he ever has.

This is at least 9000% better than cryo, and he even has a roof over his head. It's a little hot, but heat is preferable to cold.

Set sleep: 4 hours. His head continues to pound with exhaustion from the internal battle between missions, so it is easy to obey that order, even if it is given by the new voice in his head instead of his handlers.

He wakes 2.4 hours later when something thumps. Dreams of perching in trees with sniper rifles quickly disappear as he becomes alert to his surroundings.

The Soldier is up in an instant, grabbing a knife with his flesh hand and a gun with his prosthetic hand, scanning the room for signs of danger. Sunlight streams through the window, negating the need for night vision goggles.

Potter is sitting on the floor, evidently having fallen from the bed, except the Asset had made sure to put him in the center to try to ensure that did not happen. Did the child really move around enough to make it to the edge and fall off in his sleep?

Wide green eyes stare at the Soldier in terror. Then the boy scrambles to his feet and flees towards the wardrobe, crawling inside it and shutting the door behind him.

After ensuring there is no threat, the Asset holsters his weapons and pulls the wardrobe door open. The boy is shaking with his head buried against his knees, probably getting mucus and tears all over his pants. The Asset cups the boy's head and lifts it to prevent the boy from soiling these new clothes so soon.

"I-I just waked up there, sir... I d-didn't mean to be in the bed!" Potter stammers out. Of course he woke up there, that is where the Asset put him.

He looks at Potter carefully. The fall would be negligible for even a standard adult, but the bed is taller than Potter. The Soldier would not be surprised if the boy was bruised after that fall. "Status report."

Potter stares at him in utter confusion, mouth hanging open slightly. Perhaps the boy's previous handlers, the Dursley's, had not asked him for status reports.

The Asset tries again, wondering how often he will need to reword statements for the child to comprehend them. HYDRA would punish the boy for not understanding. "Are you injured?"

"N...no...?" The answer more confused than unsure. "I really don't 'member going in the bed, sir. 'm sorry."

"I put you there." The Soldier answers. Why is Potter panicking about being in a bed?

This is met by Potter staring at him as incredulously as if he'd just told the boy that he was a ballet dancer instead of a soldier.

"But... you were on the floor, sir." Potter ventures quietly, as if it should have been the other way around. "It's your bed. I wasn't s'posed to be there."

"Not mine. The bed's too soft." The Asset grunts. After a bit, he asks a question that has been in his mind since he first found the boy. He's normally not allowed to ask questions without permission, but he's already defecting to an enormous degree

"Why do you address the Asset as sir?" He do not deserve honorifics, but Potter keeps using it.

"Uncle Vernon says I haf'ta be r...respekful to normal people."

The idea of the Soldier being normal is almost laughable, but the Soldier never laughs, or even smiles. If he did, he would be punished, perhaps even wiped. Does Potter actually consider a highly-trained assassin with a prosthetic left arm normal?

"I forgot your name is A'set, sir." Potter apologizes in his usual quiet voice. The only time the child had been loud was when the escorts grabbed him.

The Asset does not have a name, merely designations such as thator Winter Soldier, but he does not correct the boy. It does not matter if Potter thinks it is his name.

The Asset reaches in to grab the boy, who tenses up as usual, but relaxes just a second sooner. When the boy realizes that he's being carried back to the bed, he squirms.

"No. Freaks don't get beds like normal people." Potter says as if the Asset is missing something obvious.

Why does the child keep referring to himself as a freak? Admittedly, the child is not normal- he is underweight and far quieter than his cousin had been- but freak does not seem to be an accurate descriptor.

Potter scrambles back to the wardrobe as soon as he is set down. The Asset had observed the elder Dursley throwing the boy in the cupboard under the stairs, and the boy had been sleeping in there. Perhaps the spare bedroom with all the broken toys had not been Potter's, and the small boy had spent his whole life in the cupboard whenever he was not needed.

Once again, it reminds the Asset of how he is put in cryo when his handlers have no use for him.

If Potter wants to sleep in the wardrobe, the Asset should not care.

But Potter does not sleep. Instead, the child suddenly looks scared again, as if he's just remembered he's done something wrong. "You're up. I'm s'posed to make breakfast but Aunt Tuna didn't wake me 'cos this isn't my cupboard."

Did Petunia Dursley assign Potter all the cooking duties when he isn't even big enough to reach the stove properly? Furthermore, how often had Potter been allowed to eat the food he was made to prepare?

"I can make eggs, an' bacon and black puddin' and toast. But I made a big mess wid-da pancakes last time." The boy shudders, probably remembering whatever punishment had been doled out for that. He seems to regret mentioning the mess, as if he'll be punished again for bringing it up.

The Asset does not remember being four, but he doubts he was let near anywhere near a lit stove, let alone made to use one.

He wonders if he'd been four years old with that scrawny blonde boy from his vision or not.

After a bit, Potter glances hesitantly up at the Asset. "What do you want to eat, Mister A'set, sir?"

The Asset is never offered choices about anything, including what he eats. When he's with his handlers, whether he eats at all is entirely dependent on if his handlers are angry at him, and when he is allowed to eat, they decide what, when, and how much.

Potter clearly shares that experience. At least the Asset was not forced to cook food and serve it to his handlers while his own stomach growled with hunger, like he'd witnessed Potter doing last night. The thought makes the Asset feel like he's boiling inside, with another chest malfunction, but he has not sustained any actual injury or ailment, to his awareness.

"Tank you, for the juice." Potter suddenly says, ducking his head.

"Come," The Asset instructs after gathering up the rest of his weapons and tucking them in their holsters. He opens the door and sees the coast is clear, although he wasn't really expecting anybody to have found them here.

Potter follows him out of the bedroom obediently. He'd been asleep when they arrived earlier this morning, so this is his first time looking at the lodge.

"Is this your house?" He asks, seemingly before he can stop himself.

"No." The Asset replies. Potter frowns slightly in confusion but doesn't ask any more questions as he follows the Asset to the large dining area.

Once there, the boy immediately looks around, clearly expecting to be forced to cook something and wondering what to make. He glances up at the Asset expectantly, but the Asset just strides over to the bags on the table and starts pulling out the food he misappropriated from the store.

The Asset had not realized he'd grabbed so much, or that he'd have so many choices. There are packaged muffins and fruits, granola bars, canned soups, and a lot more food that the Asset doesn't entirely remember taking. Even bread, in clear wrapping.

There are no handlers telling him what to eat, or that he is authorized to eat in the first place. He was not authorized to obtain this food, but he is not authorized to be here, either.

The Soldier stares at the assortment of food.

Picking food for Potter is easy. The boy had not been able to stomach the protein bar last night (part of that could have been from being bounced around while the Asset jogged) but has kept the juice from the very early hours of this morning down. The Asset opens a can of soup by poking through the top with his metal hand and then tearing the lid off. The soup is lukewarm.

Potter does not seem to mind, does not even seem to think he is allowed to eat it as the Asset passes the can to him.

He did not get spoons from the Tesco store, but he finds some in the kitchen, along with bowls.

"Soup?" Potter asks, as if eating it at breakfast is ridiculous. The child quickly covers his mouth.

"Yes, Potter." The Asset replies. Hopefully the boy can feed himself without making a mess, but the Asset will spoon-feed him if required. "You are underweight."

This gets him another blank look from the boy.

"Potter?" The boy asks as if he doesn't even know his last name, or maybe he's just confused that he's being called that. The Dursley's had mostly called him 'boy' last night.

"Your name is Harry James Potter." The Asset replies. Something about the name James is familiar in a way he does not understand. Examining that thought no further, he pushes the bowl with a little bit of tomato soup towards the boy. Potter's stomach is undoubtedly small and cannot hold the whole can's worth, and the Asset is not going to waste the rest. "Eat."

"But I didn't make you bweakfast." Potter tells him. The Soldier orders him to eat anyways.

Potter seems completely confused, but doesn't put up any further protest as he eats his first spoonful, only spilling a little. His eyes widen when he tastes the first spoonful of tomato soup, eyes closing in bliss as he lets out a slight moan.

He is clearly trying to be careful to avoid spilling the soup, but sometimes some sloshes off the spoon and onto the table. The boy is at least leaning over the table so it doesn't fall on his lap.

"You're not eating..." Potter remarks. "What do you want me to make you?" This child clearly does not retain knowledge without being told multiple times. It is almost a good thing he is not at HYDRA right now. If the Soldier needs to repeat simple things like the boy not needing to make him breakfast, than HYDRA will need to repeat things and they will be angry with the boy. The boy will get hurt when they are angry.

The Asset cannot choose what to eat himself, because he does not choose anything. He did not even choose to defect, because he knows he shouldn't. He should leave this place, take Potter to his handlers and fall to his knees to accept whatever the punishment is before being wiped and probably punished after as well.

He'd eaten a protein bar yesterday evening, but that had been provided by his escorts.

For unknown reasons, his hand hovers over a plum. Plums are a good source of Vitamin C, and they are in season in England in August.

Slowly, he takes the plum and eats it, and then a processed muffin. The Asset is not supposed to have opinions about things, but they are both infinitely preferable to protein bars.

When Potter is done, he has some soup smeared around his mouth, and he is still somewhat dirty from before. The Soldier vaguely remembers thinking earlier this morning that the boy needed a bath.

When he tells the boy this, Potter starts to whimper. From the boy's babbled explanation about only Dudley getting baths, he learns that Potter's aunt had given the boy cold showers. Potter mumbles something about how his "Aunt Tuna" was going to give him a haircut soon, too, and he's obviously not fond of those either.

The Asset leads the reluctant boy to the bathroom attached to the room they'd slept in and removes Potter's clothes. At least the new clothes have stayed fairly clean.

The Soldier doesn't think showers hurt nearly as much as the hose his handlers use on him, but the boy is shaking so much at the prospect that he ends up filling the bathtub with water.

As he bathes the boy, Potter curiously pokes at the Asset's prosthesis as if that arm is not a weapon that can kill him with ease. As if the Asset is not the same thing.

It is... odd. People are either scared of him or order him around. Sometimes they are both, but Potter is neither, and has given the Soldier a few more small smiles this morning.

Even though it is very inefficient and somewhat messy, he does not stop Potter from splashing in the bath. The water doesn't splash high enough to go out of the tub, but it does get the Asset's tac vest and rolled-up sleeves slightly damp.

When the boy is once again clean, the Asset leaves the water in the tub. The idea of not wasting it seems almost instinctual. He can use it for himself, later, he thinks, as he dresses the boy again.

Chapter Text

Taking care of a child should be simple. All that's required for looking after Potter is feeding him, making sure he's clean, and making him sleep.

Yet Potter is old enough that these things are not a constant process. The boy doesn't loudly wail and demand feeding every few hours like an infant would. Somehow the Asset knows that is what infants do, despite not having any experience with caring for them.

So far, Potter has not asked for food at all, instead simply waiting for the Asset to give it to him and assure him he can eat it. If it were the Dursley boy the Asset was looking after, there probably would have been a thousand demands in these past 11.2 hours, 98% of which probably could have been ignored. Unlike Potter, that boy did not need extra nourishment.

Potter probably will not need to be fed again for a few more hours.

The Asset dries the boy's messy, black hair and realizes that it is untamable as it continues to stick up in every direction. He checks the boy's injuries. The cuts from the plate have healed a surprising amount, as if the boy is has slightly enhanced healing himself.

"Tank you." The boy thanks him for the bath, or perhaps bandaging him, as if it was a gift. He had done the same thing with the food earlier this morning.

Fortunately, the boy knows how to properly deposit bodily wastes in a toilet, despite having an accident sometime in the escorts' car when the Asset was fighting that enemy asset who wielded the weaponized stick. Potter demonstrates this ability after the bath. He almost doesn't pull his pants up when he's done, as if he can't bring himself to dress himself in new clothes, so the Asset hoicks them up.

"Try not to urinate in your pants, Potter." The Soldier says, remembering last night.

"Yessir." The boy nods quickly. "I don't need nappies, but I'm not a big boy like Aun' Tuna told Dudley when he went potty."

"You are undersized, Potter." The Asset agrees. The boy's eyes light up again when his surname is used.

"Did...did you knowed my Mummy and Daddy?" The Asset catches just a glimpse of the boy's wide, hopeful green eyes, before Potter immediately ducks his head and stammers out an apology. His parents seem to have been a forbidden subject with the Dursley family.

"It's did you know." The Asset corrects. He does not know the answer to that question, does not even know who the boys parents are, or were. He could have been sent to kill them. The fact that he doesn't remember a previous target named Potter is meaningless- he's not always told his targets' names.

Maybe Potter's parents were influential somehow, and the boy would gain HYDRA some political favor? What other use would the boy be for them?

It does not matter, it is not the Soldier's place to question the reasoning behind his missions. Even when he is delaying the mission, such as now.

"Aun' Tuna says my mummy an' daddy died in a caw cwash." Potter mumbles, mispronouncing the last two words. The Asset remembers the vision of the mission where he'd made the targets' deaths look like a car accident, but somehow he doesn't think those targets were this boy's parents.

"I did not know them." The Asset answers eventually. The child looks slightly disappointed.

Feeding and bathing Potter have only taken up 56 minutes, leaving a large amount of time with no discernible objective.

DELIVER THE BOY.

He should, but he doesn't. It is still unclear why, aside from the fact he is defective.

"What d'you want me to do, Mr. A'set, sir?" Potter asks as the Asset rewraps the bandages around Potter's tiny hands. The Asset suspects that the late Mrs. Dursley made Potter clean as well as cook. From what he observed, the Dursley boy never lifted a finger to help. "Cleaning?"

They have not been here long enough for the ski resort to get dirty, aside from Potter dribbling soup on the table earlier, which is already cleaned up. None of their food requires cooking, and it seems pointless to send the boy out to cut the grass with a pair of scissors like he reportedly did at the Dursleys' residence. Furthermore, it is odd that Potter is asking about cleaning when his old clothes were filthy with tears and mucus.

"There are no chores for you to perform, Potter." The Soldier tells him.

The boy nods and shuffles off.

The Soldier follows and watches the boy enter the wardrobe he'd been hiding in earlier. The Dursley's clearly used the cupboard under the stairs as a place to store Potter when they had no use for him, but it is inferior to the cryo tank in that he is still conscious and requires basic things like food when not being used. Not that the Dursley parents had fed Potter adequately, despite drastically overfeeding the Dursley boy.

The Soldier pulls the boy out of the wardrobe, since he needs to keep an eye on him. The boy starts asking about what chores he should perform again, seeming lost at the idea of not being given work to do. It had been the same earlier, when the boy thought he had to cook breakfast.

The Asset knows that feeling all too well at the moment. He's still not sure what he's doing right now.

"Stick by me." The Asset orders, although his voice is still quiet. He has much more experience obeying orders than giving them. "Unless I tell you not to. Do as I say."

"That's it?" Potter asks, although he nods in acquiescence to the instructions. "But, that can't be it. I haf'to earn my keep. Can't be a lazy boy, 'cos t'en you'll send me back to da Dursleys." The boy looks at him fearfully.

The Soldier presses his lips together in annoyance. What does he need to say to get Potter to retain the information that he cannot go back to the Dursley's? He could just tell the boy he killed the Dursley family, but for some reason, he doesn't. "You are not going back. Stop thinking that."

The boy looks at him as if he doesn't really believe it, clearly thinking the Soldier will redact that sometime. "But I'm a ung'ateful freak."

He is far from ungrateful, and 'Freak' is still an unclear designation for the boy. The Asset remembers in the store in the very early hours of the morning, Potter had said something about freaks being ungrateful and not deserving new clothes, presumably something that was said to the boy himself. Yet the boy is extremely grateful for almost everything the Soldier does simply to keep him alive.

At least wanting to be useful would serve Potter well with HYDRA. After all, the Asset's handlers always find some sort of use for the Soldier when he is not in cryo, even if it is making sure he will obey by supplying correction.

Currently, Potter is not nearly as useless as the defective Soldier.

The child follows the Soldier out to the main sitting/dining area as ordered and stands unobtrusively off to the side. Most children his age probably would not be able to stay still for so long while not doing anything.

The Asset is very good at staying motionless while observing his surroundings. He has had missions with a lot of waiting. He had sat motionless in a hedge for almost five hours last night, but that was part of the mission.

He chooses the ideal angle to see out the window while minimizing the ability of outsiders to see him in return and watches for any sign that somebody will stumble across them in this ski lodge. They remain undisturbed, but that will not be the case forever.

HYDRA is surely looking for him. The Asset is too valuable an asset to just let go. Or, normally he is. His value might be lower now that he's malfunctioning, but they will be able to fix him.

COMPLETE THE MISSION. COMPLETE THE MISSION. The mission keeps blaring in his head, reminding him to leave now that the boy is fed and bathed, that the punishment will only get harsher the longer he delays.

"Do you want me to shine your shoes, sir?" The boy asks uncertainly after 2.9 minutes of silence, as if he doesn't have as much experience with polishing shoes as cooking and isn't sure whether he should be speaking up at all.

The Soldier looks down at his combat boots, which are not shoes in the first place. They are not particularly dirty, yet they are not completely clean either. Nor is there any reason for them to be clean.

"No." The Asset murmurs.

Potter whispers something about 'Aunt Tuna' being mad about dirt.

At 1350 the Soldier prepares a late lunch for Potter, since they had a late breakfast ("I'm s'posed to cook" Potter protests again when he sees the Soldier preparing the meal).

Potter ends up preparing a meal for the Asset, and the Asset stops the boy from frying bacon on a stove, despite clearly knowing how to do it. The boy's hand is still damaged from Vernon Dursley pressing Potter's hand into the stove yesterday evening.

Potter passes the Soldier a plate with bread and marmalade and another plum. He insists the Asset eat it before he eats. His functionality is still within acceptable parameters, no nourishment is required, but the Asset eats it anyways.

Not because the boy ordered him to- the boy is definitely not a handler or similar superior- but because he will not waste it.

The meal the Asset prepared for the boy has not only some soup like breakfast, but a few crackers (or 'butter biscuits for children', as they're labelled on the package). The crackers/biscuits are shaped like anatomically-incorrect animals that bare little resemblance to real animals.

Potter still seems shocked that he is allowed to eat, especially the animal crackers, and he stares at the Soldier with wide green eyes until he is given permission to eat. Apparently only the Dursley boy got so-called "fun" food like animal-shaped crackers.

Potter clearly enjoys them, and starts to make animal noises as if the crackers are alive. "Rawr, rawr." The child lets out a quiet, playful roar as he moves an animal cracker that vaguely looks like a tiger. He looks up at the Soldier as if he'd been caught doing something naughty by playing with his food and quickly bites off the tiger's head.

The boy casts a longing glance at the bag of crackers when he finishes the first few, and the Asset gives him more once it's clear they're not coming right back up. Potter gives the Asset the biggest smile yet, as if he's the greatest person in the world, instead of a deadly assassin, simply for giving him more crackers. That smile makes the chest malfunction in a way that's different from the previous errors.

At the end of the meal, the boy is still clutching three crackers- a lion, a seal and a bear. He seems to think the Soldier will take them from him at any moment. Even though he hunches over them protectively, he probably would not fight back if the Soldier tried to take them from him.

The Soldier lets him keep them and the boy clutches the crackers, though he occasionally continues to play with them as if they're toys. He stands just a bit closer to the Soldier than before lunch.

At 1410, the Asset turns on the screen in the bedroom they'd slept in, while Potter crawls into the wardrobe. It does not matter right now, the Asset can still see the wardrobe, so Potter is still staying close by as he was told to do.

There is a screen in each bedroom, as well as three in the large sitting area of the ski lodge. The pictures are not projected on the screen, but are projected from the screen itself.

Some part of him thinks it remarkable that the pictures are in color, and that the screens are in ordinary places like this. It is a very odd thought, because the Asset has seen television screens before. The Dursleys had a few in their home, but he doesn't think that was the first time he saw them.

At first, the screen shows a segment about deodorant, and then, once he switches the channel, some mindless program featuring those stupid anthropomorphic locomotives. He changes the channel again, quickly.

'BBC News' is currently doing a report on the so-called tragic gas fire that took Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursleys' lives when it exploded their house. Just as the Asset predicted, it seems the reporter had no clue that Potter was there at all.

Of course, they don't know the Soldier started the explosion with the oven.

The news also mentions the stolen car and burgled Tesco store from the early hours of this morning, which means the authorities will be looking for the car, which means driving it around more would be stupid.

The car is almost out of gas anyways, since he drove it around for 4.8 hours earlier rather than only 17 minutes. In fact, he might not have enough to make it to a gas station anyways, and stealing gas in daylight would be even trickier than stealing it at night.

If Potter is hearing and processing what the screen is saying about the house blowing up, he does not comment from within the wardrobe.

The Asset debates staying here for a bit. It is a fairly good base of operations, although he is not supposed to be here and the mission is constantly pounding in his head to return the boy to the base.

Despite his enhanced hearing, the continual battling inside his head, coupled with the noise from the news report, mean he doesn't hear the footsteps outside until they are near the lodge.

Chapter Text

As soon as he hears the footsteps (he should have heard them earlier) the Soldier vaults over the bed to grab the rest of his weapons while simultaneously pulling out some of the knives stashed on his body.

The screen is now reporting the weather as if he can't just look out the window and see that it's rainy, with clouds indicating a good chance of a storm coming.

Potter is still hiding in the wardrobe. The Asset opens the door. The boy evidently does not realize what is happening, has not heard the footsteps. Had he been listening to the news? Had he understood the news about his relatives' demise? He had seen the house explode when the Asset took him, but does not seem to understand that the Dursley's are dead and he will not be returned to their care.

Potter smiles up at the Asset, still clutching the animal crackers. Why does the boy keep smiling at him? Why do smiles do weird things to the chest?

The Asset is about to lift the boy out, but glimpses the figure outside the bedroom window out of the corner of his eye. It's a man, armed with a gun. The Soldier does not recognize this man.

The man aims the gun at him through the window. The Soldier shuts Potter back in the wardrobe instead of pulling him out, and orders the boy to stay in there until further notice. He is almost certain the boy will obey. The boy is not perfect at obedience, but he has stayed put whenever the Soldier told him to.

Fighting without Potter in his arms will be significantly easier, Potter is safer in the wardrobe.

The Asset presses up against the wall by the window, trying to get the best tactical advantage against whoever is outside. He sees a black van parked at the other end of the lodge, near the window by the fireplace in the large sitting room. Presumably the mysterious man's. It is not the car that the Asset stole at 0140 this morning, or the car the escorts had been in. Even his enhanced hearing did not detect the sound of it driving up, just like he hadn't heard the footsteps over the noise of the news report and his internal battle until just a few seconds ago.

Dealing with the man outside will be easy. Simply jump out the window, block some bullets with his metal arm, take the guy out.

Return to grab Potter and the supplies. Relocate.

RETURN TO BASE. DELIVER HARRY JAMES POTTER.

The plates on the Soldier's prosthetic arm shift. He's a highly trained assassin, he will not lose to the man outside the window. The man will not harm Potter.

The Soldier grabs his gun in his flesh hand.

марионетка

A code word has been given, but not from the man standing on the other side of the glass. It sounds like a recording being played back at a loud volume.

Code word accepted.

It is not the total reset, which requires a string of words. Ordinarily, he would need to obey whoever gives it, but it is a recording, not a person.

The Asset pauses without lowering the knife.

The front door of the lodge is busted open. Four more people swarm in- three men, one woman- all brandishing guns and shouting. None of them are the Asset's normal handlers, nor are they the escorts who had been sent with it before being incapacitated by the enemy asset with the weaponized stick.

The recording is still playing on loop, and some of the men are shouting the word too.

"Marionetka, marionetka!" They shout with the recording. The pronunciation is not vastly different from the English translation of the word, but they all have British accents and clearly are not fluent in Russian.

The recording is not of these people. All the same, they have the code word and are therefore superiors, even if the Asset has no recollection of ever seeing them before. Perhaps they are local sleeper agents for HYDRA.

It is not the Asset's place to question who they are. The Asset only needs to obey.

"Soldier, stand down." One of the male agents says, in English, still with a British accent.

An order. An official order.

OBEY.

The Soldier stands down. It follows orders, as it is meant to do. For the moment, the Soldier is functioning within acceptable parameters, unlike the past 13.5 hours.

Despite the fact the Soldier has lowered its weapons and is standing obediently and submissively, the agents eye it warily.

"Look at this." The bearded man scoffs and gestures towards the food. The box of animal crackers is still sitting on one of the tables in the dining area. His eyes fall to the bedroom.

"The Asset was going rogue. Trying to hide with the boy. Like he likes the stupid kid." They are talking about the Soldier as if he is not capable of hearing them, or not present in the room. This is common.

The bearded man is correct about the Asset malfunctioning. He is incorrect about the boy being stupid.

"Good thing they put a tracker in the the metal arm." A blond man- not at all like the one from the strange visions- says, glancing at the appendage. It is currently visible, as the Soldier is not wearing the stolen hooded sweatshirt.

So that is how they found the Soldier. He hadn't known there was a tracker in its prosthesis, but there was no reason to be told. A weapon doesn't know what its made of.

"Shut it." One of the other agents hisses at the one who'd muttered about the tracker, as if that was classified information. Will that agent be punished for revealing it?

The Asset is not permitted to do anything with this new knowledge of the tracker. He certainly isn't permitted to remove the tracking device, not that it would be easy to remove from his own prosthesis.

After he is wiped, the Soldier will not even remember there is a device in the arm.

"What did you do with the other escorts?" The woman demands, standing 3.3 m away.

"An enemy asset seemed to petrify them with a weaponized stick, which allowed him to do things like teleport. The escorts were useless to the mission when they were incapacitated." The Asset reports tonelessly. "The enemy asset was successfully neutralized with little damage to the Asset." The Asset does not fetch the weaponized stick from the backpack for them, but gestures to it. They seem worried about the gesture, as if it is the start of an attack.

"Why are you here?" The bearded man questions, but before the Asset can respond, the female follows up with a second question.

"Where is the Potter brat?"

"Wardrobe." The Soldier murmurs. Part of him does not want to provide this intel.

One of the agents, the tall one, strides into the bedroom wrong bedroom, mutters something about "even watching the bloody telly, who does he think he is", and yanks the wardrobe door open.

Inside, Potter tries to stifle terrified noise and shrink into the corner of the wardrobe, obviously wanting to disappear. The agent reaches in and picks him up. Potter stiffens fearfully in the man's arms, and the animal crackers he's been clutching in his bandaged hands crumble apart and fall to the floor.

The tall agent brutally pulls Potter's messy black hair away from his face to confirm that there is indeed that odd lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. One of the highly-identifiable traits of the target, the Soldier had been told at the briefing.

The boy's eyes green well up with tears, and he lets out a quiet gasp. It's obvious he's experienced with pain from his time with the Dursley's. Not only is the tall man yanking on his hair, he's also jostling the abrasions from the beating the boy had received last night.

"Stop." The Soldier does not know why it says it, but stop is what the false mission in the head is blaring. The Soldier is not allowed to give orders, except perhaps to the boy. But he says it to the superiors in the room, and the metal arm's plates shift again, as if preparing for a battle the Soldier is not allowed to fight.

"Stand down!" The man holding Potter sounds very worried. Perhaps they think he took out the escorts. But he is not capable of completely immobilizing people like the enemy asset. The man is not holding Potter the right way.

The child reaches out towards the Soldier.

"M-my Sol-der... keep me s-safe?" The words are choked out in little more than a whisper.

It is not an order. The boy cannot give orders, he is a target, not a superior. Why does the Soldier want to comply?

Get the boy, the unofficial voice once again gives orders in the Soldier's head.

"Shut it, you." The agent holding the boy gives the child a rough shake. Some of the tears in the boy's eyes start to leak out.

"There are abrasions on his back." The Soldier's hands twitch forward as if to take Potter from the tall man, but he stops himself and keeps them at his sides, where they clench into fists. Why are they clenched? He has been ordered to stand down.

The other people, even the man still outside the window, all aim their guns at the Soldier's head and shout at it. This is also nothing new, and a good idea. This way, they can put the Soldier down, or incapacitate it, if it malfunctions and attacks.

The Asset's prosthetic arm whirs, plates shifting. The fist clenches tighter. It wants to swing out, grab Potter. This is mission non-compliant. It is disallowed.

"Marionetka." The bearded agent doesn't quite stammer, but it is close. Coward. "Marionetka. Stand down."

The boy is still reaching out towards the Asset, a pleading expression on his face. The Asset's arms twitch in the boy's direction.

"He's not yours." One of the men tells the Asset, actually speaking directly to it. "He's HYDRA's."

The boy belongs to HYDRA, just like the Asset. It is none of the Asset's concern if the boy is hurt.

The mission was to deliver the target, Harry James Potter. The Soldier did not complete it.

Failure and defects are inexcusable. There will be correction.

The body remembers previous corrections, but there are no overwhelming images in the mind to accompany the phantom sensations of burns, beatings, simulated drownings. The experiments testing the limits of the Soldier's healing, electroshock treatment, the Chair.

Especially the Chair.

Respiration and heartbeat increase 20%. The body trembles slightly.

The Asset tries to be still as ordered. It deserves correction for failing the mission.

"Hands behind your back." The blond man who is not from the visions barks, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. The Asset complies, feels the cold metal snap around his flesh wrist. He does not feel it on the prosthetic arm.

This position means the Soldier will not be able to hold Potter as he was made to do in the escorts' car. The tall man is still holding the boy incorrectly, still touching his injured back. Potter is crying silently, but seems to realize the Asset cannot hold him with cuffed hands.

The fists are still clenched. At least the agents are smart enough to administer the cuffs behind the back, rather than in front, where the Soldier could more quickly malfunction and grab them in a choke hold. The voice giving the new, unofficial orders, tells the Soldier to do just that.

The Soldier is physically capable of breaking through the restraints, but it doesn't. It stands with its hands cuffed behind its back.

"Just reset him. They gave us the words."

RESET REQUIRED.

The bearded man glances down at a sheet of paper he produced from his pocket.

"Zhelaniye... Rzhavyy, Sem-nadtsat'..."

The Soldier knows the words. They increase respiration and heart rate by 13%.

"Rass-vet... Pech'..."

They make the mind think of a book. The man does not have the book, but he has the words, even if he stumbles a little over the pronunciations.

The mind slowly grows quieter, for the first time in over twelve hours. No more warring missions. There is only one set of orders. This is how it is meant to be.

The Soldier's fists unclench, and its muscles relax.

After the tenth word- "grusovoy vagon", грузовой вагон, Freight-car- the Soldier is completely still.

The head is quiet, soon to be filled with a mission. It stares at the handlers, awaiting orders.

"Soldier?"

"Ready to comply."

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore sees that the house that was once Number Four, Privet Drive is truly blown up, much like the Potter's house had been in Godric's Hollow less than three years before, on that Halloween night when Voldemort killed Lily and James Potter.

All that is left of Number Four is charred rubble. The Blood Wards are essentially useless now that Harry's family is dead, and Dumbledore is trying to change them into some sort of protection for Harry, to keep him safe until they get him back.

The sky is cloudy and there's a storm on the horizon, which fits the mood rather well.

Albus knows they must get the boy back. It's been at least fifteen hours since he got the frantic fire call from Arabella Figg about the Dursley residence exploding. It's been about as long since Severus dueled the man who still most likely has Harry.

Harry is missing, and most likely in grave danger. Not only from potential Death Eaters, but from the assassin with the metal arm who presumably still has Harry in his clutches.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't sent him here." Beside Dumbledore, Minerva is fuming, with the rather fitting ferocity of a mother lion protecting her cubs, about how she knew that Harry should have never been left with the Dursley family, and how they were the worst sort of Muggles imaginable. "Merlin knows what that man is doing to him. If he so much as lays a hand on Harry, I'll-"

Albus tunes her out and focuses on the wards.

Changing the wards is not particularly tricky for Dumbledore, but there's no guarantee that the new protection wards will be able to help Harry wherever he is. The problem lies in the fact that they would be much more effective if Harry were here and Dumbledore could cast them on him directly.

He should have thought to cast something like this when he left Harry on the Dursleys' doorstep, but it's not as if he was in danger with his relatives.

Hopefully the new wards will protect Harry until they find him again. Albus really hopes the assassin isn't planning on killing Harry. The boy is necessary for defeating Voldemort. Despite what most of the wizarding world chooses to believe, Voldemort will most likely return.

Severus is stalking towards them, holding some sort of muggle device. He had been sent out to the site of the car where he had fought the assassin- thankfully, the car evidently hasn't been moved by the muggle authorities yet.

"What is it?" Minerva asks, looking at the device. It is a gray box with a glass screen that lights up, showing a map.

"A... GPS." Albus answers, still unfamiliar with the term. Some of the things muggles invent are truly amazing.

In their second questioning of the kidnappers, they had managed to gain a bit of useful information. The two muggles- who are once again petrified- revealed that this 'GPS' device will tell them the location of the soldier who took Harry, by tracking something in the soldier's metal arm. It is one of those... electric devices, though, and muggle technology often doesn't work well with magic.

Severus looks at it as the screen flickers slightly, and the Potions Master reads out an address that almost certainly isn't connected to the Floo Network. Furthermore, they can't apparate there without knowing what the place looks like.

Dumbledore decides to try to pull some strings and get someone at the ministry to connect the building -which is apparently some sort of ski lodge, whatever that is- to the Floo Network briefly.

The Soldier stands quietly, awaiting orders from its handlers. The head is quiet, and the agents have turned off the screen, so the only noise is the rain that has started to fall on the roof, and the boy's quiet sobs.

The boy is in the bearded agent's arms, but the agent's grip is rough. The boy had been a target, a package to deliver, but he is now in the hands of the handlers. That mission is complete. It should not have taken so long to complete the mission, but the Soldier had defected.

It does not know if it is still defective, but it will be punished regardless. For defecting enough that HYDRA had to send agents to collect the Soldier and the boy, instead of just returning to the base and delivering the boy like it was supposed to.

The agents have not yet given the Asset a new mission. Perhaps there will not be a new mission until it is returned to the base, and wiped in the Chair.

The boy, the previous mission, Potter, is staring at the Asset. "Mr. A'set, sir?" The Asset doesn't respond.

"...M-mar-onet-tka?" Potter tries the word very hesitantly, saying it as if it is one of the Asset's codenames rather than a code word used to control it. He speaks so quietly, the Soldier doesn't think the agent holding the boy hears the word. The Soldier has enhanced hearing, and even its ears barely pick up the word.

марионетка

The boy has given the code word that means, essentially, I am a superior, obey me. I control you.

The Soldier's eyes snap to the child. Potter had been a target, merely a package to deliver for the mission. The Asset has never had a target turn into a superior, at least not that it can remember. Yet there have been people the Asset first thought were enemies who turned into superiors, such as the men and woman in the room.

Regardless, the reset means past missions are unimportant. All that matters is the new mission, which still has not been assigned.

But the boy had simply heard the agents saying the code word earlier. Potter was certainly not authorized to use the word or gain control over the Asset. Is the child really a superior now?

As the Asset thinks this, something seems to ripple through its mind, a foreign entity trying to reset him again. It stirs something else, something inside the mind, that immediately starts trying to push out.

The boy has given the codeword before the agents in the room. It is not the Asset's place to question its handlers. The young handler had given the word, that is all that matters. The agents still have not given the code word, following the reset.

"A-A'set..." The boy stammers. The Asset's eyes stay on the handler. It must always give its superiors its full attention when they address it.

"Help..." The boy is loud enough this time that the agent holding him hears the word. It is clear that he doesn't really have much hope about getting any assistance. He stares pleadingly at the Soldier's face, only his green eyes briefly flick down to where the Soldier's arms are cuffed behind its back.

"Put a sock in it, you." The bearded agent holding the Soldier's young handler growls. "He won't help you, he obeys us."

Incorrect.

"Puh-ease..." The mini-handler is much quieter. It is an odd thing to add, handlers never say please. Until now.

HELP

It is the first order the Soldier has gotten since being reset. The mini-handler has given the Soldier a mission.

OBEY.

Get the boy, The other voice adds. Keep him safe.

The agent puts a hand over the mini-handler's mouth. Eyes wide with fear, the mini-handler kicks instinctively and catches the agent in the groin with a tiny, waterproof red boot. The agent grunts, grimacing and bending forward slightly, yet not letting go of the boy.

Despite landing a kick, the mini-handler definitely does not have this agent on the ropes. Will he say he did, anyways? That seems familiar, somehow, as if someone who'd gotten beat up said that.

Once he regains his bearings, the agent wraps a hand around the mini-handler's throat. The child squirms more, landing a kick in the man's stomach.

STOP.

The Soldier's fists clench.

Save the handler.

The agent is not allowed to hurt the Soldier's handler. Doing so makes him an enemy, a threat to be neutralized. The man is no longer a superior, as he had been before the reset.

The Asset usually has missions involving assassinations, yet somehow the idea of protecting a scrawny boy and beating up people who try hurting the boy seems almost instinctual, as if he's done it a million times before, but for someone else. His mind conjures an image of the blonde guy.

In one fluid movement, the Asset rips the chain on the cuffs, although the metal rings are still around its wrists, and brings its arms forward, lunging for the agent holding the Asset's mini-handler.

The agents had gotten too relaxed, let their guard down in the Soldier's presence. Their mistake. The agents fumble slightly with their weapons, in shock, giving the Soldier even more of an advantage.

It takes the agents 1.3 seconds to properly aim their weapons at the Asset. By that time, the Asset has its mini-handler in its flesh arm, against its hip.

"What the f-" is all the bearded agent manages to get out before the metal hand is wrapped around his throat and the words are replaced with panicked, strangled sounds.

"Soldier, stand down!" The blonde male agent shouts. The agents all look very scared, and some of the guns are shaking slightly with their bodies. "Marionetka! Marionetka! Soldier, comply!"

Code word: rejected. They are now enemies of the Soldier's handler. They have no power over the Soldier.

The Asset's hand tightens and crushes the bearded agent's windpipe. That threat to the Asset's handler has been neutralized.

The three remaining agents in the room are standing between .8 and 1.7 meters away.

The fourth living agent, still standing outside the window 2 meters away, abruptly fires his gun, shattering the glass pane. The sound of guns and glass breaking makes the mini-handler cry.

The Soldier shields its mini-handler from the glass shards with its body, and another agent takes the opportunity to fire their gun at them. The Soldier successfully covers its handler, but the bullet buries itself in the Soldier's flesh arm.

Adrenaline dulls the Asset's pain. Its own injuries are negligible, and it seems to have prevented the injury of its handler, though there is no time to thoroughly examine the mini-handler now.

The Asset has three pistols and six knives to go against four armed agents, but right now its hands are busy holding its mini-handler and the dead bearded agent. It is a good thing they had not gotten around to frisking him.

The Asset shoves the boy under the bed. The bed does not provide great cover, but it is better than nothing. While it is doing this, two of the other agents fire off shots.

He uses the dead body of the bearded agent as a shield, and red soon splatters on the ground. One of the bullets goes all the way through the man but is stopped by the Soldier's tactical vest.

It is good he hadn't taken off the vest. He already has one bullet wound, another- especially in the chest- would greatly hinder his performance or even kill him.

That would be unacceptable. It would put his young handler in danger, the Soldier notes as he aims his gun in one fluid motion.

Lightning flashes outside, as the storm predicted by the news finally arrives.

The female agent is pulling out a communication device, while the agent outside climbs through the shattered window.

The Asset hurls the lifeless body at two of the agents to provide a distraction while he draws his own gun. The body not only knocks them down, it knocks the communication device out of the female agent's hands before she can call for help. The device is soon crushed under the Asset's boot.

The third and fourth agents try to squeeze off shots that the Asset blocks with its metal arm, though the second bullet almost gets past the Asset's defenses.

The Soldier is an incredibly skilled marksman and can shoot quicker than the agents. Four shots from his own gun, and they all fall with bullets in their foreheads. He did not even need to get any of his knives dirty, although the room is now far from clean.

The Asset crouches down by the edge of the bed. The mini-handler is pressed up against the wall under the bed, curled tightly in the fetal position. He looks even smaller, like when he'd been in the cupboard under the stairs. The handler's body is shaking with muffled sobs, one hand trying to stifle them.

At every clap of thunder, Potter flinches. Perhaps he thinks they are gunshots.

The Soldier's presence is ignored. This is not uncommon- there's no need to acknowledge a weapon unless it is needed, and the threats have been neutralized.

Handlers do not cry, so this is a first, unless he's not remembering some other handler crying. The Asset remembers the boy crying back when he was the target, and how he had wet his pants during the other fight. At least that seems to have been avoided this time.

The Asset waits for further orders, or a prompt for a status report. Nothing is forthcoming from the handler at the moment.

He should take care of the bullet in his arm. After all, he needs to be in peak condition for optimum performance to ensure further mission success.

It takes longer for the Asset to find a medical kit here at the ski lodge than it had at the Dursley residence, but after 4.5 minutes, he eventually finds one behind a counter in the actual kitchen, which is separated from the large, open, combined sitting and dining areas. He keeps an ear out for any sound of more approaching agents.

The Asset returns to the bedroom in case his handler has a need for him, and sits on the floor.

At least the bullet is not too difficult to reach with tweezers. The Asset does not have much experience with field medicine, but he manages to dislodge the bullet with tweezers, scowling even more fiercely than usual at the pain. He has to stop to catch his breath once, now that his adrenaline has ebbed. It is more difficult than removing the porcelain shards from the handler's hands had been last night, when he'd been the target.

Before the Asset fully pulls the bullet out, his handler speaks from under the bed. The Asset stills, giving his handler's words his full attention, despite him being hidden from sight under the bed.

"You beated da bad guys up?" The mini-handler asks cautiously.

Mission Report. Odd that the new handler doesn't explicitly order it.

"The threats have been eliminated." The Asset reports. "They will not harm you."

"They... not hurt me?" The boy asks as if not being hurt is a foreign concept.

"They will not harm you." The Soldier repeats in the exact same monotone, but he is making a promise. Nobody will harm his handler. Not under his watch, certainly.

"Oh." The handler is silent for a bit. "You helped me...?" He sounds awed, as if he didn't expect the Soldier to follow orders. Then again, the Soldier had been unintentionally defecting before the reset.

"Affirmative."

"I think... you really are my Batman, Mr. A'set, sir."

Is Batman supposed to be a new codename? But he had still been called Asset by his handlerso the usual codename still applies.

Why is the handler calling him Mr. and sir? If anything, it should be the Soldier respectfully addressing his handler with the honorifics, certainly not the other way around. But the Soldier never corrects his handlers, so he doesn't comment on the odd form of addressing a weapon.

"Affirmative." The Asset- possible new codename: Batman- answers.

The handler does something odd, when he pokes his head out from under the bed and smiles at the Soldier, although his small nose is slightly scrunched from the smell of blood. It had been odd enough before, but it is stranger now that the Soldier is under his control. Smiles are not something handlers typically wear when looking at him.

The mini-handler has not given any orders since help, which has been carried out successfully. The small boy crawls out from under the bed and frowns.

"Blood." Potter points his finger, first at the blood splattered from the agents' foreheads, but then at the Soldier's blood. "Mr. A'set. Blood. You hurt?"

"Functioning within operable parameters." The Asset replies, still crouched on the floor. His reflexes in his right, flesh arm may be slowed as much as 70%, but he is not completely incapacitated. His prosthesis is not damaged, and it is more powerful than his flesh arm.

The Soldier stills when the boy wraps his arms around his neck. He doesn't move to shake his handler off- he is never allowed to. But this isn't checking his functionality. It's almost like... a hug?

"Hurt." The handler murmurs sadly, as if the Soldier's pain actually matters. The wound does hurt, but all that matters is whether he is functional. "Like wid'da Dursleys."

"Pain manageable."

The boy's arms tighten slightly around the Soldier's neck when lightning flashes and thunder booms 2.1 seconds after the lightning, but the grip is not tight enough to interfere with respiratory functions. Potter lets out a tiny whimper and buries a tiny, still-bandaged hand in the Asset's hair. The Asset doesn't move.

It is strange, having the handler cling to him like this, but slowly, the small body relaxes, a tiny head with messy black hair falling against the Soldier's chest, tiny hands pulling slightly at his hair. The hair-pulling and tightening around the neck do not feel like punishments.

"You were like a robot. Dudley watched 'em on the telly when I was cleaning, but then Aunt Tuna hit me for it. Freaks don't get to watch telly." The boy whispers guiltily, eyes lowered. "But you're my Batman A'set now... I seed him too."

"The... Batman Asset is not a robot." The Asset easily adapts to the new codename and doesn't correct the boy's grammatical mistakes. Apparently, his new handler had had seen his cousin watching Batman, whatever that is, as well. But Batman is a new codename, and the cousin hadn't been watching the Soldier.

"The blood!" The mini-handler gasps again after 17 seconds of neither of them speaking, looking at the blood on the floor as if he'd temporarily forgotten, despite the smell. " I-I'll clean it. Now." He promises hastily, almost panicked.

If anything, shouldn't the handler order the Asset... Batman to clean it up? He would obey unquestioningly, of course, and he knows how to clean messy evidence such as blood, or even guts and organs. Usually his kills are more clean than these had been.

He cannot tell his handler what to do, so he remains silent. The boy shuffles off, head ducked down.

The Asset goes back to cleaning the wound on his arm and bandaging it. Once that's done, he pulls the second bullet out of his tac vest. It plinks as it falls and rolls across the floor.

3.7 minutes later, Potter returns with a bucket, a rag and ammonia, and starts to blot at the blood stains in the carpet. He obviously has practice from living with the Dursley's. Had he been made to clean his own blood after getting injured?

He should not be handling ammonia at such a young age.

"That is not necessary." The Soldier murmurs. It's speaking out of turn, but the boy isn't very forthcoming with anything. Handlers are always explicit with orders, except this one.

"But I gotta clean it, sir."

The Asset says nothing as he turns to his other arm.

The prosthesis, at least, had not been damaged by any bullets. But it had been what had lead to the whole incident, apparently. They had tracked him with a device in his arm that they had not told him about. If it stays in, they will find him again, and soon.

There might already be backup agents on the way, if they worry that they're not getting a response from the dead agents.

He glances at the handler, wondering if the boy will give permission to reveal the tracker.

The small handler seems rather uneasy around the corpses, only cleaning the blood at least 1 m away from them, and staring at their bleeding foreheads, rubbing his own. It had obviously bled as well, whenever he got that odd lightning bolt scar. The Soldier does not know how his handler got the scar, or when, or if his handler remembers it. He is so young, after all, that at least a fourth of his life is totally forgotten to him.

Still, there is no doubt that the boy remembers more of his short life of barely more than four years than the Asset remembers of his significantly longer existence.

While Potter seems to have experience with being around and cleaning blood, he clearly does not have experiences with corpses or brain matter, and seems quite scared of both of them.

"Are they gonna wake up?" Potter asks fearfully, looking at the dead bodies as if they will suddenly be resurrected to slap him for not cleaning quickly enough.

"They are dead. But more will come." The Asset says.

"They're scawry. No more puh'ease." Potter whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

Keep him away from HYDRA. The defective voice is now back, with a new mission. Keep the handler safe.

This makes the Batman pause. This handler clearly does not want to be aligned with HYDRA, but he was supposed to be HYDRA's property. Delivering him had been the previous mission, but that is irrelevant after the reset.

If the handler wants to stay away from HYDRA, the Soldier will ensure he stays away.

Yet, even though his currently handler is not part of HYDRA, the Soldier still is. HYDRA would not let their asset go, they will be searching for him and the boy.

The mission is to avoid HYDRA. They cannot stay here, then. HYDRA will look for them here.

RELOCATE.

The Soldier nods, and gathers the agents' weapons for his own use later. The only positive part of them showing up is that he now has more guns. It hurts to pick them up with his flesh arm, though, so he straps them onto the various clips on his tactical vest with his prosthesis.

The Asset moves to the dining/sitting area. He grabs the bags of food, which were already mostly packed. He pauses at bag of animal crackers, which is still on the table instead of packed with the other food.

His handler will need food. The boy is looking at the crumbs in the wardrobe as if he is wondering if he can get away with eating them.

The Asset pulls out a couple crackers, before stuffing the bag of them in his backpack.

He glances at the weaponized stick in the side pocket of the backpack, then pulls it out and tosses it aside. He cannot use it anyways, and for all he knows, that might be able to track them as well. Besides, since he will be avoiding HYDRA, there is no need to deliver it to them.

Potter grins widely at the Asset when he hands him a few animal crackers, as . "F'ank you siwr." The boy speaks around the bear cracker he already stuffed in his mouth as he wordlessly holds one up to the Asset. The Asset takes the giraffe-shaped cracker and eats it.

The boy is already dressed in his waterproof boots and coats. The Soldier does not have similar waterproof clothes, and pulling on the stolen hooded sweatshirt could further injure his flesh arm, so he leaves the sweatshirt off. Unfortunately, his metal arm is still visible, and it is very distinguishable.

As he heads towards the door, the mini-handler glances at the Soldier, almost as if he is supposed to be giving orders instead of the boy. The Soldier still has the voice in his head giving orders, telling him to relocate.

The Soldier doesn't know where he's going when he steps outside- it's only drizzling now, the storm only lasted 4.6 minutes- but he hadn't known where he was going when he ended up at the ski lodge, either.

He will not take the van that the agents arrived in. They will be looking for it. He could steal the gas for the car he'd stolen last night, but the television had proven that the theft of that car was reported so he will not be inconspicuous.

Walking it is.

Fifteen minutes into their walk, the boy is stumbling tiredly, but hasn't uttered a single word. Still, the mini-handler's hands let go of the animal crackers, but the Soldier catches them before they hit the ground.

Carry him. The voice says when the boy nods off then and there.

WAIT FOR PERMISSION.

"Permission to pick you up." The Soldier says. The boy gives a noncommittal grunt, head drooping, as he almost falls to the ground. Potter had not gotten much sleep last night.

The Soldier takes the boy practically falling as permission, since they need to move. He scoops his sleeping handler into his metal arm, his right hand clutching the animal crackers for the handler to eat later, and continues walking.

It takes a little over half an hour to Floo from Arabella Figg's house to the to the Ministry of Magic, arrange for the location to temporarily be connected to the Floo Network (without revealing the real reason), and then Floo to the location that the GPS had given them.

The dot showing where the man is had mysteriously disappeared while they were at the ministry. Perhaps there was too much magic in the air for the muggle device, yet it still shows the map, just not the man's location. Right before they floo'd here, it had still been absent.

Severus looks around as he steps out of the fireplace at their location, borrowed wand clasped in his hand. He's ready to fight the man who stole Potter.

Severus will not lose to the muggle this time. If he hadn't underestimated the man, he should have won the first time. After all, the Potions Master is a very competent wizard and skilled duelist. It seems this muggle is more powerful than a human should be, but Severus knows to expect that now.

Dumbledore and McGonagall step out of the fireplace after him.

They arrive in a large, combined sitting and dining area, that seems to be a public place, but it is deserted now, or at least this area is. There is the smell of ammonia in the air.

Dumbledore casts a human-presence-revealing spell, and it reveals that they are the only ones in the building. Great, so the man left already. Severus casts a glance down at the GPS, but still the dot is gone, meaning they have no way to track him.

Severus approaches the side room that the smell is coming from, and it turns out to be one of several bedrooms, presumably for guests.

There are four dead men and a dead woman, all bleeding from their foreheads. At least Potter's body is not among them, but there is no guarantee he is fine. Perhaps his lifeless body is elsewhere. Severus has no idea what the kidnappers had planned for the boy, and he's not sure the wards Dumbledore changed are really doing anything to help the brat.

The only good news is that Severus finds his wand on the floor.

Chapter Text

The Asset carries his sleeping mini-handler, the bags of food and his backpack, with only his prosthetic arm. He could still use his flesh arm, and ignore the pain- he's good at that, and he's worked through pain worse than his current gunshot wound- but using the injured arm will slow down its healing, and at the moment, there is no need to use it.

This vast, open countryside is both advantageous and disadvantageous. There are currently no people around to spot him here, but it is a lot harder to avoid detection. There would be more places to conceal oneself in a city, but there would be more people who could potentially be HYDRA agents looking for him.

He keeps walking away from the road, and uses the hills to conceal him as much as possible. Only two cars have driven by in the past 25 minutes. Both times, he wondered if they were HYDRA, but the cars drove by without slowing down and so far, nobody has come after him. Still, the Asset will not let his guard down.

The Asset can move at least 1.5 times faster than the non-enhanced human, but he walks instead of jogs, since the boy had thrown up last time the Soldier had jogged while carrying the child, and would likely regurgitate again.

He would be able to cover even more ground if he had a car, but he had to leave both the car he stole and the agents' car at the lodge. The authorities are looking for the one he stole- which was almost out of gas anyways- and the agents' car could have one, or several, tracking devices in it.

They are looking for him, and have a way to track him down. The agents let that slip.

Remove the tracker.

The Soldier does not yet have permission from his handler to do so. He increases his pace slightly. HYDRA is surely looking for him, and most likely already sent more agents now that the ones the Soldier left in the lodge are unresponsive.

The mini-handler is wriggling around in the Soldier's grip 56 minutes later. "Puh-ease, no..." The child cries even as his face is buried against the Soldier's neck. "Hurts."

The Asset looks down at his prosthetic hand to make sure he is not gripping his new handler too tightly. His prosthesis is strong enough that it could crush the boy's bones.

He realizes that his handler is still asleep, meaning the words are most likely not directed at him. Still, he loosens his grip so that he's only exerting enough pressure to keep the boy from falling, and he's careful to avoid touching any of the boy's injuries.

"No more... p'ease stop, Uncle Vernon..." Potter begs in his sleep, confirming the theory that the boy is not actually addressing the Soldier. The Soldier scowls as he remembers watching the boy being beaten and starved by his relatives.

Anyone who tries beating his handler now will find the Soldier's fist in their face. For some reason, his mind conjures images of various alleyways, similar to the vision from before of that unidentified skinny blond person bruised in an alleyway.

"...'m s-sorry." The boy squirms in his sleep, and some sort of unseen force explodes outward from Potter, trying to force him away from Potter.

Something in the Soldier's prosthetic arm gives a sputtering beep, and he tightens his hold to keep his handler from tumbling out of his arms to the ground.

MAINTENANCE REQUIRED.

The mini-handler wakes with a cry of pain when the metal hand squeezes his fragile body too tightly. He trembles in the Soldier's arms with ragged breaths, letting out little whimpers of pain. The boy immediately presses his knuckles to his mouth to stifle his sobs, looking around fearfully.

The Soldier is never permitted to silence its handlers, although its handlers often enforce the Soldier's silence by making it wear a mask on the lower half of its face, like a dog with a muzzle.

He puts the boy down and hoicks up the boy's jacket and shirt to examine his torso. There are still marks from the beating Vernon Dursley gave him the previous night, although their healing has progressed further than the Asset would have expected.

But there are fresh bruises, the exact size and shape as the Asset's prosthetic fingers on the boy's side. The injury could have been much worse than it is, it easily could have been fatal.

It is still mission-noncompliant.

PROTECT THE HANDLER. The old voice reminds the Asset of the mission, even though it is obvious he failed.

Hurting handlers warrants corrective punishment, even if he had meant to keep the boy from falling, or if the force had somehow affected the arm.

Previous incidents of harming handlers have resulted in: beatings, deprivation of food and sleep, electrocution, simulated drowning, or the Chair.

The Asset scowls at its flesh fingers, which tremble at the thought of the Chair. It reaches into one of the bags of food to grab the medical kit from the ski lodge. It then drops the bags of food at its handler's feet, shrugs the backpack off its prosthetic shoulder. Pulling the shirt and jacket off the boy, it places the clothes on top of the backpack so they will not get dirty.

The Asset offers the two animal crackers in its pocket to its handler. The handler had been carrying them before falling asleep. The handler grabs the crackers, smiling slightly, but stands still when the Soldier starts to doctor the wounds it inadvertently inflicted.

"Mr. A'set, sir?" The handler bites his small lip worriedly as the Asset wraps more bandages around the boy's already heavily-bandaged torso. Ice would help decrease the swelling, but there is no ice available. "Are you gonna wallop me?"

"Negative."

"W-really?"

"Affirmative. I am your Batman." The use of the newly assigned codename makes the handler smile, but it falls quickly.

"B-but you squeezed me an' it hurt." The handler is extremely confused, lower lip trembling.

"It will not happen again." The Asset lowers its head. "Awaiting punishment."

The handler whimpers at the last word. The Asset cannot help wondering what the punishment will be.

The new handler does not have access to the Chair. All the boy currently owns are the clothes he is wearing, plus everything the Soldier is carrying, since the Soldier cannot claim ownership of anything, not even the prosthetic arm attached to it.

Even the Soldier is owned by its handler.

The Asset's mini-handler is not strong enough to deliver any sort of physical punishment, nor does he have any restraints. He could take the deprivation angle when it comes to punishment.

Perhaps the mini-handler will take one of the weapons from the Soldier's sheaths or holsters. One of the knives could provide sufficient correction, or a gunshot wound to some non-fatal area. The Asset keeps his hands away from the weapons, leaving them open for the handler to grab, even as some part wonders if a boy as young as Potter would know how to use the weapons.

Of course, if the handler chooses to, he could simply kill the Asset. Or even order the Asset to shoot or stab itself, to end its own life for hurting him.

The Asset waits for correction. It tries to still the tremor in its own body, but the body refuses, so only the prosthesis stays completely unmoving.

1.6 minutes pass.

There is a dark shape in the distance, approaching them. Large, but not tall enough to be a person. The deep barking indicates it is a dog.

The Asset draws a gun, aiming it but not shooting yet. His handler has not given the order to kill, but seems nervous when he hears the barks, saying something about an Aunt Marge and mean dogs.

The Soldier positions himself between the incoming threat and his handler.

The shape turns out to be a huge black dog. The lack of a collar, as well as its disheveled, skinny state, indicate that it is a stray. It stops in front of the Soldier, sniffing hopefully at the bags of food.

The dog is not one of HYDRA's dogs- it's a different breed, although the Soldier isn't sure exactly which. He only ever saw HYDRA's dogs when they were snarling through their muzzles, ready to attack an enemy when given the command. Which isn't too different from the Soldier, really. He sometimes wears a muzzle as well.

"No." The Soldier tells it. At least the dog seems to know that command, and leaves the food alone, albeit with a whine. It then eats the animal cracker loosely shaped like a dog in the handler's hand.

The boy does not protest the dog eating his food aside from pouting slightly, as if he believes the dog has right to claim it over him.

He thinks the boy will shy away from the dog, which is bigger than he is but Potter seems to realize it is doing nothing harmful by sniffing him. The mini-handler cautiously pats the dog's black fur with a bandaged hand, a small smile on his face that grows as the dog licks him.

The dog's tongue makes the boy squirm and squeal, and the Soldier is about to pull it away from his handler when he realizes the boy is laughing, even though his glasses are now smeared with dog saliva.

"Are you a boy dog or girl dog?" Potter asks the dog as if it will actually answer.

"It is male." The Soldier answers since dogs cannot talk. He wonders if his handler is even old enough to think to determine the animal's sex by looking at its genitalia. "Male means a boy or a man." He clarifies at the boy's blank look.

The Soldier stands, silently watching his handler pet the dog. The waterproof coat is effective against dog saliva as well as the boy's own messes. The voice in his head says they need to keep moving to avoid HYDRA, but his handler shows no signs of deciding to continue walking.

Right now, they are sitting ducks for HYDRA, and the mission is to avoid HYDRA.

MOVE. RELOCATE.

"Sir," The Soldier ventures. Handlers usually insist on being addressed that way, especially when the Asset speaks to them without prompting. He never thought he'd be calling a child barely over four years old sir, it seems strange, but it is strange to have a handler so young.

The boy doesn't even look up, not that that is uncommon. What is uncommon is that he has not administered correction or asked for a status report.

"Permission to disable the tracker in my arm." The Soldier says, wondering if the handler will decide he is speaking out of turn and add to his undelivered correction.

"You have a tractor in your arm?" The child laughs a bit.

"There is not a tractor in my arm. HYDRA put a tracking device in my arm that reveals our location to them. That is how the agents found us in the lodge." The Asset tells his handler.

"The scary men?" Potter shudders.

"Affirmative." The Asset answers, even though he would not have called them scary. "They will track us down again, unless it is disabled or removed."

"No scary men." Potter shakes his head fearfully.

"Is that permission to remove the tracker?" The Asset thinks it is, but it is best to make sure.

"...Yes?" Potter answers as if he's hoping his answer will please the Asset, as if the Asset's opinion matters when it should not even have opinions.

Even though the boy gave a very unsure affirmative, it is still an affirmative.

Unfortunately, he does not possess tools beyond the lock-picking kit, which is not suitable for tinkering with his prosthesis.

Find tools, becomes a new mission sub-objective.

The Asset picks up the bags, though he will not eat until given permission from his handler. He still does not know if the handler will withhold food as punishment.

After 5.3 minutes of walking- at the boy's slow pace- the Asset spies a cottage 102.5 meters away. He is approaching the back of it, which means there must be another road ahead. A shed is 10 m away from the cottage. It might contain tools.

The shed's door faces away from the house, so the Asset can conceal himself behind the shed as he breaks the almost useless padlock on the shed door. Even an ordinary human could break into this shed without much effort.

The shed contains various gardening tools, a lawnmower, three bicycles- one sized for an adult, and two smaller bicycles, a red one, and a bright blue one with dirty white wheels. They are unimportant.

There is a workbench, with a messy assortment of tools scattered on it.

The Asset strides over to the workbench, frowning at the complete disorder of equipment. Before he can begin repairs, he first needs to arrange the tools in some semblance of order on the pegboard mounted on the wall.

The mini-handler sits out of the way in the corner of the shed with the dog, which so far has remained silent. If it barks and alerts the cottage's residents to their presence in the shed, the Asset will silence it.

He tests the functionality of his prosthesis. There is a problematic clunking sound and resistance when the Asset twists the arm at the wrist, but other than that, movement is not impaired. He reports this information to the handler.

The Asset grabs a flat screwdriver with his flesh arm, gritting his teeth through the flash of pain from the gunshot wound, and starts to pry the metal plates off his prosthesis and expose the arm's innards.

He does not know where the tracker is in his prosthesis. Is it in the metal hand, the shoulder, the forearm? It is not under the first plate he tries, so he replaces it- which is tricky with just his injured flesh arm- and tries another.

Potter watches in awe, and asks a few questions that he seems to think he will be punished for asking, but the Asset has to answer his superiors. Again, the Asset tells the boy he is not a robot, one of the first things the child asked him.

20 minutes pass, consisting of the Asset pulling more metal plates off to find the damn tracker.

The handler starts talking quietly to the dog, saying more to the animal in the 20 minutes than he had during the five hours the Soldier had seen him at the Dursley's. He talks quietly enough that someone without enhanced hearing would not be able to make out all the words.

"Mr A'set's my Batman, 'cos he pr'tects me from da bad guys an' my Aunt and Uncle! He only punished me once, when I was sleeping, an' he helps me get better. He says he's a sol-der too. He's gotta dark costume like Batman, but a star, like a superhero."

The red star on the metal shoulder marks the Batman as HYDRA property. Hearing it referred to as a superhero mark is odd, but a star would not be a bad symbol for a superhero if it was emblazoned on the hero's chest.

He has a brief flash of a silver star on a blue costumed chest, but the rest of the mental image is blurred.

With his other hand, the boy fingers the lightning bolt scar on his own forehead, as if comparing them.

Is the boy's scar a mark showing that he belonged to the Dursley family, that they were his handlers before the Soldier assassinated them?

After another 6.8 minutes, he finds a small circular device, that is not connected to any of the arm's wiring, as if it had been added as an afterthought. Even though he did not know it was in his arm, he recognizes it is a tracker.

He pulls it out with a sense of mission progress. The little power light is off, but crushes it under his boot anyways.

The Soldier does not know how much he can do to fix the wrist clunking when it rotates.

"You hungwy, doggy? Skinny." The mini-handler says, despite being more malnourished than the creature. The Soldier turns to give his handler his full attention, arm still uncovered.

"You are more malnourished. You should eat." The boy's eyes light up and drift towards the animal crackers sitting at the top of one of the larger bags, and the Asset hands it to him. The boy opens it and munches on one, and the dog tries to grab the box in its teeth.

The Asset lifts the boy up and places him on the edge of the workbench. The dog is large enough that it could go on its hind legs and still easily grab the box, but it doesn't.

"They aren't dog biscuits." Potter mumbles, before pointing at a jar of peanut butter in the bag. "Ripper likes dat." It sounds like Wipper when he says it. "Can we give it to our dog?"

So the dog is theirs now. It had already been following them, after all. They are all strays, except the Asset, since he has Potter as his handler. Potter has nobody, since the Asset assassinated his relatives.

The Soldier nods and unscrews the cap, handing the plastic jar to the boy. The dog immediately claims the whole thing by sticking its snout directly into the jar and licking at the peanut butter.

Once it takes its snout out of the jar, the dog licks at the crumbs of crackers on Potter's hand.

"You're nicer than Ripper. He bites." Potter says to the dog, actually pronouncing the r correctly. He giggles again as it continues to lick him.

Hearing a noise outside, the Asset glances out the small shed window. The family is heading out the front door getting into one of the two cars parked in the driveway. An ordinary civilian family, it seems. A man and woman, both in their early thirties, and two children- a boy and a girl around the same size- twins, perhaps.

He watches the family get into the car and drive away. They had not even locked their door, although their boy had been the last one out. They are incompetent.

The Soldier starts reattaching the metal plates to his prosthesis. The handler starts squirming around with his legs wound tightly together, hand pressed to his groin.

It is obvious he has to urinate, but he makes no move to get down from the workbench.

"M-mr A's-set, sir, I haf'to..." Potter stammers.

"You do not have to ask to urinate." The Asset tells him, remembering earlier today when he told the boy not to urinate in his pants. Of course, now that he is a handler, the boy does not need to listen to anything the Asset says.

"Tank you." Potter bursts out. Before the Asset can even offer to take him into the empty cottage, the boy pulls down his pants, squats over a bucket, and urinates. The boy mumbles something about his cupboard.

The Soldier has urinated in a bucket before as well, and does so now, standing up and facing away from his handler. He dumps the bucket's contents outside the shed.

By 1836, over 24 hours after first observing Potter at the Dursley's, the Asset finishes reattaching the plates on his prosthesis. His flesh arm is exhausted, and his bandage is stained red. His stomach growls, he has used a lot of energy since he last ate.

The boy passes him an animal cracker shaped like a lion, apparently not planning on withholding food to punish him. He continues to pass the Asset food, like he had at the lodge.

This handler is very lenient when it comes to correction. He even gives the Soldier another plum.

Unlike Potter, the dog does not know how to properly relieve itself and demonstrates this by defecating on the shed floor.

The dog seems totally unconcerned while the boy clearly fears punishment, stammering out apologies intermixed with statements about "Aunt Tuna" and Ripper. The handler insists on cleaning it up, but there are few cleaning supplies in the shed.

The dog starts eating its own feces, which is disgusting but means Potter stops worrying about cleaning it. Is it normal for dogs to eat fecal matter?

Scrunching his nose, the Asset puts the most useful tools in the shed inside his backpack. After gathering up the bags, he checks that the coast is clear and then walks towards the driveway, where the family's second car is parked. Having two cars is excessive, but it is fortunate for the Asset. He quickly hot-wires this one, loads up the boy and the dog in the back (though the car lacks child-safety seats), and puts the car in drive.

"You never drive the Batmobile." The boy remarks. "Dudley had a toy one but he it bwoke when he pushed it down the stairs, an' Aunt Tuna didn't let me keep it."

"Destination?" The Asset asks, and when he gets no response, adds "Sir?"

DRIVE. He's commanded in his head, but the handler does not respond, and so the car remains stationary.

Avoid HYDRA. The newer voice adds, because the first voice seems unable to say it.

"Why'd you call me sir?" The handler asks in confusion. "Adults don't call kids sir... not bad worthless boys."

"You are the handler. How do you wish to be addressed?" The Soldier asks, frowning slightly. What handler doesn't want to be addressed with sir or ma'am?

"...Harry?" The boy whispers as if he doesn't mean to say it aloud, and hunches his shoulders as if the Soldier will get mad at him.

Addressing a handler by their first name is extremely disrespectful- the Asset has never done so- but it is what the handler requested to be called. This handler is exceedingly incomprehensible.

"Affirmative, Harry." The Asset answers, and Harry smiles at the use of his first name.

"Aunt Tuna an' Uncle Vernon never called me dat. Just 'boy.' 'Freak.'" Harry mutters, and then starts to debate names for the dog. Harry still seems to think that Asset is a real name, but he gave the Asset the new codename of Batman anyways.

The Asset is glad that Harry does not consider giving him the codename Blackie. Or Tickly-tongue, when the dog licks Harry again.

DRIVE. The mission pounds again in the Asset's ear.

"Where do you want to go, Harry?" He asks.

"Away from the scawry guys."

That is not a destination, but it is the direction he'd been headed anyways. The Asset puts the car in drive.

Unfortunately, they drive the family driving back in their other car, and they recognize their car. The man does not chase him when he floors the gas and speeds away, perhaps because he does not want to involve his family in a car chase, but they are surely going to call the authorities sooner than he would have liked.

The police will most likely barricade the road before the Soldier can get anywhere. He cannot turn off anywhere now, so he reluctantly parks the car, unloads the boy and the dog, and sets out on foot once again.

Maybe, in the future, he should just try to sneak rides in the backs of delivery trucks or cargo trains and avoid all the hassle of stolen vehicle reports.

Chapter Text

"Why'd we leave the car?" The mini-handler asks, confused, when waking up 19 minutes after they left it in the road and started walking. As usual, he tenses after asking the question.

"The family has most likely reported that it was stolen." Which means the police have most likely been notified and have perhaps even barricaded the road by now.

POLICE DETECTION IS MISSION-NONCOMPLIANT. The usual voice in his head says.

It is a rule for every mission- do not alert the authorities to his presence. It would have been almost impossible to continue driving and avoid them on an empty rural road.

They'd take him away. The newer voice adds and points out, unnecessarily, that if taken into police custody, the Asset would be charged with eight first-degree murders, two instances of vehicular theft, kidnapping a child, and his burglary of the Tesco store.

And that is just in the past 25.2 hours.

"We stealed it?" Harry the Handler asks, horrified.

"Affirmative, Harry." The Asset is still not used to addressing his superior as just "Harry" and cannot fathom his new handler's request. But he must do as his handler wishes and refer to him as requested, as illogical as the wish seems. The name makes Harry the Handler smile, anyways. "We stole it."

"But stealing's bad!" Harry the Handler protests, seeming more bold when the Asset had not gotten annoyed at him for talking. "Dudley told Aunt Tuna I stealed his cookie. I didn't, really, but I still got in big twouble!" He shudders and sniffles.

"Is stealing disallowed for the mission?"

Despite his protests, Harry the Handler does not actually forbid the Soldier from stealing in the future. Which is good, because the Soldier has no money, so theft is the only way to obtain anything at the moment.

"Assassinating the family after they passed us on the road would have stopped them from reporting the theft." The Asset informs him. Then, they could have kept the car, without worrying about police.

"Asassassanat...?" Harry the Handler asks. "Is dat your other name? Like how Aunt Tuna calls Dudley 'Diddikins'?" The boy snickers slightly.

"Negative. Assassinate means to kill." He is not sure Harry the Handler really understands what that means, but the boy does not reply.

The mini-handler had been scared of the agents' corpses in the lodge. It is odd that Harry the Handler would take control of a very highly skilled assassin and then not make use of that branch of the Asset's skills.

Harry the Handler switches topics and starts debating dog names aloud again. The Soldier offers no input. He should not have opinions, after all, and the dog's name does not affect him. At one point, Harry the Handler asks the Soldier for his opinion, but the Soldier just tells the boy that it is entirely his choice.

Eventually, Harry the Handler decides to call the black dog 'Nighty' rather than 'Blackie', adding that Batman is the Dark Knight. The Asset wonders if the Dark Knight will replace his Winter Soldier designation, but so far, his handler has not changed any previous codenames, merely assigned him a new one. Or two, possibly, if Dark Knight is to be a codename.

The boy's green eyes seem more lively when he talks about Batman to his Batman. The Asset/Batman suspects that Batman is somebody else, in addition to his new codename, but the boy has said that the Asset is Batman. It is confusing.

Nighty continues to follow them, most likely because Harry the Handler had fed the dog peanut butter in the shed.

After 33.4 minutes of walking, the Asset finds train tracks that he had not explicitly been searching for, despite thinking about taking trains or trucks instead of cars.

"Where is it?" Harry the Handler asks, looking around in confusion, clearly disappointed that there is not a train on the tracks. "Wanna take the twain."

"The location of the train is unknown. If we follow the tracks, we will most likely find a train eventually." That is, if these tracks are still in use. The Asset does not know if they are.

FIND A TRAIN.

He walks along the tracks for another 1.3 hours, while Harry eventually dozes in his arms and Nighty pads along beside them, occasionally stopping to eat grass for some reason.

The Asset uses his lock-picking kit to unlock the handcuff ring from around his flesh wrist. He had removed the cuff from his prosthesis to check under the wrist plates in the shed, but hadn't bothered with the one around his flesh wrist at the time.

At 2018, the sound of a train can be heard. It grows louder and the distant form speeds towards them, Harry the Handler blearily wakes up, nuzzling the Asset's neck. When he notices the train approaching, his eyes go wide with excitement.

Harry the Handler bounces slightly in the Asset's arms, chanting excitedly. "Twain! Twain!"

"Are we taking a twain?" It is clear that Harry the Handler still wants to. "'cos you don't have the Batmobile?"

"Affirmative, Harry."

The child smiles and talks about the 'Thomas stories on da telly' that he could hear from his cupboard when Dudley was watching it and how he could hear the whole story, not just people talking.

The Asset has no idea what his handler is talking about while he walks along the train tracks, but he listens to every word and stores the information for later. Are Thomas, Annie and Clarabel potential future targets? From the sound of it, they'd more likely become allies or possibly other handlers since Harry the Handler speaks of them fondly.

Except, from the boy's words, it seems that Thomas is a train.

As the real train nears, the Asset sees it is a freight train instead of a passenger train, which is fortunate in that there will not be other people riding it.

"Hold tight, Harry." The Asset says quietly, trying not to make it sound like he is commanding his superior.

"Yessir." The boy nods and wraps his too-thin arms around the Asset's neck while his legs tighten around his waist.

The Soldier keeps Harry the Handler tucked tightly to his side and holds onto the scruff of Nighty's neck with his flesh hand.

Harry the Handler goes back to bouncing slightly in the Asset's arms, chanting "Twain!" The movement makes the boy more cumbersome, especially in the Soldier's wounded flesh arm, but the Soldier cannot tell his superior to stop. He grits his teeth. Nighty is squirming even more from the Soldier's fist.

Jumping onto a moving train would kill any ordinary human, but the Asset has jumped on and off moving vehicles before. The Asset would easily be able to do it alone, but it will be trickier since he is functioning at 65% right now. In the past 24 hours, he has slept only 2.4 hours and sustained a gunshot wound. It is made even more difficult by the fact he is carrying a boy and dog with his injured arm, as well as several bags.

Still, the Soldier will not fail. Failure is unacceptable.

You miss that window, we're bugs on a windshield. A new voice in his mind says. It is partially incorrect. The Soldier would most likely survive, but Harry the Handler and Nighty would be splattered as the voice said.

He will not miss, but this is going to hurt when he makes it, though pain is hardly a novel experience to the Soldier.

As the freight train barrels past, the Asset takes a running leap and Harry screams. The scream sounds more excited than scared.

Some sort of energy shield briefly forms in front of the Asset, cushioning their impact with the side of the train. It is extremely similar to the shields the enemy asset conjured with the weaponized stick, but the Asset left the stick back at the lodge.

Is the shield coming from Harry the Handler? But he does not have the weaponized stick. Perhaps he has those unidentified abilities the enemy asset had, but can do them without the weaponized stick. That could explain why HYDRA wants the boy in the first place.

The Soldier assumes that Harry the Handler had not been allowed to make shields in the presence of the Dursley family, and would not have been allowed to shield himself from Vernon Dursley's beating.

The Soldier grabs onto one of the bars on the side of the freight car with his metal hand and hangs on tightly, gripping Potter with his flesh arm and the scruff of Nighty's neck with his flesh hand. His bullet wound is in agony as that arm supports the weight of the boy and dog, but he ignores the pain with gritted teeth.

Harry the Handler's exhilarated scream is replaced by the sound of the boy retching. It seems as if he will regurgitate again from the sudden lurching speed.

Before the Soldier can do anything about that, another vision flashes through his mind, of snowy mountains, and he's hanging from a different train in a similar manner.

No, wait, it is not him in the vision, because the man's body he is inhabiting has a real left arm, not a prosthetic one. The Asset does not remember a time when he did not have the prosthesis.

The blonde man who was sometimes a child in other recent visions is also clinging to the vision-train. In this vision, he is very muscular and wearing an odd blue suit. He reaches out, shouting "Bucky! Hang on!"

Who the hell is Bucky?

The Asset yells as he falls from the vision-train in the snowy alps, but snaps out it at the sound of a child screaming.

Harry the Handler's scream is now scared instead of excited.

He's falling in reality, having let go of the real train, and he only just snags a lower rail on the side of the freight car.

The Asset's boots almost skim the ground that's passing at a rate of 65 km/hour under them.

MOVE.

The Asset digs his metal fingers in and hauls himself, Harry the Handler, and Nighty higher up the side of the speeding freight car. He kicks the car door open, but not hard enough for it to fly off its hinges.

He manages to fling himself and the others into the freight car and immediately grabs a gun with his prosthetic hand, scanning the interior and ensuring that there is nobody in it with them. He notes once again that it is fortunate that this is a freight train instead of a passenger train.

All that is in here is metal in the form of beams and rods, most likely to be used for construction.

The Asset shuts the freight car door, plunging the interior into almost total darkness. Fortunately, the Asset still has his night-vision goggles in his backpack. Harry the Handler is clearly used to the dark, and had probably been locked in the cupboard under the stairs frequently.

The Asset's tactical vest smells of vomit, undoubtedly from Harry the Handler, considering the retching sounds he'd made before the Asset was lost in the vision.

Nighty appears to have an easily-upset stomach that was upset by jumping against the train, like Harry the Handler. There are flecks of vomit around the dog's mouth, but the dog's vomit seems to have been left on the ground behind them. Which is just as well, because he probably would have tried to eat it like he had with the poop. The dog is disgusting,

Harry the Handler continues to cling to the Asset as if they are still dangling from the train and his tiny body quivers. The boy's clinging, as well as the fact that his heartbeat is quick from adrenaline, mean the boy is not asleep, yet his head droops against the Asset's shoulder in exhaustion, resting in his own vomit.

Nighty huffs out a whine and walks in circles before laying down on the train floor.

The Asset quickly checks Harry the Handler for injuries as the boy's body goes limp with sleep. The handler is unharmed, but he had lost his glasses sometime during the excursion of boarding the moving freight train.

He lays the now-sleeping boy next to the dog. Harry the Handler sighs contentedly and snuggles up to Nighty.

The Soldier then starts to re-bandage his own gunshot wound, mind racing.

The visions are a hinderance to the mission and had put the handler in danger. The Soldier will be punished for almost letting himself and the handler hit the ground. He is still awaiting punishment for gripping Harry the Handler too tightly when it seemed like the boy would fly out of his arms.

Why does he keep having visions of the blonde guy who changes ages and levels of physical strength between visions? Who is the blond guy?

грузовой вагон, freight car, is the last in the string of trigger words that reset him. Is that at all connected to the vision about falling from a freight car in the snowy alps?

It is not important, aside from the fact the visions are distracting to the mission and should be eradicated. If the Soldier ever had visions before, they were almost certainly wiped in the chair.

He is malfunctioning, but this handler does not have a chair or cryo tank. He cannot be fixed without a chair, the reset had done nothing to his mind, merely his allegiance.

Despite the fact he should not be having visions, the Soldier cannot help wondering about them as he lays down, guarding the freight car door.

Chapter Text

Once train stops, the Soldier hears movement in the surrounding area outside. Footsteps approach, causing Nighty to bark loudly, and then a voice comes through the door. "Marionetka!"

The Soldier slows his motion of drawing a gun, but still draws and aims it anyways, glancing at Harry the Handler. The boy does not give any orders, just curls up in terror in the corner of the freight car.

The Asset moves to position himself between his handler and the freight car door. Nighty stands beside the Asset, growling.

"Marionetka!" The voice says again.

Codeword: once again rejected. There is a 99% likelihood that the man is an enemy of Harry the Handler.

It appears that extracting the tracking device from his arm had been pointless. Undoubtedly there was another tracker on his body that he had not known about. Perhaps they'd implanted it in case the first stopped working, or was removed.

It does not matter how they found him, just that they did. It is unacceptable. Harry the Handler's mission was to avoid HYDRA, but the Asset knew HYDRA was still looking for him.

The agent stupidly comes through the door and is immediately gunned down by the Soldier. The gunshot makes Nighty yelp and Potter whimper, but Potter is safe.

That is, until seven heavily armed, heavily armored agents flood into the freight car, all brandishing their weapons at the Soldier.

Harry the Handler had seemed to make some sort of energy shield when they jumped onto the train. Since it was similar to the shields the enemy asset conjured to block the Soldier's bullets during the fight, it would not be surprising if Potters would work in such a way.

Unless the boy's shields are weaker than the enemy asset's. He is a lot younger, after all, and does not seem to be in any condition to make shields at the moment. The Soldier grits his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about putting his handler in danger anyways- he should always be the shield between his handler and danger, even if his handler can make shields.

MISSION: PROTECT HARRY THE HANDLER.

Affirmative. The newer voice says. The mission is also to avoid HYDRA. The first voice neglected to mention that. That part of the mission ended in failure, but the Soldier will protect his handler to his dying breath.

"Soldier, stand down!" This voice is one the Soldier can actually put a name to.

Director Pierce.

OBEY. STAND DOWN. The voice in his head says. Pierce, as the director of HYDRA, is the highest ranking person in the world, as far as the Soldier is concerned.

We need to get Harry the Handler out of here. The second voice says. The Soldier's finger twitches on the trigger. The three agents' fingers do the same on the triggers of the guns pointed at him.

MISSION AND ORDERS ARE INCOMPATIBLE. The first voice counters. The voices obviously no longer agree on the mission.

The red-and-gray-haired director steps into the freight car. "Stand down," He says even more firmly.

Director Pierce certainly outranks Harry the Handler.

Assassinating unidentified agents is one thing, but the Soldier can't even begin to think about assassinating Pierce. He lowers his gun.

"Marionetka." Pierce eyes the Soldier coldly. Surprisingly, he does not use the string of codewords to reset the Soldier.

The Asset lowers its head submissively. "Ready to comply."

"What were you doing?" Director Pierce's voice and expression are calm, but he is obviously angry all the same. "We lost contact with the agents we sent after you the first time, and found them dead."

"I killed them." The Soldier states flatly. That should be obvious. "They were interfering with the mission and the safety of the handler."

"What mission? What handler?"

"Handler Harry James Potter gave the code word marionetka. He became the new handler. New mission was to protect him and avoid HYDRA."

Director Pierce stares at the Asset for 2.4 seconds in disbelief, and then slaps the Asset in the face. Its head snaps to the side, but it does not react otherwise.

"Abort that mission." Pierce orders.

MISSION ABORTED. The first voice says. The second voice starts to say something, but the first repeats, louder MISSION ABORTED.

"You belong to HYDRA, you don't decide to follow the orders of a child and murder your handlers." Pierce is telling the Asset. The Asset listens to the director with his full attention. "He is not your superior. Him giving the command word meant nothing, he probably just repeated what the agents said."

The Asset had briefly wondered about that, before thinking he should not question his (now former) mini-handler.

HYDRA still claims ownership over the Soldier. He had been AWOL, it is natural they would retrieve him, he thinks as they read his trigger words again. It is natural that they are angry about him defecting, are angry that Harry the Handler had become a handler in the first place. He was supposed to be the target, the package.

"Targets do not become handlers." Pierce tells him. "Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

He is HYDRA's asset again, not Potter's. The boy was evidently never truly a handler in the first place. The Asset has been going through a lot of handlers the past day.

He should have delivered Potter to begin with. If he had, Potter never would have had the opportunity to temporarily change the mission and become a handler. In the end, it didn't matter that he tried to run with Potter.

The boy is in HYDRA's hands anyways, and now the Asset is facing severe punishment in his future. He tries not to tremble.

The Soldier is once again cuffed- this time with much sturdier restraints that even its enhanced body might have trouble breaking out of. These agents are smarter. They frisk the Soldier thoroughly and relieve it of all his weapons, even the knife in its boot.

One of the agents walks past the Soldier to grab the boy.

Potter lets out a terrified sound, and Nighty sinks his teeth into the agent's leg, growling. The agent curses loudly and tries to shake the dog off.

Pierce calmly draws his own gun and shoots the dog in the head.

"Nighty!" Potter screams. Unlike when he'd been under the bed during the Soldier's fight in the lodge, Potter can see everything going on here. He may not entirely understand what just happened, but it's clear he knows something is wrong with the dog.

The child seems to want to crawl towards the dog, as if the dog has merely gone to sleep, but he's obviously to scared to go any closer to the agent.

Not that it matters, since the agent walks to Potter and picks him up.

Potter reaches out towards the Asset pleadingly, green eyes brimming with tears as small whimpers escape his throat. As soon as he opens his mouth to speak, the agent clamps a hand over it.

"He is a target. Nothing more." Pierce repeats to the handcuffed Soldier. "Come."

His metal arm whirs slightly as he follows his superiors out of the freight car and to the waiting cars that the agents drove.

Pierce leads the Asset towards one car, while the agent carrying Potter heads towards another one. They are being separated.

"Where are you taking him?" The Asset asks.

"That is none of your concern, Soldier." Pierce says testily. The Soldier is somewhat surprised he had not gotten slapped for speaking out of turn.

He is not reassured as he's shoved into the back of the car. It should not be thinking about Potter. The boy's fate should not matter. In the end, the mission is complete, even if the Asset had not been the one to complete it.

Potter is none of the Soldier's concern, but he is only a child. He should not have to go through what the Soldier goes through. He wonders if they're going to make Potter into another asset, if they know about the boy's ability to make shields without a weaponized stick.

"He has lacerations on his back and burns on his hands as well as bruises." Nobody replies, and the Soldier adds quietly, "Don't hurt him more." He himself had already accidentally hurt the boy by holding him with too much force during a vision. The boy had been hurt a lot at the Dursley residence.

This time, he is slapped and ordered to shut up.

The Soldier is chained up facing the wall, shirtless, deep in a HYDRA base. He has not seen Potter since they were put into separate cars. The boy could be in this base, or on the other side of the world, for all the Soldier knows.

The Asset has no reason to know where the boy is. The boy should not even be in his thoughts, yet the Asset cannot stop.

A whip cracks and tears into his back, and he grits his teeth, Potter no longer on his mind, only pain. This is all part of his punishment. He should have never disobeyed his orders or tried to go against HYDRA.

Pierce, standing behind him and watching him as he's whipped, reminds the Asset of this. As if he didn't already know.

Potter was a more favorable handler, despite being barely four years old and never being a handler, according to Pierce.

The Asset stays silent for the first fifteen lashes during his whipping, but afterwards can no longer hold back the screams. Being enhanced does not make this any less painful as they continue to fall.

He soon loses count of how many lashes he's received in his haze of agony, but the only reason he doesn't collapse to a heap on the ground is because he's still chained to the wall.

Then, they hose his bloody, raw back off with a powerful jet of water, bringing new waves of agony.

After an eternity, they unchain him and drag him bodily from the room.

The Soldier is almost relieved to be taken to the Chair, but being strapped down still sends his heartbeat racing and the back of the chair is extremely painful against his abused back.

Being wiped is as unpleasant as ever, and the Soldier screams through his mouth guard as the Chair shoots jolts of agony through his face until his mind is blank.

He jerks awake, gasping, when a body's weight presses down on him and something cold nudges his cheek.

The Soldier freezes, metal hand whirring as its plates shift. He grabs the attacker by the back of their neck (the front is too close to his own neck to grab easily).

Flipping over, he positions himself so he has the threat pinned to the floor with his knees on its back, prosthetic hand grabbing a gun and pointing it at the enemy. Should he just shoot the enemy now, or wait long enough to question-

The dog under him tries to growl and bite, but is hampered by the Soldier's knee pressing down on its back.

The Soldier pauses. It is the black dog. Nighty. But it had been shot.

The Asset looks around his surroundings. His night vision goggles reveal the interior of the freight car, the dog pinned under him, and Potter watching him with wide green eyes. "Don't hurt Nighty..." Potter says in a hushed voice, clearly thinking the Asset will attack him next.

It was a dream, he realizes. Pierce did not find him (although he's undoubtedly looking) and he is not being punished at the HYDRA base. Nighty is still alive, and the boy is still with the Asset.

He hopes it will stay that way.

Chapter Text

Despite realizing he is in the freight train instead of a HYDRA base, the Asset's heart hammers and his breathing falters as images from the dream continue to flash through his head. The punishment scene wasn't unfamiliar, and his back burns with phantom pain.

THE ASSET DESERVES PUNISHMENT FOR DEFECTING AND- The first voice in his head starts to say, sounding slightly disoriented.

Negative. HYDRA cannot find us like that. The second, newer voice, interrupts. The mission is to keep Harry Potter safe. The boy needs the Asset, and he will not be safe with HYDRA. The Asset supposes that 'he' could apply to both of them- neither would be safe in HYDRA's clutches.

Perhaps, like in the dream, HYDRA has additional ways to track the Asset's location, instead of only having the device in his prosthesis. Removing just that tracker could have been useless if there is another he had not dealt with. They could be headed towards him now, ready to drag him and Harry the Handler back to a HYDRA base for real...

The Soldier quickly frisks himself for any more tracking devices. Failing to do so before, in the shed, was a major tactical error.

He lets out a small exhale when he finds no devices clipped to his clothes or anywhere on his body. His HYDRA handlers would not have expected the tracker in his prosthesis to be removed, and certainly not by the Soldier himself. They did not anticipate the possibility of their Asset defecting.

So HYDRA doesn't have a direct pinpoint on his location anymore, but it would be preposterous and stupid to assume that HYDRA is not searching for the Soldier and the boy in other ways.

Harry the Handler sits 3.3 meters away from the Asset, hugging Nighty the dog and watching the Asset's every move worriedly. His vision is obviously worse without his glasses, but he seems used to the dark. Then again, the Soldier is fairly certain the boy had been locked under the stairs at the Dursley house was a regular occurrence.

"Are you hurt, Nighty?" The boy whispers as he hugs the dog, even though asking a dog anything is pointless.

"He was pinned down but sustained no permanent injuries." The Asset replies after a bit, even though his handler was addressing the dog, not him.

Technically, that is true, but the Asset had been very close to shooting the dog when he first woke up, before Harry the Handler had brought him out of his haze. He is certain the real Harry would have reacted in similar horror to Nighty being shot to the Harry in the Asset's dream.

"Nighty's sowwrry." Harry the Handler almost sobs. "I told him not to, but..." The child glances towards something worriedly, and it's only now that the Soldier notices that the dog had gotten into their food stash while he was sleeping.

A few packs of sausages have been ripped open and devoured by Nighty (including some of the plastic wrapping), and the box of Harry's favorite animal biscuits has been torn apart, the contents scattered and broken.

He wonders if Harry had eaten some of the food as well. The boy is trembling slightly, and it isn't hard to guess that he'd tried to eat food in secret at the Dursley's' and was most likely caught and punished. Mrs. Dursley had been watching the boy to make sure he hadn't stolen food.

"Pinning the dog- Nighty- down was not a punishment for eating food. The Batman was unaware of its surroundings. " His explanation is not an excuse. There is no excuse. He should not have been so unaware, he should not have lashed out blindly just because of a nightmare. What if it had been Harry the Handler who'd touched him, and he'd pinned the boy down instead?

If he had attacked a HYDRA agent like that upon waking- not that he has much experience with sleep, and the cryo tank doesn't count- he would have been punished.

Harry the Handler is not punishing him for lashing out at Nighty. In fact, it is clear the mini-handler is wondering if the Asset will attack him, the same way he'd just attacked Nighty. Yet, the boy does not speak.

It is odd, having a handler be so worried around the Asset. Well, sometimes lower-level HYDRA handlers seemed nervous around him, but they were quick to assert their dominance. Harry the Handler has not done that at all.

The Asset stills, posturing his body in a non-threatening manner, crouched so he won't be looming over the tiny child.

"The Batman will not attack Nighty the dog now, or you, Harry." The Soldier speaks quietly, using the boy's codename for him. It is a better designation than Nighty, at least, the Soldier thinks. He is not supposed to have opinions.

He supposes that promise isn't entirely true. He hadn't consciously hurt the dog, after all.

"More malfunctions to report: sleeping without permission and blindly attacking." He states flatly, even though he hadn't been ordered to give a status report. What if he attacks Harry the Handler unintentionally in another state of... whatever that was. Panic? No, the Asset was not panicking when he first woke. The Asset does not panic, he does not feel. He is merely a weapon.

Harry the Handler just stares at him warily.

"The mission is to... avoid HYDRA, to keep you safe." The Soldier says slowly.

HYDRA CONTROLS THE WINTER SOLDIER. The voice in his head supplies. It is true. He's been the Fist of HYDRA for as long as he can remember. They have the trigger words, the command words. They could override Potter's control over him, with more powerful trigger words than Marionetka.

They could make him hurt or kill Harry the Handler, if they overrode the boy's command. It would be only one more kill on his long list- which is probably even longer than the Soldier consciously remembers- but his brain protests the idea of hurting the child, much more so than when he'd strangled the Dursley boy.

They could make him hurt Harry and then forget about him, with the chair.

He does not want to go through the chair again. The few memories in his head will be lost to him, yet he will still know how to kill. He will lose everything. He does not know why that Bucky man's visions- memories?- are in his head. He does not know the blonde guy in those visions who went from extremely skinny to extremely muscular, but for some reason does not want to lose the images of him.

What the Soldier wants and doesn't want is meaningless. He should not have opinions.

"If they find us, they will hurt you, Harry." The Soldier says. They'd hurt him, too, but there's no reason to even mention that.

"Like Uncle Vernon?" Harry whispers.

"You would be hurt even more than you were with the Dursleys." The Asset replies, and for some reason saying that makes him hurt inside. Harry sniffles.

"No hurt, p'ease..." Harry the Handler begs.

In the dream, Pierce had said that Harry was not an official handler, that targets should not become handlers. Especially when they simply repeat a codeword that official handlers had just used on the Soldier.

The Soldier is sure that the real Pierce would say the same thing. Somehow, that changes nothing.

"You are better as a handler than a target, Harry." The Asset speaks quietly. Being under Harry's command is much less painful than his time serving HYDRA. For some bizarre reason, the boy has even smiled at him a few times over the past day.

Looking extremely confused, Harry raises his hands. Perhaps his vocabulary does not even include the word handler.

The boy doesn't say anything, and the conversation stops, followed by 3.6 minutes of silence.

"Nighty," The child whispers worriedly to the canine, and the Asset would not have heard him without enhanced hearing. "I can't find my glasses..."

"Your glasses fell off when we were boarding the train, Harry." The Soldier answers. In retrospect, the Soldier should have made sure the glasses were safe before jumping onto the train. It is his fault they are lost and most likely broken.

Harry the Handler startles slightly and lets out a little squeak, obviously thinking he hadn't been heard by anyone but the dog. "I d-didn't mean to lose them, Mr. A'set, sir. Aun' Tuna'll be angwy."

"Your aunt will not find out. She will not be angry." The Soldier wonders how bad his handler's vision is without corrective lenses. Had the lenses even been prescribed properly for his eyes? The glasses themselves had been in terrible shape, bent and taped together.

"Should obtaining new glasses be a new sub-mission objective?" The Asset's question is met with a blank look from the boy. "Do you need new glasses, Harry?"

"No, sir, 'm fine." The boy hastens to assure him, apparently under the impression that the Soldier will be mad if he tells the truth by admitting that he needs a new pair.

The Soldier frowns. His handler is lying. He truly does need the eyewear, yet he says otherwise. It does not make sense, handlers always tell him exactly what they want him to do. Does Harry not want to waste time getting it, and instead focus on getting as far away from the shed, the last place HYDRA had been able to track their location?

The train starts to slow down.

It seems like it's going to stop, so the freight train must be approaching some sort of station or warehouse to unload its cargo.

Avoid areas of scheduled train stops. The newer, previously defective voice in his head says. It's not as if Pierce and HYDRA agents will actually be waiting for him at the station like they were in the dream. That is not why the voice suggested avoiding the station, surely.

But if someone was looking for him, they would look wherever the train stops. Getting off early would decrease the likelihood of being detected, even by the workers who will be unloading the train.

DETECTION IS MISSION NONCOMPLIANT. That is generally a rule for all missions. The Winter Soldier is supposed to be a secret, after all.

It is unlikely that train workers would be undercover HYDRA agents, but it would still be a bad idea to let himself be seen by somebody. He usually kills any witnesses, but he does not think Harry the Handler approves of killing.

They should get off the train, yet, it is up to his handler, not the voices in his head, to decide what to do.

"Awaiting orders." Harry the Handler doesn't respond. "Should we get off the train?"

"Nighty wants to go." Sure enough, the dog is scratching at the freight car door.

The Asset gathers the bags, the boy, and the dog, and leaps out of the train.

The same vision of falling from a train flashes through the Asset's mind, but he is still aware of his surroundings. Perhaps it is due to the vision, but it seems they are falling through the air much slower than gravity would dictate. Harry shrieks with laughter.

He doesn't stumble when he lands, but he is closer to stumbling than he should ever be. He lets go of Nighty as soon as he touches down without really realizing it, but keeps his handler tucked to his side with his flesh arm.

"You flewed!" Harry the Handler's green eyes are wide with something like awe as he laughs delightedly. Fortunately, nobody had thrown up when they got off the train.

The Asset is 98.6% sure that HYDRA has not equipped him with the power of flight. He would have guessed that the child somehow temporarily lessened the effects of gravity. Similarly, he thinks it was the child who made the shield as he jumped on the train. It certainly wasn't the dog, and probably wasn't the Asset, although making shields would be a very useful skill for the Asset to have.

The Soldier sees two people walking on the street despite the time being 0145, but they are both inebriated. Threat assessment: low. It would be easy to incapacitate them, even without weapons.

No chance of blending in like this, Soldier. The newer voice in his head says.

The Soldier knows he will attract unwanted attention if he walks around as he is right now. He's heavily armed with a gleaming prosthetic arm, which is far too distinctive. He's also covered in Harry's vomit and accompanied by an even more disgusting dog.

The blue sweatshirt he'd taken during his earlier Tesco theft is back at the ski lodge, meaning he'll have to acquire a new shirt to cover his prosthesis. A shirt that isn't stained with blood, vomit and mucus.

"I would highly recommend disguises." He says, because of course he cannot tell his handler that they have to get them. His handler decides what they have to do, just like he decides what the Soldier wears.

Except his handler does not answer.

"This way, we will not attract unnecessary attention. It will be harder to find us."

"So da mean bad guys won't find us?"

"It will make it harder for them." The Asset replies.

His guns and knives are concealed, so they should not attract attention.

It turns out there is another Tesco store- there seem to be a lot of Tesco stores of various sizes- a mere 2.25 km away.

Nighty does not seem particularly concerned with sticking with them once they are in the store. The dog sniffs the ground and heads towards the meat department, although the Asset is guessing that the meat hasn't been delivered for the day yet.

The Asset heads with his mini-handler towards the clothing department.

"Batman!" Harry the Handler points suddenly.

The boy is pointing at a shirt depicting fake muscles under a dark suit with a vaguely bat-shaped symbol emblazoned on the chest. Like some sort of superhero, like that blonde man in the somewhat ridiculous red, white and blue suit.

Batman is the Winter Soldier's new codename, and it's obvious that his mini-handler is addressing him, but the Soldier thinks that the object of his handler's attention might have something to do with Batman as well. From things Harry has said, it's obvious there's some other Batman in addition to the Asset.

"It's Batman." Harry says, confirming the theory about the shirt.

The Asset wears what his handler chooses, so he pulls one of the Batman shirts from the rack and pulls off his older, stained shirt.

Harry stares at the mass of scars where the Asset's prosthetic arm is connected to the rest of his body, looking almost sad, even though the Asset's scars and pain do not matter at all.

The Asset slips the new shirt on. It has a strange hood that covers the top half of his face and has weird pointy bat ears. At least it hides his hair and makes him less recognizable.

Potter laughs and claps his hands."You're Batman!"

"Is shaving preferable for disguises?" The Asset asks as they walk towards the aisle with personal care products.

"Batman doesn't have hair there." Harry points at the Asset's chin.

Considering that the Asset has the new codename of Batman and is now wearing what the Batman apparently wears, he figures the child would want him to look like Batman in that regard, even if he doesn't directly say it.

Apparently, they make electric razors- somehow the Asset thinks they didn't at some point in his life, and he definitely feels more used to the standard blades and shaving cream. He has a brief olfactory memory of some sort of cream he must have used in the past,

Potter has wandered towards the toy aisles while the Asset has been shaving.

On a whim, the Asset grabs some notebooks and pencils and starts writing down the visions he's experienced.

Harry the Handler does not seem to think the visions of the Bucky person's memories are critical mission info, but the Asset writes them down anyways. There has to be some reason they've been popping in his head.

Once the Asset is done, he finds Harry staring longingly at wooden toy train set with 'Thomas' written on the box. Why do these stupid anthropomorphic trains keep popping up? The Asset is certain that these are toys of the Thomas the boy was talking about.

"I wasn't looking!" Harry quickly lies, when the Asset reaches for the box. His handler clearly wants it, but the boy shakes his head frantically and runs away from the toys as if he's done something horrible.

The Asset leaves the Thomas set on the shelf and follows his mini-handler.

"Nighty needs dog stuff." Harry is actually trying to distract the Asset from that odd incident.

Apparently the dog is part of the mission now.

The Asset collects Nighty from the meat counter and then heads towards the pet aisle.

Harry the Handler points to food and water bowls, dog food, and dog biscuits on the shelves, asking Nighty each time if the items he selects are what the dog wants. The dog doesn't answer, of course, attention focused on gnawing on a rawhide bone he'd pulled from a shelf.

Potter watches the Asset add all the items to their cart. "And bwandy."

"Brandy." The Soldier repeats blandly, as if he's assessing he heard it right, instead of questioning his superior.

"Ripper drinked it with Aunt Marge."

Somehow, the Asset finds this strange, but he doesn't comment. There's an aisle with all sorts of alcoholic beverages. The Asset has a vague memory of beer for some reason, even though he doesn't think any of his handlers would have given it to him. Why waste beer on a weapon?

Regardless of the strangeness, the Asset picks up a bottle of brandy.

He also grabs some first aid kits and other medical supplies. He's already used up most of the bandages from the first-aid kit he'd taken from the Dursley's.

"Permission to check you over," The Asset requests. After all, it is always an unspoken order to see to the safety of his handlers. He had accidentally bruised the boy's torso earlier, but has still not been punished for that.

Harry the Handler nods slightly, as if he's trying to figure out what answer the Asset wants to hear. The Asset tries to be as gentle as possible, even though he really just lifts the boy's shirt to inspect his injuries. The boy remains stiff and wary, waiting for the Soldier to hurt him (which he will not do intentionally, as long as the boy is his handler).

"Are you gonna make me better again?" Harry the Handler looks down at his bandaged hands, clearly remembering the Asset patching up his injuries when he first found the boy.

"You are healing quickly." The Asset replies, as he unwraps and inspects Harry's hands.

The boy's injuries are healing faster than they should. Does Harry the Handler have enhanced healing as well, like the Asset? Perhaps HYDRA wanted the boy for that, as well as his powers that let him make a shield when jumping onto the side of the train?

They head back outside. The Asset is almost unrecognizable now. The weird Batman hood is actually a good disguise.

"Where do you want to go now, Harry?"

This mission is not standard procedure. He does not think Harry will be sending him out to kill his enemies- the boy hadn't even ordered him to kill the HYDRA agents in the lodge, but that had been the only way to help his mini-handler.

The Asset does not remember ever working as long-term protection detail, but that seems to be his mission with Harry the Handler.

It is an odd thought, knowing that he will not be stored in cryo or wiped when under Potter's command.

Before Harry answers, Nighty barks. An owl flies towards them and drops a letter on the boy's head.

What the hell. Since when did owls carry mail?

Harry the Handler looks as if he does not know whether to be scared or not, and the Asset picks up the letter to make sure there is not some sort of letter bomb. The owl screeches at him, and the Asset barely has time to read Harry Potter's name on the envelope before the mission is compromised.

Severus hadn't thought he'd be on a broomstick following an owl, but he is, and he hates it.

They hadn't found any real sign of Potter near the lodge- the kidnapping assassin had vacated the lodge with the boy presumably in tow sometime before their arrival

They'd come up with the idea to use an owl to find the boy, since one doesn't need to write an exact address to owl somebody. Really, they should have thought of this earlier, instead of trying to track the assassin with that 'GPS' device.

Dumbledore had needed to temporarily revoke some sort of charm he'd cast that redirected all owls sent to Potter. Apparently, the boy hadn't been getting all the fan mail and presents sent by well-wishers the past couple years. No doubt the brat's relatives spoiled him rotten anyways, even if Petunia had been jealous of Lily growing up.

Severus isn't particularly good at flying- certainly not good enough to ever hope to play Quidditch- but he is competent enough to stay in the air and avoid crashing.

Severus is wearing an invisibility cloak that Dumbledore produced from somewhere (which is odd, because Dumbledore himself doesn't need a cloak to be invisible, as he is at the moment) and Dumbledore has made himself invisible without a cloak.

A large black dog barks in Severus and Dumbledore's direction, or maybe it's barking at the owl. Can it smell them? The wind is, inconveniently, blowing their scent in the dog's direction.

The owl swoops down and drops the letter near Potter. The assassin, who is now dressed rather ridiculously, goes to pick it up, but the owl screeches at him, knowing it's for Potter and not that man.

Severus smirks slightly, because this time, the assassin has no idea he is here. He casts a silent Petrificus Totalus from underneath his cloak, and the man snaps still like a statue, not having a chance to fight back.

This is what should have happened that first night, Severus thinks viciously as he stares down at the now statue-like assassin. He's tempted to dangle this man upside down in the air by his ankle with Severus' self-invented Levicorpus, or jinx him into oblivion some other way. This man had caused Severus a lot of grief and some rather painful bruising by throwing him into a slide.

Instead, he casts Expelliarmus. Numerous guns and knives fly away from the assassin's body.

The assassin's eyes are furious as they dart around, looking for an attacker.

Potter is a lot smaller than Severus had realized during his very brief glimpse of the boy before fighting the assassin. It's hard to believe he just turned four, when he looks like a child half his age. His tiny face is gaunt, with prominent cheekbones.

Even if he hasn't eaten at all since getting kidnapped, the boy would not be this underweight. No, he's clearly been malnourished for a while, and Severus has a feeling maybe his relatives weren't as doting as he'd assumed.

"Mr. A'set, Batman?" The child asks his petrified kidnapper. "We go to sleep now?"

He goes to imitate the man and lie down, hugging the dog tightly but putting less distance between himself and his kidnapper than Severus would have expected.

Perhaps the boy is suffering from what muggles call Stockholm Syndrome.

The assassin glares murderously at the two wizards. He's not moving, obviously, but Severus is positive he's trying to move and break the spell. The prosthetic arm whirs loudly, but even the mechanical limb is bound by the spell.

Now that the kidnapper is taken care of, Severus removes the invisibility cloak and Dumbledore undoes his own invisibility spell. Potter clearly recognizes Severus, probably having seen him from the car the other night.

Potter looks at Severus as if he is scarier than the assassin. Severus has no qualms about the little brat having a healthy dose of fear of him- hopefully it will lead to a level of respect his blasted father never showed Severus- but why is he not acting scared of his kidnapper? From what the two escorts have revealed, the man is a deadly assassin with no emotions.

Dumbledore approaches Potter, smiling kindly. "You are safe now, Harry." The old man leans to pick the child up. Potter looks unsurely at Dumbledore and glances back at the assassin.

Dumbledore also grabs ahold of the dog, which Severus would have left behind.

Severus vows that no matter what, neither the boy nor the dog are going to end up anywhere near Severus' quarters or labs. He just rescued the brat, and hopefully he'll be handed off to someone else now.

Severus grabs the assassin.

Dumbledore apparates them to Hogwarts, and Severus levitates the assassin down to the dungeons, ignoring Potter reaching out for the floating, petrified man.

Hopefully the assassin will reveal more information than the two other kidnappers that Severus interrogated.

Chapter Text

The Asset falls stiffly to the pavement of the Tesco parking lot. He would think he'd been hit by some sort of sedative dart- perhaps HYDRA has caught up to him for real- but he had not felt anything pierce his skin.

The Asset finds himself paralyzed. It's somewhat similar to the sensation of his body freezing in the cryogenic tank that he experiences for the few seconds before unconsciousness, except without the cold.

THE ASSET IS NOT FUNCTIONING. MISSION COMPROMISED. CANNOT PROTECT HARRY THE HANDLER.

That really could have gone without the voice saying it, the Asset thinks as he tries to overcome his paralysis. The escorts who were supposed to drive the Asset and Harry back to the plane had been paralyzed by the enemy asset's weaponized stick, but the enemy asset is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he teleported behind them, and is simply keeping out of the Soldier's sight range.

Like the escorts, the Asset can only move his eyes.

Then, all of the Asset's weapons fly away from him, except for the prosthesis. The servos whir, but the metal arm is paralyzed as well.

"Batman?" Harry the Handler asks, standing in the middle of the food that had fallen out of one of their bags. He seems unharmed by the shattered brandy bottles, fortunately, although Nighty seems to have stepped in one of them and the dog lets out a pained whimper. "Mr. A'set?"

RESPOND.

The Soldier cannot respond to his handler like he is supposed to. "We go to sleep now?" The boy asks, as if he decided to sleep without his handler's permission. Does he not see that his eyes are open? The boy's eyesight seems terrible without his glasses.

The greasy-haired enemy asset that he had rendered unconscious suddenly appears as if from behind an invisible curtain, very conscious this time. He's holding a cloak, which is apparently what made him invisible The cloak is better camouflage than the Asset has ever seen. It's as if he was actually invisible under the cloak.

The man is also holding a broomstick, which is a poor choice of weapon, but perhaps he had no other choice after the Asset took his weaponized stick. The Asset wonders if it is a larger version of a weaponized stick, disguised to look ordinary.

No, it seems the enemy asset has his weaponized stick back. It could have been a different weaponized stick than the one he took, except the enemy asset is currently sneering at him for having dared to take it.

The Soldier reflects that he really should have finished off this enemy asset, instead of just rendering the man unconscious during their fight the previous night. No witnesses has been a standing order for every mission, so why had he left this man alive?

That poor decision really came back to bite him in the ass; the man had come back with reinforcements.

Then, a robed old man with silvery hair and a beard that both reach his waist pops out of nowhere, but he's not holding a cloak. When did they invent cloaks that grant invisibility, as well as cloakless methods, and why does the Asset not have it? Skilled as he may be at avoiding detection, it would be easier if he could turn invisible as well.

What are these men, wizards? The enemy asset had done some impossible things, much like Harry the Handler. Is Harry a wizard too? Is that why these two are coming after them?

The enemy asset grabs the Soldier, while the old man takes Harry the Handler's hand and grabs onto Nighty the dog. "You are safe now, Harry." The old man says. The enemy asset grabs onto the old man's arm, still holding onto the Soldier, the cloak and the broomstick.

Suddenly, he Asset feels a sensation like a hook grabbing his navel, and then he's being squeezed through a tiny hole. It's very unpleasant and rather nauseating, but he does not expel his stomach's contents. He couldn't right now, his jaw is locked shut.

Besides, even this sensation isn't as painful as a lot of what he's experienced in HYDRA facilities or even in the field. The Asset is used to pain, and his pain is unimportant.

The Soldier shoves those thoughts aside and focuses on his new surroundings when the squeezing and spinning stops.

He's in an entirely different place than the Tesco parking lot. He's inside some sort of office that looks like it was combined with a castle. There's a large desk and a lot of books, and strange instruments that probably are not used for torture. Sitting on a perch is a red bird of an unknown species.

The enemy asset had teleported them, which he'd done during their fight. Or was it the old man?

The Asset hears his handler expelling his stomach's contents yet again. He cannot fault the boy for doing so after that experience. He hears Nighty the dog doing the same.

The Soldier would snarl if he could move his mouth. The old man has no right to touch the Soldier's handler, let alone hurt him with the teleporting. Nighty the dog should bite the old man so he will let go of Harry the Handler, but the dog does not do this.

Hey, The new voice says Pick on someone your own size.

The Asset would have phrased it differently than the new voice, but he understands the sentiment. The man needs to get his hands off Harry the Handler, now.

The Asset can only glare at the men. Both men seem immune to his glare.

The enemy asset places the broomstick against a wall, and then does something with his weaponized stick that makes the Asset float upright in midair, though his boots still brush the ground.

The enemy asset starts to walk out of the office, down a spiral staircase that moves like an escalator, leaving Harry the Handler, Nighty, and the old man behind. The Soldier follows unwillingly in midair as if pulled by an invisible rope. He can hear Harry the Handler call out to him, but he can't do a damned thing about it as he's led away.

He even hears his handler trip and fall on the stone floor, letting out a slight whimper. That is unacceptable. The handler should not be injured. Then they reach the bottom of the spiral staircase, where there is a statue of a winged creature, and the Asset can no longer hear his handler.

The enemy asset seems completely unconcerned that he occasionally bumps or scrapes the Asset's floating body against the stone walls. There is a light shining out of the end of the weaponized stick that the Asset had left behind in the lodge. Perhaps the weaponized stick had not been a tracking device, after all, as this enemy asset still found them after the Soldier ditched the weaponized stick.

He scans his surroundings as much as he can without turning his head, memorizing the route they're taking so, once he escapes, he can make it back to the last known location of his handler. The old man had better not move his handler far away from that office.

What is the old man planning on doing to his handler? Will he hurt the boy, as HYDRA would? If that old man lays a finger on Harry, the Asset will kill him. He just has to be able to move.

The Soldier does not waste energy trying to move when he knows that he is somehow immobilized. As soon as this invisible force stops incapacitating him, he will strike.

He notices some rather odd things are happening in this place, but considering the odd things the two possible-wizards do, it is not surprising. The paintings are moving, rather like the movie screens, except they clearly aren't screens. The subjects of the paintings shout out to the Asset and the enemy asset as they walk. Some of them shout out at the enemy asset to put the light on his "wand" out. Others inquire as to who the Soldier is.

The enemy asset does not answer the paintings. Will they act as spies and alert the enemy asset or the old man of the Soldier's location, if he escapes?

The stairs move, too. Not like an escalator, because whole sections of stairs simply turn, changing which door they lead to. It is a security measure that the Soldier has not encountered until now. Who controls the stairs? The paintings everywhere on these staircases? There is no way the Soldier would be able to avoid detection.

He's led floating through several stone corridors and then down more stairs. These stairs are dark and cold and surrounded by walls unlike the open stairs above. It gets colder the further they descend, and the Asset is reminded of some bases he's been kept in.

He's finally led into a room that looks quite like a dungeon. The levitation ceases and he falls unceremoniously to the floor, still paralyzed. The enemy asset looms over him, looking rather like the Asset with long dark hair, dark clothes, and an intimidating expression.

It's obvious the man is planning on interrogating or torturing the Soldier. Both, probably. The Soldier doesn't know what methods or techniques the enemy asset will use, and the Soldier can think of hundreds of ways to inflict pain on targets (all of them are things he is itching to do to the enemy asset). What can the man do to torture people? Are weaponized sticks create torture methods even more effective than HYDRA's, or the Asset's own methods?

He notes that his captor looks rather tired, as if he hasn't slept much more than the Asset has, aside from that one stint of unconsciousness. The man is probably not enhanced to require less sleep, even with a powerful weaponized stick. It is good he seems tired, as he will likely be slower to react and more likely to make mistakes or overlook things, making the possibility of escape more likely.

There are numerous jars and vials filled with strange-looking liquids and substances lining the shelves on the walls. The Asset wonders how many of them are poisonous, and whether they will be used on him. He should be immune to most poisons, but this man somehow managed to paralyze him and can make things float and do other impossible things.

The enemy asset flicks his weaponized stick, and ropes appear out of thin air, wrapping themselves around the Soldier to bind him tightly.

This is not like the restraints that strap him to the Chair or operating tables. The ropes seem pointless, as he's still paralyzed.

"Don't try anything stupid. You won't win this time." The enemy asset sneers down at him.

Suddenly, the Asset's paralysis is gone. He supposes the reason the man bothered to release him from paralysis is because he's about to be interrogated and he'd been unable to talk before.

Breaking through the ropes binding him should be easy. He'll be one step closer to returning to his handler, although he still doesn't know how to avoid the paintings' eyes. But he pretends to struggle ineffectively against his bindings. When the man turns his back, expecting the Soldier to be neutralized, he'll break them and strike. The enemy asset won't know what hit him.

Except the ropes squeeze him tighter when he pretends to struggle, until he's no longer pretending to break out. Even with his enhanced strength, he can't break through them.

Of course the weaponized stick would be able to make ropes that even he can't break. Weaponized sticks are extremely annoying in the hands of enemies. This man turns his back to the Asset.

His prosthetic arm whirs slightly, and one of the plates shifts. The Asset uses the edge of the sharp metal plate to cut at the rope as he jerks his arms outwards. The ropes break, falling to the floor, and he silently sprints towards the enemy asset. This time, he won't leave him alive.

However, the enemy asset has turned around, perhaps hearing the servos whir. He points his weaponized stick at the Soldier, who flips a table covered in glass vials and a cauldron to use as a shield. The vials shatter on the stone floor.

The man flicks his stick again, and the table suddenly turns into water, which makes a huge puddle at the Soldier's feet. He almost slips in it, which should not happen. Such clumsiness would be punished by HYDRA agents.

Suddenly, the Soldier is hoisted into the air by his ankle and is left dangling by an unseen force. He tries to reach for some sort of weapon, but anything he could possibly use has already flown out of his reach. Trying to pull his hoisted leg out of whatever is holding it is ineffective.

He dangles by his ankle, waiting for the man to get close enough for him to strike, but the man isn't that stupid.

"I said not to try anything stupid." The man sneers. "I may have underestimated you before, but trust me, it won't happen again."

With another flick of the wand, the Asset is encased in metal from his neck to his feet, still dangling upside-down. Struggling once again proves ineffective, and his prosthesis plates won't be able to saw through this like they did the ropes.

Well, this man isn't getting anything out of him. The Asset's been trained to withstand interrogation and torture, on the off chance that he was captured. He also had to avoid reacting to anything his handlers did to provide correction or maintenance.

One of the vials flies off a shelf and into the enemy asset's hand. The contents of the vial probably do something unpleasant. He's been subjected to chemical and medical experimentation before, as scientists tested the effects of his serum. Whatever that vial does, he's probably experienced worse.

The Asset clamps his mouth shut, but the man just pinches his nose, obviously planning on waiting him out.

After 3.7 minutes, the Asset isn't even feeling light-headed and still has his mouth clamped tightly shut, much to the enemy asset's annoyance. The Asset can hold his breath for a 5.5 minutes, one of the benefits of his enhanced body.

The man manages to pry the Asset's mouth open and tip the vial of liquid inside. The Asset is about to spit it all over the enemy asset's face, but he clearly predicts that and covers the Asset's mouth before he can do it.

Scowling, the Asset swallows. Hopefully his serum will counteract the effects of the liquid. This man probably doesn't know he's enhanced.

"Are you the 'Asset'?" The man asks as if he already knows the answer. Had he captured the escorts? The Asset had left them petrified with the unconscious enemy asset. It was a serious slip of judgement. If he had just killed him, he wouldn't be in this situation now, and Harry the Handler would still be safe with the Asset.

REMAIN SILENT.

The Asset does not plan on replying to this man. And yet his lips move and he answers truthfully, even as he tries to stop himself, as if the answer's being forcefully pulled out of him.

"утвердительный." He ends up answering an affirmative in Russian, even though he's been using English the past few days with the escorts and then Harry.

The man seems to guess that утвердительный means to either confirm nor deny, but he doesn't seem to know which one. It helps that the Asset's voice and face display no emotion, like peoples' do, because he gives no hints as to the meaning.

"Do you speak English?" The man asks, slightly slower. Again, the Asset starts to reply truthfully before he can even think of lying. Does this liquid somehow make him tell the truth? That shouldn't be possible.

"утвердительный."

The man briefly seems annoyed that the Soldier is only responding in Russian, but then he smirks and says "Coby."

There's a popping sound and a... creature appears, as if teleporting here. It's only a little bigger than Harry the Handler and proportioned like a child, but it's head has large pointed ears and huge bulbous eyes. It's completely bald and wearing some sort of robe with a crest on it.

"What can Coby be helping Professor Snape sir with?" The thing asks eagerly. The asset would not have guessed that the enemy asset, Snape, was a professor.

"Do any of you happen to speak Russian?" The enemy asset- who the Asset will not think of as Snape- asks Coby stoically.

The thing thinks for a bit and then grins, eyes bulging out even more. "Oh, yes sir! Booshky is speaking Russian sometimes! Should Coby retrieve Booshky for Professor Snape, sir?"

"There is no need for that. I can summon her myself. You are dismissed, Coby." Snape says. Coby disappears with a pop, and after a second, Snape says "Booshky."

Another creature seeming to be the same species of Coby pops into existence, only this one is wrinkly, suggesting she is older than the former one.

"Professor Snape, sir, called for Booshky?" The thing apparently named Booshky asks, bowing its head slightly. Her voice is as eager as Coby's, although she sounds like an old lady.

"You speak Russian, Booshky, correct?" The enemy asset asks.

"Yes, Master Snape. Booshky used to serve at Durmstrang." Booshky replies.

The enemy asset's lip curls. "I didn't think Durmstrang was in Russia."

"Only those who go there know where it truly is, but some students there speak it."

"Translate what he says for me." The enemy asset jerks his head towards the Soldier.

"Yes, Professor Snape sir."

"What is your name?" The enemy asset addresses the Soldier this time, but he won't be getting an answer.

"The Asset does not have a name." The Asset answers unwillingly. Yet he continues to speak in Russian, so the enemy asset will have to rely on this odd Booshky creature for translations.

"The Asset is saying the Asset does not have a name," Booshky relays the message.

"Your accomplices also referred to you as the Winter Soldier." The enemy asset says. So the two escorts had already given away HYDRA secrets. The Soldier is one of HYDRA's biggest secrets. Had the answers been ripped out of them, or had they just squealed like pigs?

"'Winter Soldier' is an approved designation." The Soldier confirms, even though he once again was trying to keep his mouth shut. Booshky translates this for the enemy asset, who seems to grow annoyed.

"Answer my question." The man orders. "What is your real name?"

"The most recent designation is 'Batman'."

"Batman?" The man briefly glances at the Asset's clothes, but evidently doesn't seem to know that- according to Harry the Handler- they are Batman clothes.

The man starts to grow annoyed, clearly not understanding the Asset's words. The Asset almost wants to smirk for some reason, even though doing so would probably be deviant behavior.

"Perhaps you are immune to this potion, as you were to stunning." The enemy asset muses. Whatever the petrifying thing was, the Asset should be immune to that, since it had severely compromised the mission.

Yet the enemy asset still asks another question. "Do you know what happened to the other residents at Number Four, Privet Drive."

"They were to be disposed of after collecting the target Harry James Potter." The Booshky creature's large ears perk up when she hears the name. "The Asset strangled Dursleys in their sleep, before providing medical aid to the boy and blowing up Number Four Privet Drive."

"The boy was your target?" The man scowls. "What does HYDRA want with Potter? Your associates failed to answer the question."

"The Asset was not told what would happen. It was simply told to acquire the boy and deliver him." The Asset knows that Harry the Handler would have been hurt, though.

"The Asset defected and failed the mission." The creature repeats this in English after it's wrenched from the Asset's mouth.

"You failed at delivering the boy." The enemy asset surmises. Whatever feelings he has about it, he hides them very well.

"You were at a muggle ski lodge." The man continues, sneering. "Yes, I tracked you there, and found several dead bodies."

"They tried to take us back. He would have been hurt." Hurt like the Asset is hurt.

"You had just murdered a family, and were about to murder several others, yet you had qualms about delivering a boy?" The enemy asset watches him with a calculating look. "You feel... protective of Potter." He says the name Potter as if it's filth.

Booshky has been watching the Asset more and more warily as this interrogation has gone on, but she seems to relax slightly when the enemy asset says this.

The man scowls. "You are immune to this. Your associates told me you're nothing but a mindless assassin. You cannot feel protective of a boy."

Booshky's shoulders slump slightly.

"You won't be able to deceive me." The enemy asset raises his weaponized stick. "Legilimens."

Chapter Text

Harry feels horrible, like he's getting squeezed all over. Everything's spinning too fast around him, and it feels like his feet are off the ground.

He wonders if he's inside a tornado. He'd seen one on the telly once. Dudley had been fascinated, but Harry hates it. He tries reaching out for Nighty, or his Batman.

As suddenly as the squeezing and spinning had started, Harry's feet hit the ground again. His knees sag, but someone is holding him up. The next thing Harry knows, he's throwing up. He sees chunks of the animal biscuits hit the floor, but he can't tell which animals they were.

When he's done, he looks up at the person holding onto him. It's not his Batman. This man is old, with long gray hair and a long gray beard.

Harry looks frantically for Mr. Asset. He'd been there in the Tesco car park, laying on the ground, stiff as a board. Harry isn't entirely sure he'd been asleep, as he'd first thought.

He isn't in the car park anymore. Somehow, in all the twisting and turning, he'd ended up in a room with a large desk and cushy chairs. Shelves of books line the walls as well as- Televisions? Paintings? They look like paintings, but are moving and talking like on the telly. They're asking questions all at once. "Is that him?"

Harry bites his lip. Did they leave his Batman behind? Nighty is here, throwing up as well.

He sees Mr. Asset up and walking. As horrible as that tornado had been, at least it had woken him up.

Harry squints at the man with long, greasy hair. The man is dressed in black clothes, but not the Batman sweatshirt, and he sees both the man's hands are skin. It isn't Mr. Asset. Harry had seen that man's whole robot arm, and there were burns around his shoulder like Harry had on his hand, and scars like when Uncle Vernon used his belt.

Harry stares at the man Mr. Asset had fought when Harry was in the car. Mr. Asset had smashed a teeter-totter into this man, who hadn't even punched, just waved a wand around like magic. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told Dudley that magic was just in stupid storybooks for stupid people.

Then he sees Mr. Asset laying on the floor, still as stiff and lifeless as one of Dudley's action figures. Harry waits for his hero to leap up and fight the other man again, like Batman beats up bad guys. He'd done it before, Harry had seen it!

"Batman?" he calls out, worried. Mr. Asset just stares at him, still as stiff as an action figure. He hadn't said anything in the car park once he fell down, either.

"Help!" Harry chokes out.

Would he help? None of the adults Harry knew had helped him. Most of them had hurt him, and Mr. Asset had grabbed Nighty around the neck after thrashing around while asleep.

But he also gave Harry the big white bandaids around his hands, instead of using them on his own burnt shoulder. Mr. Asset gave him animal crackers and never hit him for crying, he let him keep Nighty and even dressed up as Batman because Harry wanted him to.

Best of all, he took Harry away from the Dursleys.

Mr. Asset isn't like other adults, Harry has decided. He's a hero, and heroes help.

Only, Mr. Asset isn't helping. He's still laying there, looking quite angry but not moving at all.

It's like the bad guys won, but Harry knows that never happens. Batman always beats the bad guys. Dudley had boasted that heroes always won, while he punched Harry over and over before bringing him to jail (which was really Harry's cupboard).

The scary man places a broom against the wall, then waves a stick. Mr. Asset starts to float.

"Nighty, help!" Harry calls out. Surely a big dog could bite the bad man, and make him let Batman go.

Nighty doesn't do anything except bark at the huge red bird.

Harry wriggles free of the old man as a huge statue starts to turn, making stairs spiral down.

Harry knows he's not a hero. He was the bad guy in all of Dudley's games. He's not good for anything, but he runs after the bad guy and his Batman.

"Let him go!" he shouts, because the bad guys can't win, ever. Mr. Asset seems to drop for a second, as if what Harry had wanted actually came true.

Harry remembers the word from before, when Mr. Asset had gone all blank in the cabin. There had been tons of men with guns, and Mr. Asset had just stood there until he'd said it. After Harry said the word, Mr. Asset beat up all the bad guys in the bedroom.

"M-marionekta." Harry's tongue stumbles over it. "Mario-net-ka!"

His Batman will snap out of it now, right?

No. He stays rigid, and his body thumps heavily on the statue as he floats down the stairs after the scary man.

Harry tries to follow them, but the stairs are spinning downward. They aren't even attached to where Harry is anymore.

The old man pulls Harry back. Harry stares at the statue. Any minute now, his Batman will return. He'll wake up, beat up the greasy-haired man again and come take Harry away.

The old man finally speaks. He doesn't look angry like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Tuna always did, but he's not Batman."You're safe now, Harry."

No he isn't. That man took his Batman away. Dumb Nighty's still growling at the big red bird, like Ripper growled at Harry when Aunt Marge came.

"Bad dog." Harry tells him angrily. He was supposed to bite the bad man pulling Mr. A'set away. Harry sees blood on the floor, but then suddenly, it's gone.

"Batman will help you." Harry tells the dog, even though Nighty was bad. Harry is really bad and Mr. A'set still pulled out the glass and wrapped them up.

"Who is Batman?" the old man asks. Harry stares at him in disbelief. Who doesn't know Batman? Even if Mr. A'set maybe isn't really Batman like on TV, he still looked like Batman except for the metal hand and long hair.

Harry looks back at the door. "He'll beat up the bad guy." he tells this to himself and Nighty, more than the old man.

"You mean Professor Snape? He may look bad, but he's on our side."

But he hurt Mr. Asset.

"Where are they? Are you a bad guy?" the questions leave Harry's mouth before he can stop them. He watches the old man's hands, waiting for the man to hit him like Uncle Vernon.

The hands reach out, but instead of a hit, the man plucks up a small yellow candy from a bowl. "Lemon drop?"

After that weird twisting, and now Mr. Asset being gone, Harry's tummy hurts too much to even think about eating.

"Where's Mr. A'set?" Harry asks. Did they go through another tornado after going downstairs? The first one brought them here from the car park, so Mr. Asset could be really far away.

"He's having a talk with Professor Snape." the old man tells him, but in that way where grown-ups are keeping secrets.

"No! I want him back!" Harry stomps his foot on the ground and grabs onto Nighty's fur. Nighty is a really bad guard dog, he didn't bark or chase the man like Ripper chased Harry and he's still looking at that big red bird.

The old man blinks, looking too calm. Uncle Vernon would have smacked him already and Aunt Tuna would have slapped or yelled at him for being a freak. Dudley could stomp and scream- and he did, a lot- but not Harry.

"You're safer here, Harry." the old man says. "Your... Batman wasn't a safe man. He could have hurt you."

"Batman's a hero." Harry tells him. Everyone knows that, except this man. "He beats up bad guys. He only hurted me one time."

"So he hurt you." the man says. But it only hurt because that's where Uncle Vernon hit him.

"My name is Professor Dumbledore." the old man says. Harry doesn't care. He probably couldn't say that name anyway, not that he wants to.

The man waves his hand, and the blood from Nighty's foot disappears. Nighty doesn't make a pain sound when he steps on it now, and he barks louder at the bird.

"Leave Fawkes alone." the old man Dumbledore tells Nighty.

"I want Mr. A'set." Harry repeats. He wouldn't have dared say it again at the Dursleys, he's scared saying it now, too, but he has to get Mr. A'set back.

"You look starved, Harry. Have you eaten since you went left the Dursleys?"

"Mr. A'set got me lions and tigers." he tells the man. "Where is he?!"

"The Asset fed you?"

"Where is he?!" Harry stamps his foot again and pulls Nighty away from the big red bird, towards the spinning statue.

The old man Dumbledore heads to the fireplace. "Come on, Harry."

He must be one of those nuts people Uncle Vernon complained about, thinking a fireplace is a door. Unless that's what squeezed them. Did they fly down the chimney like Santa? Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hadn't liked Santa when Piers talked about him.

"We're going to hospital." Dumbledore tells him.

If Harry knows anything from Dudley, it's that hospitals are horrible. Dudley always throws a fit when he has to go, and Aunt Tuna always promises toys and candy while Dudley screams on the floor. "Make the freak get shot!" he'd hollered last time.

Harry's never been, but whatever getting shot is, he doubts it can hurt more than Uncle Vernon's beatings. Harry's learnt not to cry when Uncle Vernon beats him, that just makes it last longer.

At the fireplace, Dumbledore throws in something that makes fire green. Suddenly, the old man stuck his head, long beard and all, into the flames.

Harry stares. He really is one of those crazy people. Harry didn't think he could keep from screaming if his whole head was in the flames.

Dumbledore was talking to some lady, and then he pulls his head out. His face isn't red like Harry's hand or Mr. Asset's shoulder. Not even half of it is burnt like that Two Face bad guy Batman fought.

Harry stands stiffly, scared senseless as Dumbledore approaches him, then whimpers as the man pulls him towards the fireplace. No. It hurt too much when Uncle Vernon burnt just his hand. His whole face will kill him.

"Uncle Vernon." Harry begs. It's not the old man dragging him. Uncle Vernon's pulling his hand to the burner back at the Dursleys. He knows he should be quiet, but he can't help it.

"Batman!" he shrieks. "Pwease! Marionetka!"

Who's going to patch him up now that Mr. Asset isn't here?

He's shaking on the floor, slowly trembling as something cold presses to his cheek. Nighty's nose. He's back in that room, not at the Dursleys.

Dumbledore is crouched in front of him, blue eyes sad. "Harry," the man murmurs as if from far away. "We won't go that way. It would most likely upset your stomach again, and Madame Pomphrey would have my head."

Harry lays there, too tired as Dumbledore scoops him into his arms. He only sort of notices going down the spiral stairs at last.

He wants to wiggle out and look for his Batman. Surely he's just around the next corner, he thinks as the old man carries him through the halls.

Chapter Text

Looking at the so-called Asset, many would assume he is a serial killer. Severus himself has seen the detached, unemotional way he fights, has seen his victims bloody and destroyed.

He outward appearance is that of an unfeeling murderer, perhaps even more sociopathic than the Dark Lord.

Severus himself frequently hides behind a blank mask, so he is quite aware of what can be brewing under the surface of a stony face. Despite knowing firsthand, he expects to enter the mind of a serial killer- cold and without remorse. Severus doesn't think it was only the Veritaserum that had made the Asset report the murders he'd committed without a spark of empathy for his victims.

When he enters the assassin's mind, Severus isn't expecting the searing pain. His own mind feels as if it is on fire, a voice blares all around him, deep and reverberating. COMPROMISED. MISSION FAILURE. RETURN TO HARRY THE HANDLER.

The voice pounds, unrelenting into Severus's mind as well as the Asset's.

There is another voice as well, almost as loud but more human than the first. Get up, Harry needs you. You're the only thing keeping him safe.

Only Severus's expertise as a Legilimins enables him to quiet the voices, but even he cannot silence them entirely. They continue to rumble like a distant but fast approaching storm. He is sure they are as loud as ever to the Asset.

Once he is able to view the man's mind without the voices assaulting him, Severus sees there are shockingly few memories in the assassin's head. Almost as if he is the victim of being Obliviated.

The agents had mentioned the Asset being wiped, and the mind Severus is currently invading certainly supports that testimony.

Most of the memories the Asset does have are disturbing. One of the less disturbing ones of him entering a child's bedroom filled to the brink with broken playthings. Is this Potters bedroom? Severus would not have been surprised if a Potter brat was careless with his possessions, even if Lily was always so careful.

But something in the back of Severus' own thoughts doubts this is Potter's room.

The next memory shows the Asset looming over an obese child, smothering the young boy with a pillow. The boy struggles, his cries muffled. Watching the suffocation of a child in his own bedroom is almost more disturbing than seeing a body drop like a puppet with cut strings after being hit by the Killing Curse.

This scene flashes by, followed by a memory of the cold, metal hand brutally strangling Vernon Dursley as the flesh hand wraps around Petunia Dursley's bony throat.

In both memories, the Asset's face is completely void of any emotion as he commits his crimes. When Severus had interrogated the Asset, he had spoken of the Dursleys' deaths as if they had not mattered at all.

Severus has read about serial killers, how often they are quite unemotional about their killings. Some of the Dark Lord's followers- particularly Bellatrix Lestrange- had been the opposite, delighting in murdering muggleborns, muggles, wizards and witches alike.

The Asset is efficient, and does not seem to find any delight in his victims' pain or terror.

The memories of murdering the Dursleys pass quickly, shifting to a seemingly unrelated memory of a dark, underground lair, not unlike the dungeons Severus had just interrogated the Asset in.

The Asset is in some sort of chair, huge restraints clasped around both the flesh arm and the metal one. Some sort of metal lowers around the man's head, shooting an electrical current into the man's brain. The Asset is screaming as if he's being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse, chest heaving, fists clenched as his body spasms under the restraints. His screams are barely muffled by the rubber bite guard clenched between his teeth.

Severus wrenches himself out of the Asset's mind, chest heaving almost as hard as the Asset's had in that chair.

He is unexpectedly aghast at the memory. He's seen plenty of horrific sights during his time as a Death Eater, and later a Death Eater turned spy, including those subjected to the Cruciatus Curse.

It appears as if the muggles have somehow invented a machine that mimics the effects of a memory charm. Unlike Obliviate, this machine appears to add pain comparable to the Cruciatus Curse as it removes memories.

Severus stares down at the Asset, schooling his face into a blank mask again. The Asset's face is clenched as he relives the excruciating memory.

Part of Severus almost wants to release the man if that is what happens when he is restrained, but of course doing so would be unbelievable foolish. He knows the minute he frees the Asset, the Asset will go at him again.

Severus is not at all eager to delve into this man's mind again, but he needs information. The captured agents had been vague and uninformative, too low-ranking to be privy to the information they need.

Severus strengthens his own mental barriers before once again entering the man's mind. This time, the voices do not assault him, and are already muffled.

He bypasses the memories he'd already witnessed, aiming for what transpired after the man assassinated the Dursley family. He sees the man creep down the steps and stop at a small door built into the staircase.

And then, Severus witnesses something that makes his stomach flip, something that has him seething with both fury and shame.

The Potter boy was kept in the small cupboard under the stairs, not the room full of broken toys. As he watched the Winter Soldier pick glass out of the boy's hands and side, Severus realizes he's been wrong about the boy.

The boy is far from the pampered prince he'd expected.

Severus is aghast at himself as he continues watching the events following the kidnapping (including what looks to be accidental magic as Potter blows up several streetlights in panic). He's encountered a number of students who were victims of abuse and neglect during his time as a Professor, he knows how to spot them more than any other Professor at Hogwarts. Not to mention he himself was a victim as a child.

Yet he'd brushed aside the glaringly obvious clues due to his hatred of the boy's father.

Seeing the boy's green eyes- Lily's eyes- look so appreciative when he's given food, seeing the small boy treat essentials as gracious luxuries, as if he'd been given the most wonderful gift- stirs something in Severus's usually guarded heart.

Lily's child should never have been treated that way. Going back slightly, he sees the child forced to cook dinner for his so-called family, the family Dumbledore insisted would protect the boy from the Dark Lord's followers.

Watching Vernon Dursley beat the boy savagely over the broken plate, Severus can't believe how foolish Dumbledore- and himself- have been. What good is protecting the boy from Death Eaters if his despicable relatives kill him first?

Severus begins to wish the Dursleys were still alive, just so he could deal with them himself. How dare they do that to Lily's child?!

He flashes through his own fight with the Asset and then the Asset disappearing with the child and Severus's wand.

Lily would be turning in her grave if she heard how her boy casually refers to himself as a freak and mentions yet more examples of the abuse and neglect as if he deserved them. Severus always knew Lily was far kinder than her sister, and while he does not share Dumbledore's optimistic view of the world, even Severus is surprised at how far Petunia's petty jealousy twisted into such abominable treatment of her own nephew.

He sees the memories of the Asset and Potter at the ski lodge. The place is swarmed with agents, and one of them recites ten words in Russian that cause the Asset to be still and compliant.

That could be... useful, Severus thinks. Yet it would be just as unforgivable as the Imperius Curse. Indeed, it seems to have the same effect, but Severus is unaware of any specific Russian curse that is equivalent to Imperio. The agents seem to be muggles rather than witches or wizards, judging from the fact they are holding large guns rather than wands.

He watches the boy beg for help in the arms of an agent. Something seems to click and the Asset murders the agents he had just submitted to. Shots are fired, and the agents fall with bullets in their brains.

Severus seethes as he sees Potter start cleaning up the blood with more efficiency than any of Snape's students clean up in potions class. He has no doubt that, if he were to go in the boy's mind, he would see instances of the boy cleaning blood- most likely his own- at the Dursley residence.

The Asset suddenly seems to defer to the boy, almost treating him as a superior. Snape would ordinarily view adult obeying a child with contempt and scorn, but the Marionetka word in of itself seems to act as an Imperius Curse.

When the black dog charges at Potter and the Asset, Severus thinks for a moment that it's Black. The mutt is filthy and matted and looks as if it had emerged from the darkest, dankest cell of Azkaban.

But there has been nothing in the Daily Prophet about Black escaping. Upon closer inspection, this mutt isn't Black, just a stray eager for any master it can find.

At least one murderer is currently rotting in a cell in Azkaban, Severus thinks, before reminding himself that the Asset is only murdering under what seems to be mind control.

The Asset removes some sort of tracking chip from its prosthetic arm, something the agents had used to find him.

Potter uses accidental magic once again, forming a shield as the Asset leaps onto a moving train. Severus is grudgingly impressed at the boy's magical ability, but as the son of Lily, it is not particularly surprising. She was the most extraordinarily skilled witch Severus had ever known.

Severus watches the Asset thrash in the train car, in the throes of a nightmare, before waking up and lunging at the dog. Potter begs for the dog to be spared, clearly having inherited his mother's kindness and empathy.

Nothing notable happens for the remainder of the trip, until Severus sees the moment he and Dumbledore capture the Asset. Potter keeps referring to the Asset as Batman. Severus would deny knowing who Batman is to his dying breath.

Severus brutally shoves aside his own memory of wishing, as a child, that a tall, dark hero like Batman would rescue him. He'd learned the hard way that he couldn't rely on anyone but himself (and later Lily, until that terrible fallout in his later years at Hogwarts).

He doesn't even have to look into Potter's mind to know the boy dreamed of the same thing. From the way Potter looked at the Asset in nearly every memory Severus has seen, the boy clearly thinks his wish has come true. Even when the boy was his target and not his superior, the Asset treated the boy with care- albeit in a detached manner.

When he's done viewing what happened with Potter, Severus has nothing else to do but look at the man's remaining memories. All other memories are disconnected, singular entities floating in a black void that is normally filled with life experiences.

His own stomach feels cold as he watches the Asset pushed into a metal chamber, the small window filling with ice as he's frozen alive.

There are some memories that seem older, fuzzier. In one, Severus sees the Asset beat up a man in an alley, a man who had been beating a short, skinny blonde man who'd refused to back down no matter how many times he'd been punched.

The small guy would undoubtedly be sorted into Gryffindor, Severus thinks scornfully. Fighting a fight he won't win, going in with his fists instead of his brain.

The Asset in this memory looks vastly different with short hair and a muggle suit instead of tactical military gear or that ridiculous Batman sweatshirt Severus had seen Potter point to at the store. This memory seems far older, fuzzy around the edges.

"I had him on the ropes, Buck." the scrawny guy says after the cleaner-cut Asset has knocked the attacker out. Buck slings his left arm- which is not the metal one he has now- around the shorter man's shoulder as he leads him out of the alley.

"Course ya did, Steve." Buck's voice is an even more shocking difference to the Asset than his appearance. It's human, with a drawl that Severus places as American. New York, perhaps?

In fact, it is the same voice that's still shouting in the Asset's head, the one that is not barking out orders but is just as insistent about getting back to Potter.

There's a similar memory from the man's childhood- a young Buck facing down schoolyard bullies who'd been picking on Steve. They looked to be about eight years old.

That is the only childhood memory Severus sees, but the fact it exists makes him think the man's mind hasn't been completely wiped. That, and the voice in his head. Clearly, the muggles aren't completely effective with their versions of Obliviate or the Imperius Curse. But viewing Asset- now an adult with a metal arm- being chained and whipped by agents, Severus realizes they don't need the Cruciatus Curse.

There are a few more from the man's adulthood, fuzzy like the rest of them. Crouched with a sniper rifle, a snowy mountaintop. Soldiers, gunfire, a Muggle war.

And then, Severus spots Captain America in one memory.

Despite growing up in England, Muggle Children in Spinner's End had heard the tales of the hero who helped defeat the Nazis and HYDRA. Severus himself had learned of the man at muggle Primary School, before he and Lily were sorted into Hogwarts.

The memory is of Captain America, Steve Rogers, reaching out of a train towards "Buck".

"Bucky!" Captain America shouts to the man clinging to the side of the train. "Hang on!"

It is only then that Severus realizes the Asset- Buck- is no other than Bucky Barnes. He'd heard the tales of Cap and Bucky, how they helped end the Second (Muggle) World War.

This isn't adding up. How did James Buchanan Barnes become the Asset. According to all historical accounts, the man had died falling from the train Severus is witnessing, and Captain America had perished in the ocean not long after.

How had he survived? Had he been a double agent the whole time, working for HYDRA? Severus has some experience in joining terrorist, genocidal groups and later regretting it.

Whatever had led James Barnes to become HYDRA's asset, it is pretty clear that the voice in his head is battling with the voice issuing HYDRA's orders. Had that voice come from the machine?

Severus tries to find something else in the void, some clue as to how the man survived falling, but nothing is forthcoming.

At last, he pulls out of the man's mind, his own mind reeling with everything he's just learned. He needs time to process everything. He needs to inform Dumbledore of what he'd seen.

Severus looks at the Asset- no, Barnes- still restrained on the floor. He needed a healer years ago, judging from the state of his mind, as well as the angry scars Severus had around the prosthetic in a memory where the man had been shirtless.

Madame Pomphrey does not specialize in mind healing- Severus doubts even St. Mungos could completely heal this man's mind, considering there is a ward for those hit by memory charms, but he thinks she might be able to help a few of the man's other injuries. Although, from what Severus has seen, Barnes heals quickly already. Does he have any magical abilities?

Severus doesn't release the man from his magical restraints. Not yet.

As Severus's mind is whirling, he levitates Sergeant Barnes from the floor and makes his way to the hospital wing.

Chapter Text

The Soldier is malfunctioning worse than ever.

MAINTENANCE REQUIRED the voice blares. RETURN TO HARRY THE HANDLER.

The occasional flash of a vision is wrong enough, but he has just viewed every memory from the both his failed missions. First, not delivering Potter to his handlers, followed by Harry becoming the handler and the Asset failing to protect him from the enemy asset with the weaponized stick.

The enemy asset is the most difficult opponent the Asset has ever faced. He can immobilize the asset. He'd wrenched a mission report out of the Soldier, even though the Soldier had been conditioned to withstand interrogation.

With a wave of that damn weaponized stick and a muttered word, he'd made the Asset malfunction, made him witness the forbidden visions.

The weaponized stick can even override the laws of physics. The Asset is once again floating behind the enemy, moved by an invisible force. They travel up staircases, through stony hallways and past moving paintings.

The windows show daylight. The Asset estimates it has been 12 hours since he was captured.

The enemy asset is silent, walking briskly through the castle. The Soldier surmises they must be in a castle. There are several medieval suits of armor, which are impractical and hinder flexibility.

"What were you thinking, leaving the boy with those horrid muggles?" the Asset hears an older female voice with a Scottish accent. The speaker is clearly furious.

Is the boy Harry the Handler?

"Minerva-" another voice cuts in. An old man, possibly the one with the long beard and hair. He is the last person the Asset knows was in possession of his handler.

"No, Albus!" Minerva cuts the old man off. "Did you see him?! He's practically skin and bones! I told you they were the worst sort of muggles imaginable, and you still left Harry there! What good are blood wards in a home like that?!"

"You call that a home?" the new voice asks, seeming to agree with the woman. The Dursley residence was not the correct placement for Harry the Handler.

As they turn the corner, the subjects come into view. The Minerva woman has a severe expression on her face, her eyes flashing angrily behind spectacles as she fumes at the old man. The old man is indeed the man who had been with Harry the Handler when the Asset was dragged away.

The Asset does not see any sign of his small handler, or the dog Nighty.

If the Soldier could move, the old man would be pinned against the wall, the prosthesis parting the ridiculously long beard to wrap around his throat as the Asset demanded to know the location of his handler.

The Minerva lady pauses her tirade towards the old man, turning to stare at the enemy asset and the Soldier.

"Is that the assassin?" Her eyes flash furiously at the Asset "I swear, if he hurt Harry, I'll-"

NEGATIVE. MISSION IS TO PROTECT THE HANDLER FROM HARM.

"I see Dumbledore has filled you in on the situation." the enemy asset interjects in a voice that is smooth yet curt, cutting off her description of what exactly she would do to the Soldier. The Soldier does not understand many of the methods she is describing, but understands that they mean torture.

She is not a handler. Why would she punish the Asset for failing to protect Harry the Handler?

The enemy asset turns to the old man. "There are some unforeseen circumstances, Headmaster."

"You're telling me," the newer voice in the Soldier's head sounds dry, as the other voice continues to give orders to return to the handler.

"This is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He fought alongside Captain America." the enemy asset looks back at the Soldier, his dark eyes boring into him.

More unauthorized visions flash through the Soldier's mind. Aiming sniper rifles seems to be a familiar memory, but in this one, the body is missing the prosthesis, a flesh arm in its place.

The Soldier dimly hears the enemy asset explain something about the Second Muggle World War, while the vision of falling from the train flashes through his mind. The blonde man in the vision shouts for a Bucky, and then he's being dragged through the snow, the left flesh arm a stump that leaves a trail of blood.

How does the enemy asset know about the forbidden visions? Had the Asset still been speaking when they flashed through his mind? Had he reported them? He does not think he could speak when remembering the Chair. All that would come out would be a scream.

"But that's impossible." the severe woman stares at the Soldier. "He'd have to be almost as old as Albus. Even with the Sorcerer's Stone, he'd still age."

"Are you certain this is not a disguise?" the old man Dumbledore studies the Asset with piercing blue eyes. His nose looks as if it has been broken at least twice, and the Soldier itches break it again with his prosthesis until the old man returns his handler to him.

"I have looked through his mind, he retains a few memories of the war and before." the enemy asset replies.

The Asset wants to snarl at the enemy for going through his mind. He is not authorized to do so, in the way HYDRA was authorized to wipe him.

"He is a muggle, and thus does not possess the Occlumency skills required to fabricate memories." the enemy asset continues.

The Asset does not understand the words muggle or Occlumency.

The old woman waves her own weaponized stick, peering at the Asset as if waiting for something to happen. Finally, she mutters something about not transfiguring his body, and the enemy asset mentions that Polyjuice was not used.

The group leads the Asset into a room lined with several beds. Dividers are placed between them to give the occupants privacy, and large windows line the stone walls. All the visible beds are empty, one is hidden behind a divider.

The Asset is lowered onto one of the beds, still restrained but no longer floating.

He is restrained on another bed. A drill bores into the stump of an arm, agony erupting through him. "The procedure has already started." a man's voice says.

There is only white-hot agony, until he raises his arms. The prosthesis glints in the light as a bald man wearing thick glasses stares down at him in satisfaction.

The vision clears. The Soldier breathes harshly, still immobilized to the bed, while the enemy asset stares studies him in a way not unlike his handlers.

"He was captured." the enemy asset reports to the old man. "He must have survived, and they turned him into what he is now."

The Soldier hears the man describe the Chair. He tries to quiet his breathing. If they know about the chair, they must have one. He needs to be wiped, he is nonfunctional and he has failed the mission, but these people are not his handlers.

The topic of his small handler comes up, the enemy asset reporting that Potter had been kept in the cupboard under the stairs, that he was "treated worse than a house elf."

The Asset does not know what a house elf is- possibly the creature that had translated his Russian, which looked better cared for than Potter- but the new voice in his head agrees. "The kid would've been better off in an orphanage."

THE HANDLER MUST REMAIN IN THE PROTECTION OF THE ASSET.

The severe woman named Minerva launches into another diatribe against the old man.

Another old woman approaches the Soldier's bed. She is not as thin or severe-looking as the woman named Minerva, nor as cold as the HYDRA techs, even as she mutters angrily about the Dumbledore man. "Obvious malnutrition, I don't know how anyone could overlook that."

Potter is malnourished, as is Nighty the dog. Where is his handler? Will the enemies feed him?

RETURN.

The woman waves her own weaponized stick, and the bonds wrapped around the Soldier disappear. The Soldier wastes no time, springing to his feet and catching a glimpse over the divider.

Laying under several blankets, looking even smaller in the large hospital bed, is his handler..

The Soldier is about to lunge for his handler, but his arms and legs suddenly spring together once again. He crashes to the floor, stiff as a board. The enemy asset had immobilized him through the same method with his weaponized stick.

The Soldier would benefit from a weaponized stick of his own, to incapacitate the enemies. He would snarl, but even his face is immobilized. Flat on his stomach on the cold stone floor, he stares at the gap underneath the divider. Harry the Handler is out of eyesight.

After being levitated to the bed once again, the Minerva woman asks "Are you sure it's safe, keeping him near the boy?"

The Asset's mind feels frayed between expecting the inevitable agony that accompanies any medical procedure and wondering when he will be wiped and frozen. He will not be able to protect the boy after being frozen, and these enemies are not his handlers.

Knowing that his handler is 1.8 meters left of the Asset, yet being unable to move makes the mission almost deafening inside his head.

The Asset focuses solely on Harry. The boy is both his failed missions, and the Asset listens to the gentle sound of his breathing.

Did they drug him? Wipe him? Will they give him food?

Even as he observes the nurse looming over him, his thoughts do not entirely leave his handler.

The Batman shirt Harry the Handler had picked out suddenly disappears from the Soldier's body. He is used to being exposed in the presence of others, but is not used to the look of sympathy and disapproval the nurse gives his wounds. Her gaze focuses on the scar tissue where the prosthesis joins flesh.

The Asset's body would tense up if it was not already rigid from the immobilization as the nurse waves her weaponized stick over the prosthesis. She tuts about how she can regrow bones, not whole limbs.

The Asset did not know regrowing bones was possible.

He feels his jaw unlock, but the rest of his body remains restrained as the nurse holds a glass vial to his lips. "It's for the pain," she explains, as if his pain is ever a matter of concern. The newer voice says something about the nurse being a mother hen, but she is not poultry. Despite her apparent sympathy, the asset does not trust her. She is with his enemies, and the liquid the enemy asset forced down his throat made him pliant to interrogation.

As he is refusing to drink the beverage, the enemy asset, the severe woman and the old man Dumbledore are discussing what to do with Harry the Handler.

"I'm sure the Weasleys would be happy to have him." the Minerva woman suggests.

The enemy asset scoffs. "They have too many of their own dunderheads running around."

A very extensive background check on the Weasleys would be required before the Asset let them anywhere near his handler.

The enemy asset continues. "Potter needs specialized care and attention, perhaps even therapy given the state he is in. The Weasleys will not be able to adequately provide that."

"Therapy?" the severe woman asks.

"I hear it can be quite effective with muggles." the enemy asset explains. "Though some have a negative view towards it."

The group cannot seem to decide on Harry the Handler, and begin discussing what to do with the Asset. The Asset is used to being discussed, he of course has no say in what his handlers do to him, but these people are not his handlers.

Still, the Asset is unsurprised to hear the old man Dumbledore talk about erasing his memories.

He requires maintenance. But not from the hands of his enemies. The Asset's chest seems to tighten.

"You can't possibly be considering erasing his memories." the enemy asset, surprisingly, seems to come to his defense. This does not make the Asset trust him any more.

"You saw everything you needed to see, did you not?" the old man Dumbledore sounds calm. "We cannot have him remembering Harry."

The thought of forgetting his handler is unacceptable. The mission is to protect him, forgetting him is the largest failure possible.

"He has had his mind electrocuted to erase memories." the enemy asset spits.

The group continues to debate and argue, but the Asset cannot make out the words. His head is filled with a buzzing sound, as if he had just woken up from cryogenic stasis.

The buzzing diminishes when the nurse sends the group to the corridor.

The nurse disappears into an office, and the Asset waits. After 3.1 minutes, he hears Harry the Handler mumble in distress, shifting around in his blankets.

REPORT.

The Soldier itches to check the boy over, but he still is incapacitated.

He hears the handler squirm, then a small thunk. "Mr. A'set?" the boy all but whispers as tiny feet pad across the stone floor.

"Unable to comply, Harry." the Asset replies in a low voice. The nurse had not immobilized his jaw again after giving up with the vial, but the rest of his body is unresponsive.

Harry the Handler gives a small cry of "Batman!" The Soldier's chest tightens. He feels the small boy climb, with some difficulty, onto the bed and press close to him, as if worried he will disappear.

The Soldier wants to wrap his arms around his handler, to make sure nobody will take him again.

"Are you hurt?" the boy leans over to peer at him with wide green eyes.

"Pain is within usual parameters."

Suddenly, the boy wraps his arms around the Asset's neck. At first, the Asset thinks his handler is punishing him, but this does not feel like corrective strangulation. There are quicker, more effective methods to punish mission failure.

"Do you hurt movin'?" the boy questions not as a handler assessing a broken tool, but as a human concerned about another human. It does not make sense. The Asset is a weapon. He opens his mouth to reply, but his handler continues. The Asset snaps his mouth shut, giving his handler his attention.

"Sometimes after Uncle Vewnon..." the boy trails off, but the Asset can surmise what he meant. The boy had been beaten to the point where any movement was excruciating. It is most likely only the boy's strange abilities that let him survive.

He's seen far too much. the new voice says. A boy his age shouldn't know about that sort of pain.

ELIMINATE ANY THREAT TO THE HANDLER.

The Soldier would like to start with the three outside the room.

"Is that why you falled down? Why were you flying? Are you a-" Harry the Handler's eyes become even wider and he hastily closes his mouth, as if he's said something wrong.

"The enemies have weaponized sticks that possess several capabilities. Immobilization, levitation, pyrotechnics." the Soldier reports in a low voice, so the enemies will not hear. "They possess liquids that assist interrogation, and seem capable of producing effects similar to the Chair."

The handler frowns. "Like Time-Out?"

The Asset thinks of how being cryogenically frozen shuts him off from the rest of the world. It is time out of the world, usually an undetermined amount. No. The Handler is referring to the Chair.

He continues the report. "The enemy incapacitated the Asset and extracted information. The Asset is malfunctioning and immobilized. Awaiting punishment." Even if he was not immobilized, he would be still, and accept any correction. He has failed the mission, which is unacceptable.

The handler's small, thin arms tighten around the Soldier's neck, but it does not feel like a punishment. Harry whimpers "No, pwease no. 'm sowrry."

Harry the Handler is much less effective at delivering correction than any other handler the Soldier can remember. Instead of a slap or a corrective instrument, he feels the boy's tears and mucus wet his neck. The heart clenches as if there is pain, even though the liquid does not peel his skin away like the hoses other handlers sprayed him with.

"The old man Dumbledore plans on removing the Asset's memories. He is not a handler, you are."

"He's goin' ta... take your brain? He taked me 'way from Nighty." the boy sniffs. "Nighty didn't even help!"

"He is not authorized to wipe the Asset." the Asset replies, though that hadn't stopped the enemy asset from finding out about his limited memories and the forbidden visions.

"Mr. Potter!" the Nurse exclaims, and the Soldier feels the boy go almost as rigid as he is. "What are you doing out of bed?! Get away from him!" She enters the Soldier's eyesight, looking down at the boy with an expression that is fond, concerned and stern all at once.

Harry the Handler does not comply, pressing his wet face even closer to the Asset's bare skin.

The Asset hears the other three enemies reenter the room at a brisk pace.

"Mr. Potter!" the stern woman Minerva sounds shocked. "What is the meaning of this?"

The nurse reaches to lift Harry the Handler, using her hands rather than the levitation abilities of her weaponized stick. Her grip is firm, but not cruel like every other medical personnel the Asset has encountered.

"No!" the boy cries out. The Asset can feel his handler sticking to him, as firmly as the Asset is stuck to the bed. He had not been sticking before. The boy appears capable of recreating the effects of the weaponized stick, only without requiring the weapon.

The old man waves his weaponized stick. Gradually, the boy is peeled away from the Asset's bare chest, still sticking but not immovable. The boy cries the whole time, tiny hands fisted desperately in the Asset's long hair. "Batman!"

After 5.2 seconds, the only contact between the Asset and his handler is the small hands still gripping his hair. The Asset wonders if Harry the Handler is capable of unsticking him. If the boy frees him, he will fight and complete the mission.

"No! Puh-lease!" Harry the Handler kicks the nurse in the stomach, managing to wriggle out of her hold. He flings himself at the Asset.

"Harry, he is not a safe man." the old man Dumbledore speaks in a calm tone as Harry the Handler plasters himself to the Asset again.

"He's my Batman!" Harry the Handler glares at the old man, rather than cowering like usual. The Asset gets another flash of the skinny blonde boy before his gaze refocuses on his the handler's dark, messy hair. "Let him go!".

"Harry, this man killed your family." the old man explains.

They had it coming, treatin' a kid like that. The new voice sounds satisfied in the Asset's head. They don't deserve to be called his family, we gave 'em what they did deserve.

MISSION: ELIMINATE DURSLEYS COMPLETED

Harry the Handler slowly shakes his head. "My mummy and daddy died in a car crash." his voice drops "They were dumb drunk use-less... freaks."

The Asset shoots the tires of a passing car. It spins off the side of the road and he stalks towards it. The man and woman inside look familiar somehow, but he cannot place them, does not remember encountering them. The man is already dead at the wheel from the crash. The Soldier slowly strangles the pleading woman before retrieving the package from the trunk. Mission success.

The Soldier snaps back to the present abruptly. Had he assassinated Potter's parents, as he had the boy's aunt, uncle and cousin? He struggles to recall the faces of the targets, familiar yet unrecognizable. The details are fuzzy- the man was dark-haired, but other than that the Soldier cannot recall if he bore any resemblance to Harry the Handler.

The enemy asset seems enraged, but does not shout. "Potter, your mother, Lily, was the most brilliant witch I have ever known. Your aunt, contrarily, was a spiteful, vile girl who never grew out of her petty childhood jealousy."

The strict woman Minerva shoots the enemy asset a disbelieving look. "I hardly think you're one to talk, Severus."

The enemy asset Severus scowls as he seems to grudgingly admit "The boy is not his father, Minerva."

"My mummy was Lily?" the boy asks in a small, awed voice.

The stern woman Minerva smiles. "You have her green eyes, but you look just like your father James. Your mother had red hair."

She clearly expects Harry the Handler to smile, but he frowns. "Did my mummy eat kids?"

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" the stern woman Minerva demands.

The boy mumbles into the Soldier's neck about how "Aunt Tuna wasn't even mad when Piers telled Dudley witches eat kids." Surprisingly, the boy snickers slightly. "Dudley's fattened alweady."

"I assure you Potter, witches do not eat children." the stern lady says. "Those are ridiculous muggle stories."

"You're all freaks." Harry the Handler tells the group. "And em-en-ies."

"We are not your enemies, Harry." the old man says somberly. "None of us are 'freaks.' We are all witches and wizards, except for him." the man gestures at the Asset.

Harry the Handler remains unconvinced.

Good.

DO NOT TRUST THE ENEMY.

"Your parents did not die in a car crash." the enemy asset interjects smoothly. "They were murdered by the Dark Lord."

The Soldier does not remember any HYDRA assets with the codename Dark Lord, nor does he recall it being his own designation. Unless the enemies are attempting to manipulate them with false information, the Asset is not responsible for the death of his handler's parents. Despite the situation, the tightness in the Asset's chest lessens by 7%.

The nurse scolds the enemy asset. "This isn't the time, Severus! The boy's been through enough!"

"He needs to know the truth about-"

The nurse cuts the old man off. "Out, now! All of you!"

"Poppy-" the old man starts, but the nurse does not let him continue.

"How am I supposed to care for the boy when you keep distressing him?"

The nurse ushers the group out of the room again, ignoring their words. With a flick of her weaponized stick, the large doors close, booming loudly in the faces of the old man, the enemy asset and the stern woman.

Harry the Handler shifts on top of the Asset, whispering in his ear. "Please feel better. We haf' ta ex-scape."

Chapter Text

ESCAPE pounds into the Asset's brain, over and over. It is part of the mission, has been since they were captured. Now that Harry the Handler has given the order, it becomes an even greater priority.

Completion is unlikely when the Asset is immobilized.

FAILURE IS INEXCUSABLE.

The nurse fusses over Harry the Handler, who refuses to let go of the Asset. With her weaponized stick, she transforms a pillow into a dark toy bear, which she offers to the child as if it will help her gain his trust.

She has not gained the Asset's trust. Harry the Handler eyes the bear as if it contains a bomb.

CHECK FOR EXPLOSIVES.

What other reason would a weaponized stick make a toy?

The nurse had clearly hoped for a less suspicious reaction on the handler's part.

Harry the Handler continues to cling to the Soldier as the nurse sets the bear aside and fetches two glass bottles. The bottles contain unidentified liquids that, if ingested, could assist interrogation or produce any number of other negative or even fatal symptoms.

The Soldier remembers drugs that made fire course through his body's veins until even he could not hold back his screams, other drugs that made the world seem distant and far away. Paralysis drugs that made the body limp rather than rigid, but paralyzed him as he is now.

He hears birds outside the window as sunlight streams onto the stone walls. Every other time he recalls being restrained to a bed, it had been in a windowless room. The presence of birds and sunlight does not make this environment any safer.

Harry the Handler turns to the Asset, as if awaiting his orders. "She wants me to clean." the boy whispers.

"Clean?" the nurse looks shocked. "This is a nutritional potion, Mr. Potter. You are entirely too thin for your own good."

The newer voice agrees that the handler is severely malnourished. The Soldier does not trust the nurse, despite the fact her examination had not hurt.

Despite imminent danger to his handler, the Asset's mind malfunctions. He briefly flashes to attempting to coax the skinny blonde man to accept liquids and food. He does not recall a former protection mission, but he must have had one at some point.

The nurse is an enemy. Fortunately, the boy seems to remember that. The handler regards the 'potion' with suspicion, pressing his lips together. "You'll fatten an' eat me."

"I'm a healer, Mr. Potter- a doctor." the nurse almost sounds offended. "My goal is to help you, not eat you."

"You'll eat me!" the boy exclaims.

THE ASSET WILL TERMINATE ANY CANNIBALS THREATENING THE HANDLER.

"Mr. Potter, stop that nonsense. I assure you that witches and wizards do not eat people. Your parents were both brave, kind people." the nurse pauses, seeing that the Handler still does not believe her. "I saw your father James in here quite a bit, I'm afraid. Never as young as you, young man, but James was quite the troublemaker."

Thinking of the wrong man there, says the voice in the Soldier's head. You mean the punk.

The description strikes the Asset as familiar. Someone always got into trouble, was in and out of the hospital, but James sounds incorrect in that context. The Asset does not know why.

The nurse sighs heavily and held up the bottle of purple liquid. "This is Dreamless Sleep."

Harry the Handler turns to press his face into the Soldier's neck again. "...'m not s'leepy."

The nurse mutters about difficult patients. The Asset expects her to try to force the handler to drink the liquids. Being immobilized, his only option to stop her is to stare her down. Both civilians and many agents find the appearance of the Soldier intimidating. The Asset recalls times when targets had been petrified by his presence, reduced to begging or silent pleas.

Intimidation is 57% less effective when the Soldier is restrained to a bed with a small child pressed tight against his chest.

The nurse raises her weaponized stick. The Soldier does not know what to expect. Will it lock his jaw? Levitate him? Reveal some power he is not currently aware of?

She flicks the stick, and Harry the Handler yawns.

Nodding with satisfaction, the nurse once again retreats to her office.

The Asset strains his muscles in an attempt to pull his limbs free from the bed.

The boy seems to fight sleep. His speech becomes slurred as he briefs the Asset. "Dumb-Bell-Door tried to cook me in da fire."

"Unacceptable." the Soldier is referring to the old man's attempts to cook his handler, as well as the entire situation. The mission is compromised in his current state. Until he is able to move again, he cannot proceed with the mission.

The Asset recalls how his handler had been stuck to him, and then was slowly unstuck by the old man's weaponized stick.

Harry the Handler has done inexplicable things without a weaponized stick. He had attached himself to the Asset with an invisible adhesive. Is he capable of reversing the effects, as old man had unstuck the handler?

The Soldier is not allowed to tell superiors what to do.

He does not attempt to order his handler, instead asking in a low murmur "Are you able to counteract the adhesive effects with your abilities?"

Harry the Handler's brow furrows in confusion. "What?"

The Soldier unused to child handlers, and had forgotten to account for a more limited vocabulary. He should be punished for not speaking in a satisfactory manner, yet is certain this handler will not punish him.

"You made yourself stick to the Batman." the Asset uses the codename designated by this handler.

The boy shakes his head with wide eyes. "No, sir! It wasn't me!"

The Soldier is supposed to trust a handler's every word. If the handler says it wasn't him, then as far as the Soldier is concerned, it wasn't. Despite all his conditioning, doubt sticks in the back of his mind. The new voice has doubts as well. It has to be him, he made a force field.

The enemy asset had made shields with his weaponized stick during the Soldier's first encounter with him.

The Asset does not report what the voice said. Instead, he states "The mission is to escape."

The boy nods, glancing at the office the nurse had entered, then the door she had slammed in the faces of of the other three enemies. "Let's go. Please."

"The Asset is compromised. It cannot complete the mission in the current state."

"But they're bad guys!" Harry the Handler's face shines with horrified disbelief. His expression should morph into anger at the Asset, disappointment in its failure, but his face remains shocked. "Bad guys can't win!"

"If you use your abilities to unstick the Asset, the mission could continue." the Asset is careful to keep the tone neutral and quiet, merely stating relevant information, not telling the handler what to do.

Harry the Handler bites his lip. After 4.2 seconds, he speaks softly "You won't be mad?"

"The Batman exists to complete the mission."

The Soldier should not need the handler's help, should not require assistance to complete the mission. He is not performing to standards. His body feels cold at the thought, as if he has just emerged from the cryogenic chamber.

The boy nods almost imperceptibly. He stares intently at the Asset, his eyes drooping before he widens them again. He shakes his head to wake himself up.

"I can't." the handler whispers in a broken voice. "I wan' ta go. Not get cooked."

The Asset recalls the other instances when Harry the Handler used his enhanced abilities. When forming a shield while jumping on the train, the boy had been a mix of terrified and exhilarated. When the streetlights had exploded, the boy had been frightened. Sticking to the Asset, he'd been desperate not to be pulled away.

The Asset knows that emotions compromise mission success. Yet Harry the Handler seems unable to use his abilities without experiencing intense emotion. The adults with the weaponized sticks are certainly highly trained, but Potter is young and untrained.

The Asset takes a breath.

"The enemies will return." the Asset says. "If you do not unstick the Batman, they will wipe the Batman's memories. They will take you away."

"And cook me." the small hands of the handler tug at the Asset's prosthetic shoulder. "Get up, Mr. A'set! Please!"

The Soldier is used to being moved by handlers, maneuvered to be wherever the handler wants him.

As the boy tugs the Asset with increasing desperation, the invisible adhesive weakens. First by 12%, then 26%. After 15.9 seconds, the effect is weak enough for the Asset to tear himself free of the bed.

Harry the Handler gasps and a slow smile spreads across his face.

The mission can progress.

He shoots a look at the office, but the nurse did not seem to hear. The Soldier's enhanced hearing picks up the voices of the enemies from beyond the thick wooden doors, but he cannot comprehend the words.

ELIMINATE WITNESSES

Neutralizing three enemies would not be an issue under usual circumstances, but the weaponized sticks pose too great a threat to mission success. They would simply immobilize him again, take his memories and take the handler away.

Forget about them, get out of here!

Harry the Handler stands up on the bed, wobbling slightly as he reaches for the Asset.

The Asset lifts his smaller handler and silently approaches the window. The room is on the second story of the castle, the drop is inconsequential. The Asset lands smoothly and looks at Harry the Handler.

"Let's go." Harry the Handler looks back at the castle fearfully.

The Asset moves swiftly but silently, slipping out of sight of the hospital's windows. Despite his recent malfunctions, his expert stealth remains.

"We got out!" Harry the Handler smiles. No handler has smiled at the Asset before, even after a successful mission with much fewer drawbacks than the current mission. "'Cos you're strong an' bad guys never win."

"Your abilities made escape possible." the Soldier must give the handler credit, even though he should have been able to handle it himself.

"Me?" the boy frowns. "...I'm a freak like them."

"You are not an enemy. You are the handler."

After the Soldier has walked 296 meters, Harry looks back at the castle. "We left Nighty."

The Soldier stops, smoothing out a scowl before it shows on his face. Nighty had been part of the mission, but going back would put Harry the Handler in more danger.

He waits for the order to extract the dog, but a distant, familiar bark silences both the boy. Nighty the dog appears over a grassy hill 29 meters away, running towards them.

"Nighty?" Harry the Handler blinks. "I t'ot they cooked him."

"Where yeh goin'?" a voice booms after the dog.

Nighty is complicating the mission, drawing too much attention.

The Asset slips behind a tree as an enormous man with wild hair and a bushy beard follows Nighty, accompanied by another black dog with sagging skin. The Soldier studies the man- 2.5 meters tall, enhanced strength is almost a certainty.

Threat assessment: high.

"There yeh went." the giant chuckles, reaching into his overcoat. The Asset tenses, but the giant does not draw a gun or weaponized stick. Instead, he holds out a dog biscuit. "What d'yeh see?"

The Asset's fingers twitch. If he had his guns, he would be firing already. He waits, hoping the man will leave, but the man approaches the dog, his footsteps thundering on the ground.

"Nighty," Harry the Handler says, completely blowing their cover. "We gotta go."

"Harry?" the giant gapes at the child, then his eyes narrow at the Asset. The prosthesis clenches into a fist. He would prefer to slip away undetected rather than engaging the giant in combat.

The giant steps toward the Asset with thundering footsteps. The giant is possibly more effective at intimidation than the Asset. "Put him down."

The Asset places the handler on the ground, not out of compliance, but to keep the handler out of harm's way as he charges.

He slams into the giant's stomach, but the man does not budge. He is clearly enhanced.

Hands the size of trash can lids grip both the Asset's arms, lifting him high enough that his feet leave the ground.

The Asset plants a foot on the giant's chest and pushes off, using the leverage to break free of the giant's grip. Unlike many opponents, the giant does not stagger backwards.

The Asset lands in a crouched position. He has no weapons other than the prosthesis, which is 65% less effective against an enhanced opponent.

The giant takes several swings, but the Asset ducks the massive arms. He hears the handler shout as he grabs an arm the size of a tree trunk with the prosthesis, attempting to throw the giant.

Pick on someone your own size, says the voice in the Asset's head.

"Fang, get Dumbledore." the giant grunts to the droopy dog, which had been slinking away in a cowardly crouch. The dog barks and lopes quickly toward the castle.

STOP IT.

If the Soldier had a knife, it would already be flung and buried into the dog to prevent the message reaching the enemies. The Soldier is trained to be adaptable, resourceful. In seamlessly fluid movements, he kicks up a stone, catches it in his flesh hand and hurls it at the dog Fang. The impact renders the dog unconscious, but it is not fatally wounded.

The giant roars, wrenching the Asset into the air by his throat before slamming him back down. A massive boot presses down on the Asset's chest, forcing air out of the Asset's lungs.

"No!" Harry the Handler screams.

"Harry, run!" the giant looks toward the small handler, his weight lessening slightly. "Get a professor. Get Dumbledore."

Harry the Handler does not obey the enemy's command.

The Soldier takes advantage the distraction to knock the giant's leg out, rolling away as the giant crashes to the ground.

Pouncing onto the giant's broad back, the Soldier locks his flesh arm around the giant's throat in a chokehold while he slams the prosthesis into the giant man's head.

With another bellow, the giant rears up and back, slamming the Asset into a tree trunk.

The Asset grits his teeth, and does not relinquish his hold as the giant rams him into the tree again.

His grip is weakened enough for the giant to extract himself, flipping the Asset around to attempt to smash him face-first into the tree.

The Asset uses the prosthesis to snap the tree's trunk before he is slammed into it. The lack of impact makes the giant stagger slightly as the Asset swings the trunk up and back, knocking it into the man with enough force to shatter a non-enhanced target's skull.

The massive man drops. The Asset hits him with the tree three more times, before pinning him under it.

Functionality of the prosthesis is impaired 28% after the fight. The Asset clenches the fist, the metal ripples as it attempts to recalibrate.

He quickly frisks the giant's coat pockets for weapons. He keeps three keys, knowing nine different methods to incapacitate or eliminate non-enhanced targets with a single key. He discards six dog treats covered in fungus, a dented kettle, and is about to discard a pink umbrella when he notices the tip suspiciously resembles a weaponized stick.

The Soldier keeps the umbrella, even though it does nothing when he waves it. Perhaps weaponized sticks have fingerprint scanners that prohibit access to their abilities.

The giant groans, opening his eyes. The Asset snarls.

The nurse, or the other three enemies have undoubtedly noticed their absence by now. He does not have time to thoroughly eliminate the giant man.

Scooping up his handler, he sprints across the grounds.

As he runs past a large tree, the entire tree shudders, despite there not being any wind.

Before the Soldier has time to consider this, a branch whips at him. The Soldier dodges it, realizing it is not someone swinging the branch at him as he had hid the giant. The tree is swinging itself.

The Soldier growls. Even the trees are hostile in this place.

He catches a different branch, but is not able to snap it with his prosthesis as he had the other tree's trunk. The Soldier twists his torso to put himself in between the handler and another branch.

Harry the Handler is screaming, the volume increasing when he is knocked out of the Asset's arms. He falls to the ground, and another branch whips down towards him.

The Soldier takes that blow as well, pushing the handler out of harm's way. The handler scurries backwards, disappearing into a hole among the tree's roots.

FOLLOW. PROTECT THE HANDLER.

The Soldier dives into the hole, barely avoiding another branch. The tree continues to attack for 4.2 seconds, then shudders to a stop.

Harry the Handler breathes heavily next to the Asset, clinging to his chest.

The Soldier is certain they will be attacked if they exit back through the hole. He observes the enemy asset, the stern woman Minerva, and the old man making their way down a hill.

Had they been detected?

The Asset is on alert. With the way the mission is going, something will attack them down here as well, something the Asset will not recall ever fighting before. He does not remember encountering weaponized sticks, a giant or a moving tree on any other mission.

When his breathing has returned to baseline, Harry the Handler peers down the dark tunnel. "The under-gwound? Where are the trains?"

"The Batman did not detect any locomotive vehicles, Harry."

"Oh." the boy ducks his head. After 30.2 seconds of silence, he speaks up tentatively. "Does this go to the Batcave?"

"Unknown."

"We'll be safe." Harry the Handler sounds hopeful as they make their way through the tunnel. "Nob'dy can find us in da Batcave!"

Chapter Text

Severus watches Dumbledore pace back and forth, deep in thought. He tries to ignore his own headache. He hasn't slept since Potter went missing, and the situation has only become more complicated once they had finally found the boy and brought him to Hogwarts.

Minerva is still fuming, first about how Potter clearly fears magic, and now about the assassin. "Did you see the way the boy was clinging to his kidnapper! As if he was safer than us!"

"Despite how it may appear, I do not believe the boy has Stockholm Syndrome." Severus doubts either his colleague or employer have heard of the term. "Stockholm Syndrome is when a captive begins to feel affection or closeness to their captor."

"That's exactly what it sounds like!" Minerva exclaims, rounding on Severus. "He was treating his captor like a cuddly toy!"

"That man provided the boy with the best care he can remember." Severus tells them smoothly. "Even when he was going to hand the boy to his leaders, he assured the boy's wounds were looked at and provided Potter with food."

Minerva fixes Dumbledore with an intimidating stare that rivals Severus's own. "If Harry had been placed with a proper family to begin with, he wouldn't have this... Stockholm Syndrome. He shouldn't like someone just because they fulfill his most basic needs!"

"What the situation should or should not be is irrelevant." Severus tells her curtly.

"Indeed." the headmaster nods gravely. It is the first thing he's spoken since they were shown out by Madame Pomfrey, and he does not pause his pacing. "We have to deal with the unfortunate situation we are presented with."

Dumbledore is planning, that much is clear, but Severus is not entirely sure what that plan is. Does the old man still intend to Obliviate Barnes? Would he take the man's few remaining memories of his life before HYDRA, as well as the memories of Potter?

A memory charm would be quick and painless, unlike the method he'd seen in the man's memories. Severus still does not think it is a wise decision.

Severus would not be surprised if Dumbledore attempts to turn the assassin into his own spy.

Not that the assassin would be a very practical spy. Severus had not found any of HYDRA's plans in the man's head. The assassin was treated as a weapon to be fired at a target, not a high-ranking agent with classified information. Furthermore, who was to say that any plans to spy for Dumbledore would not simply disappear when the man's mind was electrocuted again?

Sending the man back to that environment seems needlessly cruel, and would gain nothing.

"You wanted to place Potter with muggles." Severus reminds the headmaster. "This man may be the most capable of protecting the boy."

"You want to leave the boy with an assassin?!" Minerva says. "Have you been confunded, Severus?! I thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning and think things through!"

"I have considered this thoroughly." Severus's voice remains silky, but there is a steel blade hidden under the delicate fabric.

Even when the agents had used their control words similar to Imperio, the Asset had protected the boy.

Severus suspects there are agents hunting for the Asset and the boy, but the Asset had an easier time dealing with those than with Severus or Albus. There will undoubtedly be Death Eaters after the boy now that the blood wards are no longer in place.

"Let's keep him here." Minerva argues. "Hogwarts is one of the safest places, and he might come to realize magic is not scary."

"Or it will traumatize him into never wanting to encounter magic again."

"Harry will need to learn not to fear magic." Dumbledore's tone is final.

"You won't send him back to the Muggle world, will you?" Minerva asks suspiciously.

Severus knows there are muggle superheroes. Iron Man, or Tony Stark, in particular has funds and resources to provide for a child. He has muggle weapons capable of protecting the boy, but the man is a devoted bachelor, his lifestyle not conductive to raising a child.

Madame Pomfrey hurriedly pushes open the hospital wing doors. "They're gone!"

"Gone?!" Minerva echoes in disbelief. "We were right out here the whole time! They couldn't have gotten past us! I thought the assassin was restrained."

"Perhaps the boy freed him with accidental magic." Severus says as he strides over to the open window. That has to be the way they escaped.

Severus turns on his heel and quickly strides towards the castle grounds.

"Nighty's a bad dog." Harry the Handler gives a morose briefing as they approach the end of the tunnel. The boy reports how the dog was with the giant who "tried'ta squash you like Dudley,"how it did not fight the giant or help the Asset when he was flying.

"Nighty the dog is an enemy." the Asset confirms the report with a nod. The handler still appears surprised that the Asset listens to him. From what he'd seen at the Dursleys, Harry is used to listening to others, just as the Asset is.

The tunnel ends at the interior of a dilapidated house.

"It's not the Batcave." Harry the Handler scrunches his face the thick layer of dust covering every surface.

CHECK FOR THREATS.

The Soldier sees no recent footprints, indicating it is unoccupied and has been so for quite some time. He quickly sweeps the premises for occupants in other rooms or recording devices, but finds neither.

Harry the Handler follows him through the house, when it should be the reverse, the asset following the handler. The small handler swipes a finger through the dust on a table with one leg snapped off. "Aunt Tuna'll be so mad."

"Your aunt is dead, Harry." the Soldier reports flatly.

Good riddance.

Harry nods, tracing patterns into the dust with his finger. One pattern vaguely resembles a winged creature.

The Asset reports damages. "Functionality of the prosthesis is impaired 45%. The mind is malfunctioning. The Asset has visions of being a man named James-"

The name slips off his tongue, and he pauses. Was it James? The man on the train had shouted for a Bucky. The enemy asset had said the Soldier was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but that is most likely false information.

It needs to be wiped.

Rather than disappointment or anger at the forbidden visions, the handler appears awed. "The doctor witch said my daddy was James... are you... did you... not die?"

The Soldier's mind flashes once again to falling from the train. That was not a death, was not him. He was made as an Asset. When he refocuses, he slowly answers "The Batman did not die. Do you wish the Batman to be James?"

"James." Harry the Handler smiles slightly.

"New codenames are Batman and James." The Asset- James- nods in understanding.

"But you aren't my daddy. He was a freak an' you don't eat people." The Soldier remembers killing targets using a variety of methods, but does not remember ever being a cannibal. "'Cos you're a hero and re-scued me from da Dursleys."

"The Batman James is your asset. A soldier." The word hero has never been applied to him. Weapons aren't heroes, the people wielding them are.

The boy mumbles something that would be inaudible if not for his enhanced hearing. "I wish you were my daddy."

"You want the Batman James to be your father." James knows that fathers protect their children as he protects Harry the Handler, but children obey their fathers while assets obey their handlers.

Harry looks as if that might be too much to hope for. Instead of answering, he points a finger at the shoulder of the prosthesis with one hand, his other hand lifting his hair to show the scar on his forehead. "We both have red scars. I have a light-ning and you haf' a star."

He is not sure why the boy briefed him on this. He could understand his handler wanting to replace the star on the shoulder with a lightning bolt, to mark him as his own. Harry the Handler does not suggest anything of the sort.

The Asset James rotates the prosthesis to show the star better, and it makes a clunking noise, jamming slightly. The battle with the giant appears to have damaged it.

MAINTANENCE REQUIRED.

"The mission would be better served if the handler decommissioned the Batman James and used a new asset." The Asset James has been maintained and wiped in similarly dank rooms, but there is no sign of maintenance equipment in the dilapidated house.

"De-com'soned?"

"Stored. Put down. Whatever the handler decides."

Inexplicably, Harry the Handler laughs. "I can't put you in the cupboard! You're a gwown-up."

"The Batman James will malfunction more the longer it is out of cryo."

"You'll cry?"

"Cryogenic freezing stores the Batman James when it is not being used."

"You go in a... fwid'ge?" the boy looks around, and James realizes he means refrigerator. "I don't see one."

Recalibration is unlikely to occur in the dilapidated house.

"The enemies will follow," the Asset James informs his handler. Scoping the view out the window, he sees a small village. He searches through the dusty rooms. Harry follows him as if he is the handler once again. The boy bites his lip. It is clear he intends to ask something, but is hesitant to do so. Handlers are never hesitant to demand information from the Soldier.

The Asset James gives the boy his attention. "Did you have a question, sir?"

"Wha'you lookin' for, Mr. A'set James, sir?" Harry appears eager to be helpful, despite his hesitance.

"A concealment cloak. The enemy asset had a cloak that made him invisible." He finds a dusty old robe in a wardrobe, but the only concealment it offers is covering the prosthesis. The prosthesis is easily recognizable, concealing it aids with covert operations.

The dusty cloak is not as useful as one that makes the wearer invisible. Still, Harry the Handler smiles, telling the Asset James he looks like a superhero.

Pulling the dusty robe tight around his body, the Asset James covers their tracks, then breaks through the wood barring the front door. The handler clings to his robe as they make their way toward the village. There is no sign of a pursuit from the enemies.

The Asset James is on high alert. The enemy asset could be invisible, the giant could have escaped by now. He should have eliminated both of them.

"Can Nighty smell us?" the boy asks.

"Possibly."

AVOID DETECTION.

The Asset James easily slips into nooks among the old shops in the village.

Harry the Handler stops to gawk at a shop labeled Honeydukes. It appears to be a food shop, but the nutritional qualities of the foods are unknown.

There are eight occupants inside Honeydukes. Brightly-colored boxes float through the air, directed by an old man's weaponized stick. The old man is not Dumbledore, but the weaponized stick classifies him a threat.

Harry the Handler tugs the Asset Jame's robe, whispering about freaks, yet seems unable to tear his eyes away from the shelves.

The Soldier studies the shop's contents. Boxes containing chocolate frogs, cauldrons and wands line the shelves, there is a high possibility they are poisoned or drugged. A large barrel advertises "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans", which likely assist interrogations depending on the flavor. There are peppermint cream toads that reportedly hop in the victim's stomach.

Exploding Bonbons could be a useful weapon, since the Soldier lacks grenades, but are likely tampered with. They could backfire on the Soldier, for all he knows.

The Soldier remains unobtrusive, but the old man approaches them anyway. The Soldier readies himself for a fight.

"Can I help you find anything?" the man smiles as if to appear nonthreatening, pocketing his weaponized stick. The Asset James does not relax as the man bends down to Harry's level. "See anything you like, sonny?"

The boy hides behind the Asset Jame's robe, gripping the cloth tightly.

"You're Harry Potter," the old man breathes, eyes flicking to the lightning scar on his forehead.

"Harry Potter?" a woman from across the store gasps, dropping a box. The prosthesis clenches as, within 1.8 seconds, every eye in the store turns to the boy, who buries his face into dusty cloth.

AVOID DETECTION. MISSION COMPRIMISED.

"Take anything you want, Mr. Potter, and don't worry about the price." the old man glances at the Asset James as he says the last part. "Are you visiting, sir? I must say, I'd remember if I'd seen the Boy Who Lived in Hogsmeade before. You're lucky to have him."

The other customers crowd around them, shouting questions.

What, is Harry some kind of celebrity? The new voice queries.

The Asset James backs out of the door, tense, waiting for one of the patrons to immobilize him with a weaponized stick. The crowd follows them out, still vying for Harry the Handler's attention, but the Asset James has already slipped between two shops, quickly making his way out of the village with his handler.

He jogs and, for the moment, nobody appears to be following. Harry stumbles, and he picks the boy up, feeling thin arms wrap loosely around his neck.

"Where is the Batcave?" the Asset James needs intel. The Batcave is clearly a safe place, from the handler's other briefings.

"Um... Gof-fam City."

The Asset James frowns. He does not know of a Gotham City. He did not know about weaponized sticks or the castle, either.

"Where is Gotham City? What are the coordinates?"

"Aunt Tuna says 's not real." Harry scoffs. "Iwon Man's real, so Batman has'ta be!"

"What is in the Batcave?"

"All Batman's stuff! Batmobiles an' suits an' bat-rangs an' a big copmuter."

It sounds like a base. The Asset James could likely get maintenance there. A cop-muter is unnecessary, the Asset avoids police detection. Unless he meant computer.

"Sometimes I pr'tended my cupboard was the Batcave." Harry tenses again, relaxing when the Asset James does not punish him. "But it was jail, 'cos I was the bad guy."

"You are not bad. You are the handler."

'Bad's a bit of an understatement for most handlers. The Asset James scowls at the voice in his head. It is not his place to question or judge handlers, past or present.

Harry the Handler is silent. The Asset James hypothesizes that he is thinking of his strange abilities making him a freak.

"Your abilities are an asset to the mission. You are not a freak."

"I'm a A'set?" Harry gazes up at the Asset James in awe. "Like you, Mr. A'set James sir?"

The Asset James does not have his handler's abilities. He wonders why HYDRA hadn't tried to give them to him, but those abilities were likely why they wanted the boy in the first place.

He hikes another 9 km, unsure of how to locate the Batcave. The handler has not even provided a direction, so he cannot use the sun to navigate.

The Asset James needs to get Harry to a safe place, before they are ambushed again.

"He got Harry." Hagrid grits out with labored breaths when they find him, furiously struggling to lift a fallen tree and boulder pinning him down. "I tried teh stop 'im. They went to'ard the Whomping Willow."

Dumbledore quickly levitates the weights off Hagrid, who slowly sits up. "Thank yeh, Professor Dumbledore, sir."

The giant's expression turns murderous as he stands up, somewhat shakily, and goes to Fang. The dog Potter named Nighty is sniffing at Fang's fallen body, barking as if worried.

Fang is breathing as Hagrid hoists it up. "Once yeh stop the man, I'll tear him apart for hurting Harry."

"I do not believe he hurt the boy." Severus gets a shocked look from Hagrid.

"That man is a menace." Hagrid growls. Severus raises an eyebrow. Considering Hagrid's habit of picking up murderous creatures and treating them as harmless pets, he is surprised that the man is writing off Barnes so quickly. Not that the man is a pet, though he'd been treated worse than a beast by HYDRA.

"We must get Harry back." Dumbledore strides purposefully toward the Whomping Willow, waving his wand so the tree does not attack them.

Severus scowls as they travel through the dark tunnel toward the Shrieking Shack. "I believe Potter will view that as being kidnapped, more than he did when the Winter Soldier took him from the Dursleys."

"It's not kidnapping, it's a rescue." says Minerva in an affronted tone.

"The boy will not view it that way." Severus is certain that this plan will backfire. He shouldn't care. A day ago, he would have been thrilled to see what he thought was a brat taken down a peg.

He is certain that, whatever Dumbledore's plans, taking the boy from Barnes will backfire. Had they not noticed that the boy used magic to avoid being taken away? Minerva clearly saw how attached he'd been.

The Shrieking Shack is empty, without a trace of the soldier or the boy's presence. There are no footprints, and Minerva's muttered Homenum Revelio yields no results.

"Perhaps they didn't leave the grounds?" Minerva suggests, looking back at the tunnel.

"We'll split up. Severus, do you mind searching the village?"

Severus suppresses a sigh. He minds very much. All he'd like is to collapse in his quarters. He doubts he would even need Dreamless Sleep.

Instead, he stalks from the Shrieking Shack toward the rest of Hogsmeade. Clustered around Honeydukes is a group excitedly prattling about Harry Potter.

"The Boy Who Lived!"

"Here, in Hogsmeade!"

"Someone alert the Daily Prophet!"

"Strange bloke he was with," one wizard remarks.

"Which way did they go?" Severus scowls.

"Disapparated as soon as he left, didn't hear the bang though." the wizard frowns. "Seemed a bit touched in the head, that bloke did. He was all angry and-" the wizard's eyes widen. "You don't think he was one of... You-Know-Who's followers, do you?"

Severus does not think that the Winter Soldier can apparate, but given how difficult he was to track down in the first place, he might as well have.

The last thing he wants is to follow them on broomstick again.

Chapter Text

Judging from the fields and mountainous terrain surrounding them, as well as the accents of some of the customers of Honeydukes, the Asset James estimates he is in Scotland's highlands. Still in the United Kingdom, but not in England where the mission had started.

Every step is tense as the Asset James waits for HYDRA agents or the enemy asset to converge. It is easy to disappear in the mountains, but he is certain he is being followed, tracked, hunted.

GET TO THE BASE. BATCAVE.

Harry the Handler has not provided sufficient intel for locating the base. The Asset James does not know where Gotham City is located in relation to Scotland.

HYDRA and the enemies with weaponized sticks who called themselves witches and wizards are not the only dangers the Asset James needs to protect Harry the Handler from. He listens intently to the scurrying and scampering in the mountains, constantly on the lookout.

After 7.6 minutes, Harry the Handler asks why everyone had shouted his name. The Asset James replies "You are being hunted by many organizations."

The boy frowns, clearly wondering why anyone would be after him. "You won't let bad guys eat me?"

"Anybody cannibals will have to get through the Batman James." This promise means less when he is defective, when the enemies possess weapons that he is powerless against.

"Are you able to paralyze the enemies, as they did to the Batman James." the Asset sees his handler's confused expression and amends "Make them not move."

"I can't beat them up." Harry the Handler whispers. "But you can."

WEAPONIZED STICKS ARE TOO POWERFUL. THEY IMMOBILIZE THE ASSET.

That is the problem.

"You may need to protect yourself if the Asset James is compromised. It is malfunctioning, and may become inoperable before it is maintained, corrected, wiped." The Asset Jame's voice stays flat and submissive, even as the body tingles with phantom pain at the thought of correction and the Chair.

"But you're a hero. You haf'ta win."

The Asset glances at the weaponized stick disguised under a pink umbrella. The enemies had greater control of their abilities than his handler- was that due to the weaponized sticks themselves, or age and experience.

He slowly hands the umbrella over to the handler, who holds it as warily as an inexperienced civilian would hold an explosive. "You might be able to stop the enemies with this."

The boy slowly opens the umbrella with the weaponized stick, pointing it upward. The leaves above them rustle in the absence of wind, then fall from their trees despite it being the wrong season. Harry the Handler drops the umbrella with a terrified expression. The Asset James folds it up again, and tucks it away.

He picks the boy up and resumes walking. If the boy cannot fight reliably and the Asset is defective, they must avoid another encounter with the enemies at all costs.

"Who's the Boy Who Lived?"

The Asset James suspects it is a boy who survived an assassination attempt. He wonders if HYDRA had sent the Soldier to kill the boy and his family. Had he defected then as well, spared the young boy? He does not remember but surely HYDRA would have corrected that malfunction before sending him to bring them the boy. Clearly, they hadn't.

After 20.5 minutes, Harry begins to wriggle to be set down, staring intently at a snake basking in the sun on a log.

Studying the dark, zippered pattern on its gray back, he holds his handler out of reach. The snake is likely venomous.

PROTECT.

The Asset James wants to continue to hold his handler out reach of the snake's fangs. Snake bites are not quite cannibalism, but they are to be avoided. The boy has shown enhanced healing, but the Asset James is unsure if that extends to venom.

Still, he must obey. He watches the boy crouch near the snake, watching but not touching.

Suddenly, the boy begins to hiss.

The snake waits and hisses in what appears to be a reply.

Harry the Handler looks back at the Asset James expectantly, waiting for an answer to some question he does not know. Not knowing sends a chill through his body, though he does not show any outward signs of it.

REPLY

Failure to answer his handlers always results in punishment.

"You'll leave her alone?" the boy asks, presumably about the snake. He appears more confused than angry about having to clarify the question. The Asset James nods.

The boy hisses with the snake some more, looking around in excitement.

The snake slithers away, and Harry stands up, turning back to the Asset James, who waits for correction or a briefing.

"Can we go?" Harry asks, as if he needs the his soldier's permission.

"The mission is to get to the Batcave."

The boy points at the snake, which has stopped slithering, almost as if waiting for them. "She says there's caves."

"The snake said it." The Asset James phrases it as a statement, as if he is merely repeating the briefing, even though the voice in his head sounds confused. Is the boy imagining it? He dismisses that thought. It is not his place to question his handlers.

Harry the Handler stumbles slightly as he follows the snake over a rock. The Asset James ensures his handler does not fall as they walk for 5.4 minutes, at a much slower pace than the Asset James is accustomed to.

Harry the Handler stares dubiously at a small cottage. "Under there?"

His face falls after a few more unintelligible hissed sentences are exchanged, and he doesn't follow when the snake slips away. The Asset James remains by his handler.

Harry the Handler assesses him and asks "You don't like snakes?"

"That snake appeared to be an ally, not a threat."

"Why didn't you talk ta her?"

"The Batman James does not understand hissing."

Harry the Handler gives a look that says the Asset James was not paying attention, that he'd failed to notice obvious intel. It is a dangerous look to see on a handler's face, no matter how young.

"We talked... normal." Harry the Handler frowns in confusion. "Jus' talking like now. You hear-ed it, right?"

He had heard it, but had not even recognized that as being a language. The Asset James does not consciously remember learning any of the languages he is fluent in, but he remembers everything from this mission and knows Harry the Handler had not briefed him on a way to communicate with snakes.

He's malfunctioning more and more.

The handler does not comment on his defective performance, instead giving a briefing on the conversation. "She didn't know Gof-fam. Or that I'm Harry."

The inner voice questions how a snake would know any of that.

"The snake was not a reliable informant," the Asset James surmises.

"She said she can bite da bad guys if she sees them, but you already beat-ed 'em up."

THE ENEMIES WERE NOT ELIMINATED.

"The enemies will still pursue you. You need to get to a safe base. The Batcave." He surmises from the handler's dubious look at the cottage "The Batcave is not under there."

"He has the biggest house in the world."

That would have been useful intel to have been briefed on earlier, the Asset James thinks, while observing an elderly couple sit down to dinner in the cottage. The clock behind them shows it is 1732.

Harry the Handler's stomach growls as he looks at the meal, but he makes no comment about wanting food.

The Asset James could break in, incapacitate the occupants and set up a temporary base to retrieve intel vital for the mission. Harry the Handler could eat.

Someone could notice the couple's absence. The children or grandchildren occupying numerous photographs on the wall could call, alert the authorities when their relatives do not answer the phone. The Asset would easily disappear by the time authorities arrived, but it would still leave a trail for their pursuers.

NOT AN IDEAL BASE

One photograph of three little girls sends images of brown hair and youthful smiling faces flashing through his mind. An ambush of young girls shout "Bucky!" as they run to someone who is not him. Other girls fighting, firing guns. Lined up at attention in front of the Soldier.

The Asset James tears his eyes away, forcing his thoughts back to the present and ignoring the voices in his head. He resumes walking, while Harry the Handler tries to stifle the noise of his stomach with his hand.

"We could ask a 'nother snake." Harry the Handler's tone suggests he expects the idea to be immediately rejected and scorned.

FIND A SNAKE

The Asset James finds another cottage first, 0.7 km down the road. A safe base is more important than a snake, even as an informant. The dark windows and absence of a vehicle indicate it is unoccupied. The occupants could have simply vacated the premises temporarily.

Breaking into the cottage is simple. He leaves the lights off to avoid detection, never ceasing to listen for the sound of a car returning. He will be able to disappear undetected before they enter the house.

The refrigerator is empty. It is unlikely anyone resides here currently. The Asset wonders if it is a safe house for an agent somewhere. He does not remember any HYDRA safe houses in Scotland.

He finds a box of wafers and a jar of peanut butter in the pantry. As the Asset James arms himself with the kitchen knives, Harry the Handler quickly begins spreading the condiment on the wafers, arranging them on a plate and pushing it toward the Asset James.

The Asset James eats mechanically. Handlers typically have him consume nutrients intravenously.

Both the voices in his head fret about the handler.

Harry's gotta eat too.

THE HANDLER REQUIRES SUFFICIENT NUTRIENTS.

He cannot cannot order his handler to eat, so he says "Proper nourishment is necessary for optimum performance and survival."

Watching the boy eat, and catch crumbs with his small hands, fills the Asset Jame's chest with a strange warmth. It is the mission, to ensure his handler's safety, but that is not usually accompanied by warmth. The boy's smile increases the feeling.

The Asset James is still not used to this feeling, despite its occurrence over the days since finding the boy in the cupboard. He is not supposed to have them.

He searches the cottage for snakes, and, after receiving permission from the handler, slips a shirt on under the dusty black robe and ties a cloth around his mouth and nose, obscuring his face. He should not have allowed the enemies to see his face in the first place. He should have eliminated them, but they are too powerful.

Next, he starts up a computer. He is not sure when he was taught to use one but he is certain this technology had not been around the entire time he had been the Soldier. It must have been invented sometime when he was in cryo, and the new, unauthorized voice in his head won't shut up about "the things they make nowadays." It sounds awed, excited.

The computer is still not fully powered on after 3.9 minutes. The Asset James observes the handler arranging magazines on a coffee table.

The boy suddenly jabs a finger at one magazine with a mansion on the cover. "It's here!"

The Asset glances at the mansion depicted. It seems far too large to function simply as living quarters, so the handler's assessment that there is a secure base stocked with everything they could possibly need inside is logical.

There is likely even a chair, where the Asset James can be maintained, can be rid of the unauthorized voice and visions. He will be wiped before once again being given the mission to protect Harry the Handler. The mission will be more successful without his malfunctions.

"It's Batman's house." Harry the Handler declares, though the cover reads The Home of Tony Stark. The Base of Iron Man.

The Asset James realizes his handler cannot read. Should he correct him, or is the magazine printed lies? It could be a trap, a test of his loyalty and trust toward his handler.

"That says Iron Man." The Asset James awaits punishment, but none comes.

Harry nods, accepting the correction. "He has to know Batman! They're both superheroes. Do you know them, too, 'cos you're a hero?"

"No," the Asset James replies, simply. Something about the name Stark strikes him as familiar. A former target? A former handler?

He suddenly remembers, when killing the occupants of the car, the woman had shouted the name Howard, while he killed the man. The Asset had killed the man, set it up to appear he had died at the wheel. How had he forgotten? He is supposed to provide accurate mission reports.

That mission is irrelevant to the name Stark, he thinks. He was not told the target's names, does not know why the name Howard would be connected to Stark.

Flipping through the magazine, the Asset James sees photos of the interior of the house, a couple red-and-gold suits of armor that almost rival the prosthesis in their design.

"He can prob'ly fix your star arm." the handler suggests. "He has a flying robot suit. Dudley said. But he didn't buy drills from Uncle Vewr-non so I got a beating."

The Asset James clenches the damaged prosthesis, wanting to strangle Vernon Dursley again. No, he wants his death to be slower, more painful as he is slowly eviscerated.

VERNON DURSLEY IS ALREADY ELIMINATED.

He knows this, knows he should not want things, even if the want is to successfully eliminate a target.

Still, the Asset James fumes. Nobody should treat his handler in that manner, and punishing the boy for something he didn't even do-

Sounds familiar, doesn't it, pal?

He ignores the voice, which speaks nonsense. The Asset deserves every punishment it is given.

He snaps his attention back to the task, noticing the computer has finally booted up. After a few searches, the Asset James surmises that Tony Stark is perhaps the most qualified person alive to fix the prosthesis, judging from all the technological innovations the man has invented.

The new voice won't shut up about those suits, either. They look highly efficient, obviously weaponized. The Asset James nods in approval.

He searches for the Batcave as well, but that information appears to be classified. Everything claims it is fictional, and there are drawings as well as photos of a man dressed in a dark, bat-eared hood and cape.

The Asset James turns to his handler. "The mission is to have Tony Stark- Codename: Iron Man- repair the prosthesis and provide intel on the location of the Batcave."

Severus does not simply walk in a random direction from Hogsmeade in search of the boy. That is what a foolish Gryffindor would do.

Severus's headache pounds in his head. This should have been over when they finally brought Harry to Hogwarts, but now he's chasing after them again. How many times are they going to play this game of cat-and-mouse?

He summons the invisibility cloak, which he should have brought in case they'd been ambushed when entering the Whomping Willow or in the Shrieking Shack. Severus blames his lack of sleep and the mountains of new information for the oversight.

Even exhausted, he plans. His thoughts feel slower, which is not ideal. He wonders if The Trace could be used to track the boy, but Potter is not the only underage wizard in Hogsmeade, and there is no guarantee he will use magic in the near future.

He uses the same owl trick to track them down to a cottage in the surrounding highlands.

Severus observes the boy and the soldier flipping through a magazine containing muggle, non-moving photographs of an elaborate mansion.

Severus knows better than to engage the Asset again. The man is clearly more the Winter Soldier than James Buchanan Barnes, despite his past. He could, of course, immobilize the man again, except he had escaped even that. Severus wonders if Potter had used accidental magic to free the man.

Severus remains under the invisibility cloak, and casts Expecto Patronum. The silvery doe runs silently toward the cottage, leaping through the closed window and landing in front of them.

He watches the soldier tense, reaching for a knife, but the boy stares at the doe in awe. The boy slowly reaches out to touch the glowing animal.

Severus could speak through the Patronus, but them hearing his voice would definitely not end well. Instead, the doe turns away and slowly heads for the door, gesturing for them to follow it.

Potter stands up, gripping the magazine as he follows the symbol of his mother. The Soldier trails behind him, silent, like a deadly shadow.

As they exit the cottage, Potter shows the doe the magazine. "We wan' ta go here. Iron Man's house. Can you help? The snake didn't."

Severus briefly puzzles over the snake comment. Surely the boy can't speak Parseltongue, can he?

Severus makes his Patronus lead the pair over to where he stands hidden under the cloak. Glancing at the magazine in the doe's silver light, he sees from the captions that it is indeed Tony Stark's house depicted in the photos.

With the combined protection of the Winter Soldier and Iron Man, surely the boy will be safe and no longer Severus's concern. He's not entirely sure Dumbledore has the boy's best interest at heart, either. He'd taken a vow to protect the boy, but if Dumbledore placed him with Petunia Dursley in the first place, there's no telling where Harry will end up next.

Severus grabs onto the boy and man and apparates before the Winter Soldier can throttle his invisible attacker.

After more of that horrible, twisting tornado feeling, Harry squeezes his eyes shut. He manages to not throw up this time, but only barely. His stomach churns and he tastes vomit in his mouth.

He doesn't want to be in the castle again. That doe wouldn't hurt him like those nasty bad guys, would it? It had seemed so gentle and warm and Harry trusted it immediately, like a long-forgotten memory.

Opening his eyes, he sees Iron Man's house, which looks even bigger in real life than on the magazine. Perched on the edge of a cliff, it looks like it could eat the Dursleys' house for breakfast. Harry thinks the difference between this house and the Dursleys' is like the difference between Dudley and himself. One is incredibly large and looks like it has everything; the other is small and plain.

He bites his lip worriedly. Why would Iron Man let a worthless boy like him in his house?

To his immense relief, his Batman James is still with him this time. He isn't being dragged away by that other man. Harry clings to his robe, just in case, whispering in awe. "We're here."

His Batman James climbs through an open window with Harry in his arms.

Suddenly a voice appears out of nowhere. "Freeze, intruders. Identify yourselves."

Harry freezes, glancing around and seeing no one. He feels his Batman tense next to him.

"Alfred?" Harry asks slowly. The voice sounds like Batman's butler, and speaks the same way Harry does (both Batman and his Batman Jame's voices sound different from anyone where Harry lived with the Dursleys).

He's always imagined cleaning and cooking with Alfred would be a lot better than doing chores for his aunt. He doesn't think Alfred would yell at him as much, even though he's worthless, and he'd even get to see Batman.

"I am Jarvis, not Alfred." the voice doesn't sound angry, but Harry's Batman James still looks like he's about to fight. "Please state your business for trespassing onto Mr. Stark's property."

Harry glances at James, who remains silent. Harry isn't sure why they're talking about business now, but he blurts out without thinking "My uncle tried 'ta do bus-ness with him. He works at Ger-unnings. But Mr. Stark didn't get any drills so I got a-" he shuts his mouth hastily.

"You are drill salesmen?" the voice- Jarvis, not Alfred- asks. He has that same tone that Harry heard Alfred use on the telly, he's not serious but he's not laughing either.

"I'm not interested!" another voice calls out, and Tony Stark walks into the room. Harry recognizes him from the magazines his Aunt read. She loved to gossip about his latest "scandalous fling" whatever that meant.

"You see, I've got all the top-of-the-line tools, and I really don't need any crappy drills from Grunnings-" Mr. Stark's eyes widen at Harry. "Hey, since when did Boy Scouts start selling drills? Where's your uniform, kid? Don't you need a uniform with badges and stuff? Why are you in my house instead of on my doorstep? Jarvis, did you let them in?"

The man says this all very fast, barely pausing for breath.

"I did not let them in sir. They entered through the window."

Mr. Stark looks at James. "Okay, wow, you look like you're two seconds away from murdering me. Who are you?"

"The Batman will not harm you if you cooperate." James speaks flat, like a robot again.

"Did you just call yourself Batman?" Mr. Stark looks like he's shocked and trying not to laugh at the same time. "Because you're wearing the mask the wrong way. You know, he covers his eyes and leaves his mouth bare, but you've got your mouth covered like some kind of western bandit."

"He's not the real Batman." Harry scoffs before he can stop himself.

"Yeah, no kidding, kiddo." Mr. Stark mutters.

"A huge bad guy broke his arm." Harry explains. "Can you fix it?"

"Sorry, no can do. I'm not a doctor." Mr. Stark says, and Harry feels his Batman go even more rigid. "I've got the best doctors in the world on call, I could get one of them to help, but-"

Harry frowns, hoping he doesn't mean the witch doctor. "Robot doctors?"

"Robots?" Mr. Stark grins, suddenly interested.

"You haf' ta fix his robot arm. Please. The bad guys broke it. He's a hero like you."

Harry looks towards where the arm is hidden in the sleeve. James stares back at him, then quickly sheds the robe and pulls up the shirt sleeve. His eyes shift over to Mr. Stark and he says "Fix the prosthesis and provide the coordinates to the Batcave."

Mr. Stark whistles, practically bouncing with excitement at the sight of the metal arm. "Well, would you look at that beauty? Guys, you came to the right place. I can't wait to get my hands on that arm."

"Sir, I'm not sure this is a wise decision-" Alfred, no, Jarvis starts to stay, but Mr. Stark cuts him off.

"Can it, Jarvis. How often will a chance like this just come by?" Mr. Stark grins and beckons them with a hand. "Follow me, I'll get started on that arm, so long as you don't kill me first."

Chapter Text

Stark's lab is underground, but is otherwise unlike the labs the Asset James is accustomed to. It is well-lit, with windows looking out from the cliff covering one wall. Sleek, chrome cars line the sides of the shop, and some part of him wonders if any of them can fly. Their owner has made flying, weaponized armor.

The Asset James has to ignore the inner voice's elated rambling about how incredible the lab is, how it's better than Howard's. That does not make sense. Howard was, evidently, the man he'd assassinated in a car crash, not the owner of a lab. His brain is starting to mix up memories as well as forget mission details.

Something about Stark seems... familiar, but the Asset James cannot place it.

He does not see a maintenance chair in the room, nor a cryogenic chamber. He will not be fully repaired until they find the Batcave.

Stark claps his hands. Loud, thumping music with screaming voices- similar to the monstrosity on the car radio- pounds throughout the room. Harry the Handler covers his ears, stating matter-of-factly that it is "hoodlum music"

"Geez, who ruined your taste in music? This is the best." Stark says, as the music drops to a volume that does not threaten the listener's auditory senses. "J, why'd you lower it? We have to fix this poor kid's musical taste. He's impressionable, right, we can turn this around."

"I am not sure blowing out their eardrums is the best method to foster an appreciation of Black Sabbath, Sir." the invisible British voice replies in a dry tone. The Asset James is dissatisfied about his inability to locate the speaker. He should be more observant.

He spots several cameras and speakers hidden throughout the room. Jarvis must be observing them from another location. This does not reassure the Asset James at all.

"Fine, whatever." Stark spreads his arms in a grand gesture at the lab. "This is where the magic happens."

"...You're a freak?" Harry the Handler blurts out, clinging tighter to the Asset James. "But Aunt Tuna and Uncle Vewnon and Dudley like you... an' m-magic's not real."

"It's not magic, it's science!" Stark declares with a grin, glancing back at them. "Come on, I'm expecting to see more excitement! I don't let just anyone into my lab."

Harry the Handler looks around. After 4.9 seconds, he says "It's not the Batcave."

"Of course not." Stark sounds vaguely offended, more so than when he was called a freak. "It's cooler. Batman wishes he had my lab."

Harry the Handler looks as if he highly doubts that statement, but remains silent.

Three large robots, each with one clawed appendage, roll around the room. One approaches them, beeping in what appears to be excitement. Robots cannot feel things, cannot malfunction as the Asset James is.

The Asset James is ready to attack if the robot is hostile. His knives and the giant's umbrella with the weaponized stick had disappeared as they were teleported here. Can he take the robot down with his prosthesis in its current state?

He glances around. There are all sorts of tools and items of furniture that can be turned into weapons at a moment's notice.

"Back, Dum-E." Stark orders, and the robot beeps and slowly retreats, its claw lowered. The man waves his hand toward a rolling chair, which has little resemblance to the Chair. "All right, take a seat, Terminator. Let me have a look at that arm of yours."

The Asset James sits, frowning under his makeshift mask. His back is exposed. He scoots the chair until he is against the wall, where he can observe all parts of the room.

Harry the Handler climbs into his lap, snuggling against his chest. The boy leans against the prosthesis, stiffens, and shifts over to the flesh arm without a word.

"Where did you even get that arm?" Stark never seems to stop talking. "Certainly not Hammer Tech. Justin can't engineer his way out of a paper bag."

The Asset James remains silent. It is classified information he is never to reveal. But he is not HYDRA's asset anymore, he is Harry's.

Stark raises an eyebrow. "If you hadn't threatened me earlier, I'd wonder if you could even talk."

The man is quite pointedly waiting for a response. The Asset James glances at his handler.

"He can talk," Harry says to Stark, as if he's dumb. "Just not lots."

"Well, buddy, you're gonna have to talk to me. I can't figure out what's wrong if you don't tell me."

"Functionality of the prosthesis decreased to 45%. Jamming occurs at inopportune moments."

"Sir," the invisible British voice speaks up suddenly. "Our guest is showing signs of distress. His heart rate and blood pressure are elevated."

Stark pauses. "Which one?"

"The self-proclaimed Batman, sir."

The Asset James is certain he's hidden any signs of discomfort, which he is not supposed to feel at all. He's remaining still and compliant for the technician, because his handler decided he needs maintenance.

Harry the Handler peers around the room, looking for the voice's source but not asking the question aloud.

"Jarvis is an AI." Stark explains. "Kind of like my digital butler, so if you're looking for a guy in a suit, you're going to be disappointed."

"Where is he?" Harry presses himself tighter against the Asset James, expecting protection for asking questions.

"All over the house, in my other properties too." Stark replies, picking up a screwdriver.

Harry shakes his head. "No, Alfred. Where's Gof-fam?"

Stark snorts. "You know Batman's not real, right?"

"You're real." Harry the Handler replies with finality.

Stark runs a hand over his hair, then instructs the Asset James to demonstrate the flexibility- or the current lack thereof- of the prosthesis. At last, they are getting to the maintenance.

Harry watches the prosthesis clunk and grind. After 1.4 minutes, he slips off of the Asset Jame's lap and approaches one of the robots, which is wiping a table with a stained cloth.

"Hey, kid, don't touch anything." Stark jabs a finger at the handler. "This lab isn't childproof, and if you die down here, Pepper will have my head."

IF THE HANDLER DIES, THE ASSET WILL GET TO YOU FIRST.

Not that he would ever let his handler die. Yet, at the rate he is malfunctioning, he might reach a point where he is unable to protect his handler. He needs maintenance to ensure his handler's safety.

"Kid, what are you doing?" Stark asks as the boy grabs a rag and starts wiping down the table alongside the robot. He has to stand on his toes to reach the top.

"Earnin' my keep. Mr. Stark, sir." the boy answers hastily. "I can clean."

"I've got bots for that. Just get back on your dad's lap where you can't break anything." Tony gestures to the Asset James. Harry the Handler smiles, rushing back to clamber on his lap again.

The warm feeling blossoms in the Asset James's chest, even when the boy mumbles that he isn't his dad.

Stark mutters, seemingly to himself, about how he didn't expect a "creepy cyborg terminator" or "Oliver Twist" to show up at his house.

Harry the Handler looks just as confused as the Asset James. "Tornadoes are twisty. I don't like being in them."

Stark raises a brow. "What, are you Dorthy, now, Oliver?"

Harry turns to whisper into to the Asset James's ear. "He doesn't know I'm Harry."

"Should I know you?" Stark studies the boy. All the enemies had known who Harry was, but Stark seems completely unaware. "I'm sure you know me, of course."

Harry the Handler nods.

"Start the repairs." the Asset James orders. Stark should be more efficient. For all his excitement about the prosthesis, Stark hasn't started working on it in the 3.7 minutes they've been in the lab. He is wasting critical time. "Do you need to be threatened again?"

Stark curls in a smirk at the question, then purses them. "You're looking way too jumpy right now. I'm not big on causing people pain, or traumatizing them."

"The Batman's pain is irrelevant. A functional prosthesis is essential for mission success."

Stark stares for 2.9 seconds before speaking. "Okay, you proved me wrong- you can get creepier. What even is this mission, I mean-"

The Asset James glowers at the man. "Fix it."

Stark throws his hands up. "All right, Jarvis, let's start with some scans."

Several floating blue images and models materialize in midair. Harry the Handler gapes, and Stark grins. "See, Oliver? Better than Batman."

"You made da doe!" Harry's green eyes widen in realization.

"Doe?" Stark frowns, perplexed before turning to spin a transparent, blue model of the prosthesis. His gaze becomes razor sharp, rivaling even the Soldier in intensity and focus as he studies the projection.

"Jesus, what is this monstrosity?" Stark's excitement over the prosthesis has morphed to horror. "It's burning you up."

"The prosthesis is heating his arm to 102.4" the computer Jarvis says. Is that Celsius or Fahrenheit?

The man launches into a tirade about the prosthesis, which confuses the Asset James. The former handlers and technicians had never explained what was wrong with it. They made sure he'd need to return to them for maintenance.

"We're gonna have to open this up, get the heat down so it's not burning you." Stark shakes his head.

The Asset James says nothing, tense as Stark picks up tools to open the plate by the shoulder.

His mind feels disconnected during most of the procedure. He stays still, half-hearing Stark's horrified comment about the prosthesis being screwed to the bone, only distantly feeling Harry's too-light weight in his lap as the boy clings to his flesh arm.

He thinks he might hear a low, gentle piano melody surround him, or his mind might be malfunctioning again.

He snaps back to attention, seeing Stark's concerned expression in front of him. "Hey, how's it feel?"

The Asset tests the joints, which still stall and grind ominously. "You did not repair the functionality."

"That's gonna take more than one session." Stark runs a hand through his dark hair again. The Asset James frowns. Repairs are always one agonizing eternity, never broken into short sessions. "Does it feel cooler, like it's, you know, not burning you?"

"What are the coordinates of the Batcave?" Perhaps there, the other Batman will properly fix the Asset James. This lab does not even have proper wiping or storage equipment and the technician is not following an adequate schedule.

Stark rolls his eyes. "Okay, I get the kid not distinguishing between fantasy and reality, but you? Well, it wouldn't surprise me if you had some screws loose, but let me spell this out for you. Batman. Is. Not. Real. If you go looking for the Batcave, you'll never find it. Capiche? Comprende?"

Harry the Handler stares at Stark blankly, clearly not believing a word.

At 0338 local time, the house is dark but not silent. He can hear Stark's horrid music thumping below him, though the sound is surprisingly muted.

The Asset James cannot rest. He'd swept the mansion for security threats, despite Stark's assurances that it is one of the safest places in the world. Harry the Handler had taken a more literal approach to sweeping until Stark confiscated the broom, muttering "I'm not calling you Oliver Twist to have you act like him."

The Soldier silently observes the 70 square meter bedroom Harry was given. Stark had given the Asset James his own room, but he had remained by his handler. Harry is curled into the farthest corner of the bedroom closet. He'd been obviously overwhelmed by the size of the room, unable to settle in the large bed.

CHECK FOR THREATS keeps pounding in his head even as the same voice commands him to PROTECT THE HANDLER.

The Asset James waits. If he were in optimal condition, he would think of nothing but the mission. He had missions where he lay in position for days, his focus never wavering from waiting for the perfect shot, or waiting for the target to show up.

Now, his thoughts switch sporadically, from flashes of visions back to the mission, which has some unforeseen difficulties.

He half expects the enemies with the weaponized sticks to materialize at any moment. The doe that had brought them to Stark had used the same teleportation method that the enemies had used when capturing them. Had the doe been an enemy? Harry the Handler had clearly trusted it.

Part of him itches to go to the lab, demand Stark work on the prosthesis until it is fixed. Stark is supposed to be the most capable engineer in the world, but HYDRA's techs might have been finished by now.

Harry the Handler lets out a soft cry from the closet. The Asset James is crouched by his handler's side in an instant. Before he's even thought of it, he runs the flesh hand through the boy's messy black hair.

After 2.3 minutes, the boy mumbles something about green light, scooting back into the closet and shutting the door. He does not seem fully awake.

Then there's the fact that Stark had said that Batcave is not real, which would mean that the mission objective is pointless. They cannot get to a location that does not exist.

The Asset James should trust Stark. His handler obviously views him as an ally, but his handler had been disbelieving about the nonexistence of the Batcave.

"Are you all right?" the computer Jarvis speaks softly, whether to him or Harry the Handler, the Asset James is not sure. He still tenses, and the computer apologizes for startling him.

He does not answer, but continues to stand guard by the closet, his thoughts whirling faster than the teleportation that brought them here.

Harry slowly blinks awake, staring at the thin strip of light coming under the crack between the door and floor. He waits for his aunt to bang on the door, demanding he make breakfast, but the feet are much too large to be his aunt's.

Harry's breath gets caught in his throat. It must be Uncle Vernon. Harry must have slept late, hadn't made breakfast for his uncle and cousin. He waits for the lock to click and the door to swing open, for his uncle's huge hand to grab him by the collar and pull him out of the cupboard. He knows he's in for a thrashing this time.

"Harry," the voice is not his uncle's roar or his aunt's shrill shout. This voice is deep but quiet, robotic but gentle at the same time.

Harry pushes the door, realizing it's unlocked. "Mr. A'set James!" he sighs in relief. He remembers everything that's happened since the Dursleys. He's in Iron Man's house right now.

"Good morning, Master Harry." Jarvis speaks up. Harry frowns in confusion. Why's Jarvis calling him that, like how Alfred calls Batman Master Bruce on the telly? He's not a superhero. "I hope you slept well, though I do not understand why you relocated to the closet."

The room seemed too big, like anything could be lurking and grab him. He knows that's dumb, because his Batman was right here, but being in a small place felt safer. He always knew he was alone in his cupboard, except for the spiders.

Harry walks out of the bedroom, which is bigger than even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Tunia's room, across the massive living room and toward the kitchen to start breakfast. Mr. Asset James follows him silently, watching as Harry digs a pack of bacon out of the fridge and twists the knob to turn on the cooker.

The fire doesn't come on. Harry frowns in confusion, wondering why it's broken. Of all people, he would've thought Iron Man had a working kitchen.

"I'm afraid you're too small to use the stove, Master Harry." Jarvis says. That makes no sense, Harry has been using the stove since he was even smaller.

"I haf' ta make breakfast." Harry explains. Does Jarvis want him to get in trouble?

"If you're hungry, there's plenty of food available which does not require the use of dangerous appliances."

"But I gotta make it."

"Do you know how to make toast, Master Harry?" Jarvis asks. Harry almost laughs. Toast is so easy even a baby could do it! Wouldn't Mr. Stark want everything? Eggs and black pudding and bacon, all the stuff Uncle Vernon and Dudley ate? Dry toast is for bad boys like Harry.

He slides bread into the toaster that looks much more impressive than the one at the Dursleys. His gaze drifts to the freezer. "Do you really go in there, Mr. A'set James, sir?"

"The Batman is not stored in a freezer." Mr. Asset James replies as he twists the cooker knob. The fire turns on for him.

Harry pulls up a chair, standing next to his Batman, who seems determined to make sure he doesn't burn himself. Now that Uncle Vernon isn't here to press his hand to the flames, he doesn't.

By the time he hears stumbling footsteps coming up the basement stairs, they have made eggs, sausage, toast and are in the middle of pancakes. Harry made a mess with pancakes at the Dursleys, but it's easier with his Batman's help.

Mr. Stark emerges looking like a zombie.

"Good, you're not dead." the man groans, heading straight for the coffee pot. Harry winces. He hadn't even thought of coffee. Before he can fix it, Mr. Stark pushes a button and the machine starts making coffee.

Harry has just finished flipping a pancake when the coffee finishes. Mr. Stark fills an Iron Man mug and gulps it down. Harry pushes a plate of food at him, which he ignores until he's finished two cups of coffee.

Harry wonders if he should risk asking if he can have some toast, or if he should just wait for Mr. Stark to decide. Mr. Asset James had fed him even when he'd been bad, but Mr. Stark might be more strict.

"Kid, you've got to stop with this Oliver Twist act." Mr. Stark fixes him with a look while pushing a plate of eggs at him. "I don't want to add child labor to my laundry list of sins."

He has a laundry list? Was Harry supposed to do that, too? "I'll do laundry. I promise."

Mr. Stark eyes him. "That's just an expression. You don't have to do laundry."

"But Uncle Vernon says I have to-"

"Your uncle sounds like a complete bast- uh, bad man."

"Vernon Dursley has been eliminated."

Mr. Stark whirls around at the sound of Mr. Asset James's voice. "Where the hel...heck did you come from?! Warn a guy next time, geez! I've got a heart condition here." he taps his glowing chest.

Harry's Batman says nothing, seeming to blend into the kitchen. He'd be the best at hiding from Dudley and his friends, not that he'd have to hide. He could just stop them, since he's an adult.

"You just keep getting more and more disturbing." Mr. Stark shakes his head. "Eliminated, god. What are you, some kind of mercenary? You know, I never caught your name, Terminator."

"He's James." Harry smiles. "Like my daddy, but better, 'cos he doesn't eat people."

"You know, I wouldn't've ben surprised if you did eat people." Mr. Stark turns back to Harry. "Jarvis said you spent the night in the closet. My rooms are worth more than five stars, why are you hiding in a closet? That's just wrong."

Harry looks down at the table, not sure how to answer. Mr. Stark doesn't let the silence last long. "All right, official rule. Everyone who sleeps here has to sleep in a bed."

"While I agree with your sentiment, sir," Jarvis says. "That's a bit rich coming from a man who passes out in his lab eighty-five percent of the time."

"When does maintenance start?" Mr. Asset James asks.

Before Mr. Stark can reply, Jarvis speaks up. "Sir, Miss Potts is due to arrive in two minutes."

Harry stands up, feeling torn. He knows he's supposed to do the washing up, but he also knows the rule for when guests come. Hide in his cupboard without making a sound.

He rushes back to the closet, noticing his Batman following swiftly behind him.

"Tony, are you even listening to me?" Pepper demands.

"Not really," Tony answers bluntly. Pepper sends him one of her death glares, and he holds his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, you said something about a board meeting."

"Yes, at one. You'll be there, won't you?" Pepper demands.

"Can't make any promises." Tony says. He's got far more interesting things to think about. Like the weird cyborg and child hiding in a closet.

Which... would sound really weird if he said it aloud. Which is why he doesn't tell Pepper, even though he probably should. She's good at handling, well, anything really. But Tony really doesn't feel like the lecture he'd get from her, so for now, his two houseguests are his little secret.

Tony's always loved puzzles and things that kept him interested and engaged. His two new guests definitely qualify.

Granted, the prosthetic arm is a lot more horrifying than he'd originally realized, but his mind is already racing with ideas on how to improve it, or rebuild it from scratch.

The man attached to the arm is almost equally horrifying. Everything about James screams danger, and one of the reasons Tony hadn't slept at all last night (apart from being busy) was because he would've expected to wake up and find the guy looming over his bed or something.

Speaking of beds, hearing the boy spent the night in a closet was a real downer. Harry shows some obvious signs of abuse, and Tony has to wonder what he's been through. He surreptitiously looks up Vernon Dursley on his phone while Pepper talks. Initially, he appears to be a regular company man in a boring suburban place called Little Whinging. Or, appeared, since there is an obituary saying that the Dursley family- Vernon, Petunia and Dudley, died in a fire caused by the stove being left on.

Somehow, Tony doubts that's the real cause.

Pepper is too busy running his company to stick around, leaving Tony in peace.

"All right, Jarvis, call our guests down."

Less than a minute later, Jarvis announces their arrival. Tony is quite glad, since he never would have noticed the man's arrival. That guy is silent, seeming to appear out of nowhere much like Natalie... Natasha had.

"Miss Potts is your handler." James says slowly. Figures the guy would be hiding in a bedroom yet still somehow be aware of what is going on around him.

"Well, she keeps my life in order. But I'm technically her boss. Are you SHIELD?" Tony asks, wondering if they'd sent other spies to observe him. If this is SHIELD, though, they've gone way overboard. Sending Natasha as an assistant was at least sort of normal- sending a cyborg and a child is decidedly less so.

Something sardonic flashes in James's grey-blue eyes for an instant before they're lifeless again.

Stark frowns at him. "Why are you still wearing that mask? There's no smog here, trust me. Jarvis provides great air filtration. Come on, take it off, relish in the ocean breeze." He glances at the window, which Jarvis helpfully opens. The sound of the surf and the smell of salty sea air drift into the lab.

The man hesitates, glancing at Harry as if asking for permission. Tony voices his disbelief. "Are you taking orders from a two-year-old?"

Harry frowns at him. "I'm four." He even holds up four bone-thin fingers, which is more heartbreaking than endearing. Tony doesn't know much about kids, and Jarvis could provide accurate data, but he's pretty sure most four-year-olds are far bigger than Harry.

Slowly, James reaches up with his flesh arm and removes the cloth covering his mouth.

Tony's glad he isn't holding anything fragile, because he would have dropped it in shock. Tony's rarely at a loss for words, but he's completely speechless at the the indisputable face of Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Text

Stark has been staring at the Asset James for 7.8 seconds. The new voice asks Is there something on my face, pal?

There can't be. The Asset James has just removed the makeshift mask. He watches Stark close his eyes and open them again, looking just as perplexed. "You're Bucky Barnes."

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he asks, even as the unbidden visions flash through his mind. The blond-haired person as a skinny kid, a skinny man, a muscular man, the four girls, a soldier, all calling out for Bucky.

They're visions he's seen since he started defecting, but another one emerges.

He's strapped to a table, in pain, something familiar that makes sense. He's muttering, which is not allowed. "Three-Two-Five-Five-Seven..."

The blond man leans over him, rips the restraints off. "Bucky."

"Steve."

"I thought you were dead." Steve says as he helps him up. He has a flesh arm, not a prosthesis.

"I thought you were smaller."

Harry the Handler wriggles on his lap. "He's James. Like the red engine."

JAMES IS A DESIGNATED CODENAME.

"James Buchanan Barnes." Stark says. The enemy asset had called him the same false name. The Asset James glances through the room, looking for a sign of the enemy asset. Surely the man is tampering with his mind.

Stark grimaces, rubbing his temple. "There's no way. He died in 1945."

Falling from the train, the man in the stars-and-stripes suit- Steve? Steve shouts "Bucky, no!"

"Stop!" the Asset James breathes heavily, fists clenched, before realizing he snapped at a technician.

"Sorry," Harry the Handler whispers in a choked voice. The Asset James lowers his arms, stills his body, waiting for correction. The handler should not be the one apologizing.

Stark scrutinizes him. Being scrutinized by technicians is familiar, routine, finally something that makes sense. Except Stark does not correct him either. "Jarvis, tell me I'm not hallucinating from sleep deprivation."

"You are not, sir. His facial features are a match for Sergeant Barnes." the computer Jarvis says. Several floating transparent images materialize, showing a man with the Asset James's face. His hair is shorter, his face clean-shaven, there's a spark in his eye that makes him looks like a person.

The Soldier is not a person. It is a weapon.

Some of the photos feature the blond man from the visions as well. Steve, the new voice chants in his head.

This has to be an elaborate scheme to destabilize the Soldier.

Harry the Handler peers at the photos. "Is that Bruce Wayne?"

"What? No!" Stark throws his hands up. "Haven't you been listening? Geez, kid, you've been looking at his face for... how long? Don't you see? It's the exact same!"

The Asset James cannot deny that his face is identical to the ones in the photos. The boy looks back and forth from the photos to his face, intently staring.

"Jarvis, how is this possible?" Stark asks. "Human cloning's nowhere near successful. He can't be his son or grandson or anything, can he?"

Harry stops looking at the photos to stare intently at the Asset James. The boy doesn't speak, but the Asset James suspects he is once again wishing that his asset was his father.

"No, sir. His resemblance to Sergeant Barnes is too similar."

The Asset James breathes sharply, his whole body tense as Stark rules out the option of a twin.

Stark was supposed to fix him, rid him of the defects so he is once again operational. Instead, he is almost encouraging the malfunctions, the forbidden visions. Is he in league with the enemy asset?

No. Harry the Handler views Stark as an ally. He is a designated technician for the Asset, unlike the enemies.

"Fix it." the Asset James is not sure if he means the prosthesis or his brain. He already knows Stark does not have a Chair, he needs to be relocated for a wipe, but he needs one so badly.

How does Potts maintain Stark without a Chair or Cryogenic tube? From what he'd heard, Stark talks back to his handler, is mouthy in a way HYDRA would have punished severely. Clearly Potts, like Harry, is a much more lenient handler.

"Bucky-" Stark starts, then switches tactics when the prosthesis clenches, grinding loudly. "No, James... you're already calling yourself James. That's gotta mean something."

James was a name designated by the handler. Does Harry believe he is James Buchanan Barnes as well?

"Sir, his arm is burning again. I would hazard to guess it is linked to his emotional state."

Stark lets out several expletives before glancing at Harry. "Pretend you didn't hear that, kid. All right, James. Can you take some deep breaths for me? I'm gonna need you to calm down before I start on your arm."

He struggles to comply. His breathing is fast, harsh, erratic like his thoughts. The thoughts jump from Bucky to MAINTENANCE REQUIRED.

His internal chronometer is malfunctioning as well, he does not know how long it is before his breathing returns to baseline.

Stark slowly opens up a plate to the prosthesis, muttering under his breath.

His mind flashes back to other maintenance sessions. Searing agony, the smell of burnt flesh, feeling as if he's being ripped apart and pieced back together again. Zola leaning over him as he stares at the prosthesis, proclaiming "Sergeant Barnes."

There's a loud crash, and then silence. The Asset slowly focuses on the lab, realizing he'd thrown a wrench at one of the cars, completely destroying both the wrench and car door.

He waits for the sound of guns loading, but does not hear any. Just a robot beeping almost frantically.

Harry the Handler is on the floor, having fallen from his lap when the stood up. Why had the boy not stuck with his abilities this time? He is not crying as a child should, instead sitting silently in shock.

THE ASSET HAS HARMED THE HANDLER. UNACCEPTABLE.

He lowers his arm, breathing heavily. He's erratic, dangerous. He should not have moved or thrown anything. A wipe is required immediately.

The new voice is telling him to crouch down, comfort the child as he'd done during his nightmare. What if he harms Harry the Handler again?

The Asset James strides quickly from the lab, up the stairs. He finds himself standing in front of the freezer, staring blankly at its contents. The freezer is nowhere near the temperature required for cryogenic stasis, despite the handler's questions. Even if it was, he would have to rip out all the shelves in order to fit his body inside. He has already wrecked enough.

RETURN TO THE HANDLER. PROTECT.

How could he have left Harry? The enemies could appear at any moment to take the boy away, the Asset James has to remain by his side to protect him.

On the other hand, he is unstable enough that he poses a threat to his handler. It is unacceptable.

He heads towards the gym, and puts himself through a rigorous training regimen. The least he can do is keep the body in optimal condition as his mind deteriorates and the prosthesis remains damaged. It serves as punishment as well. He trains until his every nerve screams with agony, until every muscle is on fire.

He finally collapses to the mat, his world reduced to pain, as it should be.

It is not enough, he deserves more.

He realizes he's broken several weights and two punching bags. They were clearly not built to account for his enhancements.

Even more to punish him for.

His eyes fall on his handler, who is near the boxing ring 3.3 meters away. The Asset James is surprised that Stark let the boy anywhere near him, then corrects the thought. Handlers outrank technicians.

Harry regards the broken equipment fearfully, clearly expecting Stark to deliver a punishment when he discovers the damages. Harry will not be punished. The Asset James will take it for him.

He kneels, head bowed submissively. Most handlers tower over him, making their superiority visually obvious, but Harry is about the same height on his feet as the Asset James is on his knees.

"Awaiting punishment." He notes that the boy has not received permanent injuries from his actions, though that only makes the situation marginally better.

Harry the Handler eyes him cautiously, approaching him slowly as one would a dangerous animal. The Asset James tries to relax his shoulders more, to appear even less threatening.

"Are you hurt?" he asks the handler. Harry shrugs, not seeming particularly bothered about being dropped on the floor. Being tossed around was likely a regular occurrence at the Dursley residence.

The Asset Jame's chest feels as if it is on fire, not just from the physical exertion.

Stark enters the training room, undoubtedly noticing the ruined equipment, though he doesn't comment.

Harry the Handler stammers out an apology about the broken equipment, as if it is his fault. Stark waves a hand dismissively. "Kid, for someone who looks like he's about to keel over, you've got one heck of a left hook."

Those words send visions of the skinny blonde guy- Steve, the punk- flashing through his mind.

"You hurt my Batman," the boy's tone is unapologetic.

"I know," Stark looks almost guilty. "I thought it was a bad idea, but I couldn't just let the arm burn him."

"Fix it."

"After that reaction?!" Stark's voice is full of incredulity. "Where you just wrecked a car like some kind of knockoff brand super-soldier?"

The Asset James turns to his handler. "A damaged Batman cannot protect you."

"That's the mission, protecting him?" Stark asks. "From who? No offense, kid, but you don't look like some big-shot target. Are you the kid of someone influential? Trust me, I got kidnapped loads of times because of Howard."

Howard the target? Did he have a lab? The Asset James does not ask questions, not that Stark would let him get a word in. "I don't think Jarvis has found a single record of your existence, kiddo. Not even in your relatives' obituary."

The Asset James wasn't told why HYDRA wanted Harry, but he suspects they wanted him for his abilities. What the enemy asset, old man Dumbledore, and severe woman Minerva had wanted with him is another question entirely. They had abilities of their own, seemingly more in control than Harry's.

"My A'set James pr'tects me from bad guys." Harry answers. Is Stark cleared to receive mission intel?

"Where are your parents?" Stark asks.

"Dey died in a car crash." Harry states matter-of-factly.

Something flashes through Stark's eyes. "Same, kiddo. Same."

The mind flashes to the roadside assassination, but the Asset James forces the image away as Stark turns to him.

"Okay, so you're protecting him. Great. But why does that mean you're taking orders from him? Unless he's like, royalty, and even then it'd be ridiculous. He doesn't look old enough to tie his shoes and from what I've gathered, his orders are to find a fictional location from comic books."

FIND THE BATCAVE.

Harry is the Handler. Still, some part of the Asset James knows a target should not be able to give a codeword, as the boy had. Harry should have remained a target. Then he would have been delivered to HYDRA, tied down, cut open, unmade.

The prosthesis spasms as the mission blares KEEP HARRY FROM HYDRA.

"Maintenance is required on the prosthesis."

"That can wait. You're safe here." Stark says. He is wrong. It cannot wait. They are being hunted, Harry is in danger. "I'm not doing it when it clearly pushes you over the breaking point."

"The Batman James would not have acted erratically if it was properly maintained."

"Maintained?" Stark asks, eyes narrowing.

"The visions need to be wiped from the mind for the Batman James to function properly."

Harry the Handler's jaw drops. "You said that's what the bad guys'd do! Dumb-Bell-Door."

The handler does not seem to understand the difference between enemies wiping him and handlers doing so. The latter is necessary.

"Wait, wait, wait." Stark makes several slashing motions through the air with his hands as he speaks. "Hold on a sec! You mean to tell me you've had memories erased? What the-"

The man is his technician, he must answer. He waits exactly 1.0 second, as instructed, before replying. "Visions are to be removed. They make the Batman volatile and noncompliant."

That report may be unnecessary. He'd just demonstrated that fact quite plainly.

Stark massages his temples for 6.6 seconds, muttering expletives under his breath, along with how is this my life?

"You mean to tell me," Stark says slowly, "That you expect your mind to be erased."

According to all sources, Stark is a genius, yet he fails to grasp this simple concept. The Asset James gives another quick nod. Repeating this is inefficient.

"The bad guys were going ta." Harry the Handler briefs Stark. "But we ex-scaped."

"All right, you've got a ridiculously fu-... funny idea of maintenance. I'm not going to give you amnesia or whatever. Seriously, how do you even do that?!"

"The current base does not possess the proper equipment." the Asset James replies. "Relocation to a base with a Chair is required. Possibly the Batcave."

FIND THE BATCAVE.

"No." Harry suddenly declares. "Batman won't do that!"

If the other Batman will not wipe him properly, who will? Does anybody have a Chair besides HYDRA?

AVOID HYDRA.

Harry the Handler is still talking. "Batman won't! Only bad guy witches do that!"

Stark arches a brow. "Witches? Is the final mission destination Never Land? Narnia?"

"Sir, I don't believe this is the time." Jarvis sounds strangely disapproving for a computerized voice. The Asset James wonders if Jarvis requires maintenance as well. That is not important to the mission.

"Handlers routinely wipe the Asset to prevent defects." How can the handler not understand, after what has just happened? There are enemies after both of them, from multiple organizations. Some of them the Asset James struggles against even when fully operational. Being as unstable as he is now is almost asking for mission failure, risking his handler's safety.

"What exactly are these visions of?" Stark asks. "Because I'd bet a hundred grand you've seen some shi- some real bad stuff." His eyes flick from the prosthesis to the Asset Jame's face, then Harry's. "Both of you. I mean, you just admitted it, but still."

Pal, you don't know the half of it.

The Asset James clenches his flesh fist, willing the voice to be silent. It is one of the defects causing all the problems in the first place.

"Green light an' bad guy laughs?" Harry the Handler asks knowingly. The Asset James does not recall a vision of green light. His handler's question requires an accurate report. Which vision should he even begin the report at? There are too many, he's not even sure if he remembers them all now.

He lists the subjects, in a flat voice.

"Blond boy, later man. Skinny, then enhanced. Steve. Protection detail. War." Part of him does not want to see them go, but that part is drowned out by the logic that they impede the mission and his handler's safety.

"Four unidentified girls." Not the girls in he'd trained, the one who had called him Bucky. "Bein' called Bucky."

Stark's eyes get progressively wider with each vision reported, especially when a trace of a Brooklyn accent, like the new voice, slips out at the last one. "Oh my god. It's really you. You survived falling from a train."

The Asset James is 78% certain he has not mentioned the train vision yet, but with the way his mind is damaged, it wouldn't surprise him if he forgot already.

"We jumped off a train." Harry agrees.

"Kiddo, you weren't alive in 1945." Stark says, then makes a grand gesture to the Asset James "You're looking at a long-lost, and now found, war hero. Sergeant Barnes."

Zola is leering down at him, calling him that. He raises the prosthesis- no, his left arm is flesh.

The Asset James frowns. How can he have both those visions? He's always had the prosthesis.

Harry is beaming at him, appearing even more awed than he'd been before. "I knew you're a hero, Mr. A'set James! Like Batman!"

JAMES IS A DESIGNATED CODENAME.

"Did you mean James Buchanan Barnes?"

Harry shrugs, clearly under the false impression it isn't up to him. "You said you were James. In that dusty old house. So you're James."

He could still be called Batman, James, whatever Harry wants after the wipe. But Harry clearly associates wipes with the enemies with the weaponized sticks, is obviously determined to avoid wiping him at all costs. Going back to HYDRA for a wipe is out of the question. They will hurt the handler.

"You do not wish to wipe the Batman." the Asset James clarifies, and Harry hastily affirms the statement. No wipes. The thought is so foreign that he can barely fathom such a thought exists. His handler called him James, but that was just a codename the boy seemed to like. "The Batman will be hindered by their presence."

"It's not what he wants." Stark cuts in forcefully. "It's what you want. It's your head, they're your memories."

As if that ever mattered.

What Stark said is, if possible, even less comprehensible.

Even if he had been Sergeant James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes at one point, he is not anymore. Not after HYDRA turned him into their Asset, the Winter Soldier.

Yet he is not just the Asset anymore. Being Harry's asset means being the Batman, James, any other title Harry decides.

Those aren't just designations, he realizes. They're new behaviors, programs, standards. Harry the Handler has not used him as a standard asset. The Asset James, codename Batman, has not been sent to assassinate any targets under the boy's command. He fights enemies as per standard, but his mission is to protect.

It's too much. The voice, the visions. They clutter the mind, distract from the mission. But it is not his place to question his handler's decision, as dangerous as it may seem.

C'mon, pal. I'm an asset on this mission. The voice is not the Asset, despite what it says. Is it James Buchanan Barnes? I've got years of experience lookin' after little punks.

Chapter Text

Tony downs his third glass of scotch, staring at the mangled door of his Audi, which Dum-E had not-so-helpfully sprayed with a fire extinguisher.

Taking in a cyborg and child who showed up out of nowhere probably wasn't the best idea to begin with, but he hadn't expected things to spiral this far this quickly. Even his earlier mental image of James- Bucky- murdering him in his bed somehow seems less extreme than what has actually gone down.

Tony's a literal genius and even he's struggling to make sense of recent events. He's not even sure he wants to.

Okay, he knew from the start that both his new houseguests have issues, have obviously seen some horrors. Not only does he have an abused British toddler in his house (does the kid even have documentation to be here legally? No matter, Jarvis can forge that), but also a cyborg super-soldier. The man's rigid posture, his elevated vitals as Tony inspected the arm had reminded Tony uncomfortably of himself.

And it turns out the cyborg is none other than Bucky Goddamn Barnes. Howard would've wet himself if he found out Bucky was still alive. Somehow Bucky survived a fall from a train, been turned into a super-soldier who would probably rival Cap if he were alive.

Tony shakes his head. The man isn't Bucky, not really. For starters, he's got that monstrosity of an arm. He undoubtedly has boatloads of trauma. Expecting him to be the Bucky from the history books is laughable.

Tony had changed after three months in a cave in Afghanistan. Who knows what metaphorical caves James has endured in almost seventy years?

Memory wipes. Christ. James had suggested removing "visions" as one would suggest removing a jacket when it got too hot, as if it was the only logical conclusion.

Tony's certain the guy wasn't talking about getting blackout drunk, either. He'd said Tony didn't have the equipment, and god knows he's got enough booze to cause significant memory loss.

Not only that, the way the guy knelt down submissively, his talking in the third person, calling himself "it". The whole pain is irrelevant thing.

Tony downs another gulp to try and combat his pounding headache. He can't deal with this right now. He is so far over his head with these two. Tony's never been great with solving people problems. Tech problems are easy, but feelings, emotions? Not his forte at all.

Hell, even Pepper would be unequipped to deal with the pair, and she's the most competent person Tony knows. She deals with Tony on a regular basis, stuck by him after Afghanistan and that whole fiasco with Vanko and Palladium poisoning.

Pepper would probably say they need therapy. She's suggested Tony try therapy, but he's brushed that aside every time. Could he even get a therapist for James? His existence seems classified, and he doesn't trust Fury enough to turn to SHIELD. He'd probably take James away for testing or something.

Trying to distract himself, Tony has Jarvis pull up clothing websites and goes through clothing options for their guests. It seems like they'll be staying with him for the foreseeable future, and they need more than what they have now.

"Perhaps we should let our guests pick their own clothes." Jarvis pauses and admits. "That might be challenging, seeing as both of them appear to have no concept of personal agency."

"Sure. Let 'em know price doesn't matter." Tony's good at throwing money at problems, which does not always solve them.

His throat burns pleasantly as he drinks more scotch, before Jarvis interrupts. "Sir, Master Harry is currently in possession of a knife."

Wonderful. As if today hasn't been enough already. He really has to childproof his house, he thinks as he heads upstairs, not drunk enough to stumble yet.

He finds Harry brandishing a large kitchen knife like a sword in the middle of the living room.

"I thought you were watching TV," Tony had set Harry in front of it. Wasn't TV supposed to entertain kids for hours and keep them from doing dangerous things like playing with knives?

"I'm not 'lowed to watch telly. Only Dudley."

Of course, Tony sighs. That still doesn't explain why he's holding a large knife.

Tony rounds on James who, despite standing in front of Harry in the middle of the room, still somehow manages to blend in like a wallflower.

"Okay, I thought I was the worst possible parent material, but even I wouldn't let a toddler get ahold of a knife! I thought you had that whole protect mission!" He glares pointedly at James. Not that James acts anything like a parent, he defers to a toddler, which is messed up in its own right. But if he's so set on protecting the boy, why does he let him handle lethal weapons?

"The handler needs a reliable method of self-defense, for when the Batman James defects." James speaks as tonelessly as always.

From the way James is standing, it almost looks like he's inviting Harry to go at him with said knife. What the hell.

James adds "His shields are inconsistent."

Not even thinking about the shield comment, Tony sticks out a hand toward Harry and orders "Give me the knife. Now."

"I know how'ta use it." Harry sounds way too nonchalant as he passes it over, but at least he does hand it over. Thank goodness for small favors. "Aun' Tuna had me cut stuff."

"Well then it's a wonder you aren't missing some fingers. Or a whole hand." Tony mutters, glancing at James's prosthetic limb. It's probably rude to stare, but Tony's never let that stop him and James doesn't react anyway.

Tony averts his eyes and goes to put the knife back in the drawer. He pauses, glancing back at his new residents. He needs a safe, and another drink. Even an armored safe probably wouldn't stop James for long.

"Who's after you anyway?" Tony asks. It's always a good idea to know who might be knocking on his door, and the way James and Harry just showed up the other day, well, unexpected visitors aren't out of the question.

"Bad guys." Harry says.

"Thanks, kid, that gives me tons of useful information." Okay, it's not his proudest moment sassing a toddler, but today's been kind of rough.

"HYDRA." James speaks up suddenly.

Tony frowns at him. "You having a flashback there, James? HYDRA was defeated in 1945 by your good buddy Cap."

Tony knows all to well what that's like. Sometimes after his own flashbacks, he thinks the Ten Rings are still a threat, even though he made sure to destroy them all.

James just stares at him. He seems like the paranoid sort, and it's obvious his head is all scrambled. Maybe he's just remembering HYDRA and is on the run from an imaginary enemy.

And yet, HYDRA is exactly the kind of evil organization that would drill a prosthetic arm into a guy's bone and completely erase his memories.

Tony scrubs a hand over his face. What are the odds that more than one World War II relic isn't really gone?

No, there's no way HYDRA's still around, right? Someone would've noticed. Fury, in all his paranoia would've sniffed it out. Not to mention Aunt Peggy, or even Howard back in the day.

"All right, listen here." he points at Harry, then realizes he's still holding the knife and thus aiming its tip at the boy. The murderous glare on James's face makes Tony's blood freeze, and he swears his heart skips a few beats. He places the knife down and raises his empty hands.

"Look, I'm Iron Man. I've got suits galore, Jarvis runs one of the most secure security systems in the world." He pauses, remembering how James had climbed in through a window. Okay, aside from that.

Tony shifts his gaze to James. "Point is, keeping the kid safe is no problem. There's no need for him to run around with a knife."

James studies him with icy eyes. "Are your suits resistant to weaponized sticks?"

"What, like quarterstaffs? Batons? I'm insulted you have to ask."

James opens his mouth, but Tony interrupts before he says a single word. He is so done with this right now, and jabs a finger at Harry. "No knives, kid, I mean it. You've got the coolest superhero in the world looking out for you, plus one cyborg soldier."

James looks completely unapologetic. "Your base does not have adequate firearms."

"Yeah, well, I stopped weapons manufacturing years ago. Soon as I saw where they went. And even if I did have guns, I sure wouldn't let a toddler anywhere near one!"

Harry glances at James, waiting for his take on the matter. "My Batman's teachin' me like Wobin."

"No!" Tony shouts. Since when was he the responsible adult in the room? The world's done a complete one-eighty today and he'd really like it to go back to normal. "If I catch you holding a knife again- and trust me, Jarvis is always watching- I'll..." What will he do?

"Lock me in my cupboard?" asks Harry as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

"God, no!"

"Week wit'out food?"

Tony almost wants to slam his head into the wall. Just when he thinks today can't get any worse, these two go and prove him wrong in the most disturbing ways imaginable.

And he'd thought talking the boy out of trying to clean up the destruction in the gym was bad. Harry had been persistent even though it was impossible for a boy his size- especially one as malnourished as he is- to move the broken equipment.

"I'm not going to abuse you, that's illegal. And wrong and- ugh." Tony pulls the knife drawer out of the cabinet and stalks toward the window, which Jarvis helpfully opens. He dumps the contents over the cliff watches them splash into the waves.

"There, no knives. Jarvis, increase security on my workshop. There's too many sharp, pointy things down there." Tony sighs. Dumping knives into the ocean probably wasn't his brightest idea.

Glancing at James, he mutters "You could probably kill someone with a paper clip."

James simply nods, which is sort of terrifying.

Tony rubs his forehead. What had he even been planning on coming up for, before this whole knife incident?

"You need clothes." Tony announces, handing them each a StarkPad, Harry's showing boys' clothes and James's showing menswear.

"I just wear Dudley's old tings." Harry says, not even glancing at the options and holding the tablet as if it might explode.

Tony bites back a comment about the fire, instead saying "In this house, everyone gets their own clothes. So pick stuff out, don't worry about the price."

"Are we goin' to Tesco?" Harry asks.

Tony tries to explain buying things online. Harry looks completely lost, while James stares unblinkingly at the boy. "James, you pick your own stuff."

"It is up to the handler to decide what the Batman James wears."

He should've known even this would be impossible.

"Nope, everyone picks their own."

Harry looks overwhelmed, and Jarvis instead has Harry's tablet show one shirt at a time. One is covered in Thomas the Tank Engine train characters, and the other is made to look like Robin's outfit from Batman, complete with a yellow cape. "Do you like these, Master Harry?"

Harry's eyes are filled with longing before he looks away, fiddling with the hem of his own shirt.

Tony sends an appreciative glance at his AI. Jarvis, as always, is better at people skills than his creator.

When Jarvis brings up a matching Batman shirt in a men's size on James's tablet, James nods without even glancing at Harry. Tony's not even sure if that's what James prefers, or if he simply knows that's what Harry likes and is once again deferring to his "handler's" preferences.

When asked his preferences, James says whatever is required for the mission, and somehow ends up looking at tactical military gear. He seems to at least know how to look at different options and navigate sites.

Well, so much for James making his own decisions. Even Harry isn't actually voicing his opinions, though it's pretty obvious when he likes something but is trying to hide it.

Tony knows recovery takes time. He's still not over Afghanistan, he may never be, so who's to say when James or Harry will recover, if ever? Even if they do, it's clearly bound to be a long, painful process.

Sure enough, when Jarvis announces Pepper is due to arrive, Harry hightails it to his room again, and James follows behind him.

Being on the receiving end of Pepper's wrath for missing the board meeting might honestly be a relief compared to the rest of today.

Harry wakes with a gasp. Uncle Vernon was storming toward him and Aunt Tunia was shouting at him. To his relief, he'd seen Mr. James appear. Surely he'd stop Uncle Vernon.

But then the bad guys came. Dumb-Bell-Door, and the greasy haired guy, the nurse and all the bad guys with guns. And they made Mr. James go all rigid and blank, and started to pull him away while Harry screamed. The giant appeared and beat his Batman up.

He bites his fist to keep from crying, curled in the dark closet, and then he hears a sound outside his door. Not the sound of Uncle Vernon thundering down the stairs, or Aunt Tunia leading Dudley downstairs.

He hears someone breathing very fast outside the cupboard. No, the closet. He's in a closet. Part of Harry wants to curl in the corner, but then he realizes it's Mr. Asset James. Slowly, he pushes the door open, still amazed to find it unlocked. He could even sneak to the fridge now.

In the light from the huge window, he sees Mr. James laying on the floor, right outside the closet door. He'd slept on the floor in the ski place, too.

Mr. James looks hurt, his face sad. He grunts in pain and mutters "Nyet."

Harry remembers when Mr. Asset James had been dreaming on the train. Nighty had nosed him, and he'd pinned the dog down. Nighty ended up being a bad dog, but Harry's a bad boy.

He doesn't want to be pinned down, he should probably stay away.

But whenever he woke up from the green light, he'd wished someone would hold him, hug him and whisper that it was okay. Like Aunt Tunia did to Dudley. Harry used to hope she'd do it to him, too, but she never had.

He wishes someone would hold him now, too.

Harry doesn't know what Mr. James is saying, it sounds made-up like when the bad guys with guns showed up.

Harry slowly scoots over and wraps his arms around his Batman's neck. Mr. James's metal arm feels hot again, so Harry avoids it.

Mr. Asset James jerks, gasps then goes silent. He's good at being quiet, like how Harry bit his fist so he wouldn't cry and wake Uncle Vernon.

"It's okay." Harry whispers. He feels a hand reach up smooth his hair- Mr. Asset James's skin hand.

"Harry." his Batman breathes. Harry likes hearing his name, and he snuggles closer into the man's chest. This must be what it's like having a dad.

Harry reaches to run his fingers through Mr. James's long hair. The man goes completely still.

"Uncle Vewnon was mad." Harry whispers after a bit. "An' you were there but da bad guys stopped you."

Harry feels Mr. James's jaw clench tightly. "They could. They are hunting us."

Harry had seen them freeze him for real, but they'd gotten away. They could get away again, right? "No. You're Batman. You're so strong an' brave."

Aunt Tunia always said Dudley was strong and brave, when taking him down for hot chocolate after bad dreams. Dudley usually sobbed loudly, but Harry was pretty sure a lot of his cries were fake.

"The Batman is still defective."

"Did you have vis-ons?" Harry asks.

"Affirmative. Fight in an alley. Shooting targets. Maintenance sessions." Harry feels Mr. James tremble the tiniest bit, then go still.

It reminds him of when the bad guys made his Batman all rigid. Harry misses Mr. James combing his hand through his hair. Aunt Tunia always said Harry's hair was terrible, but Mr. James never said that.

"Get up," he whispers, hating how still the man is. It's like when the doctor witch was there.

Mr. James immediately stands up, gripping Harry to his chest.

Harry still doesn't understand why Mr. James said he needed that maintenance thing, when that's what the bad guys were going to do.

"If he tries'ta take your brain, I'm gonna kick him in the butt." Harry mumbles. He's not a superhero, but he kicked the nurse and punched Mr. Stark. He didn't get punished either time.

"That will most likely be ineffective." Mr. James says, and Harry rests his head against his shoulder. "Weapons would yield better results."

"I can assure you, you are perfectly safe here." Jarvis says. "I have not observed any intruders."

Hearing Jarvis's voice reminds Harry that they'd broken one of Mr. Stark's rules. He glances at the bed nervously. It's too big. The whole room is too big and bright to sleep in. The walls are too far apart.

"Mr. Stark's gonna be mad." Harry mumbles. He'd already made the man mad about the knife, but somehow avoided a beating for that. Maybe this will be too much.

"I believe Mr. Stark made the bed rule hastily, without taking your circumstances into account." Jarvis tells them. "He will not punish you for not sleeping in the bed."

"Really?" Harry wonders if he's still asleep, because not being punished for breaking rules has to be a dream.

"Really, Master Harry. Might I suggest some hot chocolate?" Jarvis says.

Harry's never made hot chocolate before, not even for Dudley. Jarvis helps him with the process, and Mr. James puts the mugs into the microwave. Jarvis had insisted they make two, for some reason.

When they're done, Harry waits for Mr. James to take a mug, but he doesn't, just looks at Harry.

"It's for you." Harry whispers. Mr. James had a bad dream after all.

"And you, Master Harry." Jarvis says as Mr. James grabs a mug.

Harry frowns. "Not Mr. Stark?"

"You helped make it. You should reap the benefits of your work."

Harry never thought he'd be ordered to drink hot chocolate. Slowly, he takes a sip from the other mug.

It's warm and sweet, even better than Harry imagined when he'd smelled it from his cupboard. He'd thought it smelled like the most wonderful thing in the world as his stomach rumbled in the dark.

"It's so yummy." Harry breathes, hardly believing he's tasting it.

Mr. James sips his with an expressionless face, but repeats Harry's word. "Yummy."

Harry giggles. It's funny seeing Mr. James, who's always so serious like Batman, say yummy.

It's the best night Harry can remember, ever. Sitting in the kitchen, sipping hot cocoa with his Mr. Asset James. It feels like they're a family, like Aunt Tunia and Dudley.

Chapter Text

Any other handler would have punished the Asset James for the nightmares before wiping him to ensure they did not happen again.

Harry the Handler, on the other hand, has nightmares of his own, and expects the same treatment that the Asset James does, though perhaps not the Chair.

Neither of them are punished, and Harry the Handler already made it clear the Chair will not be used. Instead, the computerized voice Jarvis instructs them to make hot chocolate, which the handler clearly enjoys and proclaims yummy. The beverage is overly sweet but warms the Asset James in a way he would've killed for after emerging from the cryogenic chamber.

Too bad he didn't make coffee, the Bucky voice grumbles half-heartedly in his mind.

At 0435, their hot chocolate is finished and Harry is attempting to clean the mugs, standing on a chair to reach the sink. The computerized voice Jarvis assures him it is not necessary, that if he places the mugs in the dishwasher they will be cleaned for them.

Both the Asset James and his handler are too restless to resume sleep. James silently patrols the house, while the handler follows. By 0447, the Asset James is patrolling with the boy in his arms.

He discovers several boxes by the front door which require his attention.

CHECK FOR THREATS

They could be explosive, or contain listening equipment planted by their enemies. None of them are big enough to be a Cryogenic Chamber.

"I scan all of Mr. Stark's packages in case of threats." The computerized voice Jarvis seems to be reading the Asset James's thoughts. It had mentioned his vitals before- can it read minds? "These boxes contain your new clothing."

The computerized voice is an ally of the technician, so he should take its word. The Asset James slowly opens a box, shielding the handler with his own body.

Jarvis had not lied. The Asset James unfolds a child's red shirt with an insignia of a yellow R on the left pectoral area. A yellow cape hangs off the back of the shirt.

"It's Robin!" Harry gasps, jabbing a finger at the insignia.

"I believe you wanted it, Master Harry."

Harry looks away and mumbles "I don't need new clothes, Mr. Jarvis, sir."

"I assure you, it was my pleasure." Jarvis tells him.

The computerized voice is an ally, a superior, but the Asset James still inspects every garment for listening devices. He finds none, but slips on the Batman shirt, the prosthesis stalling partway through the sleeve until he forces it through. His new shirt comes with its own sweeping black cape, which seems impractical in combat situations.

At least it ain't like wearing an American flag, says the Bucky voice. The Asset James agrees that the black Batman suit is much more fitting. He is accustomed to wearing all black.

Harry glances at his Robin shirt, but does not put it on.

Not all the boxes contain clothes. Several contain children's items, such as toys, picture books and art supplies.

"It's more'n Dudley's birthday." Harry the Handler looks shocked that such a number of items could exist. "It's a whole Tesco."

"Not quite an entire Tesco, Master Harry." The computerized voice Jarvis sounds amused.

There is a set of wooden Thomas trains and tracks, similar to the one Harry had admired at the Tesco where they'd been captured by the old man Dumbledore and enemy asset. Just as he had at the store, Harry makes no move to open the box. Instead, he carefully arranges the toys in their boxes. "You're makin' a Tesco." he says, under the impression that Stark will turn his base into a Tesco store.

Stark stumbles up at 0721, grumbling about mornings. Harry whirls around with terror on his face and in his eyes. He rushes toward the stove, stammering about breakfast, but Stark herds him back over to the clothes and toys.

Once he's brewed a mug of coffee, Stark remarks "I figured there's four years of birthdays to make up for." he waves a hand at the toys. "So happy birthday, kiddo. When is your birthday, do you know?"

Harry shrugs. "You're not making Tesco?"

"Those are for you." Stark replies. "Why would I buy them just to resell them? I'm already a billionaire. Hey, kid, how come you're not wearing your Robin shirt?"

Harry looks as if putting on the Robin shirt would be blasphemous, insulting Robin's image. "It's for me?"

"Does it look like it'll fit either of us?" Stark makes an impatient gesture. "Come on, put it on. Your 'Batman James' is already Batman. You'll look like those parent-child costume photos people go nuts over on Halloween."

Slowly, Harry puts the Robin shirt on. He gazes down at the shirt covering his body for 13 seconds, then slowly smiles at the Asset James. "You're Batman!"

"Look at you, Robin. It really suits you." Tony grins, then holds up a child-sized Iron Man suit that appears to lack any of the armor or weapons, rendering it useless. "Course, if you dressed up as me, you'd be even cooler. You know, two billionaire superheroes with tons of tech."

Harry gives the Iron Man suit a suitably dispassionate glance. "Batman's better."

"Ouch, kid. You know how to kick a guy in the heart."

"Is Robin Batman's handler?" the Asset James asks. Harry had mentioned that Batman taught Robin.

Stark snorts. "Batman is Robin's adoptive dad. Plus his mentor, he certainly doesn't take orders from Robin." the man gives him a pointed look. He clearly thinks Harry being a handler is ridiculous. "But if anyone gives Robin a hard time, Batman beats the crap outta them. Uh- crud."

Wonder how many alley fights Robin gets into, the Bucky voice drawls, even as the information slides into place in the Asset James's brain.

Harry has been calling him Batman since before he was a handler. Even as a handler, the boy expressed the wish that the Asset James was his father, as Batman is, reportedly, Robin's.

Now the boy has designated himself as Robin, Batman's son.

HARRY THE HANDLER IS RELINQUISHING CONTROL.

"You wish for your Batman to be your father." The Asset James watches his handler carefully. Harry's response is the same as in the dilapidated house. His eyes are full of hope and longing, yet heavily guarded with the clear expectation of rejection.

"You are Robin. I am your Batman." the Asset James tells his boy. "I will be your father."

Harry stands unmoving for 34 seconds, seemingly unable to comprehend the words.

I think we broke him.

UNACCEPTABLE.

"You'll... you'll be my dad?" he asks in a hushed whisper. "'Cos you're a James an' you give me food an' hold me after bad dreams?"

The Asset James nods. Harry surges forward, wrapping his thin arms around the Asset James's legs, burying his face against them. The Asset James bends down, picks him up.

The boy smiles at him, and the Asset James curls his mouth into a smile in return.

Stark's voice is slightly choked, though he's clearly trying to pass it off as normal. "You missed your chance to say 'No. I am your father!' Course, you're getting kinda the opposite reaction from Luke screaming Nooooo!"

Jarvis tells Stark it isn't the time.

"I will still protect you, Harry." the Asset James assures him.

"I'm with you 'til the end of the line." the Bucky voice sounds sad but determined. Steve flashes through the Asset James's mind.

The same fierce protectiveness surges in his chest from when Harry was his handler and it was his mission. Keeping Harry safe is still a mission, he realizes, even though it was not commanded by a current handler. It had been what made him defect from the original mission in the first place, the reason he'd never delivered the boy to his previous handlers.

Stark mutters under his breath "So you can say 'I'". If the boy is not his handler, he does not have to address himself solely by his title rather than pronouns.

If Harry isn't his handler, who is? Harry had not passed the position to another, simply given the Asset James the role of "father" instead.

Not having a handler seems impossible, but he hadn't had one since shortly after finding Harry. He'd been avoiding taking Harry to HYDRA, answering to nobody but the voices in his head.

Can he do that again?

Well, soldier, I was a sergeant, remarks the Bucky voice.

Should he answer to the voice?

Stark is a technician, not a handler. Harry had not passed command to the computerized voice Jarvis. Perhaps Stark's handler, Miss Potts, will take control.

"What do you want for breakfast, Mr. A'set..." Harry trails off, biting his lip. "Mr... Bat-dad?"

"Good question, but you're not making breakfast." Stark says. Harry opens his mouth, but Stark shakes his head. "Look, kid, your only chore here is being four years old. Start playing with all those toys you just got. Scream, run around, do whatever normal four-year-olds do. I wouldn't know, I was building circuit boards at that age."

"I'm not normal." Harry protests.

"You are not a freak." the Asset James tells him, opening the Thomas train set. The wooden tracks and trains could be used as weapons as a last resort. Laying the tracks out on the floor seems particularly pointless, but he does it anyway.

Harry points to a red tender locomotive with a gray face and the number five painted on the side. "That's James." He makes no move to pick up the toy engine.

The Asset James pretends to struggle with fitting two tracks together. "Will you help?" he asks. Harry stares at him.

The prosthesis spasms, splintering the piece it is holding.

Harry takes the broken pieces and stashes them in the closet where he sleeps.

"Found anything yet, J?" Tony asks over the AC/DC music in his lab.

"Unfortunately not, sir." Jarvis replies. "I have fond no information regarding Sergeant Barnes past his supposed death in 1945."

Tony sighs. Even being able to break into secure servers such as SHIELD's hasn't yielded results, and Jarvis has sifted through terabytes of data. Granted, they've still only hit the top of the iceberg. Maybe if they keep digging...

He hasn't found any records for Harry. No birth certificate, doctor checkups or preschool enrollment forms to be found in association with the Dursleys. It makes sense in a twisted way- any doctor or preschool should have noticed the obvious flags of his neglect and abuse. No wonder the Dursleys kept Harry away from both.

It still doesn't explain the lack of a birth certificate. He finds Petunia had a sister named Lily, but has found nothing about Harry's father. Vernon Dursley has a sister named Marjorie, who breeds bulldogs.

Even when Tony's not actively interacting with his two new houseguests, they are inordinately challenging.

"What are our caped guests up to now?" Tony asks his AI. He's reasonably certain Harry hasn't gotten hold of another weapon, because Jarvis would have alerted him. They'd reportedly spent most of the morning in the gym, which reminds Tony that he needs to invent equipment that can withstand James's super strength.

"Master Harry is attempting to empty the dishwasher, despite my assurances he does not have to." Jarvis reports.

Tony shakes his head. What four-year-old would do chores instead of play with the mountains of toys Tony bought? Well, that answer seems pretty obvious, one who was forced to work and was probably never allowed to play with toys in the first place.

Suddenly, Jarvis says "Sir, I believe you should see this."

"Don't tell me I forgot a knife." Tony groans.

Jarvis pulls up a video feed of the pair. Both of them have not changed out of their Batman and Robin suits since they arrived that morning.

He watches Harry knock a mug off the countertop, and it tumbles downward. Only it falls much slower than it should, defying the laws of physics.

"My sensors detected an odd disturbance during the incident." Jarvis reports.

Tony replays the video several times, to make sure he hadn't been seeing things in a insomnia-induced haze.

The video has not been slowed down- James and Harry are still moving at a normal speed. Well, James is moving faster than a normal human as he lunges over the counter to catch the mug.

An astonished grin spreads over Tony's face. "Looks like one of them can use the Force."

Tony rushes upstairs, excited, only to see Harry on the verge of a panic attack. He is clutching the cape of his Robin shirt like a security blanket and stammering an apology, as if preventing the mug from breaking was a bad thing.

With seemingly practiced movements, James rubs the boy's back. At first, Harry flinches from the touch before seeming to melt into it. Tony is fairly certain Bucky had done the same to Steve Rogers back before the serum, when Steve had asthma attacks.

Some mental switch seems to have flipped in James- he no longer treats Harry as a handler, had even called himself the boy's dad.

Now, James manages to look intimidating even when comforting a child. Yet his face softens a bit as he murmurs words in Russian.

"Sorry." the boy sniffles.

"Seriously, no need to apologize." Tony jumps uninvited into the conversation. He's great at that and, well, this is his house. "Even if the mug broke, who cares? I sure don't. I can afford them."

Harry stares at him warily.

"You didn't say you had the Force. What else can you do? Can you do mind tricks? Is that why he was obeying you?" Tony jerks his head toward James.

The boy mutters that it wasn't him, in the least convincing lie Tony's ever heard.

The only reply he gets is a terrifying glare from James and a clipped statement "You will not experiment on him. You are not his technician."

Tony stays silent. As much as he wants to know everything, it is obvious the boy is traumatized by his own abilities or, more likely, other people's reactions to them.

Like with James's prosthetic arm, he doesn't want to cause undue stress and pain.

"Your abilities are an asset." James tells Harry. His voice is soft, gentle even.

"Like you?"

"Even I cannot do that." James tells him.

"I didn't know you had superpowers, kid." Tony says easily, as if he sees them every day.

"They're not..." Harry trails off and asks in an awed voice "...Superpowers?"

"Sure looked like superpowers to me. Can you make force fields, too?" Tony grins, suddenly remembering a comment James made about shields. "Hey, can you fly? I can fly, but I had to invent my powers. Like Batman, we're both billionaires with loads of tech."

Harry ducks his head before glancing over at James. "We fly'ed. An' I fly in my sleep, on moto-cycles... I knowed you know Batman!"

Tony spends the next half hour trying to convince a preschooler that Batman is fictional, pulling up images from the comics. It almost feels like trying to ruin a kid's belief in Santa, except if Tony's not careful, the boy's going to go out looking for the Batcave. He's not sure if James would stop him or join him and apparently they've got people hunting after them.

As soon as Harry sees screenshots of Michael Keaton, Christian Bale and other actors dressed as the Dark Knight, he immediately uses those as evidence of Batman being real.

"He's not jus' a drawing." the boy proclaims stubbornly, jabbing a finger at them.

"They're just playing a part, like how Steve Rogers just played Captain America at first." Tony tries to explain. Maybe it's not the best example, since Captain America became a real war hero instead of just a stage character used to raise bond money.

Tony almost expects James to comment on that, seeing as how he seems to have sort of accepted formerly being James Buchanan Barnes, but the man remains silent.

Harry apparently doesn't even know who Captain America is, and Tony almost envies him before realizing Harry's childhood was worse than never living up to Cap in Howard's mind.

He gives up, instead refocusing on Harry's abilities. "You know what would be really cool? If you made Thomas move without touching him." He gestures to the blue train sitting innocently on the tracks. Jarvis hadn't even gotten motorized trains, just simple wooden ones the child has to push. How boring is that?

Harry glances at the trains, which stay still.

"You don't have to keep them a secret." Tony says. "I'm terrible at the whole secret identity thing, I ended up telling the whole world I was Iron Man."

Harry is not swayed, and Tony tries to coax him a few times throughout the day.

Jarvis announces that Pepper is arriving that evening. Tony tries to stop Harry from fleeing to the closet, but Harry ignores him.

"Why is there a Thomas train set on your floor?" Pepper asks, studying Tony and clearly wondering how drunk he's been. She's probably expecting him to turn them into tiny robotic trains with laser eyes or something. Which, Tony thinks, would make them way cooler.

Tony sighs. Looks like the gig is up, but he's so far out of his league here that he could really use the help.

"They're for the kid."

"Kid?" Pepper demands. "Did you get someone pregnant?"

"No." Tony feels like that would have been a much easier scenario to deal with and explain, even with how the paparazzi would've gone wild for the scoop. "Hey, Robin, c'mon out here!"

He waits, not sure if either of them will emerge from Harry's room. Eventually, James silently enters the living room, wearing the Batman hood over his eyes, his long hair tucked out of sight.

Pepper heaves a long-suffering sigh. "Why do you have a man dressed as Batman?"

"You are Stark's handler." James states without preamble.

"It certainly feels like it." Pepper says, far too used to Tony's own greetings to be perturbed by some fact being flung at her without context.

"Are you the Batman's new handler?" James queries in a flat tone. "Harry did not designate a new handler when he relinquished his position. Stark is the technician."

"Who's Harry?" Pepper asks. Tony sees Harry lurking in the doorway, before he rushes forward to cling to Jame's cape, peeking around the fabric at Pepper.

"Hello," Pepper smiles warmly at the tiny child. "I never expected to meet Robin."

Harry stares back mutely, seeming at war with himself. Pepper turns to James and introduces herself, asking his name.

"Batman James, ma'am." James replies.

Harry speaks up finally, in a voice still laden with disbelief. "He's my new dad."

"Tony is?" Pepper asks, glancing his way. She mouths he looks starved at Tony, as if Tony didn't know. He may forget to eat, himself, but he wouldn't let a kid go hungry. Or, rather, Jarvis wouldn't.

Harry shakes his head. "No, Mr. James. He's my Batman. An' he said he'd be my dad."

Pepper glances between them. "I'm sure he's thrilled to have you as his son."

James certainly hasn't acted thrilled, though he had smiled at the boy earlier. His smile had looked stiff, unpracticed, a far cry from the natural, easy grin Bucky had in old photos. Not that Tony blames him.

"Stark is not following an adequate schedule for a technician. He is delaying maintenance." James reports, and Tony's jaw drops. Did the cyborg just tattle on him? "The prosthesis must be operational."

Pepper, who can usually handle anything thrown her way, looks bewildered. Tony sighs.

"All right, I've got a lot to fill you in on." Tony tells her, then glances at his guests. "Harry, go play with your toys or something. But no chores."

Harry glances between Tony and James, then scurries off to his room.

Tony gestures wearily to the couch and tells Pepper. "We'd better sit. This might take a while."

Chapter Text

Mr. Stark had told Harry to play with toys, something he can't remember ever being told to do at the Dursleys'. He goes to the closet, where he'd stashed the pieces of the Thomas railroad track Mr. James had snapped like a twig.

The bigger piece can be Batman, the littler one is Robin. Harry waves them in the air, pretending they're beating up bad guy witches and bad guys with guns. He does the noises in his head, knowing better than to make them aloud.

Mr. James- who agreed to be his dad, Harry can still hardly believe it- follows Harry into the closet, which is far bigger than his cupboard was. Harry thinks the closets here might be bigger than Dudley's second bedroom, or even Dudley's first bedroom.

"You need to learn self-defense." Mr. James tells him. The last time Mr. James said that, Mr. Stark yelled at Harry for having a knife. Instead, Mr. James takes one of the broken track pieces. "Pretend this is a knife."

Harry nods, and Mr. James teaches him how to do something he calls "disarming", which involves lots of ducking and then trying to twist the tracks out of Mr. James's hands.

"If this were a knife, you would not want to grab the blade." Mr. James doesn't punish him for doing it wrong. He doesn't even sound mad.

Harry honestly forgets he's Harry for a while. He feels just like Robin, doing superhero things with Batman in the Batcave. He can't hear anything outside the closet, like he could from his cupboard, so it almost feels like they're the only people in the world.

"Good." his Batman dad says, when he ducks under a slow punch. Mr. James is going really easy on him, even Dudley punched faster, and Harry had seen Mr. James punch super fast and hard when fighting bad guys.

Is it because his arm's hurt? Harry tries to frown, but he can't help a smiling at hearing he's doing something right. His new dad istelling him he's doing something right. It's all he ever dreamed of.

Harry slips out of the way of the wooden track.

"What if it's Dumb-Bell-Door? With his wep-nized stick?"

"It is possible your abilities make you immune to the effects of the weaponized sticks." Mr. James answers slowly. "They did not immobilize you as they did to me."

Harry isn't sure what he means until he says "They cannot or will not make you go still."

Harry remembers Mr. James saying that his... asset superpowers were what helped him get up when they escaped the witch doctor. If he has to use his asset powers to help his dad move again, he will.

"What if I do a shield?" Harry waits for a punishment that doesn't come. He had seen the bad guys make them, but he'd also made one when jumping onto the train.

His Batman dad nods. "That would be useful."

There's a soft but firm knock on the closet door, so unlike Aunt Tunia hammering on the cupboard to wake Harry up. "May I speak with you?" It's Miss Potts.

Harry's not sure why she's asking, and when he glances at Mr. James, he's pretty sure the man would only say yes.

"Yes ma'am." Harry answers quietly. He'd heard Mr. James call her that.

"May I open the door?" is her next question. She's a grown-up, she can do whatever she wants.

"Do you need some-ting cleaned, Miss Potts, ma'am?" Harry asks. Cleaning or cooking were the only reasons Aunt Tunia ever got him from his cupboard. Miss Potts's neck isn't as long as Aunt Tunia's, and she actually smiles at Harry.

Harry hears Mr. Stark sigh loudly, as if he'd said something wrong.

Miss Potts tells him that she doesn't need anything cleaned, so Harry has no idea why she's even opening the closet door. She doesn't ask why they're in a closet, like Mr. Stark did. Instead, she asks "Is this the Batcave?"

Harry nods, sniggering. She'd seemed to really believe he was Robin, not knowing he was Harry like all the bad guys did. "We're dis-awming." he tells her, raising one of his arms. "To fight bad guys. I don't have a knife."

"That's good. Knives aren't toys." Miss Potts tells him seriously, then asks Mr. Stark "You haven't made him a suit or anything, have you?"

"No, believe it or not, I haven't been giving a preschooler weapons. Even I'm not that reckless."

Miss Potts turns back to Harry. "I see Tony and Jarvis went overboard buying you toys. Not that you don't deserve it. Do you want to show me some of the stuff you got?"

She's smiling at him again. Harry holds up the broken tracks, but Miss Potts looks sad for some reason.

She eventually coaxes him out of the closet and to the gigantic living room. She asks about the Thomas trains and Harry slowly pushes James the Red Engine up his dad's robot arm. James the Red Engine's wheels click-clack over the grooves in Mr. James's arm once the sleeve of his Batman shirt is pushed up.

Mr. James speaks in a quiet voice as Harry runs the train back down his arm, "Have you ordered Stark to improve his maintenance schedule?"

"Tony ignored my schedules for years." Miss Potts shakes her head. "But it's not up to me to decide when your arm is fixed, James. It's whenever you feel ready."

Harry can't tell if the next thing his dad says is a question or not "You are not the new handler."

"I'm not going to make medical decisions for you." Miss Potts tells him. "You're an adult. You're allowed to make your own decisions."

Mr. James just looks at Miss Potts for a bit. Harry thinks his dad's eyes almost look confused behind his mask. Then he turns to Mr. Stark and orders "Fix it. One session. Now."

Mr. Stark huffs loudly, running his hand through his hair. "I told you, I'm not going to torture you just to fix the arm. And I sure hope you're not still asking about the mind wipes."

"The prosthesis must remain operational." Mr. James states in his usual voice, then slowly adds "...I need it to protect my han- Harry. My boy."

"What if the giant comes?" Harry demands, glaring at Mr. Stark. He'd said he'd fix Mr. James's robot arm, but he hasn't, so Harry's new dad is still hurt.

"Giant?" Miss Potts asks. "Tony says you told him there are people looking for you. People who want to hurt you."

Harry nods and whispers "Like Uncle Vewnon."

"Your uncle cannot hurt you." Harry feels his Bat Dad's flesh hand rest on his shoulder. "I made sure of that."

Miss Potts looks at Mr. James for a long moment, then back at Harry. "Did your uncle hurt you?"

Harry nods. "He burned my hand on da cooker. My Batman helped." He'd bandaged Harry just like Aunt Tunia always helped Dudley when he got hurt, only without all the kissing. His hand is completely fine now, but his dad's arm is still broken.

Miss Potts looks sick. "He burned you?!"

"I d'served it."

"I can promise you, whatever you did, you did not deserve to be hurt." Miss Potts sounds so sure, maybe even more sure than when Uncle Vernon and Aunt Tunia said he was good for nothing. Harry doesn't answer. Once she realizes he isn't Robin, she'll know he did.

Miss Potts takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Why is she sorry?

"The Dursleys were not the correct placement for you, Harry." Harry's dad tells him in a firm voice. "I… could not deliver you to another incorrect placement. The only proper placement is under my protection."

Harry smiles. His Batman looked out for him since finding him in his cupboard, before he even looked like Robin. Harry clings to his dad's leg, wrapping himself under the dark cape, as his dad tells Mr. Stark "I cannot protect him fully with a damaged prosthesis."

"You aren't gonna give up on this, are you?" Mr. Stark sighs. "I'm trying to save you undue pain and trauma. And don't you dare say-"

"Pain is irrelevant." Mr. James says. Mr. Stark gives a long groan.

"Look, I'll use literally all my tech making sure nobody hurts either of you." Mr. Stark promises. Harry's eyes go wide. He wonders what the Dursleys would say if they heard Iron Man promise to protect him, and say Harry has superpowers instead of saying he's a freak. "My suits are even better than your arm."

"Use your tech to fix the prosthesis." Mr. James almost growls.

"Fine! But you better not wreck another one of my cars." Mr. Stark then turns to Miss Potts. "And you say I have self-destructive habits. At least I don't demand surgery."

To be fair, the first time Tony had worked on the prosthetic arm, James had been eerily still and blank-faced. It was only the second time when he'd snapped.

The only reason Tony agreed to work on the cybernetic arm now was because he'd bet James would start poking in it himself if Tony didn't, and probably cause even more pain and damage.

Pepper had left for a conference call with some foreign company, leaving Tony alone with his houseguests. Unlike him, she actually has a company to run.

Now, James sits with his back against the wall and Harry in his lap. James had started to tell Harry to keep away, and after what happened last time, Tony isn't surprised. Harry hadn't listened, and is now wedged against James's chest, seeming to stick to him like an octopus. James actually relaxed minutely once Harry settled down.

Both of them are clearly unused to contact that doesn't hurt.

A video of does and fawns frolicking through the woods plays on a holographic screen. It seems to keep the flashbacks from getting too intense, as they reportedly had last time. Well, Tony assumes they were flashbacks, James had reported them as "visions" in that disturbingly detached manner of his.

Sparks jump from the wiring in the prosthesis, but James doesn't react. Tony forces the thought that James has to have felt that away and keeps working, reconnecting wires.

Even with its horrifying design, he can't deny that the cybernetic arm is an incredible piece of engineering. Tony could see from the way it moved, when it wasn't stalling, that it almost rivaled his own Iron Man suits.

As he slowly repairs the gears and wires, he asks "How'd this happen again? Oliver, you said something about a giant?"

From a kid's perspective, any adult would be a giant.

"At the castle. But my Batman dad beated him up wit' a tree."

Tony isn't remotely surprised to hear James could use a tree as a weapon.

"What castle?" he prods, hoping to find some clue of where they came from, and who else was there.

Harry shrugs, saying something about being taken in a tornado, as he had when he arrived. "An' they taked my Bat-Dad away, an' Dumb-Bell-Door tried'ta take his mem'ries and cook me in the fire."

"Dumb-bell-door?" Tony mutters. "Who's that? The leader of a cannibal cult?"

"Dumbledore is an enemy in possession of a weaponized stick." James's voice doesn't betray any pain he's undoubtedly in. Tony, who had an electromagnet put in his chest with no pain relief in a cave, winces in sympathy.

James continues speaking as if nothing's happening to him, even though his vitals are probably skyrocketed. "The weaponized sticks allow specific users to levitate and immobilize opponents, fire energy projectiles, create shields and teleport."

It sounds completely out there. With the man's talk of mind wipes, Tony would wonder if he's lost all touch with reality. James seems to think both Batman and HYDRA are real, and what he's describing now sounds a lot like wizards and wands.

And yet, Tony had seen Harry's superpowers, which to the layman would look exactly like magic. Even Tony thinks it looks like magic, though there has to be some sort of scientific explanation.

"They have bad guy powers." Harry says simply. Tony has to wonder if he has the same powers, though, with the way he sort of levitated a mug.

"So, you're telling me wizards are after you." Tony keeps his tone light, as if he's humoring them. Another wire sparks, but James doesn't even flinch, much less hurl a object with a force to destroy a car door. "Wizards who society just happens to have not noticed?"

"Society fails to notice many things." James intones, and geez, he sounds like the wildest conspiracy theorist. "Order must be brought about. Society is too weak to stand on its own."

Tony frowns. "Tell me I didn't invite a guy with plans of world domination into my home."

It sounds like it should be part of the monologue a power-hungry villain set on conquering the world would give. James makes it sound more like brainwashing, like he's merely repeating what he's been told.

Hell, it sounds like the twisted worldview of HYDRA.

Pieces have been building up in Tony's mind. The use of the word Asset sounds significant, James must speak Russian for some reason. Tony already doubts he'll like the finished picture of this puzzle, given the fact that memory wipes and torture seem to be on the table.

Still, he gathers the information in his head, determined to have Jarvis look into it. "Jarvis, look into wizards for me, will you?"

"That's something I never thought you'd ask, sir." Jarvis replies dryly.

"So, wizards are after you." Tony asks while fiddling with the arm's mechanics. "How come? You aren't a wizard, are you?"

"No!" Harry sounds offended on James's behalf. "He's not a freak like my other dad."

"The weaponized sticks do not respond to me." James studies him. "They are after Harry. He seems to be a person of significant interest. They would take Harry and perform a wipe with their weaponized sticks."

"So they're the basta- bad guys who wiped you before?"

James looks at Tony as if he's being dumb on purpose. "Negative. The Chair is used for wipes. The Chair provides electroshock stimulation to the brain to remove visions and... memories."

Tony stills. It's obvious James has been through hell since he'd been Bucky Barnes, but hearing the torturous method of memory removal is even worse than hearing it happened in the first place, or seeing him so submissively wait for punishment.

Tony's had some up close and personal experiences with torture. Technically, this un-sedated operation he's performing now is probably torture, but for James it's clearly routine. The fact he'd suggested it earlier makes Tony feel sick.

Tony has to force his hands to stop shaking at the thought, and he wasn't even the one who went through maintenance. Is going through it now.

James sends him a look telling him to continue, and Tony forces himself to take deep breaths.

"Sorry," Tony winces, but James doesn't reply.

Tony tries to start a more lighthearted conversation, telling his guests stories of when Dum-E had broken things like mugs. Harry asks about Dum-E's punishments, and Tony has to leave out the parts where he'd threatened to sell the robot for scrap metal. Not that he'd ever really meant it, of course, but he doubts Harry or James would pick up on the hollowness of the threat.

"You know, I'm not even mad about you wrecking my car." Tony tells James. "I fell through the windshield when I was testing my suit's flight. And I've destroyed a few with repulsor blasts."

James is watching him, his expression blank but something almost amused flashes through his eyes, so quickly Tony thinks he might have imagined it.

Finally, Tony sets down his tools. James tests the flexibility of the cybernetic arm. The arm no longer stalls or grinds. Of course it doesn't, with Tony as the mechanic. It moves flawlessly as James puts it through its paces, performing several stretches and fine-motor skills.

Honestly, the thing might even be even more dexterous than Tony's Iron Man gauntlets. It clearly lacks repulsors, but is still obviously a weapon.

James nods in satisfaction after picking up a screwdriver and effortlessly flipping and catching the tool. "Functionality is restored."

Tony senses an unsaid about time in that statement.

Tony studies it intently. "It doesn't hurt, does it? You have to tell me if it hurts. I don't care what others said, your pain is important. Sheesh."

"Are you hurt?" Harry echoes, voice trembling slightly.

James rotates the arm in a full circle, then slowly reports "Pain is below usual parameters."

The Asset James does not think he's ever been a father before. The mission parameters are unclear.

At 1146 the following day, after another patrol, he finds himself reading aloud to Harry from a book the computerized voice Jarvis had ordered with high recommendations. Matilda by Roald Dahl is about an extraordinary little girl burdened with an extraordinarily stupid and petty family. Her parents clearly don't want her around and prefer her brother.

James wonders if the computerized voice Jarvis picked the book for the similarities with Harry's relatives, or the fact that the summary on the back cover mentions Matilda develops telekinetic powers. Harry has not used his abilities since prolonging the mug's descent, despite Stark's excitement over the prospect.

When he reads about Matilda putting superglue on her father's hat so it sticks to his head, Harry laughs so hard his whole body shakes. It fills James's chest with warmth.

Harry's so busy laughing that he does not even run to the Batcave closet when Miss Potts arrives. Her obvious competence and the way she radiates authority send memory snippets of an unidentified woman flashing through his mind. The Bucky voice says Carter.

Despite being the handler of Stark, Potts turned down being the Asset James's handler. He has nobody to answer to but the voices in his head. Still, he finds himself unconsciously standing at attention in her presence.

"I glu-ed Uncle Vewnon's hat to his head." Harry tells her, still snickering. James knows he is merely copying the story, but Miss Potts plays along.

"Did it get stuck on his head?"

Harry nods, stuffing his fists in his mouth to smother his giggles.

Potts turns to James and starts discussing therapy.

"Nobody expects you to be who you were, but it's obvious you've experienced trauma." she tells James.

Bit of an understatement there, says the Bucky voice.

"I'm not qualified to help you." Potts continues, "But I know SHIELD has several therapists who are cleared to handle... classified cases."

James goes rigid. He had heard whispers of SHIELD from techs and agents. Some made the organization sound like a joke, even though he knew that several members were high-risk targets. He knows Rumlow and other STRIKE members have positions in SHIELD as well, from their conversations when they thought he wasn't listening.

No matter what, SHIELD would separate him from Harry, attempt to take the Asset James into custody.

Harry's ours, snarls the Bucky voice. They won't take him.

The mission blares in his head. AVOID SHIELD. AVOID HYDRA.

Harry is no longer a handler, but the mission has remained the same.

He should have checked Potts first, the lack is a tactical error.

James gathers Harry into his arms. He is adept at avoiding or disabling security cameras, but Jarvis is omnipotent to what goes on in Stark's house. The Batman James could have broken into the lab easily, could have hot-wired a car and drove away even with Tony in the lab. He is always silent, but with the music blaring from the speakers, he could have clomped around and still been unheard.

Jarvis announces James's presence as he's breaking in. The music lowers in volume, and Tony turns to him.

"Huh, now you're going Grand Theft Auto on me?" Stark looks mock-hurt. "I fix your cybernetic issues and you just up and bail?"

James doesn't deign him with an answer. They are in danger. Potts could have contacted SHIELD hours ago, agents could swarm in at any moment.

"Jarvis told me you kind of freaked out when Pepper mentioned SHIELD." Stark continues. "I guess that should seem suspicious, but you know what? I don't trust them either."

All of Stark's vehicles are far too elegant to provide the necessary cover of a getaway vehicle, but he could always switch cars on the road.

"I've been digging through their databases. Found some pretty sketchy stuff. Nothing about wizards yet. I'd say you were delusional, except Oliver has superpowers."

"My Batman kicked the em-eny asset's butt. And the giant's." Harry's voice is full of pride, even though the enemy asset had successfully immobilized James more recently.

Stark clears his throat and continues talking. "I did, however, find that my former assistant-slash-secret-spy got shot through her body by an unknown assassin. She's scarily competent, so the fact someone got her by surprise..." Stark studies him.

"It might be a stretch, but you seem kind of assassin-y in general and definitely skilled enough to do that. So I wouldn't be surprised if SHIELD is after you."

James doesn't confirm it, but he doesn't deny it, either. He remembers that mission, shooting the target through the red-haired agent tasked with the target's protection. The bullet went through the agent's abdomen to eliminate the target.

THE WITNESS WAS NOT ELIMINATED

Stark is studying him with intelligent eyes. "I'm not going to turn you in. I'm getting the impression you didn't have a whole lot of say in whatever you did, given all that awful stuff you've told me. But trust me, you're safer here than on the road, so stay a while."

James slowly gets out of the car, which did not have adequate safety features for Harry. The engine rumbles to a stop.

Potts enters the lab, and James immediately faces the woman.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." she sounds completely sincere, but then pulls Stark to the other end of the lab. They speak in hushed voices that the Batman James still easily hears with his enhanced senses.

"How does he even know about SHIELD?" Potts is asking. "Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

"SHIELD seems suspicious to me." Stark fires back, loud enough that James would have heard it without enhancements.

Harry shifts nervously, muttering a question as to whether they're discussing the shields he makes with his powers.

James assures his boy that is not the topic of discussion, then informs Stark and Potts of something he knows is classified, something he would be forbidden to reveal. "HYDRA has several agents working undercover inside SHIELD."

Chapter Text

Stark whirls around. "What did you just say?"

The Asset James has divulged classified intel, intel he was not supposed to be privy to in the first place. HYDRA kept him muzzled to ensure silence and wordless compliance, he never would have disclosed that information under their control.

He has divulged the intel without questioning. He has not been forced to drink a beverage that made him compliant to interrogation, as he had while being questioned by the enemy asset.

"HYDRA?" Potts appears genuinely shocked. "No, they were defeated in World War Two."

James watches her. She may not be reporting to HYDRA, but if HYDRA agents are in SHIELD, it makes little difference. They will find him. The punishment will be severe- several methods of corporal punishment, followed by an extended period in the Chair. They will quite possibly wipe him until he forgets even his handlers and past missions. He will start anew as an empty asset to be reconditioned into the Winter Soldier.

Worse, they will hurt Harry, possibly try to turn the boy into an asset.

The newly-repaired prosthesis clenches into a fist, the Batman James's jaw tightens at the thought of Harry being beaten, electrocuted, wiped.

PROTECT HARRY. He will eliminate anyone who attempts to harm his boy. His son.

Stark eyes him as if he is a puzzle to be solved, but there is something sympathetic in his gaze. "You weren't having a flashback that time you said they were after you, were you?"

James grips Harry and replies. "HYDRA is not the visions. Memories."

"But they were defeated." Potts repeats.

"Well, everyone thought he died in the war, too." Stark gestures at James. James knows the man hadn't believed him when he said HYDRA was after them, but he appears to be considering it more now. "Well, part of him did."

James does not waste any time wondering if the dead part Stark is referring to is the flesh arm, or the Bucky voice.

"He didn't die." Harry scowls in confusion, prodding James with a finger to be certain. "My other James dad died, and my mummy. Not my Batman A'set dad."

"HYDRA must've found him and..." Stark glances at the prosthesis, then rounds on Potts, who is giving Harry a sympathetic look. "Did you tell SHIELD about him?"

"No." Potts answers, and James does not observe any signs of deception in her demeanor or tone. His muscles relax minutely.

He is certain that HYDRA is still hunting him and Harry as they speak, but at least SHIELD has not been alerted to their presence here by Potts.

"We tell no one. Not Fury, or Rushman- I mean Romanoff." Stark turns to scrutinize James once more. "Hey, either of those names ring a bell? Are either of them HYDRA? I really hope not, that would be terrifying."

James had heard some of the STRIKE team members joke about how blind Fury was, but other than that, he heard nothing.

Stark crosses his arms. "Come on, Terminator. I need names, something. You can't just say HYDRA's infiltrated SHIELD and have nothing to back it up."

James carefully analyzes his options. Stark does not seem to support SHIELD, and clearly disapproves of HYDRA. If he intended to hand them over, he would have done so already, and he had promised not to turn James in 2.8 minutes ago.

James reports two names. "Rumlow. Rollins." He can't recall the names of the other STRIKE team operatives, but he remembers them.

SILENCE, the old voice gives conflicting orders, since it has been telling him to avoid HYDRA since Harry became a handler. He is not supposed to reveal HYDRA's existence, or the STRIKE team's true loyalty, but making the intel known may help with protecting Harry.

Serves the bastards right, the Bucky voice seethes in his head.

"Jarvis, find out everything about them." Stark orders, his voice steely and his eyes filled with calculating suspicion.

"Already on it, Sir." the computerized voice replies as holographic images of Rumlow and Rollins materialize. Stark asks if James meant them, and James nods once to confirm.

"From their files, they appear to be SHIELD special-ops, but it is unlikely they'd have 'HYDRA' written down if they are undercover."

"Keep digging." Stark says to his mechanical butler, before addressing James again. "Who else is HYDRA?"

He is unaware of the names of many of his handlers. They kept changing, he'd be put in cryo by one handler and another would be there when he was thawed. Several spoke Russian, but he is uncertain how long ago those handlers were.

"They're bad guys with guns." Harry shares, wriggling in James's arms and looking at James for confirmation. "If they come, we'll dis-arm 'em. And we can glue their guns and wep-nized sticks."

Harry reaches for a bottle of superglue on a rolling table 0.7 meters away. One of the robots zooms forward to grab the bottle with its claw, waving it in the air and offering it to Harry.

"Dum-E, put it down." Stark orders. "Maybe he'll summon it with his Force powers. Hey, Harry, can pull it to you without touching it?"

James wordlessly strides to the table, picking up the glue and handing it to Harry. He won't let Stark turn his boy into a test subject, no matter if Stark repaired the prosthesis and is not turning them in.

Harry brandishes the glue like a sword, squeezing the bottle.

"Careful." Potts says to Harry. "You don't want to get your fingers stuck together."

Harry shrugs and glances at James. "I don't get sticked, right?" James nods. Harry had been the one to free him in the castle. Harry's green eyes light up, and he declares "I can tell snakes to bite them!"

In the next 2.4 minutes, Stark fires off sixteen more questions about HYDRA, twelve of which James is unable to answer. He was only ever informed of his missions, never HYDRA's overall plans.

After the sixteenth question, Stark scrubs a hand over his face. "Sorry. This isn't supposed to be an interrogation. I know how horrible those are." His eyes appear haunted for 1.7 seconds before clearing. "It's just, this is huge news, and we need as much information as we can get. Jarvis and I'll keep digging, and if you're right, we're going to bring them down."

James feels something satisfied fill his chest as Harry successfully twists out of hold. It is not quite the feeling of mission success. It is something else, something almost like... pride?

Harry slithers away from James like a snake to evade his next attempt. He slips to the other side of the closet Harry designated the Batcave, which is now decorated with scribbled-on coloring pages of Batman and Robin, as well as unrecognizable portraits drawn entirely by Harry.

"Good," James tells his son.

Training Harry has brought forth memories of the Red Room, of instructing girls with blank faces how to disarm, incapacitate or eliminate opponents several times their size. Unlike the Red Room, there are no handlers barking orders in harsh tones. He does not use corrective punishment for anything less than perfection, as the handlers had.

James pushes away the memories to refocus on Harry, who is beaming up at him. "Can I beat bad guys now?"

NEGATIVE.

James does not answer right away. Harry is making progress, and displaying more and more courage, but he is not adept at combat and escape.

"You shouldn't have to." James surprises himself with his words. He is training the boy so that he can protect himself if necessary, but it shouldn't be a necessity. Harry should be able to live free from the threat of harm.

James frowns. That thought is irrelevant. It is obvious that several enemies are after the boy. James is surprised they haven't been found again again by now. He's kept his eyes open for owls, which had led to their capture by the enemy asset and old man Dumbledore.

"Robin beats up bad guys!" Harry declares, crossing his arms stubbornly. He has refused to wear anything but his Robin suit since its arrival.

The Bucky voice sighs heavily in James's mind. You keep this up, and we're gonna be pullin' him out of alley fights for years.

"You have a lot to learn." James tells his son. "We have not covered evading punches or any close quarters combat."

"What's 'vading?"

"Dodging."

Harry nods in understanding. "Like how I ran 'way from Dudley." James's jaw tightens, but he forces himself to speak in a neutral tone.

"Escaping is smart, but if you are cornered, you have to dodge. Try it."

He starts to advance on Harry, clenching a fist to perform a slow punch- he still does not use his full strength against his boy.

0.8 seconds later, James stops as suddenly as if he'd been ordered to.

Harry is staring at James's fists, his tiny body trembling and his lip quivering. "No, please." Harry stammers, and James feels as if he's just been electrocuted. "I'm sorry!"

Approaching Harry with clenched fists likely made him experience his own visions- memories. James has little doubt that the boy is remembering his uncle storming toward him with his own fists clenched. He doubts the man would have liked Harry trying to escape his punishments.

James sinks to his knees, reaching out to his boy. Harry is no longer a handler and clearly wouldn't punish him anyway, but he still feels as if he deserves it for terrifying his son.

Harry flinches away from the touch initially, and James pulls his hands back. He speaks softly. "I am sorry, Harry. I promise I will not hurt you willingly."

James can't promise he'll never hurt him. He already has, and if HYDRA uses the codewords, they can make him do anything. Yet Harry knows one codeword, one which had overridden the agents' codewords and made Harry his handler.

THE BATMAN IS NO LONGER HYDRA'S ASSET.

After 1.2 minutes of softly spoken words, ranging from English to Russian, Harry clutches onto the dark cape hanging from James's shoulders. James strokes his hand through his son's untidy hair. He'd snapped three combs attempting to get it to lay flat earlier, when Harry asked if he could have hair like James's own.

"I will never use corporal punishment on you, Harry." James promises, even though that is all he knows. He has experienced enough of it firsthand, but he will not inflict it on Harry. Fathers are supposed to discipline their children, but Harry has yet to misbehave, still too terrified about the consequences.

"It was supposed to be practice," he adds, when Harry sniffs wordlessly. He's getting snot all over the Batman cape, but it does not matter. "We will take a break. You need to eat."

Harry nods, climbing to his feet. James expects Harry to keep his distance, but the boy holds his arms up to be held. James scoops his son up and exits the Batcave, heading toward the kitchen.

Another part of being a father is ensuring his son is fed properly. Stark's kitchen is stocked with an amount of foodstuff that leaves the Bucky voice speechless, remarking they will not have to scrimp and save to put food on the table. Nor will James have to shoplift as he had on the run.

Harry's stomach still cannot handle too much food, but he munches on some of the leftover Lo Mein noodles Stark had ordered in last night as James pulls out the blender.

He is displeased that Stark threw the knives out the window. Not only does it lower the number of weapons available in case of an attack, but it makes chopping less efficient. Harry scrambles toward the counter.

"You do not have to help," James tells him. "You should eat."

"It's fun." Harry says. He clearly enjoys dropping chopped fruit into the blender, but he does not use his powers to slow the fruits' descent. Harry helps him scoop out a protein-rich powder to add to the beverage.

The noise and swirling of ingredients in the blender seems to delight Harry, but James thinks the expression on his son's face is a better sight. He is still not used to having opinions, but he cannot shake the thought.

When the blender slows down, Stark says "I'm gonna go raid a base now."

James whirls around to see Stark standing in the doorway, a slow grin spreading on his face. "Hey, Terminator, I finally got the drop on you for once."

James scans the room for other occupants, wondering how his attention could have lapsed. He's been out of cryostasis for too long.

Earlier, James had told Stark the coordinates of four different HYDRA facilities.

"I'd offer to let you come, but you should probably look after your kid." Stark shrugs. "Jarvis is awesome, but I don't think he's a qualified babysitter."

"Yet I frequently ensure your own needs are met, sir." the computerized voice somehow has a dry tone. James no longer readies for a fight when he hears it. "Might I suggest eating yourself before you embark?"

Stark reaches for the blender pitcher, but James blocks his hand. Harry copies the move, and Stark shakes his head before grabbing a banana.

"You two are weirdly possessive of protein shakes." Stark breaks off the rounded tip of the banana and tosses it toward the open blender pitcher. Harry snatches the small yellow chunk out of the air with his hands, as easily as James would block a bullet with his prosthesis.

James feels the prideful feeling again. He had not instructed Harry on how to catch, it seems to be an innate ability. Harry looks pleased he caught it, and pops it into his mouth.

Stark appears disappointed, no doubt hoping Harry would use his abilities instead of his hands.

"So, you're gonna stay here, while I try to get some evidence for this HYDRA thing? Jarvis'll hopefully make sure you don't do anything stupid like give a preschooler a knife." Stark gives James a pointed look.

"I agree that Master Harry should be supervised by a responsible adult, but I'd hesitate to qualify either of you as such." The computerized voice Jarvis's tone is somehow dry. "Unfortunately, Miss Potts is too busy running your company to babysit."

Stark switches topics abruptly. "Hey, are the wizards part of HYDRA? Maybe they somehow hide out together. Am I gonna find crystal balls at this place?"

James scowls. He does not know if HYDRA has wizards, but both organizations are far too interested in kidnapping Harry.

"Right, well, you two watch TV or something." Tony says over his shoulder as he heads downstairs to the workshop, where his armor is located. "Don't blow up the house while I'm gone."

James does not rig Stark's house to explode as he had done to 4 Privet Drive. Instead, he spends 1.8 hours researching Batman. According to the voice Jarvis, Batman first appeared in a 1939 issue of Detective Comics. Robin debuted the following year. That was, according to Jarvis, before Bucky or Steve started fighting, but the Bucky voice does not say if either of them ever read the comics.

James does not research Steve Rogers or James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, but a Captain America comic pops up in the search results anyway.

The Bucky voice sounds outraged. They turned me into a kid sidekick?! Hell, I'm basically Robin in this garbage!

James leaves the site and returns to Batman comics. Batman is more important to the mission of protecting Harry.

The research leads to sitting on the couch, watching a cartoon about Batman and Robin.

He notices Harry sneaking awed glances at the screen before pretending not to watch. James gestures to the old, suit-clad butler onscreen. "I need a Batman expert to watch with me. Who is that?"

Harry smiles slightly. "Alfred. He cleans, like me."

James looks pointedly at Harry's costume. "You look more like Robin."

Harry lets out a delighted laugh, scrambling onto James's lap and leaning against his chest to watch the show.

The Bucky voice marvels at the animation itself. The Asset James notes Batman's obvious competence in combat, his resourcefulness, his dark clothes and stoic demeanor. Batman is a fitting cover identity for him, he decides.

Much better than Superman, who the Bucky voice comments is like Steve. All-American, always stickin' up for what's right. He's even has red and blue in his suit.

James does not think Steve possessed the abilities of flight or X-Ray vision, even after his body modifications.

"Can you fly?" he asks Harry as Superman soars through the air.

Harry looks puzzled, but does not take his eyes away from the action onscreen. "We flewed off the train. Did you for-get?"

That was not flying. Their descent had been prolonged, as the mug falling from the counter had the other day.

"I remember." James answers quietly.

After 46.7 minutes, Jarvis turns the television off, stating that children ages two through five should have no more than one hour of screen time per day.

Harry, full of excitement from watching Batman and Robin fight enemies, runs around punching and kicking the air. The Bucky voice wonders, once again, how long it will be before Harry's getting into fights like Steve.

Batman is a vigilante, and James wonders if Harry expects him to go out and fight crime. He has to protect Harry, but he is certainly not going to encourage his boy to go looking for fights, even if he is disguised as Robin.

Stark had suggested James help raid a base, as Batman would. James is skilled enough to take down whole squadrons, could defeat the STRIKE team simultaneously, except for the 99% likelihood they would be able to reclaim him with codewords and regain control of his programming. Without Harry there to override the commands, James would be helpless.

Everything about Batman appears to be fictitious, as James's brief research in the cottage in Scotland had suggested. Stark, far from providing the classified coordinates to the Batcave, has backed up those accounts. Harry had said Stark's lab was not the Batcave upon entry, but it might be the closest they'll get, if Batman is indeed fictitious.

The Winter Soldier was supposed to appear fictitious as well. There is a 98% certainty he does not appear in comic books, cartoons and movies, as Batman does.  Captain America and Bucky Barnes were real, but appeared as fictionalized characters in comics as well.

James is pulled from his thoughts by a small hand pulling at his prosthesis. "Let's go, Batman! To the Batcave!"

Harry leads him to the closet, which is now deemed the Batcave. "The bad guys are coming!" Harry exclaims. "We haf'ta beat 'em up."

James readies for a fight before realizing Harry is playing an imaginary game. It is bound to happen in reality sometime, but for now, the enemies they fight are invisible- but not in the way the enemy asset had been invisible in the cloak when capturing them.

From the intel he's gathered, Batman does not kill. How can he be Harry's Batman? He is responsible for at least a dozen assassinations, is not sure he remembers them all. Even Bucky Barnes was reportedly a sergeant, he must have killed people if the memories of sniper rifles are any indication.

James joins his son in fighting imaginary enemies, using non-lethal force. The voices in his head argue about whether lethal force is warranted or not.

"Be careful, Master Harry." the computerized voice Jarvis warns as Harry attempts to perform an aerial roundhouse kick which results in falling on his posterior. James checks to see if his son is injured.

"I'm Robin!" Harry insists, barely seeming to notice the pain as he grabs one of the broken wooden train tracks.

"Of course, Robin."

"I would rather have Harry as a son than Robin." James is unused to voicing or having opinions, but the statement feels more factual than subjective.

Harry freezes in the middle of pretending to throw a broken Thomas track like a Batarang. "...Really?"

"Really." James confirms, a part of his mind noting he should teach the boy how to throw. Harry was the first one who smiled at him as the Winter Soldier. He was the first person to touch him in ways that did not hurt, the first handler to ever show kindness and mercy toward him.

Harry looks at him as if his thoughts are defective. "But Robin's a hero." He clearly views himself as less than Robin. Something in James is determined to change that. Harry's abilities are an asset, but they are not what made James decide to be his father, made James want to be his father.

A memory rushes to the forefront of James's mind, unbidden.

"You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"

"Hell no." he replies in the Bucky voice. "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I'm following him."

Steve smiles.

"But you're keeping the outfit, right?"

James snaps his attention back to Harry.

"That little kid from the cupboard who smiles at me, he's my son. Not Robin." James does not realize he's echoing Bucky's words from the memory until he's already spoken. Despite mimicking the words, his voice does not sound like Bucky's, but it is not quite as flat as the Soldier's, either.

He chooses to continue echoing the memory. "You should keep the outfit. It is a suitable disguise."

Looks like you broke him again, pal, the Bucky voice says.

Harry charges toward him with a hug so enthusiastic it is almost an ambush.

"I love you more than Batman!" Harry gazes up at him with awestruck eyes. He bites his lip, voice dropping to ask hesitantly. "Do you want me more'n Matilda?"

James is at a loss for words for just how much Harry being his son means, how nobody could replace him. Should he say Matilda is fictional? Harry believes Batman is real, though James himself is starting to believe the caped crusader really is fictitious.

Instead, he hugs his boy tight, and hopes that is answer enough.

At 0209, James and Harry are seated at the kitchen counter, Harry with a mug of hot chocolate, and James with a steaming cup of real coffee, the best he's ever tasted as far as he can remember.

"Yummy." he says, which has the desired effect of making Harry giggle.

Harry had another nightmare after only 6.2 hours of sleep. The computerized voice Jarvis claimed that children Harry's age should sleep between 10.0 and 12.0 hours, but lamented "Nobody in this house gets the recommended hours of sleep."

The computer had sounded disapproving for a machine at the fact James had slept only 0.95 hours, instead standing watch inside their Batcave. His mind had raced, convinced Stark was really turning them in despite his promises. It was an illogical thought, given Stark's clear distrust of SHIELD and hatred of HYDRA, but it had persisted.

The computerized voice Jarvis had displayed the feed from the cameras of Stark's Iron Man suit, and James had watched the man explore a HYDRA warehouse.

James's pulse and respiration had nearly doubled at the sight of the Chair, until he saw Stark's armored hand blast it with a repulsor.

"Jesus, J." Stark muttered in a horrified tone inside the suit. "This is worse than a cave."

Stark had seemed equally horrified by the cryogenic chamber.

James takes another drink of coffee to warm his body from the phantom chill coursing through him. He turns back to the notebook laying open in front of him. He'd lost the notebook he'd recorded memories in at the Tesco store. He is not sure if the enemy asset is in possession of it, or if it was abandoned in the Tesco parking lot with the rest of their supplies. Either way, that notebook may have fallen into enemy hands.

For that reason, James isn't sure if he should start another notebook, but transcribing memories helps quiet his mind. He jots down flashes of the Bucky person's life. He writes about the Red Room and maintenance, and snaps a pen in half from gripping it too tightly.

Harry watches him with silent curiosity for 6.8 minutes before finally asking "What are you writin'? Chores?"

James does not have to report to Harry now that he relinquished his position as handler. Still, it is clear Harry is used to having his questions ignored. He should be comfortable asking questions.

"Memories." he answers, not going into detail. The boy has seen too much horror already.

He lets Harry scribble over a blank page in crayon while he writes on the other page. Harry jabs a finger at the furious green scribbles, then black squiggles underneath that appear to be mimicking writing. "That's the green light. An' this says Uncle Vernon."

The black scribbles do not actually form words in any language James knows, but he nods all the same as Harry continues to mark up the page.

Harry's movements are uncoordinated, his work a mess, but it still strikes James as familiar. He remembers a thin hand moving deftly over paper, creating worlds with simple strokes. He can't recall the pictures Steve drew, but he writes down Steve drawing.

It is directly under a written recollection of eliminating the Dursley family. His stomach flips, glancing at the memory.

WITNESSES ARE TO BE ELIMINATED.

What would the boy think, knowing what he's done? He's a weapon that kills without thinking.

James remembers eliminating families, remembers targets pleading for their lives. He's killed children, strangled the Dursley boy. The Dursley boy was a brat, but he was still a child simply imitating his parents' horrid treatment of Harry.

If his original orders had been to assassinate Harry, rather than bring him in, he would have done so and been back in cryostasis by now. He would not even remember the boy who is now his son.

His stomach churns. The Bucky voice is disgusted, but, oddly enough, not at James. Those monsters. We should go all Batman on their asses.

DESTROYING HYDRA AND SHIELD WILL ENSURE HARRY'S SAFETY.

James does not reply to the voices in his head, though the mission voice is correct. To truly ensure Harry's safety, however, they would need to eliminate the wizards as well. That has proven difficult.

Harry watches him, looking far too concerned and old for a child so young. "Are you hurt?"

"I killed them." James says out loud, before he can stop himself. He doesn't deserve the boy's sympathy. "I murdered the Dursleys."

Harry replies, nonchalantly "There was a fire." He reaches for a red crayon and begins to scribble furiously over the page, as if to provide a graphic representation of the flames.

Harry is unaware of James's past, seems to be too immature to understand the concept of death.

James suddenly cannot stand looking at his son as something claws in his stomach. He stares down at his notebook instead, hearing the computerized British accent of Jarvis, but not processing the words.

He begins transcribing the memory of assassination set up to look like a car crash. The memory seems clearer now, the target Howard's features are more defined and even more strikingly familiar.

Stark mentioned a Howard, commiserated with Harry on parents dying in a car crash. James isn't sure if his mind is playing tricks on him, but the clearer vision of Howard and his wife- whose name he doesn't remember- have clear familial resemblance to Stark.

James realizes he's snapped another pen, and clenched the prosthesis hard enough to leave finger-shaped gouges in the table.

He'd killed Stark's family. Part of him is relieved that memory is not of Harry's parents, that he is not the reason Harry ended up with the Dursleys, but the rest of him is tense. His stomach churns.

Staying in the base of a man whose parents he'd assassinated would be the strategy of an idiot. James wonders if he should have left when Potts mentioned SHIELD therapists.

Glancing out the window, he sees the fire being spewed from an aerial vehicle's repulsors, then realizes it is not a vehicle. It's Stark in his Iron Man armor, estimated time of arrival 0.2 minutes.

Chapter Text

Tony rockets through the air, already longing for a drink or twenty.

He knows he won't be sleeping at all for the rest of tonight. Not that he was ever good at sleeping consistently, even before he started having nightmares about the cave or Obadiah's betrayal years ago. From what he's heard from Jarvis, his new housemates aren't great at sleeping either, and are currently having a hot chocolate and coffee party.

Frankly, Tony would've been shocked if James didn't have nightmares. It was horrifying enough to hear about mind wipes and electrocution, but to actually explore the dank, cavernous base where it happened added a whole new layer. Tony had enough nightmare fuel before seeing the chair fitted with restraints and a metal halo, like something out of a torture dungeon.

Then there was the cryogenic chamber that, according to a file he'd found, froze "The Asset" in suspended animation. Which explains how the hell a guy from the forties is around today and doesn't appear to have aged at all in over six decades. Just seeing that was enough to give Tony chills, but James had actually been forced in there and been frozen like Han Solo in Carbonite.

Then again, being frozen alive might have been a relief compared to the memory-erasing chair or whatever other atrocities happened in the HYDRA base.

There's no doubt it was a HYDRA base, not when Tony had seen the telling logo of a skull with snakes slithering out of it. That particular base was abandoned and seems to have been so since the eighties, but if HYDRA was around but hidden in the eighties, the organization is likely still lurking in the shadows today.

Lurking, apparently, inside SHIELD.

When his mansion comes into view, Tony is relieved to see it is still standing, and appears to have been unharmed. Then again, Jarvis would have told him if his guests actually blew up the house.

As if reading his thoughts, Jarvis reports "Sir, Sergeant Barnes has broken into your lab and is currently arming himself with a blowtorch."

So much for increasing security. Could anything keep James out? His new security measures seemed to barely slow James down. The guy's even more adept than Fury and Coulson when it comes to breaking into his house- they'd never made it into his lab. Tony swears loudly, increasing his suit's thrusters. "Tell me he's not giving it to Harry."

Maybe leaving his guests alone for a solid fourteen hours wasn't the best idea. Tony had been relieved to hear that Harry had started watching television like a normal kid, but that had been in the afternoon. Apparently by two in the morning, his guests decided it was time to get dangerous with fire. Okay, Tony's done that his fair share of times, but not with a freaking four-year-old.

He soars through the tunnel connected to his lab before hovering in midair. "I just can't leave you alone, can I?"

"I wasn't alone. I was with my dad and Mr. Jarvis." Harry peers out from where he's half-hidden behind the dark fabric of James's Batman cape, only for James to step in front of him protectively again. Harry looks sort of disappointed to see Iron Man, probably hoping the Batwing would swoop in instead.

"And clearly they didn't stop this from happening." Tony jerks his head towards James, who is clearly sizing him up, eyes flicking over his armor for weaknesses to exploit. James's eyes are somewhere between his usual analytical detachment and a more human panic, continuing to dart around the room for other threats.

"It's just me." Tony retracts the faceplate and lands on the floor. He raises his armored palms in what would usually be a display of peace, except he's got some powerful repulsors packed onto them.

James doesn't look reassured, and continues to stand in his battle-ready pose. Maybe he's freaking out about SHIELD again, like when Pepper visited.

"Let me just say that I fully believe you about HYDRA now, and believe me, I'm not turning you in." Tony hastens to assure him.

"Your father was Howard Stark." James's voice is flat, even if his eyes betray some panic.

He must have had a flashback from his pre-HYDRA life. That's good, isn't it? But he's still standing in a battle-ready pose and hasn't lowered his blowtorch.

"Yeah. Wouldn't have won father of the year, that's for sure. He was too busy obsessing over Cap and the old you." Tony mutters. "I'd say you're doing better than he did at the whole parenting thing, aside from this whole letting a kid near weapons part. Seriously, once you cut that out, your parenting score will shoot way up."

What does it say that a brainwashed, tortured assassin is somehow more attentive and affectionate toward a kid than Howard was? Even after everything, that protective part of Bucky seems to have survived.

"My dad's even better'n Batman." Harry informs him with all the pride a four-year-old can muster. At least the kid isn't holding any weapons at the moment.

"The Batman does not kill." James's voice has a hint of conflict in it now, and Tony senses he's referring to the fictional Batman, not himself. Considering how he'd latched onto the identity of Batman, the fact he'd been an assassin has got to screw that up.

James reaches for a notebook that sits on a nearby table. Tony doesn't remember it being there before. Is James keeping a journal? That'd probably be one of the things therapy would recommend if Tony ever went.

"What were you writing in there? Dear Diary, today I missed Tony's awesome presence so much that I grabbed a blowtorch." Tony teases. He doesn't get one of James's murderous glares in response, the man simply clutches the book tighter.

"We write-ed memories." Harry tells him.

"So, what are you remembering about my dear old dad?" Tony finds himself asking, though he's not sure he wants to know. "That he totally kissed Cap's ass-" Tony pauses and glances at Harry. He should really get that kid earmuffs or something, he's surprised he's managed to censor his language as much as he has around the kid. He's shocked he even bothers, honestly.

Harry speaks up before James, stating in the matter-of-fact way of small children. "Your dad an' mummy died in a car crash. Like mine."

Tony didn't think the kid would remember that after one offhand comment. Or is he just at the stage of assuming everyone's life is exactly like his?

"Yeah, December 16, 1991." Tony mutters, the date etched in his memory forever. "You weren't around then, Oliver, but we were orphaned the same way."

Something knowing flashes in James's grey-blue eyes, and Tony frowns at him. "You knew that. Why did you know that? Did you research me when I was gone?"

"We watched Batman." Harry replies, smiling slightly.

"Cool, but that's not what I asked." Tony doesn't turn from James. He's positive he hadn't mentioned the date before.

"December 16, 1991. Target Howard Stark successfully eliminated." James answers as if obeying an order, and Tony remembers that James considers him a technician, remembers how he'd reported memories as if expecting them to be erased.

Being a genius usually means Tony's quick to pick up on things, but his mind struggles to comprehend this new information. James and Harry have been doing that a lot recently.

James frowns, almost seeming conflicted over the answer. Is he remembering Howard being an ally, not a target? Or is he simply conflicted about revealing the information?

The word target echoes in Tony's head.

"You're telling me," Tony asks quietly, with barely contained rage. "That HYDRA ordered an assassination on my parents?"

James gives one short nod of assent. He hasn't said anything to confirm Tony's next suspicion, but Tony is almost certain James is the one who had done it. Or, rather, the Winter Soldier had.

James opens his mouth, but Tony makes a furious stop motion. He wouldn't want to hear the details if he was paid in Vibranium.

Even thinking about the possible details makes him see red. Tony feels his face turn murderous. His faceplate snaps down, and he raises his palm.

His repulsor blasts one of his workshop tables.

Harry yells wordlessly, and simultaneously, the Iron Man suit shorts out.

It's enough to snap Tony out of his rage, and he realizes James has moved in front of him, aiming the blowtorch at his face. Tony's immensely glad that he lowered his face plate for the illusion of privacy. His face is too handsome to get scorched to a crisp, thank you very much.

"If you do not remove the blowtorch from Mr. Stark's face, I will be forced to neutralize you." Jarvis's tone is polite and dangerous at the same time. James stiffens, his eyes assessing the ceiling.

"Suit's fireproof, Jarvis." Tony stumbles back, taking several deep breaths. James's eyes track his every move, but the man remains where he is.

"I believe there has been a misunderstanding." Jarvis says in a slightly lighter tone. "Mr. Stark was not attempting to harm either of you, merely... venting his frustrations."

Tony raises his palms in a gesture of peace, and James slowly lowers the blowtorch.

Tony tries to get his suit to unfold into the briefcase, but it's still malfunctioning. He has to get the robotic arms to disassemble it as he had the earliest models.

James silently watches the arms work. He seems to have realized that Tony hadn't aimed at either of him or Harry, yet still finds the need to threaten him. "If you attempt to harm Harry, I will eliminate you."

"Like you killed my parents?" Tony snaps without thinking, then immediately berates himself. Christ, this guy had even less of a choice than Tony had in that cave. He was tortured, and it's not like Tony's hands are clean, not after being the Merchant of Death. His weapons had killed someone's parents, undoubtedly making some orphans themselves.

"Howard was... an ally of James Buchanan Barnes." James pauses, seeming overwhelmed by whatever's in his head. Something akin to guilt flashes in his ordinarily-blank eyes. Is he remembering? Tony doesn't want to know. The way he talks about his old self as if he's an entirely different person only serves to remind Tony of all he'd been through, all that had been stripped away from Bucky to turn him into the Asset. "I killed them."

"You crashed his mummy and daddy? But you're a hero." Harry turns to look up at James in utter confusion, clearly wondering if he's a good guy or a bad guy. The kid has a black-and-white view of the world, people are either good or bad with no middle ground.

"It wasn't him." Tony tells the kid, surprising himself. If someone told him mere hours ago that he would be defending his parents' killer, he'd have thought they'd broken into one of his several liquor cabinets. He didn't even know they had a killer ten minutes ago.

But James isn't the killer, not really. Even the Asset was barely more than a puppet with strings clenched tightly in HYDRA's grasp.

"My dad said he killed-ed the Dursleys." Harry shares casually, and that guilt flashes through James's eyes again, confirming it. Tony already had a hunch, but James said that to his kid? Tony's an adult and he had a hard time stomaching it.

Harry, on the other hand, seems almost disturbingly unconcerned over this information. Granted, his aunt, uncle and cousin sucked, but still.

"It was a fire." Harry says. Tony lets it slide. He doesn't want to be the one to tell Harry that his new adoptive dad started the fire, even if the Dursleys were terrible.

Tony turns to James and sighs.

"I don't blame you." He's furious, but not at James. "Now, HYDRA, on the other hand, has a one-way ticket to hell. I'm gonna hunt them down, tear them apart. They won't know what hit them."

He was always planning on it, he wasn't going to let an evil organization stay hidden in the shadows. But now HYDRA has made everything personal. They killed his mom.

"HYDRA is a threat to Harry's safety. It must be eliminated." James agrees.

"They're a threat to your safety, too." Tony points out. "Everyone's, really."

"I can help beat bad guys!" Harry punches the air, looking much more confident in his Robin suit.

"No." Tony and James answer simultaneously.

Tony starts to inspect his suit, which has now been fully removed by the robots. He can't find anything wrong with the wiring or circuitry, and suddenly remembers how the malfunction had happened at the same time as Harry's shriek.

"Was this you, Oliver?" While it may not be good for his tech, the thought that Harry has that kind of power is awesome. And a little terrifying. He has to make his suits immune to Harry's powers somehow.

Harry looks nervous, probably thinking he'll blast something again, so Tony shoots him a grin.

As he works, he asks "What else has HYDRA done? I don't think you could drop a worse bomb than you already have."

James frowns, seeming to be trying to remember if he had dropped a literal bomb.

The base had some records, mostly physical papers that he'd scanned into his personal, secure server and told Jarvis to go through, but he doubts that those account for all the atrocities the organization has committed.

Focusing on those other atrocities is easier than focusing on what James just revealed.

Tony glances at Harry and asks "Did they set up another orphaning car crash?" It's certainly not out of the question that they'd killed Harry's parents too. HYDRA's apparently very interested in Harry, likely for his abilities, though according to James there are more people out there with the same abilities.

Harry doesn't seem to pick up on what Tony's implying, but James does.

"Unknown. The enemies stated it was an assassination by an agent under the codename Dark Lord."

Tony snorts slightly at the codename. Then again, he'd seen papers referring to the Winter Soldier at the base. "I take it you didn't know that guy?"

"The Dark Lord is likely a wizard."

"Wizards are bad guys." Harry tells him seriously. "With wep-nized sticks."

Right, not only does he have to take down HYDRA, Tony also has to figure out this whole wizard thing.

"I doubt they're all bad." Tony mutters. There have to be some cool ones, right? Like Harry. Okay, he's getting off the subject. "Unless they're all HYDRA."

James goes rigid again. Tony mentally curses himself.

"I'm not going to hurt you for anything they made you do." Tony promises to James. James clearly had thought so, earlier. Then why had he gone to the lab where all the suits were? Panic screws with logic, he guesses. "Why didn't you run?"

"Your armor can reach approximately 250 kilometers per hour." James states flatly, but there's a clear you would have caught me in there. Right, even James's super-speed is nothing compared to Tony's suits.

"You've got your whole vanishing act going for you." Tony replies. Then again, he has sensors, but James still manages to sneak up on him.

James looks at him as if he's stupid. "You would know how to follow the tracking devices in the prosthesis, and make them extremely difficult or impossible to remove."

Tony frowns. "There weren't trackers in there. There was a place where there might've been, but there wasn't actually."

It's James's turn to frown. "You did not install tracking devices?" He says it like Tony had made an egregious error in maintaining his arm.

Of course HYDRA had chipped James, like a dog. Tony's actually somewhat impressed James had apparently removed the first one.

"I'm not going to track you. And I don't think anyone caught onto me now. The base was completely deserted, had been for decades. I killed the alarms before I went in, but I don't think they would've worked anyway."

James nods once, stiffly.

"So as of right now, you're in the clear."

Tony pauses. SHIELD probably keeps an eye on his activities as Iron Man, and Fury has that nasty habit of breaking and entering unannounced. Shit. Well, James and Harry are still safer here than they are on their own. At least they've got Iron Man backing them up here.

"Well, Fury has a nasty habit of showing up, but I won't let him take you, so your best bet is probably sticking here. I'll fight wizards, too."

Considering what Harry did to his suit, wizards might be sort of tricky.

Harry tugs on James's cape. "Can we go to the Batcave?"

James shakes his head. "We cannot go there."

Harry's face falls.

"This is the closest you're gonna get to the Batcave, kiddo. Batman's not real." Tony eyes James's Batman suit. "You know, I think that'd fit me better than you. I was already a genius, billionaire, orphan superhero. But now I've got the whole backstory too."

Hiding feelings behind some dark snark never hurt anyone.

James starts to shed the caped garment, but Tony waves a hand. "Keep it. You've got the whole brooding thing down anyway. Besides, I'm more awesome than Batman anyway."

"Batman's more awesome!" Harry crosses his arms.

Tony's glad for this old argument. Trying to convince a preschooler that his favorite superhero is fictional is less painful than dwelling on other stuff.

"You know, you're turning out like Batman too, Oliver." Tony mutters. If this kid's parents were assassinated as well, well, he's got the origin story going. Unlike Batman and Tony, Harry seems to actually have superpowers.

"I'm Robin." Harry tells him. "But not really, 'cos my dad loves me more. Harry."

Despite everything, Tony finds Harry's expression sort of adorable. Tony's not sure he wants to know what this kid is going to be like when he grows up, especially with James teaching him self-defense.

But the look James is sending Harry seems more human and less like a creepy cyborg terminator. Even that guilt in his eyes seemed more human.

Said eyes snap back to Tony. "Why are you helping?"

"You were a prisoner of war. Those bastards wiped your mind, tortured you. They're going to pay."

Okay, maybe this isn't the sort of conversation they're supposed to have in front of a preschooler, but Harry had been there when James mentioned memory wipes the first time, and who knows what he'd seen before arriving here?

Tony really hopes Harry hadn't actually witnessed said wipes. Even imagining them is traumatizing.

Harry gapes at James, his face baffled once again. "You were in jail?! But only bad guys go to jail!"

"Not quite what that means." Tony tells the kid. "Prisoner of War means the bad guys captured him. He didn't do anything to land there."

"Bucky Barnes's fall from the train landed him there."

Tony stares at James, unable to tell if he's being literal or developing a dark, deadpan sense of humor. He really hopes it's the latter.

"You ex-scaped, Dad?" Harry asks knowingly. "You beat up bad guys?"

Something flashes across James's face. "I... defected. When I found you."

Tony bites back an acerbic question as to why he hadn't defected when sent to kill his parents. That won't help anyone, and James had made a comment earlier about memory wipes being necessary. Maybe he had defected before.

James seems to guess what he's thinking. "They used the Chair when I became uncooperative."

Tony scrubs a hand across his face. "If you tell me where the others are, I'll destroy them. Or you could. I bet it'd be cathartic to go to town on them."

"HYDRA must be destroyed." James's cybernetic arm clenches and whirs. "They will not harm Harry. They will not reclaim me."

"They'll have to get through Iron Man before they try." Tony says.

"An' me!" Harry declares, and both James and Tony shoot that down again. Harry scowls. "And Batman. And my A'set Dad."

"I'm still looking into Rollins and Rumlow." Tony tells him. "Haven't found anything incriminating yet, but they'd keep that under wraps. Do you remember any other names? A leader, perhaps?"

That's probably too much to hope for, Tony thinks, but then James says "Director Pierce."

Chapter Text

James has just divulged possibly the most classified intel of HYDRA- the leader.

James has once again offered the information willingly to Stark, who had not tried to kill him after James revealed that HYDRA sent the Soldier to assassinate his parents.

"Pierce?" Stark studies him with eyes that aren't quite as sharp as usual, indicating exhaustion.

That bastard really deserves it, the Bucky voice sounds grimly satisfied, and calls Pierce several more colorful terms in James's mind.

"Piers is Dudley's fwiend." states Harry. "He helps Dudley hit me."

James had not encountered Piers, but he should teach the kid a lesson. Not kill him as he had the Dursley boy, but scare him enough to ensure he'll never be a bully again.

Steve never liked bullies, declares the Bucky voice. Neither do I.

"Well, that Piers kid sounds like a jerk." Stark mutters. "But I kind of doubt a kid's in charge of HYDRA. Even if you were somehow in charge of him."

Unlike James, HYDRA does not have codewords for gaining control of it.

"My dad said Piers." Harry argues.

"He said Pierce. Not Piers." Stark explains to Harry before turning toward James. "There are a lot of Pierces out there. Secretary Pierce, for instance..."

The man's expression darkens, full of suspicion, and he mutters "Please tell me it's some other Pierce."

"Did you mean Secretary Alexander Pierce, former director of SHIELD?" the computerized voice Jarvis interjects smoothly, presumably addressing James. A holographic photo of Director Pierce's face appears. He is elderly, with graying hair and the beginnings of wrinkles, but James remembers him younger as well. James had not gained wrinkles or graying hair as his handler has.

The sight of the man makes him feel phantom slaps on his face. He tenses, instinctively expecting the order to be put in the Chair, even though it is a stationary picture, not the real person.

The old voice klaxons like an alarm in James's mind. PIERCE WILL RESET THE MISSION AND RECLAIM HIS ASSET.

Not gonna happen, pal. The Bucky voice replies, though James can hear apprehension behind Bucky's bravado. Surely Pierce is powerful enough to make him HYDRA's asset again, even if he is not now.

Harry stifles a snicker. "That's not Piers! It's a old man!"

"That is Director Pierce." James speaks through a clenched jaw, trying not to think of the punishment that would await him if Pierce knew James just uncovered him, which would be in addition to the punishments for defecting and revealing HYDRA's existence.

Stark groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You're just a stream of earth-shattering revelations, aren't you? You're telling me this HYDRA infestation goes as deep as the director of SHIELD?! The Secretary?!"

Stark is expressing disbelief but James does not think he is dismissing the intel, as he had originally dismissed HYDRA as a memory of the Bucky person.

"Affirmative." James states.

Stark slumps into a chair and moans. "I just wanted to fly home, crash, and drink until I forgot everything. Then you had to drop even bigger bombs on me."

Harry's brow furrows over Stark's words. "But you'd die in a crash, like-"

"I don't need to be reminded about that, kid." Stark's snaps in a tight voice, and he glances once again at James. He said he wouldn't hurt James and he's out of his armor, but James still prepares himself for a fight.

Harry shuts his mouth hastily, eyes wide and locked on Stark's hands.

"I-I'll get your d'ink, sir." the boy murmurs, reverting to his behavior at the Dursley residence as he hurries toward the bar lining one wall.

Stark pinches the bridge of his nose. "We talked about this, Oliver. You're not serving me." The man stands and quickly strides to the bar, beating Harry there, and turns to gesture for the boy to stop. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm not mad at you, anyway... just, mad."

James observes Stark pour himself a liberal amount of liquid from a decanter and toss the glass back, immediately pouring another.

Stark's promise not to blame James for the assassination of his parents- even when it had been his hands that had done it- may not remain in effect if the man becomes inebriated. Intoxication can make many people prone to violent outbursts, which Stark had already demonstrated by shooting a workbench. Next time, it could be James or Harry.

Yet Stark is unarmed and Harry seems capable of disabling his suit. James would have enough of a head start to subdue the man.

"So has every SHIELD director secretly been HYDRA?!" Stark tosses back more liquid, then shakes his head wearily. "There's no way Peggy Carter could've been... or are you gonna drop that bomb, too?"

James has few memories of Carter, and the Bucky voice remarks She didn't even notice me, only had eyes for Steve. It was horrible.

Carter had fought against HYDRA. There is the possibility she could have been a double agent, but James is somehow certain she wasn't. "Carter was not affiliated with HYDRA."

Stark exhales slowly. "Well, that's the first remotely relieving news you've given me all day. You sure Fury isn't HYDRA? Black man with a dark coat and eyepatch?"

Another holographic photo matching Stark's description appears. It must be Fury, but all James has heard were unflattering jibes. "Rumlow and Rollins joked he was blind."

"Literally or figuratively?" Stark asks. "Because if he doesn't know any of this is happening under his nose..."

James scowls at Stark. "You told Potts you would not contact Fury." Stark hasn't gone back on that promise, has he? Fury could still be HYDRA even if James doesn't recognize him.

"I haven't. I don't exactly trust him." Stark returns to studying Pierce's picture with growing disgust. "Ugh, we're gonna need tons of evidence to bring Pierce down, and I bet he covers it up. You don't happen to have mad detective skills, do you?"

"Ask Batman!" Harry chips in, standing close to James. "He's the greatest mad de-te-tive ever in the world!"

Stark shoots Harry an exasperated look. "Isn't your dad Batman?"

"No, the real Batman." Harry's tone is as exasperated as Stark's expression.

Rather than arguing, once again, that Batman is fictitious, Stark ignores the statement altogether. "As much as I'd like to go into this guns blazing, we should probably make a plan or two."

"That would certainly be advisable." the computerized voice Jarvis remarks dryly.

Decommissioning Pierce would not destabilize all of HYDRA. As the motto goes, cut off one head and two more shall take its place. There would simply be a new leader.

They'll need to dismantle everything, bring HYDRA down as the other Winter Soldiers would destabilize and topple entire countries in a single night. Unlike countries, HYDRA may not be able to be razed that quickly.

"Any idea how long Pierce has been the director of HYDRA?" Stark asks.

James's brow furrows minutely. Some missions have set time stamps, but often he would be thawed and given no information on what year it was.

"It's no biggie if you don't." Stark says, though he almost sounds as if he's simply humoring James. "I had Jarvis scan more paperwork than Pepper's ever forced me to sign. Ugh, that was a pain."

Several holographic documents appear. Two of them have HYDRA's logo of a skull and snakes on the top.

Bit stupid for an undercover organization, remarks the Bucky voice.

Harry, however, points at the logo excitedly. "Snakes! I can ask my snake fwiends to bite bad guys!"

"Is that another one of your powers? Being a mini Doctor Dolittle?" Stark seems unsure as to whether to actually believe it or dismiss talking animals as a child's imagination.

"Who?"

"He talks to animals. And they talk back, but not in a hallucination way."

"Dogs only talk in dog sounds." Harry replies derisively. "'Cos Nighty's a dumb bad dog and Ripper g'owls like a tiger."

"So is it just snakes?" Stark questions, and Harry slowly nods. The man glances toward the ceiling. "Hey, J, while you're busy combing through all those documents, mind seeing if there are any kids' books with talking snakes? Order Doctor Dolittle too."

Even James expects a snarky retort from the computerized voice about being busy, but instead it says "Sir, Agent Romanoff-"

"Is she HYDRA too?" Stark's voice is weary.

Before Jarvis can reply, a pair of woman's legs that are too short to belong to Potts silently descend the steps. James grabs the blowtorch and instructs Harry to remain hidden behind one of the cars.

The woman has red hair and glossed lips, and James recognizes her as the agent he shot through to hit the target engineer. She has two pistols and four knives concealed on her person, which would go unnoticed by 98% of people but are impossible to miss for James's trained eyes.

THREAT ASSESSMENT: HIGH.

She enters a code onto the access panel and enters through the glass door.

Stark folds his arms across the faint glow filtering through his shirt and narrows his eyes at the woman. "You are not the former assistant I was hoping to see, Rushman or Romanoff or whatever your real name is. I know I said I wanted you before, but I really don't want you now."

Romanoff's eyes flick to where James is standing motionless. He should have remained unnoticed by civilians and trained agents alike. It makes her more dangerous.

James hears Harry whisper something about his bad witch mummy, and the agent's eyes narrow at the car before settling on Stark as if seeing him anew. "Didn't think you were the type to settle down with a husband and kid."

James ignores the Bucky voice as it asks in a shocked tone Fellas can marry fellas now? That is unimportant. He needs to focus on Harry's safety.

"Do you see a ring?" Stark arches a brow. "I'm anything but settled right now. In fact, I've been thoroughly unsettled by a lot recently, and your appearance isn't helping. What does Fury want?"

James tenses. She is SHIELD. Fury cannot know they are here. James isn't sure the man is HYDRA- he'd never heard the STRIKE team disparage Pierce the way they had disparaged Fury. The lack of respect indicates he is an enemy of HYDRA, but that does not mean he will be an ally to James or Harry.

It is possible Romanoff brought the STRIKE team as backup. Ordinarily, fighting multiple opponents on his own would be a negligible exercise, but STRIKE is different. Rumlow may have his own trigger words to incapacitate James until Pierce arrives.

"Fury wants to know why Iron Man decided to destroy a warehouse." Romanoff replies.

Stark snorts. "Boredom? I'm volatile, as your own report said. That means I like to blow shit up."

Romanoff levels Stark with an unimpressed look as the man continues "For an intelligence agency, you're remarkably stupid a lot of the time. You can tell Fury I said that, quote me if you want."

She will not be reporting their presence to Fury.

WITNESSES ARE TO BE ELIMINATED.

James is closing in on Romanoff before the inner voice has finished speaking.

Romanoff dodges his first blow, flipping up to wrap her legs around his throat. She attempts to subdue him with strangulation and blunt force trauma to his head, but he slams her back into a wall.

It is similar to how the fight with the giant played out, only James is the giant this time. He will not allow Romanoff to incapacitate him with a tree.

James successfully stuns Romanoff enough to flip her off his shoulders and toss her across the room. She expertly rolls to her feet, producing a gun and aiming it at James.

James distantly hears both Stark and Harry shouting, and the gun is ripped from Romanoff's grasp by an invisible force. The enemy asset had used a similar, seemingly magical method to relieve the escorts of their weapons and James of his weapons and supplies in the Tesco parking lot.

Does Harry have the same ability?

Romanoff's expression is shocked for 0.4 seconds before she smooths her features. She ignores the gun and produces a knife, gripping it 24% tighter than she had the gun, as if to ensure it won't be pulled from her grip.

James dodges the knife and locks Romanoff's arm in place. She attempts to break the hold in a manner similar to the one James had been teaching Harry, but James readjusts his stance. The knife clatters to the floor.

"солдат" Romanoff gasps. It is not an attempt to gain control, but a realization of who he is.

James does not release his hold, but his mind flashes to the Red Room. He recalls instructing a red-haired girl on how to shoot a gun. She was barely older than Harry is now, but he realizes she grew to be the agent he currently has in an arm-lock.

He is not sure how he went from training her to shooting through her. Is she an enemy of HYDRA, despite working in SHIELD? Or is she still working for the Russians?

Romanoff takes advantage of the distraction to twist free. That action, along with Harry's voice, snaps James out of the memory.

"Go away!" Harry is standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at Romanoff from under his black mask. "You can't eat anyone here."

"I wasn't planning on eating anyone."

"Was too!" Harry is obviously unconvinced. "You're my bad witch mummy. Go away. I haf' a new dad now."

"I'm no one's mother." Romanoff's eyes do not leave James for even a fraction of a second. "Certainly not yours. And I'm not a witch."

"Are you Batgirl?" Harry seems to be going through a mental checklist of red-haired individuals.

"No, she's not." Stark sighs. "She's a triple-agent spy, that's all I know about her. And she speaks Latin."

Romanoff speaks in Russian instead of Latin, addressing James. "You look the same."

She looks only a few years older than when the Soldier shot out her tires and then shot through her to kill the engineer.

"Who were you working for?" she's clearly referencing the mission where his bullet pierced her.

"I don't work for anyone anymore." James replies.

"What are you saying?" Stark demands, annoyed at being left out of the conversation. "Hey, Jarvis. What are they saying?"

Jarvis translates Romanoff's words, and Romanoff smoothly transitions to English to tell Stark "I was wondering how you ended up with a Soviet assassin in your house."

"Soviet?" Stark raises a brow at James. "Well, that explains your red star. So, what, were you two spies together?"

"We were. Then he shot through me." Romanoff's voice is carefully deadpan. "Ruined bikinis forever."

Stark mutters that he doubts that, absently rubbing his chest. "I'm living proof you be hot as hell, scars and all." He nods at James. "I guess he's proof of that, too."

Romanoff ignores Stark completely, still watching James. "I got on SHIELD's radar in a bad way. They sent an agent to kill me, and he made a different choice."

James does not think Romanoff was sent to kill him. Though she'd noticed his presence, she had given no indication of expecting to see either him or Harry, or of having any knowledge about Harry and his abilities.

All evidence points to her coming solely for Stark.

Presently, she's extending a silent offer for him to defect, to join SHIELD. James studies her. She truly doesn't know that joining SHIELD would be joining the same side he's left.

"We've both got red in our ledgers. We can wipe it out." Romanoff seems to think she is currently doing better than being an assassin, meaning she cannot be knowingly working for HYDRA. Anyone willingly joining them would have no qualms about getting blood on their hands.

"Yeah, SHIELD might not be the best way to atone for past stuff." Stark mutters.

Romanoff shoots him a look. "Not all of us are billionaires with the time and money to invent weaponized suits."

"SHIELD 's bad guys." Harry says solemnly. "Like Hy'da."

"HYDRA?" Romanoff asks.

James interrupts his son quickly.

"I will not join SHIELD." The words feel strange in James's mouth. What he wants has never factored into the equation in the past, and if SHIELD wants to acquire him, they will likely find a way. Most likely using the STRIKE team.

As if answering his thoughts, James hears footsteps on the stairs. Only one person, thankfully, but it would only take one person with the right words to reset him.

The man is wearing a suit, but it is not Pierce. That fact does not necessarily make him less dangerous.

"Oh, yay, Coulson." Stark mutters sarcastically. "Just who I wanted to see."

Chapter Text

Harry has just gotten a peek of a man in a business suit coming through the glass door before his dad James scoops him up and carries him towards a sleek back car. As Harry's being placed in the front seat- he's never ridden up front before, but the car doesn't have a backseat- the man who Mr. Stark called Coulson says "You should be putting him to bed, not going for a drive. Especially not in that car. He needs to be in a car seat in the back."

Harry hears his dad's robot arm whir without clunking as the metal plates shift.

Harry scrambles to his knees to squint at the man. Mr. Coulson's face is a blur. He wonders if the Coulson man is here to do business with Mr. Stark. Why else would he be wearing a suit, unless he's a butler?

"Are we e-vading?" Harry whispers to his dad, who's looking at Mr. Coulson, not Harry. His dad gives a sharp nod, still watching the man.

It's the second time it seemed like they were going to leave since Harry woke up. He thought they were leaving after writing in the book, but then Mr. Stark came back and they're still here.

Harry likes living at Mr. Stark's a lot more than living with the Dursleys, but he and his dad had driven around before, going from place to place. They can do that again. Going anywhere with his dad would be good, except that castle. He never wants to go there again.

He wants to ask if they'll drive to the Batcave, since this sleek black car looks a bit like the Batmobile, but Mr. Stark and even his Batman dad say they can't go there.

His dad murmurs in his ear, so quietly that Harry barely hears it. "If they try to take my brain, use the word from the ski lodge."

Harry frowns, before remembering and nodding.

"Children his age need consistent schedules and lots of sleep." Mr. Coulson tells Mr. Stark with a very disappointed look. "Having a child up at this hour is exceedingly poor parenting."

Mr. Stark crosses his arms so Harry can't see the glow under his shirt anymore. "Really, agent? You're coming here to play Supernanny? You're setting a terrible example, yourself. Neither of you knocked."

Mr. Stark sounds mad again, and Harry gulps, knowing he did something wrong but not knowing what. He always has to help his aunt cook fancy meals and desserts for guests, but Mr. Stark keeps stopping him from cooking or getting drinks or cleaning.

Mr. Stark isn't acting like Harry's aunt and uncle did around guests, but he almost never acts like them.

When Harry's dad speaks, he doesn't growl. His voice is soft, quiet. "How many agents are surrounding the perimeter?"

He sounds sort of like he's giving up, not like Batman at all. Harry stares at him. "You can kick their butts. Like the giant and her." Harry points to Miss Romanoff, not sure why his dad isn't fighting Mr. Coulson like he fought her.

"There are currently no other agents in the premises." Jarvis says in his smooth voice. "Sir, I've taken the liberty of contacting Miss Potts. She's on her way."

"You're a lifesaver, J." Mr. Stark mutters. "I'm shocked nobody's died yet." Harry feels his face scrunch in confusion. They were talking about their parents dying earlier.

Miss Romanoff turns to Mr. Coulson. "Sir, this is the agent from Odessa. The Winter Soldier."

Coulson turns to Harry's new James dad, who is no longer crouched next to Harry. His dad opens the door to the driver's seat, which is on the wrong side of the car, but doesn't get in.

"You defeated one of my best agents, twice." Mr. Coulson says. "You've been a ghost for years, credited with dozens of assassinations. You must have received extensive training to accomplish those feats. Why don't you tell me where you got your training?"

Mr. Stark waves a hand. "Ra's al Ghul and the League of Shadows."

Miss Romanoff answers as if Mr. Stark didn't say anything. "He was part of my training, but I don't think he had any more of a say than I did."

Something coils in Harry's chest like a snake as he hears that, so he barely hears whatever she says next about a red room. He turns toward his dad to say "No. You're training me. You're my dad, not hers."

Harry speaks firmly, but still knows better than to shout like Dudley did when throwing a tantrum.

"He's your dad?" Mr. Coulson asks.

"I'm his Robin." Harry says mostly to remind himself, looking down at his outfit. The Romanoff woman might look like Batgirl with red hair and a tight black costume, but she's not, right? Maybe she lied about him training her, and Harry's pretty sure the fight he'd just seen was real. His dad seemed different fighting her than when he practiced with Harry. He didn't say she did well, and he was punching really hard like when he fought the bad guys.

"You're training your kid to be a child winter soldier." Mr. Coulson doesn't raise his voice, but Harry can hear that he expects to be answered.

"Robin's a superhero." Harry scoffs. He knows his dad is a soldier, but superheroes are even better.

Mr. Coulson uses weird grown-up words to say those aren't moo-tally eggs-clues-ive, then explains it means soldiers can be superheroes too, like Captain America.

Ms. Romanoff answers for Harry's James dad. "You're teaching him self-defense. So he can protect himself."

"We can offer protection, make sure both you and your kid are safe." Mr. Coulson tells them. Harry's dad already keeps him safe and fights bad guys, and Mr. Stark said he wouldn't hurt them even after shooting a table. They don't need Mr. Coulson.

"Or you'll lock him up." Mr. Stark says.

"They didn't lock me up." Miss Romanoff points out, then tells Harry's dad in a kinder tone "SHIELD isn't like the Red Room."

Mr. Coulson still looks calm. "I seem to have a knack for taking in ex-assassins. We can be very... lenient that way."

"Yeah, as long as they become Fury's assassins like this triple spy." Mr. Stark lifts an eyebrow at Miss Romanoff. "I'll make sure they're safe even if he doesn't join you. Which he said he wouldn't, remember?"

Harry's Batman dad's robot hand clenches into a fist, but Harry isn't hit with it. His dad's not even looking at him, he's giving the two new people a scowl that seems even more furious than Uncle Vernon, except his face doesn't turn purple.

"I'm Batman." his dad says, and Harry can't help but smile. "The Batman does not kill."

"The kid said we're like HYDRA." Romanoff mutters to Coulson. Harry tries to copy the glare his dad is giving. He stands up as tall as he can, sticking his hands on his hips.

"Kids have incredibly active imaginations." Mr. Coulson tells her before turning to speak to Harry. "Have you heard stories of HYDRA? They were defeated a long time ago, by Captain America."

Harry knows this man is lying, he'd heard his dad tell Miss Potts and Mr. Stark that HYDRA isn't gone. He shakes his head slowly.

Miss Romanoff almost smiles. "Don't tell me you're going to whip out your card collection."

Mr. Stark snorts. "Card collection?"

Mr. Coulson pulls a stack of cards out of his suit pocket, holding them out for Harry to see. Harry can't see what's on them, even when he squints. Mr. Coulson explains "That's Captain America."

Harry whispers to his dad "Did he fight wizards?"

"He fought very bad people, alongside his friend Bucky Barnes." Mr. Coulson flips to another card that Harry can't see, but guesses has a picture of his dad looking like Bruce Wayne.

"He's a hero." Harry declares.

"He was." Mr. Coulson agrees. "They fought together, like Batman and Robin, and were the only two Howling Commandos to give their lives in service of their country."

"Bucky wasn't Robin." Harry's dad speaks in a low growl.

"I'm Robin." Harry says again, wondering how Mr. Coulson missed it. The man seems to like Captain America almost as much as Harry likes Batman, except the man's wearing a boring suit, not a Captain America one.

Mr. Coulson looks between Harry's dad and the card, before saying "Your chin looks a lot like Bucky's."

"All right, agent." Mr. Stark interrupts quickly. "After your display of extreme fanboying, I'm going to assume you'd side with Cap. Plus you helped Pepper, even if you threatened me with a taser, so... call this very tentative trust."

Jarvis starts talking in his smooth, Alfred-like voice. "Agent Coulson, while I in no way condone your prior threat to use a taser on Mr. Stark- and will not hesitate to stop you should you try to do so- Miss Potts seems to have a certain amount of trust in you."

Mr. Stark hums at his butler's words. "I'd trust Pepper with my life, and she was on good terms with both of you."

"Much better terms than you are." Miss Romanoff says, but not in a cruel tone like Aunt 'Tunia.

Mr. Stark shakes his head slightly, and starts teasing "Really, agent, carrying a vintage card collection around on the off chance Cap comes up in conversation is just... wow."

Mr. Coulson doesn't answer aside from a tiny smile and "He's my hero."

Mr. Stark smiles his own smile that looks pretend, with raised eyebrows. "You and my dad would've gotten on like a house on fire."

Harry thinks of the Dursleys' house, but when he starts to say so, Mr. Stark tells him it's just a saying.

Harry doesn't know what's going on now. Are they good or bad? Mr. Stark changed so fast, like he'd changed from angry to saying he wasn't mad earlier. Harry's used to Uncle Vernon doing the opposite.

"He's my hero." Harry declares, pointing to his dad and glaring at Mr. Coulson and Miss Romanoff "If you try to take his brain, I'll glue and dis-arm you. And my dad will kick your butts."

His dad can beat both of them up, even if they fight together. He'd beat up the giant, and now that his arm's fixed, he could easily win against them.

Harry grins, remembering how he'd seen Robin do the coolest move on the telly. Harry tries to imitate a flip kick he'd seen the boy wonder do. Robin made it look so easy, but Harry feels himself start to tip over.

His dad snags him by the ankle to stop his fall, and Harry dangles upside-down in his dad's grasp. He twists, and now his dad looks like he's hanging from the ceiling like a bat.

Mr. Coulson is looking down (or up?) at Harry's forehead, where his lightning scar is. Maybe he'll hate it like Aunt Tunia.

"You're Harry Potter." the man, then asks Stark "How did you come into contact with both the Winter Soldier and Harry Potter?"

"No, I'm Robin. An' I'm gonna dis-arm you!" Harry declares, as his dad puts him over his skin shoulder, leaving his robot arm free to fight.

Harry punches the air. "Let me down! I'll fight!"

"No." growls his dad James. His next words don't sound like they're to Harry. "If you touch him, I will eliminate you."

"Put Harry to bed." Mr. Coulson sighs. "Then we'll talk."

Harry can't go to bed! He had a bad dream, and so much is happening right now. Robin gets to stay up all night fighting bad guys with Batman. Harry knows he's not really Robin, but he wants to stay up too!

"How do you know who Harry is?" Harry's dad demands, but it sounds like when grown-ups ask questions they already know the answer to.

"I have a high clearance in an intelligence agency." Mr. Coulson's voice is mild.

"You mean an agency that's anything but intelligent." Mr. Stark shoots back. "What do you know about him?"

"That's classified." Mr. Coulson says, still not raising his voice. "You've stumbled into more than you can possibly imagine, Mr. Stark."

"Trust me, I know." Mr. Stark grumbles. "But I bet it's more than you can imagine, even with your top secret spy intel."

"Like dumb witches." Harry says. Uncle Vernon hates imagination, even imagining evil witches, but they're real. He glances at Miss Romanoff again.

"I'm not a witch."

"You had a gun," Harry nods, starting to believe her. "Not a wep-nized stick."

Miss Romanoff frowns at Mr. Stark. "What did you do, magnetize my gun to pull it out of my hands?"

"Yep." Mr. Stark grins. Harry thought he felt something when the gun went flying, the feeling he got other times he used his... superpowers. Is Mr. Stark lying now?

Mr. Coulson raises his eyebrows like he doesn't believe it, and Mr. Stark rounds on him. "So, are you going to tell us why everyone's after Harry since you know about him? Don't tell me you guys were after him, too, because you sure as hell aren't taking either him or Batman anywhere."

"He's... important within certain circles." Mr. Coulson says, and Harry's not sure what shapes have to do with this, aside from the fact everyone looks at his scar, but that's lightning, not a circle.

"Yeah, I figured that out." Mr. Stark says.

"There's a lot you don't know, Mr. Stark."

"What, like wizards? Yeah, I know about them. Genius, remember? I've even heard about some wacky guy named Dumbledore."

"Wizards?" Miss Romanoff sounds confused but not angry like Aunt Tunia.

"I'll brief you later. It's more than New Mexico." Mr. Coulson's face doesn't change as he asks Mr. Stark. "Do you know about the Boy Who Lived?"

"I'm guessing that's Harry." Mr. Stark says. Harry crosses his arms. He's dressed as the Boy Wonder, that's different. "He survived some sort of car crash assassination from the, uh, Dark Lord."

Harry bites his lip to stop himself from saying anything about Mr. Stark's parents and making him mad again.

Mr. Coulson looks at Harry like he's sorry about something, then pauses before speaking slowly. "It wasn't a car crash. A bad wizard killed them."

"Was it Dumb-Bell-Door?" Harry asks, because the dumb old man was going to cook him. Or maybe it was the enemy wizard with the long hair and dark clothes, who looked a bit like his dad but without a robot arm.

"No, it was a bad wizard most refer to as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Is that you redacting it, or do people seriously call him that?" Stark asks.

"They also seriously call him You-Know-Who. Many are scared to speak his name." Mr. Coulson turns to Harry. "You-Know-Who killed your parents, then cast the killing curse on you, but it rebounded. You're the only person known to survive it."

Harry rubs his scar. "Dumb-Bell-Door's a bad wizard."

"Dumbledore fought against You-Know-Who, along with your parents. They were like superheroes."

Part of Harry likes the idea of his mummy and daddy being superheroes, not worthless like his uncle and aunt always said, but he looks back at his Batman dad. He already has a superhero dad who isn't like those wizards and witches.

"No. He tried'ta cook me. He took my Batman James dad away an' freezed him. My dad's a hero, not Dumb-Bell-Door."

"He tried to cook you?" Miss Romanoff asks.

"Did you fight that bad wizard?" Harry asks his dad, hoping the answer is yes. He remembers watching his dad beat up the enemy wizard in the play park, and even threw a teeter-totter at him.

"Unknown. What method does the killing curse use?" Harry's Batman James dad shifts slightly on his feet, wrapping his dark cape over Harry. "Energy projectiles? Toxins? Cardiac arrest?"

Mr. Stark makes a pained face at the last one, but it's gone by the time Harry's realized.

Mr. Coulson blinks. "It just... kills. Magically."

Harry's jaw drops. They were killed by magic, not a car crash? Were Mr. Stark's parents killed by this bad wizard guy too?

Harry's dad almost growls, in a very Batman voice as he holds Harry close "Will he survive if it's used again?"

"I don't know. Nobody really knows how he survived the first time."

"So did this unnamed evil wizard die when the curse rebounded?" Mr. Stark scowls. "Because if he did, I kind of want to resurrect him and kill him all over. He tried to murder a baby."

"Nobody knows what happened." Mr. Coulson says. "He disappeared. Some say he died, but others think he's still lurking."

"Great, so there could be an evil wizard along with this Dumbledore guy after them." Mr. Stark rubs a hand over his face. "And freaking HYDRA. Yes, I'm serious, and the only reason I'm telling you is you helped Pepper. But if you pull a Stane on me, I will destroy you along with HYDRA."

"HYDRA's gone." Mr. Coulson says, shuffling his Captain America cards.

"I really hate to burst your bubble, but..."

With a waved hand, glowing blue screens pop up like bubbles or the doe that brought them here. Harry had seen Mr. Stark and his Batman dad looking over some of them, which show the snakes and the old guy who isn't Piers, but Pierce.

Now there are even more floating screens.

"Kind of earth-shattering, huh?" Mr. Stark asks as Mr. Coulson and Miss Romanoff look at the floating screens with blank faces. "You'd think this is the sort of thing an intelligence agency that apparently knows about freaking wizards would've picked up on, but no. They've been running as deep as the director."

Mr. Coulson's face goes all stiff. "This is extremely worrisome."

"Understatement of the century, agent." Mr. Stark mutters.

Harry hears some click-clacking footsteps and jangling behind him. He tenses, thinking it's Ripper with his toenails scraping Aunt Tunia's floors and his dog tags. Harry presses close to his dad, who kept Nighty away when he turned into a bad dog.

He doesn't see Ripper, or any dog, when he looks warily over his shoulder. Instead, Harry sees Miss Potts, and he shyly smiles.

"What are you doing up?" she asks him.

"Bad dreams. And Robin gets 'ta stay up." 

Miss Potts sends Mr. Stark a look like she's going to talk to him later, but Mr. Stark grins wider than he has since he got home earlier. "Miss Potts! So glad you can join the party."

Miss Romanoff shakes her head and says "I don't think this will be a party."

Chapter Text

"You're not going to go squealing to Fury about this, are you?" Stark asks Coulson and Romanoff, after they've relocated from the lab to the living room. Stark seems to be subsiding solely on caffeine, having consumed 3.6 mugs of coffee in the span of 18.1 minutes before Potts confiscated his mug.

"I trust him." Coulson has creases which indicate worry around his eyes as he scrolls through holographic documents. "But if your intel is accurate, Pierce has been stringing even Director Fury along."

Trust me, the intel's accurate, the Bucky sounds sardonic in James's mind.

James eyes Coulson. The man is obviously of a high rank, high enough that if he is HYDRA he'd know most, if not all, of the codewords to reset James into the Soldier. He has not used a single word, despite having ample opportunity to reset James, order him to kill Stark before Potts arrived, and collect Harry. By now he would have made the Asset complete the mission it had gone AWOL on.

THE AGENTS WILL NOT TAKE HARRY. The voice does not specify if it means Coulson and Romanoff, other SHIELD agents, or HYDRA. It likely means all three, and the Bucky voice repeats the promise with more sentiment in its voice. Anyone who looks at him the wrong way...

"You said they mocked Fury, right?" Stark interrupts the Bucky voice's description of what exactly will happen, turning to where James is sitting with his back against the wall where he can observe all entrances and exits.

It takes 1.3 seconds for James to refocus enough to process the question and answer, a delay that would have earned him a slap from Pierce. He is unused to being addressed, or even present, during mission planning unless he is being briefed. "Affirmative."

"And I'm guessing they didn't mock any HYDRA leaders, like Pierce?" Stark continues, seeming unconcerned with the wait and speaking to James as an equal.

Coulson clears his throat. "I doubt a terrorist organization affiliated with Nazis would accept a man like Fury into their ranks. "

"Touche," Stark runs a hand through his hair, "All right, Fury's probably not HYDRA."

He glances at James again, who slowly nods, and Stark continues, "But I still say the fewer people know, the better. I mean, you've gotten duped by Pierce and STRIKE, and who knows who else is secretly evil."

James eyes each member of the room, and Potts assures him. "I didn't tell Phil or Natalia."

James turns his gaze on the agents, ignoring Stark's incredulous cry of "Phil?!"

"You will tell no one about us." James's voice comes out clipped, not at all like Bucky's inside his head.

The old voice practically screams in his mind, seeming confused with the situation. DO NOT SPEAK WITHOUT PERMISSION. James has to remind himself there are no handlers here. Harry and Potts had relinquished their ownership, and Stark is a technician. Coulson is Romanoff's handler, but he is not James's, despite his high rank and suit that remind him of Pierce.

"Don't tell my secret iden-ty. Or my Bat dad's." Harry speaks for the first time since his whispered questions about whether or not they were leaving as James carried him from the lab. The boy mimics James's clipped tone, then twists in his lap to tell him "He said I'm Harry, but he didn't say yours."

"I revealed your dad's identity to Agent Coulson as soon as he walked in the room." Romanoff's lips quirk upward. "It's hardly a secret now."

"He's not just the Winter Soldier." Stark crosses his arms, then smirks at Coulson, seeming unable to resist gloating "If you only knew, Agent..."

Show him our face and he'd probably worship the ground you walk on, beg for autographs for his cards. Bucky drawls in James's head.

James grimaces internally at the thought, even if holding such power over the agent could be advantageous. It is fortunate that the Batman mask conceals his identity.

Stark is starting to get heated, but Potts calms him down. Both Romanoff and Coulson appear calm and collected, but James can pinpoint the anxiety, confusion and frustration in their eyes as they view the files.

"There are more Winter Soldiers." James reveals yet another HYDRA secret, and his mind is suddenly consumed with thoughts of HYDRA sending one of the other soldiers to apprehend him and Harry. Or a Black Widow. His eyes narrow at Romanoff once again. She had presumably contacted Coulson as reinforcement and James has to remind himself again that Coulson has had ample opportunity to reclaim him, but hasn't.

"Hang on." Stark exclaims. "You mean there's more?! You aren't enough? Trust me, you seem like you'd be enough, and that's supposed to be a compliment, but-"

Stark snaps his mouth shut, then opens it again. "Is it Rumlow? Rollins?"

RUMLOW AND ROLLINS ARE NOT SKILLED ENOUGH. The inner voice almost sounds contemptuous at the thought. STRIKE is a highly trained elite squad, but not as trained as James or other Winter Soldiers.

"Negative."

"Or are they all prisoners of war?" Stark throws a significant look at Coulson and Romanoff. "He was a POW. Totally not his choice to be what they made him."

Potts is giving James a deeply sympathetic look, and Stark's eyes have compassion even if his face is more impassive.

The voice of Bucky answers in James's head. They were HYDRA to the core.

"They volunteered."

Stark grimaces. "All right, so, bad guys through and through. Like, total monsters, won't even defect for an adorable little superhero?" The man shoots a grin at Harry.

James's jaw clenches. He had killed the Dursley boy without defecting, had taken so many lives, orphaned people like Stark, destroyed families. He glances at the man's brown eyes, expecting to see the accusation from before, but it isn't there.

"They will not hesitate to kill Harry, if ordered."

Potts looks horrified, Stark grim. Romanoff's face is stony, and Coulson has a sort of sad acceptance as if he's encountered this before.

"We have one of the best legal teams in the world." Potts says as she examines documents. Potts has fire in her eyes despite returning to her calm and collected demeanor. Just like Carter, the Bucky voice remarks, and James ignores it.

"But if this goes all the way to Pierce, HYDRA could be in the Supreme Court. The United Nations..." Potts looks questioningly at James.

"Unknown, ma'am." Potts is not a handler, but is to be respected nonetheless. She turns back to the documents, scouring them for anybody in Stark Industries.

"You know, I almost pity any HYDRA agent after you're done with them." Stark remarks.

"This would be much better undercover, before a huge trial." Romanoff remarks. James has to avert his gaze to attempt to stop the flashing memories of turning her into an assassin. HYDRA would have trained Harry to use the curse that killed his parents. With a soldier capable of using a killing curse, they might have frozen the Asset so he never saw the boy again, perhaps permanently decommissioned him.

As the agents, Stark and Potts discuss how to keep their investigation covert, James keeps his eye on all entrances and exits. Stark had said Fury had a habit of trespassing, as Romanoff and Coulson had done. Even if the man is not HYDRA, James does not want to be caught unaware.

As the Asset, James would be able to watch with unwavering focus, but his mind is fuzzy in a way that surely would have been wiped. His thoughts are staticky, apprehensive of possibilities and the intel he'd learned earlier.

The intel on the assassination of Harry's parents had made James experience physiological reactions he is beginning to recognize as feelings. Even remembering it brings them back. The burning anger is familiar, but the swooping feeling is not. Is it relief, that he had not murdered the boy's parents as he had Stark's? That feeling sets his stomach churning again.

The mission blares in his head. THE NAMELESS WIZARD WILL NOT HARM HARRY.

James scowls at the voice, not sure it can promise that. According to Coulson, Harry is the only person to ever survive a killing curse, and there is no guarantee he would survive again.

There is a small possibility James would be impervious to the killing curse, taking into account that he heals from gunshot wounds that would kill any non-enhanced individual. It is a slim possibility, likely under 10%. Despite the fact some of the spells the enemy asset had fired at him had no effect, the immobilization spell was all too effective. It is likely the killing curse would be as well.

"Is there armor against the killing curse?" James asks Coulson.

"Not if you're a Muggle- a non-magic person." Coulson says. "Unless you can dodge it."

James had dodged or blocked several of the enemy asset's spells, and Harry had freed him from the immobilization spell. That does not seem like enough.

"We need to enhance your shields." he tells Harry, though James has no idea how to train that. The trainers that had worked on the Winter Soldiers and Black Widows would have fired non-lethal bullets at Harry until he learned, through pain, to shield himself. Would the Asset have been the one firing bullets at the boy to force him to use his shields?

James will not use that approach.

"You need to put him to bed." Coulson says. Harry protests, hiding a yawn.

James tightens his hold on Harry, unwilling to let his son out of his sight, not with the agents here. With the way Coulson and Romanoff had appeared with hardly any notice from Jarvis, Dumbledore and the enemy asset could materialize at any moment. Other Soldiers could swoop in.

As they go through the documents, Romanoff spends spends 2.6 minutes interrogating Coulson about wizards in SHIELD. She clearly had not been at a high enough clearance to know about witches and wizards, but the intel makes realization flash briefly in her eyes.

"It was you who pulled my gun away, wasn't it?" Romanoff scrutinizes Harry, who shifts nervously in James's arms.

"That's one of his superpowers." Stark immediately leaps to Harry's defense. "Disarming, Jedi style."

"I dis-awmed...?" Harry blinks, looking tiredly at James for confirmation. His speech is more muddled than usual.

"You disarmed her very well." James answers with an approving nod.

A slow grin spreads over Harry's face as his eyes droop.

Coulson, who has yet to reveal if he is a wizard despite Romanoff and Stark's questioning, asks the same questions about wizards in HYDRA. Despite the recent influx of memories, James cannot recall anything about wizards before Harry, but he had learned something from Dumbledore.

"Wizards erase memories." James has so much experience with that, he wouldn't be surprised if wizards had cleared his mind at some point too. He wonders if it hurts as much as the Chair.

"In England, they would have removed your memories of him and his magic." Coulson sends a surprised look toward Stark. "Even with the repeal of Rappaport's Law in 1965..."

"I shoot energy with my suits and have this in my chest." Stark says. "Maybe that fools whatever detection method they have."

"They are looking for Harry." James scowls. "If they find him..."

James leaves the sentence incomplete. He cannot do his duty as a father and ensure his son's safety. Even if they erase Jame's mind and Harry uses the word to become a handler again, the Asset cannot fight every type of magic.

"They'll take my dad's brain!" Harry cries.

"I could assign you protection detail." Coulson offers. "A witch or wizard, in case the Death Eaters attack."

"No witches!" Harry protests, burying his face into James's chest.

"Witches and wizards aren't all bad." Coulson tells Harry gently.

"They eat kids." Harry protests, glaring suspiciously at Coulson.

"Those are just stories." Coulson answers almost helplessly, seeming to realize that children cannot distinguish fantasy from reality. Stark sends him an almost sympathetic look, no doubt thinking of the times he's tried to convince the boy Batman is fictitious.

Harry clearly does not believe a word. "Dum-Bell-Door tried'ta cook me!"

"Was the fire green?" Coulson asks.

Harry nods, frowning and rubbing his forehead. "Like in bad dweams. With bad guy laughs."

"The Killing Curse." Coulson blinks. "You remember-"

James cuts him off. "Dumbledore used the killing curse on him?" He'll break the old man's nose again with his prosthesis, rip him apart with his hands for trying to kill his son.

Potts manages to defuse both James and Stark, enough for Coulson to explain that green fire is a way to travel, not a killing curse, and doesn't hurt at all. "It's called Floo Powder, and it lets witches and wizards go from fireplace to fireplace."

Simultaneously, Stark and James turn toward the fireplace in the room, and Coulson assures them it isn't connected to the Floo Network. "The Killing Curse is also green, but it's not fire. More like an energy blast."

"He wasn't cookin' me?" Harry asks, still partially in disbelief. Coulson shakes his head.

"Harry," Potts interjects gently. "There are superheroes, and super villains, right?"

James feels Harry's head nod against his chest.

"They both have powers, and it depends how they use them. They can use them for good or bad. Like Matilda."

Harry looks back at James for confirmation, so James tells his son "A weapon isn't good or bad. It's the person who wields it."

THE ASSET IS A WEAPON.

Before James can think too much on why the voice said that, Harry is speaking again. "There's good witches with good wep-nized sticks?"

"There are good witches and good wizards." Coulson nods. "Your parents were two of them. Lily and James were kind, and would never eat you or any other child. They both bravely fought the Dark Lord."

"Then they died." Harry says in a completely neutral tone.

"If the Death Eaters attack, you'll need help from someone magical." Coulson echoes the thoughts running through James's head. At Stark's look, Coulson explains that Death Eaters are the Dark Lord's followers.

Stark pinches his nose. "Just when I think I've heard everything... now there's HYDRA and some kind of wizard HYDRA too? How will we know this wizard isn't HYDRA?"

"Fury knows some Aurors who fought the Death Eaters, who survived several assassination attempts by the Dark Lord and his followers."

James wonders if he'd been sent to assassinate any of them. It is likely he would have sniped them, rather than engage. Several memories of sniping flash through his mind, but he does not know if the targets were magical.

When the memory fades, James realizes he hasn't processed any of the conversation. As the Asset, he would have listened with unwavering attention if required, had even overheard countless conversations he was not supposed to listen to, in which the handlers, technicians or agents speaking acted as if he was a mindless beast that could not understand them.

He would not have been distracted by memories. How can he ensure Harry's safety in his current state?

"I thought I was finally on the right side." Romanoff is staring at the transparent files of Rumlow and Rollins without truly seeing them.

"I've been there." Stark says in a low tone, seemingly to himself. "Nothing to do but blow it all up and start over."

"So that's what you were doing with the warehouse." Coulson says.

Several memories of explosions flash through James's mind. Some from his time as the Winter Soldier, but others from when his left arm was flesh and Captain America at his side. HYDRA bases. Bucky supplies in his head. I'd love to blow some to hell now.

Romanoff glances in James's direction. "I guess I shouldn't have offered for you to join SHIELD. But you could help us."

This offer, like her original offer to join SHIELD, is phrased in a way that sounds voluntary. When he was under HYDRA's command, nothing was voluntary. Even Pierce's speeches of him bringing order to mankind left no room for choice.

"Destroying them might be cathartic." Romanoff adds.

"It sure was when I did it." Stark's voice has a dark quality that is usually absent.

James wants to raze HYDRA to the ground. Harry's safety cannot be ensured without its annihilation, but he cannot risk running into agents who could reset him, cannot leave Harry alone.

No way in hell we're dragging him to bases. Bucky says. Harry needs safety and consistency.

"I need to be here for my son." he says, holding the sleeping form of Harry.

Coulson nods in something that almost seems like approval. "Seriously, put him to bed. Get some sleep yourselves, you both look like you need it."

Chapter Text

Tony can hardly wrap his mind around how far this past night- or, rather, morning- has spiraled after returning from the HYDRA base, as if that base hadn't been enough. No, it seems the universe is truly out to get him today, and it isn't even seven A.M.

"Tell our new magic guard to knock like a normal person instead of pulling a Santa down my chimney." says Tony as Coulson and Romanoff are leaving. He's had it with unannounced guests.

Coulson nods vaguely, seeming more focused on establishing a passphrase for the wizard or witch to prove they're the guard instead of one of the Death Eaters.

Tony's exhausted, but his mind won't quiet, still racing to make sense of everything he's learned in the past few hours as he ushers Pepper out the door. He should probably talk to her, but that can wait. He has files to hack, suits to improve, evil organizations to topple.

He only vaguely processes the fact that James has fashioned a sort of sling for Harry out of his Batman cape, leaving his hands free to do something by the fireplace.

Tony ends up crashing on the couch, not even making it to his lab or bedroom. He doesn't want to sleep, knowing he'll have nightmares even before learning about his parents. But he passes out anyway, his mind filled with explosions and the vague sense that James is rigging the fireplace to detonate. Oh well, Jarvis will handle it.

His sleep is anything but restful. Tony dreams of tortured screams as he walks through the HYDRA base.

No, he's in a cave, unsure if the screams are his own.

Suddenly, he's outside, but it's still dark. He's standing by a familiar road at nighttime, watching helplessly from the sidelines as Howard's car spirals out of control. Howard tumbles out of the driver's seat, gasping on the pavement.

Tony knows he should call Jarvis, or summon a suit, but he can can't move, can't speak as a shadowed figure stalks slowly, silently toward the car.

Tony expects to see the Winter Soldier, to see James with emotionless eyes. Instead, Captain America appears, his eyes cold and his shield gripped tightly. Somehow, all Tony can think is that HYDRA got him too.

"Cap..." Howard gasps as the Captain lift his shield.

A blinding green light fires from the star, blasting Howard in the chest.

Before Howard's body is finished crumpling to the ground, Captain America is by the passenger side, staring at Tony's mother and readying that now-magical shield of his.

'No...' Tony croaks, trying to move, call Jarvis, anything as that killing green light glows.

Tony wakes with his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding below his arc reactor. It takes him several seconds to hear Jarvis's calm voice urging him back.

"Try to breathe slowly, sir. You've had a severe nightmare."

Tony's not sure how long it takes, but he gets his breathing and heart rate under control eventually.

He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning. He realizes, now, that the dream was his brain processing everything he'd learned, twisting it into some weird crossover between the assassination of both his own parents' and Harry's birth parents'- except for the part about Captain America; Tony isn't sure how his brain cooked that one up. In any other situation, the thought of Captain America having an actual magical shield would be funny.

It's only after he's drank his first cup that he remembers James mentioning the other Winter Soldiers. HYDRA had already gotten its twisted hands on Bucky Barnes after his supposed death. What if the organization had gotten ahold Captain America as well?

No, the likelihood of that is astronomical.

Still, he finds himself walking into Harry's room, which has become James's as well, despite the fact Tony gave the man his own room.

James is awake and guarding the closet door. Tony has to wonder if Jarvis talked him down from his own nightmare as well, or if James slept at all.

"Those other Winter Soldiers... none of them were Captain America, right?" Tony asks.

James takes a good half minute to reply. "No."

"All right." Tony sighs. "Just a stupid dream. Everyone has them. I mean, none of it made sense. I was a teenager when it happened, but in my dream I was me now, and..."

He stops talking, both because of the look James is giving him, and realization suddenly striking. Captain America probably wasn't a Winter Soldier, but maybe he hadn't died crashing into the Arctic as all the history books say.

Howard's endless hunt for Captain America had always seemed particularly stupid to Tony, but James- a man who was thought dead, just like Cap, who had been repeatedly frozen in suspended animation- is standing in front of Tony right now, alive and well.

Maybe 'alive and well' is a stretch considering the hell James has been through, but he is undeniably, well, alive.

Who could better survive a crash in the Arctic than a super soldier?

James's voice startles him out of his thoughts. "You dreamed Captain America assassinated your parents."

Tony hopes he hadn't shouted in his sleep or anything. "Yeah, with that killing curse. But who hasn't had weird dreams?"

"Steve wouldn't-" James starts, his eyes far away. "It was me."

"Let's not go into this again." Tony responds wearily. "It was HYDRA. They made you their weapon, and you told Harry weapons aren't good or bad. Anyway, there's a chance Steve could be alive. I mean, you survived, and he landed in the arctic."

James's eyes are sharp again. "Cryonics requires precise conditions to maintain the body."

Okay, now he's getting creepy again.

"Howard didn't stop looking." Tony sounds more bitter than he'd intended to. He can tell James is thinking something, his eyes deep, but he can't tell what. Is it guilt over the assassination?

"HYDRA would've looked." James grits out, then "I had a vision that Pierce took Harry. Reset me. Killed Nighty."

"Just now? Like a nightmare?"

"Before here." James says. "It was inaccurate. Pierce would have made me shoot Nighty in front of Harry."

Tony remembers Harry once mentioning that Nighty was a bad dog. "I won't let him get you."

"There are words." James grits his own words out through a jaw clenched tight enough to break teeth.

"Like magic words?" Tony frowns. Is Pierce magical?

"Unknown. They can reset me, demand compliance. That's how Harry was the handler."

Tony remembers seeing something about triggers in the documents at the base, but he thought that was more like PTSD triggers. Not that HYDRA cared at all about giving James extreme amounts of trauma.

He has a million different questions, the most prominent if there's a way to disable those words, but Jarvis interrupts before he can ask a single one. "Sir, I believe your guard just arrived."

"Are they invisible?" James asks, readying for action but seeming unwilling to leave his post guarding Harry.

"He is visible, Sergeant Barnes." Jarvis replies. "He has given the correct passphrase."

Tony shoots James what he hopes is a reassuring grin as he heads out of Harry's bedroom. "I've got this."

James's eyes almost look concerned for him, and don't seem to think he could hold his own against a wizard. Which, ouch, but then again, Harry had shorted out an Iron Man suit, surely a fully-grown wizard could do much worse.

Tony is expecting a Gandalf or Merlin-esque wizard with a long, flowing white beard, or maybe some sort of elf mage like in fantasy games.

His new guest is neither.

Like James, the man has long hair falling around his face, a terrifyingly murderous gaze, and a prosthetic body part. The last two items on that list are combined in the form his left eye, which is strapped onto his head like a pirate's eyepatch. It darts around- at one point rolling completely backwards to gaze into the man's head- while the right eye remains steadily fixed on Tony.

"I'm here for Robin and his Bat-Shield." the man growls, and Tony would laugh at the ridiculousness of Coulson's passphrase if this man didn't look like he was going to kill him.

Tony finds himself wishing Coulson had sent a witch that looked more like Romanoff, instead of a grizzled, scarred old man who's missing a large chunk of his nose.

Seriously, this seems like the wrong guy to send when they're trying to convince Harry all magic people aren't scary. Or had Coulson figured that Harry wouldn't be bothered, not with the way the boy snuggles up to James, who can, quite frankly, be just as scary?

"You've come to the right cave." Tony's own passphrase, so this guy knows he's the real deal, leaves a lot to be desired.

Tony lets him in. The man clunks when he walks, and at first Tony thinks it's the huge wooden staff he's carrying. Then he glimpses another prosthesis, an actual peg leg, under the man's long, very worn coat.

"I thought Coulson was sending a wizard, not a pirate." Tony blurts out. This guy doesn't look like the sort to have a sense of humor, and given how things have been going for Tony recently, the wizard might just decide to turn Tony into a turtle or whatever they do to people who annoy them.

"Or did Fury send you?" Tony can definitely see this guy and Fury getting along as well as Fury gets along with anyone.

"You're hiding Potter in a closet?" the man asks as he walks further into the room, that left eye still rolling in its socket.

"He chooses to sleep there." Tony says, thankful for his many years of business meetings where he's learned to hide behind a mask, not showing his uneasiness at the fact the man apparently can see through walls. Is that something all wizards can do? Can Harry do that? Is this guy going to spy on him in the shower?

The man's eye is already flicking to the fireplace, which Tony only now remembers is rigged to explode.

"You aren't connected to the Floo, but you should be taking precautions." the man sounds almost approving, even though he would have been blown to bits if he'd come through the fireplace like Coulson said wizards could.

"That was James." Tony says, and the prosthetic eye flicks towards Harry's room again.

"Heard Potter's already got protection detail." the man stumps across the room.

"Yeah, well, I guess you're our wizard guard now." Tony says.

"Alastor Moody." the man finally introduces himself.

"Moody?!" snorts Tony. "Did you and Fury change your names to fit your personalities, like the Seven Dwarfs?"

He gets nothing but a scowl from the man, and Jarvis announces "Sir, Master Harry is awake."

Moody's right eye flicks toward the ceiling, while the prosthetic eye goes absolutely bonkers, whirling in circles looking for the source of the voice.

"Where are you, ghost?" Moody mutters.

The thought of ghosts being real is way more than Tony wants to deal with right now. Fortunately, he's distracted by James emerging silently from Harry's room.

There's an incredibly awkward standoff where James and Moody glare daggers at each other. They exchange pass phrases and go right back to giving looks that could kill.

"Heard you were mind controlled." Moody snarls. "Convenient excuse for an assassin. Hard to disprove."

"We have proof." Tony interjects quickly. Why in the hell did they send this guy? "Loads of it."

"I've heard. Muggle method, worse than the Imperious." Moody's scarred face twists into a terrifying grin and Tony wonders where he'd heard that. He's pretty sure Coulson and Romanoff hadn't looked at James's files. "Something worse than Obliviate, too."

Tony can guess what those words- spells?- mean, and he sure doesn't like either of them. At least Moody doesn't sound like he's accusing James anymore.

Tony casts a quick look at James, hoping those weren't the trigger words he'd mentioned. James looks furious, but he still seems like James.

"I've heard you'll do anything to protect Potter." Moody continues. "That's good."

"Including eliminating you." James intones emotionlessly. Tony blinks. What happened to James not killing, like Batman? Had he been reset?

Moody chuckles darkly. "I don't think you could."

Before James can retort, Jarvis interjects "I believe you share a common goal of protecting Master Harry, do you not? I'm not sure how well protected he would be if you killed each other."

"Ouch." Tony exclaims, putting a hand over his heart and directing a wounded expression at the ceiling. "He'd still have me."

"Might I remind you that Master Harry destroyed your suit, sir? Should a duel with Mr. Moody occur, it is likely several more of your suits would be damaged."

"You can come out, Potter." Moody says to the door of Harry's room. "I'm your guard."

Harry scampers next to James to peer up at the newcomer. He's squinting again, and Tony has to get the kid some glasses.

"You look like Two-Face." Harry says accusingly. Sure, Moody's face is scarred, but he's not as horrifically scarred as that particular villain, certainly not split down the middle. Or is he just referring to the huge left eye, which does bear some similarity.

"He's supposed to keep us safe from bad wizards and witches." Tony slowly explains, though he's wondering if this whole situation will blow up in their faces. They're certainly not off on the right foot. "He's apparently one of the good ones."

"Even wit' a Two-Face eye?" Harry's face scrunches. Tony's actually really curious about the eye, but doubts Moody would let him run tests on it.

"Potter, I'm here to protect you from everything they can't."

"You won't eat me?" Harry asks slowly.

"What are these muggles filling your head with, boy?" Moody's right eye scrutinizes their Batman and Robin costumes, as if his own coat is high fashion or something.

"You're still my dad." Harry declares, clinging to James as if Moody had been trying to replace him. "You pro-tect me more."

James sweeps his cape around Harry "Till the end of the line."

Chapter Text

"Harry needs to see a doctor." Stark announces without preamble. As soon as he mentions the word 'doctor', James's mind is bombarded with memories.

Strapped down on a table, fire coursing through his veins. A saw approaching him, needle after needle being plunged into his flesh. Screaming until his voice is gone, the conditioning to ensure silence. Sitting still and compliant while the prosthesis sparks-

When he refocuses on the present, Moody and Stark are scrutinizing him, Moody keeping Harry away with one hand.

Harry is swinging his fists at the wizard, shouting, before he glances over at James. "Ma-mario-"

OBEY

"Harry." James grits out as the Soldier comes to the forefront of his brain. Harry snaps his mouth shut before the codeword is finished.

James breathes harshly, fists clenched as he slowly regains himself. His body is trembling slightly, it should not be.

HARRY IS, the voice pauses, NOT THE HANDLER

He's our son. Bucky says.

"H-he was takin' your brain." Harry's voice is a choked whisper, aiming an accusing finger at Moody. "You said'ta use-"

"I did nothing. Your muggle guard lost his wits." Moody growls, both eyes boring into James. "You think you can protect him like that? You need constant vigilance."

"That was one of the-" Stark has a look of horrified realization dawning on his face. "Harry, your dad was remembering something bad. Nobody was taking his brain, but you almost..."

Stark cuts himself off again, and Harry looks toward James for confirmation. James gives a sharp nod.

Protecting Harry was almost easier as the Soldier, without the distraction of the Bucky voice or the memories impairing his concentration.

Thanks a lot, pal, grumbles Bucky. Thought we were in this together.

He knows the memories interfere with his functionality, but Harry had been aghast at the idea of them being wiped. Harry had relinquished his authority as handler, but James will respect Harry's wishes.

Stark has his hands up, his brown eyes boring into James. "I'm not a fan of doctors either. I meant Jarvis, just doing an eye exam for Harry."

Harry looks dubiously at Moody's prosthetic eye. "I don't want that."

"It has its uses." Moody says as the eye rolls back into his head.

"I meant glasses." Stark assures Harry, who is relieved. "Jarvis, pull up an eye chart. Do you even know letters, Oliver?"

"More'n Dudley." says Harry. "Dudley knows D."

"Just D?" Stark asks.

Jarvis tests Harry's vision using a chart with letters arranged into a triangle, decreasing in size as the rows descend. Afterward a similar chart, this time with various pictograms, is presented. Harry squints, only deciphering the largest items at the top of the triangles.

"One of the many perks of living with a genius inventor like me," Stark boasts, "is that you don't have to wait... however long people wait for new glasses. I can make 'em right here."

"I had circles." Harry tells him.

Stark scoffs at the concept of circular glasses as he descends the stairs to his lab.

Harry's small form scampers from the closet to crouch by the nightstand, then slinks under the bed. Harry is more adept at hiding than most children his age would be, but he is still easily detected by James's trained eye.

Moody's prosthetic eye rolls towards the boy's position. It is, evidently, capable of seeing through solid objects and is even more observant than Jarvis with its cameras hidden throughout every room.

James has been carefully watching Moody since his arrival 27.4 hours ago, analyzing possible weaknesses and waiting for an attack. Remaining undetected by that prosthetic eye would be a challenge, and Stark had remarked earlier, as Moody sniffed at his lunch with the remaining part of his nose, that the wizard is "even more paranoid" than James.

Harry creeps from under the bed, still under the impression that he has not been seen, and aims a punch at the back of James's knee. Before his tiny fist can make contact, James whirls around, grabbing his arm. He nods with approval as Harry uses the strategies James had taught to twist free.

"Okay, this needs to stop." Stark says, leaning in the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest.

"Laddie needs to defend himself." Moody growls. "Too many people after him."

That's one thing we agree on, says Bucky in James's mind. Moody had seemed grudgingly impressed witnessing their training, but had also suggested training magical defenses.

"I thought that was your job." Stark cuts in. Moody gives an affirmative grunt.

"So why all this training?" Tony goes on. "Sure, kids can take martial arts classes and play hide-and-seek, but you're starting to take this to extreme levels and that's not okay."

Moody opens his mouth, but Stark continues speaking. "Seriously, he's got three guards. If they get through all of us, he's toast no matter how much you train him."

UNACCEPTABLE

Before James can speak, Stark continues.

"Let him be a kid!" Stark exclaims, throwing his hands up. "He's four, and he's already had a crappy childhood. He should be playing, watching TV, breaking his toys. Not being pushed to be some sort of child soldier."

"Superhero." Harry corrects. It is good that he is applying the term to himself.

Stark pinches his nose. "Okay, I know you're wearing a Robin suit- which is starting to smell by the way, seriously, you two should change- but you're not really Robin. Not even Batman recruits four-year-olds to fight for him."

Harry smiles victoriously. "You didn't say Batman's not real!"

"Just because I didn't say it this time, Oliver, doesn't mean he's suddenly real." Stark sighs. "Look, he was skittish enough when you arrived, and now you're encouraging it more? Most four-year-olds are screaming for candy in the store."

"Dudley scweamed for sweets." Harry says.

"You should not." James says. How can Stark suggest that? James is glad Harry had not screamed during either of their Tesco thefts. They have to keep a low profile.

Harry's tone becomes wistful as he says "He kicked Aun' Tuna."

James struggles with forcing down the memories of murdering the Dursleys. As recalcitrant as Dudley had been, he did not deserve the death he'd been given by James's hands.

"Try again," Moody tells Harry. "You should've been trained from the start, not with those damn muggles."

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Stark demands before focusing on James. "You know, Pepper won't be thrilled to know you're teaching Harry to hit people, or be some sort of spy kid. That's right, Terminator, I can tattle right back. And believe me, you won't like her wrath."

Potts is not his handler, but she has an authority that demands respect. Her displeasure is to be avoided, even if she likely will not inflict pain as punishment.

Moody appears unimpressed by Stark's threat. "Training is important."

"Not spy training. Seriously, do you want him to be like Romanoff?" Stark demands. Romanoff is competent, and can easily defend herself against any assailant except James.

While training Harry, James has had flashes of training Steve- small, skinny Steve- how to defend himself from bullies in allies, coupled with flashes of the Red Room.

That ain't the way for a kid to grow up, Bucky had when James had a flash of the Red Room. This training is different. Hadn't Bucky shown Steve how to defend himself from bullies?

The punk never wanted the help.

"Anyway, I came up to tell you your glasses are finished." Stark says. "Seriously, change your clothes. You can have a whole new, awesome, Harry look."

Once they arrive at Stark's lab- no longer dressed as Batman and Robin, though James is still wearing black- Stark holds out a small pair of rectangular glasses. Despite his mockery of circular frames, James notices a pair of them resting on the workbench near Stark.

Harry slips the glasses onto his face and surveys the room with his mouth hanging open.

"Everything clearer?" Stark asks with a satisfied grin.

"I see circle ones!" Harry jabs his finger at the circular frames sitting on the workbench 2.9 meters away from him.

Stark rolls his eyes, which Harry says is 'looking at da ceiling' and hands him the circular frames.

"Dum-E, get the ball."

One of the robots approaches with its claw gripping a ball, and Stark explains to James "You're his dad. Play catch. It's one of those things dads always do on TV."

James complies. Harry obviously loves tossing the ball around, and is surprisingly skilled at snatching it out of midair.

Sign him up for the Dodgers, Bucky sounds fond in James's head, and James has the inexplicable urge to ruffle Harry's hair. He does so with his flesh hand. Harry's hair had never been neat anyway.

"James said you'd make a seeker one day." Moody tells Harry. Harry turns to James, face splitting into a prideful grin, and Moody amends "Your dad."

"He is my dad." Harry speaks slowly, as if Moody is dense.

James cannot recall watching a baseball game, but Bucky does (with Steve, of course, sneaking in when they couldn't afford the tickets). James shows Harry how to pitch the ball, which Dum-E clumsily attempts to bat with its arm.

Stark, meanwhile, is working on about four different project simultaneously. He flicks through holographic SHIELD documents, tinkers with a holographic projection of his Iron Man armor, and converses with Jarvis about the location of Captain America.

James's head is practically filled with Bucky's chant of Steve. Bucky sounds simultaneously hopeful of Steve's survival, and horrified at the thought of HYDRA getting ahold of him. James honestly cannot recall Steve being one of the other Winter Soldiers, but his memory is full of voids. If HYDRA had claimed Steve, they could have kept him and James in separate bases and James would never have known.

"I got him out!" Harry cheers, and it takes James a moment to realize Harry is not talking about Steve, but rather that Dum-E had swung and missed three times.

"Good job." James ruffles Harry's hair again, feeling the weight of Moody's judgement on him at his lack of concentration.

After 17 missed swings by Dum-E (Five outs, two strikes, supplies the Bucky voice), Jarvis announces a message from an unknown number, and Romanoff's voice filters through the speakers.

"Hey Tony. I had a blast bowling the other night," Romanoff sounds almost unrecognizable with a cheerful tone and California accent. It is an effective cover for anyone who might be listening in. "I can't believe I missed that strike! I've been practicing, and I got one last night."

Moody's prosthetic eye darts in every direction. Stark, despite his documented genius intellect, only now seems to be piecing together the caller's identity. Had he thought she was a lady he'd been sweet on?

Has Romanoff incapacitated or eliminated a STRIKE member. She does not say if it was Rumlow or Rollins, but it is likely other STRIKE agents still remain. The destruction of the entire STRIKE team would be one fewer threat on a long list of threats, but it would be a start.

"The secretary had nasty old pairs of bowling shoes, I wanted to chuck them, but I couldn't yet."

No other new intel is revealed as Romanoff wraps up the call, as far as James can decipher. He has to give Romanoff credit- the call sounded entirely innocent, unlikely to be suspected by an outsider.

She had been trained by the best.

Watching Harry pretend to drive one of Stark's many cars floods James's brain with images of shooting the tires of Howard Stark's car, sending Romanoff's car off the cliff near Odessa.

The next image is not a memory, it is quite possibly worse. James sees his prosthesis aiming a sniper rifle at Harry's forehead, where the lightning bolt scar is hidden behind his bangs, as the boy makes engine sounds with his mouth. His flesh finger rests over the trigger, a voice is screaming in his head not to pull it, and-

Harry is on the floor by the car, stunned, a hand coming up to cup the bloody knee he had acquired from his fall. James checks his hands. The flesh hand is shaking slightly, but the prosthesis does not waver. No sniper rifle is in them, or anywhere in the vicinity. Still, he is rooted to the spot at the image, at what could have happened.

Bucky is urging James to go forward, to comfort Harry and tend to his injuries. Instead, James's fists are clench tight enough that they'd shatter Harry's wrists if he took hold of them.

Moody approaches the boy, aiming his weaponized stick at the gash in Harry's knee.

Pick on someone your own size, Bucky snarls in Jame's head.

STOP HIM.

James lurches forward. He should have known Moody was an enemy, should have eliminated him on his arrival.

James feels as if he's moving at only 50% his usual speed. Moody aims the weaponized stick at him, and suddenly his velocity has been reduced to 25%. He cannot stop Moody from aiming the weaponized stick at Harry.

FASTER

Harry starts to reach for the weaponized stick, attempting to use the disarming method that James taught him. James wonders why he is not magically disarming the wizard as he had Romanoff.

Moody brushes the boy's hand aside, waves the weaponized stick.

The cut disappears almost instantaneously. Harry gives a shocked gasp, hand poking the spot where the gash had been and his voice laced with wonderment. "It's gone..."

Moody does not turn away from Harry, but James suspects the prosthetic eye is staring through the back of the wizard's head at James. "You still going to attack me?"

He hadn't attacked Harry, he had healed him, far faster than even James's own body heals from injuries. He'd taken away the pained expression on Harry's face that had sent a blade piercing through James's heart.

James very slowly shakes his head, and suddenly the spell is released. James rushes to Harry, examining him for other injuries.

"He fixed me." Harry looks awed. "He fixed me even better'n you."

The words pierce James, emphasizing how useless he was. He hadn't stopped Harry from falling, hadn't tended to his injuries, too consumed by his own mind to give his son the attention he needed. James can almost feel Moody's judgement, as if James had chosen to neglect his duty as Harry's father.

"Was that magic?" Tony breaks the silence excitedly. Moody confirms with a nod.

"Good magic." Harry murmurs, continuing to examine his knee with a thoughtful expression. He speaks louder and more decisively. "Thank you, Mr. Moody. You're a good wizard."

James backs off, the vision of almost murdering Harry still fresh in his mind. Harry had revealed most of the codeword to Stark and Moody, they could likely piece together the rest and-

"Daddy?" Harry scrambles to his feet, approaching James. "Are you okay?" He sounds simultaneously younger and older than his four years.

James gives a jerky nod. After 3.6 seconds of observing him, Harry asks "Can we play catch?"

James relaxes slightly at the joy on his son's face, even from the simple act of tossing the ball around. The ball starts to defy the laws of physics, floating in midair and darting away when Harry tries to catch it.

After laughingly chasing the ball, Harry looks at Moody in amazement, only for the wizard reveals that it is Harry who is causing the levitation.

Harry manages to smack the ball toward James, who accidentally flattens it when he smacks it back. The destroyed rubber falls to the floor, and Harry's face falls with disappointment.

Moody fixes the ball as easily as he'd fixed Harry's knee.

"So," Stark asks Moody over dinner. "Do wizards have any nifty ways of tracking down, say, someone possibly trapped in suspended animation in the middle of the arctic?"

Steve. Bucky's voice is almost louder than the mission has ever been.

"Owls are excellent trackers." Moody growls. "No way to track them unless you fly behind them, and they try to shake you."

"I've got flying covered." Stark gives a cocky grin before asking "Wait, you magic people use owls as carrier pigeons?"

"We use owls as owls."

James frowns. An owl had appeared immediately before Dumbledore and the enemy asset captured them. James does not want to risk that happening again. "Owls cannot be trusted."

THEY WILL FIND HARRY.

"Most are well-trained. Some nip you."

Harry considers this. "There's good owls and bad owls... like magic. Are owls magic?"

"They are." Moody answers.

Stark looks excited "So if I were to say, stick a GPS on an owl and tell it to find Captain America, it would?"

Stark sighs at Moody's uncomprehending expression, and launches into a technical description. Moody seems to be doubting Stark's sanity. "Muggles let themselves be tracked?"

"You guys don't use email? Or phones?" Stark fires back, then glances at Harry. "Or would you fry them?"

Harry giggles as if he is doubting Stark's sanity as well. He glances at the stove. "I never f'yed a phone!"

"What about that eye of yours?" Stark nods to Moody's prosthetic eye. "Can you see all the way to the arctic from here?"

At Moody's expression, Stark mutters "I'll take that as a no. All right, well, what if we send out an owl, and I follow it?"

James thinks this idea is terrible, not to mention impractical. He does not entirely trust Moody's intel that owls cannot be traced. "Owls do not hunt underwater."

Stark concedes the point. "Or Stalker-Eye here can go and do his creepy looking-through-solid-objects thing."

"I'm here to protect Potter, not search for missing soldiers." Moody eyes James, clearly thinking that leaving Harry alone with James would not constitute adequate protection. He is not wrong.

"I'm Iron Man, I don't need an owl." Stark acts as if the previous conversation had not occurred. "I can't wait to hold this above Coulson and Fury."

We should go, Bucky sounds almost frantic.

THE MISSION IS TO PROTECT HARRY.

He's got a better guard. Bucky sounds bitter in James's mind. Steve has to be alive. We should have searched earlier, we should have-

James frowns. Bucky had been the one who suggested the words til the end of the line.

There is no concrete proof Steve is alive, it is merely a theory Stark had from hearing of James's experiences.

James does not think he has said anything, but Harry reaches toward him. "Daddy, don't go!"

James looks at his hands. They have killed, many times, they have killed children. He doesn't deserve to be Harry's father. Steve would be a better guard, a better dad.

He feels Harry's tiny hand grip his sleeve, and it feels simultaneously right and wrong.

Chapter Text

The voices in James's head are at war. They have not battled this much since the Asset first went AWOL with Harry, abandoning the mission to deliver him to HYDRA.

THE MISSION IS TO PROTECT HARRY, the oldest voice repeats for the forty-seventh time in the past hour. SEARCHING FOR STEVE IS AGAINST PARAMETERS.

The Bucky voice has been fixated on finding Steve with an intensity that rivals the Asset's. Once Stark brought up the possibility of Steve being alive, Bucky had taken it as a mission to find him. But Steve-

The first voice cuts off Bucky's protest, restating the mission. Bucky's voice had been the force that turned the mission to protecting Harry in the first place, but now Bucky is arguing for leaving him.

The voices clash louder until they are almost shouting in James's mind.

Harry tosses in his sleep next to James, and for a moment James wonders if the voices had woken him, before reminding himself that Harry cannot hear them.

Moody is dozing in an armchair, one eye shut while the prosthetic eye continues to roll around in its socket. James is unsure of how much Moody processes while asleep, if the wizard could be caught by a surprise attack.

MOODY IS AN ALLY.

He is more than an ally. He is better suited to protecting Harry than James is.

He'll watch Harry while we find Steve and then- Bucky starts to say.

ABANDONING HARRY IS MISSION NONCOMPLIANT.

James wonders what happened to 'til the end of the line. Bucky had said it to Steve, but James had said it to Harry as well.

How safe is he around you, really? Bucky asks.

James frowns. He's relived visceral memories involving children, not just smothering the Dursley boy.

He pictures a target clutching a child younger than Harry, too young to have learned to walk or talk. The Soldier had faltered, and been punished later, but in the end had carried out the mission. The target had been sniped. He cannot recall what happened to the infant, and is not sure he wants to.

Part of him wishes he could forget the image of his hands smothering the Dursley boy, or wrapping around Maria Stark's throat, but he deserves to remember.

At 0058, Harry awakes with a soft gasp that does not wake Moody. The boy is trembling, gripping James's cape and a small, choked voice whispers "Daddy?"

"I'm here." James answers quietly. Harry lets out a soft sigh, as if he'd feared James would be gone, and wordlessly crawls into James's lap, still clutching the cape like a blanket.

Harry's trembling and rapid heartbeat slowly settle in the 4.7 minutes James holds him.

"Was it the green light?" James asks. He likely cannot protect Harry from a Killing Curse. Even if Harry survived once, he may not a second time.

"Can we have hot cocoa?" Harry asks, less tentatively than he'd been when James first found him.

James should follow Jarvis's caution about sugar interfering with sleep, but instead leads his son to the kitchen. A smile spreads on Harry's face as James takes out two mugs.

Harry dumps twice the recommended portion of cocoa into James's mug, saying decisively "You need lots, 'cos you look sad."

'Sad' doesn't really cover it, Bucky says.

James should be focusing on his son as they sip hot chocolate, but he isn't. It takes him 4.3 seconds to process that Harry has said something to him.

"Are you goin' ta look for your friend?" Harry asks with a frown. "The Cap-tin?"

James hesitates, trying to ignore Bucky. "He would be a better father than I am."

"No! He's dumb!"

Can't argue there, drawls Bucky, before James hears a conversation from a memory of when Bucky's voice had come from his own mouth.

'Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone.'

'How can I?' Steve- small, skinny Steve- shoots back. 'You're taking the stupid with you.'

That from the man who agreed to be pumped full of experimental serum and charged recklessly into fights without any sort of plan.

"I don't want a cap-tin dad." Harry glowers in a way that looks like he's mimicking James's own expressions.

"He is a hero," James replies. "like Superman."

The punk ain't that much of a goody-two-shoes, Bucky says, despite his eagerness to find Steve.

Harry appears entirely unconvinced. "He didn't save me from da Dursleys."

James thinks of the near captures and successful capture. It is too risky. "I cannot always fight the bad guys."

Harry takes 2.3 seconds to think that over. "The Cap-tin's freezed now." Had he misunderstood the dinner conversation, is he imagining Steve frozen in the way the enemy asset had immobilized James?

"You fight bad guys better." Harry concludes with childish simplicity. "I like Batman more'n Superman. Lots, lots more."

"I am not like Batman." James's jaw is tight over his failure, at not being able to perform optimally to meet the designations his son has given him. Batman or Father.

The mug shatters in his clenched fist, and brown liquid seeps over the table. James stops Harry from attempting to clean it up, and cleans his own mess.

How can he be a father when he's murdered children?

"There is always a path for redemption."

At first, James thinks the voice is Jarvis. It is calm and nonjudgmental, with a trace of a British accent, but he realizes the voice is inside his head.

Bucky demands Who the hell are you?

'Professor X,' the voice replies. The professor's voice, James realizes, is a foreign entity, unlike the other voices filling his mind.

LEAVE

If the professor is inside his mind, he can find the triggers, he can-

'I would not need those to control you,' the Professor tells him, though James does not detect a threat in the statement.

YOU ARE NOT A HANDLER.

'I am not.' the man agrees.

He is an enemy, likely a wizard, sifting through memories like the enemy asset.

'Close,' Professor X replies. 'I am a mutant.'

James feels his body go slack. He cannot fight this. The man can do anything to him. Turn him into the Soldier, make him assassinate Harry, then forget everything. Make him kill Steve upon finding him.

YOU ARE NOT A HANDLER, comes a little less sure now. If the man can enter his mind, he could easily become one.

'I will do none of that,' Professor X radiates calm, and James feels his muscles relax not in defeat, but in a calm he cannot recall ever feeling before.

'You've been stripped away, made to do terrible things.' Professor X seems to radiate sympathy in James's mind. If he can see in, he must know what James has done.

'I know a man quite like you, James.'

Bucky snorts in disbelief. Good luck findin' another Second World War vet turned assassin. Better check the line of them goin' round the block.

'His name is Logan.' Professor X ignores Bucky's smart retort. 'I won't go into too many personal details, but he-"

Bucky interrupts again. Funny you should be concerned with violating people's privacy when you're invading minds.

'Logan is a teacher, James.' Professor X continues. 'He is as powerful as you are, with quite the temper, and we still trust him around our students. Some of them are quite fond of him, as young Harry is of you."

James feels his jaw clench. If the professor's been poking through Harry's mind...

'I don't have to be a telepath to see how fond Harry is of you.'

You mentioned students. James thinks suspiciously. One of the moving paintings in the castle had mentioned students and Moody had told Harry about a school earlier that evening.

'I run a school for gifted individuals.' Professor X says. 'Most are mutants, but there are many similarities to mutant powers and magic. If you do not want your son to attend the school that kidnapped you, we could open up a spot for him here.'

James hasn't even thought of of school, but knows it is required for children. Harry isn't quite old enough to begin his education, but it's surely something a father would have thought of.

'You're spiraling, James.' Professor X says. 'Under your circumstances, it is perfectly understandable that you have not thought of school when fighting to attain the more basic need of safety.'

Settling down for Harry to attend a school would only make them more likely to be found by HYDRA or Dumbledore and the enemy asset.

'I did not reach out merely to talk about Harry's schooling.' Professor X says. 'I may be able to help you recover what you've lost.'

James almost wants to smack his forehead when Bucky immediately asks Do you know where Steve is?

For all James knows, this guy could be HYDRA- they have the most experience with playing around in his mind. If this professor can truly read his thoughts, he can't hide anything anyway.

The professor is silent for 15.6 seconds. 'I believe he is in some form of suspended animation.'

Where? Bucky tries to silence the voice. Stark and Moody already had a plan for finding Steve, even if it involves owls.

'I was not referring to finding Steve Rogers.' Professor X says. 'I may be able to help you recover memories, and possibly help with-"

No. The memories are already returning too fast and too strong. Even if this man could smooth them over, make them less debilitating, if he could nullify the trigger words, James would be better able to protect Harry, and be less of a threat.

James does not want anyone messing around in his head. What he wanted never mattered, and James is surprised that he thought about not wanting it, when not long ago he'd asked Stark for a wipe.

'I will of course respect your wishes, but the offer stands.' Professor X says.

Turning down the possibility of help- not that he trusts it- still leaves James exactly where he's started- unworthy of being Harry's father and guardian.

'Many would consider my brain to be a weapon of mass destruction.' Professor X tells him. 'Some view mutants as dangerous creatures that should not be trusted. We can show those who believe such that they are wrong.'

That doesn't change the fact James can be turned into the Asset in a string of ten words, can be forced to obey any order given to him.

'I may be able to help with that.' says Professor X. 'Now, I apologize for keeping you from your son for so long.'

James can't say he feels the Professor exit his mind, but the man no longer responds to his thoughts. He notices Harry's face is pinched with a level of concern that should not be on a child's face.

"Was it a mem'ry flashback?" Harry asks, looking down at his own mug of hot cocoa before sliding it toward James.

"This is yours." James pushes the mug back toward his son.

Harry gives him a stern look. "You won't get any hot cocoa if you leave."

James thinks. He is not the man Steve knew. Bucky is a voice locked in his head. Steve would surely be disappointed at what James is now, would likely want nothing to do with him.

Ignoring Bucky's voice, James says "You're my mission. You're too important to go AWOL on."

A long black car pulls into Mr. Stark's driveway, and a man in a suit gets out to open the door to the backseat.

"You do have a Alfred." Harry gapes as Mr. Stark climbs into the back. The back is for kids, not adults.

"This is Happy, my driver and head of security." Mr. Stark gestures to the suited man. "He's not really a butler."

"I don't know. You have me get your cheeseburgers, boss." Mr. Happy says, before looking at Harry. "Well, this explains the child safety seat."

Harry squirms slightly as his dad buckles him in. He'd rather sit on his dad's lap, to make sure his dad won't leave him. He said he wouldn't go AWOL, which Jarvis said means leaving, but all the adults have been acting strange the past few days, talking about moving and searching for the Captain.

His Batdad sits next to him, and Harry reaches out to grip his sleeve.

Mr. Moody is scowling even more than usual when he climbs into the car, holding a broom and a owl in a cage. Harry isn't sure where he got either of those, and wonders when Mr. Moody is going to make him sweep.

Mr. Stark talks during the drive, but Harry's dad and Mr. Moody don't reply. Mr. Stark keeps talking, going on about building a car that would be cooler than the Batmobile because it could fly, and how Howard's flying car blew up but Mr. Stark's would because he's better.

Mr. Stark stops after mentioning Howard and glances over at Harry's dad.

"Or a flying moto-bike?" Harry asks. He'd seen one in a dream once, and he thinks there might have been a giant too, wearing a coat like the giant that attacked his dad. Harry frowns and doesn't say that part.

Instead of shouting, or hitting him for talking about 'unnatural' things, Mr. Stark grins and says that would be way more awesome. He starts using big words Harry doesn't understand.

They pull into what Harry thinks is a car park, except the building doesn't look like Tesco, and then he sees an aeroplane with the same logo as one of the mugs they'd used for hot cocoa.

Harry wriggles with excitement as he's unstrapped and carried toward the plane. He's never flown before, except for jumping off the train.

Inside, there are fireman poles that Mr. Stark makes disappear into the ceiling before Harry can try sliding on one. They didn't even go through the floor, so whoever built them did a bad job.

Harry peers out the window, watching as Mr. Moody sits on his broom like its a motorbike. It even has a seat, and at first Harry thinks he's pretending it really is a motorbike.

Then he sees the broom float off the ground.

"I wanna ride it!" he jabs his finger at the window and scowls when his dad says he can't. This would be even better than a flying motorbike.

"I do not believe broomsticks are equipped with proper safety measures." says Mr. Jarvis. Harry didn't know he was in the plane, too.

"I'll make you something even better." Mr. Stark smirks. "Don't worry, Batsy. I'll make sure it's got safety features. Then again, I wasn't the one giving him a knife."

Mr. Moody pulls on some sort of cape and disappears.

As the plane takes off, Harry imagines he's sitting on a broom. He can almost feel the wind whipping his hair as he imagines gripping the broom to go faster and steer around a table leg.

A jet of red light whizzes past the window, and Harry remembers he's in the plane.

Mr. Stark is talking fast as his armor wraps around him. The eyes on Iron Man's mask light up and he opens a door to jump out. There's a roaring of air coming from the door, until it slams shut.

Harry kneels in the chair to watch Iron Man fly past the window, shooting at someone on a broomstick and dodging a green blast.

His dad pulls him away from the window and down to the floor. "Do not make yourself an easy target."

"I would advise strapping Master Harry in." Mr. Jarvis says as the plane shudders.

"But we haf'ta fight bad guys!" Harry says.

"Stay here." His dad looks tense, ready to fight as something thunks at the door.

Harry hopes it's Mr. Stark or Moody, but he can't see out the window when he's strapped in.

The door blasts open, and a woman flies in on a broom, pointing a weaponized stick at them.

A witch!

James spins Harry's chair so he's looking the other way, at the same time hurling a glass at the witch's head.

Blasts and crashes fill the plane, and there's a sound like something bouncing off his dad's robot arm. What if they break it again?

The woman is talking in that funny way his dad and Ms. Romanoff and the bad guys with guns do, only it's not funny now. Harry knows they're bad words, but they're cut off by what sounds like his dad ripping one of the chairs from the floor and throwing it.

Harry screams as his dad is hurled into the door near the front of the plane, smashing through it and hitting the panel full of buttons.

Harry fumbles with the buckle holding him down, and his dad's eyes widen in a silent warning that means trouble.

A green flash flies toward his dad, who rolls out of the way. It hits the steering wheel, which was steering on its own. The whole plane tilts forward and starts to fall, leaving Harry hanging in his seat, his dad scrambling below him.

The woman tumbles toward Harry's dad, and the buckle explodes under Harry's hands. He falls to the front of the plane, where his dad and the woman are wrestling on top of the front window. Beyond the glass, people and planes are flying around, shooting at each other.

The witch seems a lot worse at fighting up close, and he watches his dad wrestle the weaponized stick from her grasp. Disarming.

The weaponized stick tumbles to the middle of the window while his dad and the witch keep fighting on the curved part.

Harry slides toward the weaponized stick, wishing he could freeze the witch like the bad wizard froze his dad. That way, he could make sure this witch wouldn't try to do that to his dad.

With a trembling hand, he picks up the weaponized stick. He points it at the witch and shouts for her to go away.

The window under them explodes, and suddenly, Harry is falling.

Chapter Text

The world whirls around as Tony corkscrews through the air, then arcs to dodge a blast of magic. He has no idea what effect that particular spell or jinx or whatever it is has; if it would turn him to stone or simply short out his suit like Harry did. Either would send him plummeting to his doom.

"Incoming plane at your six, sir." Jarvis reports inside Tony's helmet. Who would've thought they'd bring planes and freaking broomsticks? Any chance of the planes being SHIELD backup- not that Tony needs it- is shattered as quickly as the plane fires at him. This isn't like that test run where the Air Force almost shot him down, by now the whole world knows who Iron Man is.

Tony wasn't exactly surprised to realize they were under attack- it's a pretty regular occurrence for him, actually- but seeing these people zip around on broomsticks that have no clear method of propulsion or stabilization is jarring, and Tony hates that the only explanation seems to be magic. How did they even catch up with his jet anyway?

He wonders, briefly, if his mother saw anything like this on the night HYDRA made James-

Tony furiously fires a repulsor at a passing wizard, but the wizard simply swishes his wand and sends Tony's own blast back at him. Tony barely rolls out of the way, swearing under his breath.

A blast flies out of literally nowhere, and Tony realizes it must be Moody with that super-concealing cloak. He's going to have to study that thing, maybe it uses reflective panels like SHIELD tech that Fury probably doesn't know Tony knows about. Or magic.

The visible wizard battles the invisible one, wand slicing through the air like a sword, only they're shooting various energy blasts at each other.

In retrospect, maybe they're not here for him. Moody seems like the sort of guy that has a ton of enemies, and Harry and James are evidently on a lot of people's wanted lists.

Crap, Harry and James. They should be safe in his plane, it has bulletproof windows, a reinforced hull. Apparently that doesn't matter, since some witch simply blows the door open with magic and flies her broomstick in. Tony remembers Natasha's weapons flying off her body and wonders if the witch has done the same thing to James, because James was undoubtedly armed when boarding Tony's jet.

Tony's attention is pulled back to his own fight as a huge black jet appears. Even in the midst of battle, some part of Tony's brain has to admire the sleek design, how the wings and fins almost resemble an X-Wing. He'd almost hate to shoot the thing down.

Before he can deploy his suit's missiles, a woman flies out of it without the aid of a broomstick or super powered suit. The cloth billowing behind her arms isn't enough to glide by, but she is gliding regardless. It's an even stranger sight than broomsticks, watching her soar unaided through the air as Jarvis reports sudden weather anomalies.

The woman's eyes light up on her dark face as she somehow forms lightning bolts in her hands. Because of course run-of-the-mill magic wasn't enough. She shoots electric bolts at a passing witch on a broom, instead of Tony or his jet. Huh. Well, for right now, the enemy of his enemy is his friend and all that.

The woman soars through the air with the same grace as Tony or the broomstick-riders, firing lightning and creating a miniature tornado that traps an enemy plane.

Dang, whatever's giving her these powers almost rivals Tony's suit. Almost. His suit is still the most brilliant feat of engineering ever, whereas this woman's powers seem more... well, not natural because people don't generally fly, but Jarvis isn't detecting any gadgets besides a communicator.

"Sir, my control of your plane has been disabled." Jarvis sounds slightly less calm than usual as Tony's jet begins to nosedive. For a second, Tony's simply relieved it's not his suit plummeting like his first flight test, until he remembers there's a child on there, and James.

Pepper is going to murder him. If these enemies succeed in killing him first, she'll bring him back to life just to kill him again.

While Tony would never admit it to anyone, he seems the least equipped person here to deal with magic, which is pretty disappointing considering his suit should be unrivaled. As soon as he gets to a workshop, he's going to start upgrading it.

As he rockets after the plummeting plane, he wishes he'd upgraded sooner. Sure, he has thrusters, but the plane has a lot more mass than his suit and it had a pretty significant head start.

The bulletproof window in the cockpit shatters and out tumble Harry, James and the witch. James somehow manages to wrap his body around Harry while simultaneously aiming a kick at the witch's head.

Tony pushes his thrusters to the max, but they're falling fast.

Suddenly, they stop falling as if caught by a breeze that conveniently blows the witch in the opposite direction. They float in midair as Tony glances upwards. There's the woman with the lightning hands, except they no longer have lightning coming out of them.

Tony swoops down James. "Looks like you caught a lift."

He shuts off the repulsors in his palms and scoops James out of the air, bridal-style. Jarvis sounds relieved inside Tony's helmet.

"Not the castle." Harry says from James's arms.

"We're not going to a castle." Tony tries to reassure him, then does what he does best and keeps on talking. "You know, I don't even have a castle. I'm like the wealthiest guy on the planet, I've got multiple mansions, but no castles. What do you think, if I got one I could make sure there was an underground base for all my superhero stuff. Not a cave, because I'm not a brooding emo superhero, and I wouldn't really dig a dungeon either. I'm no mad scientist. I mean, if you ask Pepper..."

"Are we going to your house?" Harry asks.

"It's your house, too, but no." Tony says. "We're going someplace inconspicuous. I know, bet you didn't think I had any houses that didn't scream money, but believe it or not, I've got some places to lay low."

Tony keeps flying, with Jarvis and James both watching his six. It seems Moody and the mysterious newcomers have kept the fight from following them, but there will undoubtedly be people seeking them no matter where they go.

James is accustomed to being transported for various missions. He recalls riding in the back of armored vehicles surrounded by other operatives, and one instance where he was flown in a plane that was much less extravagant than Stark's.

He doubts he's ever been transported this way.

Saved like a damsel by a knight in flying armor, the Bucky voice sounds sardonic. In one of the cartoons James had watched with Harry, Superman had carried civilians to safety in the same way Iron Man is carrying them.

Stark talks more than the entire STRIKE team, and James had heard a lot of banter from agents as he'd remained silent and motionless. He doesn't remember much about the Howling Commandos he'd reportedly been a part of, but some part twinges as he thinks about camaraderie.

Wow, real touching you're comparing the Commandos to those bastards. Bucky grouses in his mind.

James pushes the thought from his mind. He alternates between checking on Harry and scanning the sky, which has remained empty after Stark caught them and escaped the battle. In the plane, Harry had armed himself with the witch's weaponized stick, but he must have relinquished it during the fall that the flying woman had suspended them from.

It felt different than when the enemy asset had floated James, as if there was a gust of wind lifting them up. James theorizes that the woman who'd saved them is one of the mutants that Professor X mentioned. She hadn't flown on a broom like the witches and wizards, but then again, Harry hadn't either.

'You are correct, James.' The professor's voice says in his mind. 'Storm is one of the X-Men.'

James files the name of the organization X-Men away for later as Bucky's voice says She looked like a helluva dame to me.

'The X-Men are not only men' Professor X debriefs. 'We are a varied group of individuals, each with our own unique powers and abilities. Rather like the Justice League Harry is fond of.'

Varied could mean anything- magic, super-soldiers. The Justice League has aliens, but James is unsure if the X-Men do as well.

The mission assist is appreciated. James thinks to the man in his head.

A tiny finger poking him in the cheek snaps him out of his mental conversation. James feelsthe professor leave his mind.

Harry squints at James, a worried frown on his face. "That witch tried'ta take your brain."

"She did not succeed."

They are flying over open fields where they will be easily observable for miles, but the skies remain clear.

Under HYDRA's command, James would be required to report the professor's voice in his head, but Stark is not HYDRA.

"The mission is compromised." James's report is unnecessary.

It's FUBAR. Bucky's voice supplies.

"I would've gone with FUBAR." Stark says, almost as if he'd read James's thoughts. James does not think Stark is capable of mind invasions, as Professor X and the enemy asset are. Stark keeps talking, obviously unaware of James's current thoughts. "Seems we can't do anything without hitting a SNAFU. People said that in your time, right, James?"

The term is familiar to James, but Harry repeats it in a confused tone.

"It's got words I can't use around you." Stark explains. "It basically means everything's gone to shi- I mean, the pits. The dump."

"We're going to a dump pit? To lay low?" Harry frowns before debriefing, unnecessarily "We're flying high now."

"No, we're going to a house." Stark says. "Looks like the others are holding them off. I've got to give one of my suits a cloaking feature like Moody's cloak."

"Invisibility devices would be valuable assets." James says.

Harry frowns. "You're Mr. A'set. And you said I'm a a'set."

"The enemy asset had a similar cloak." James reports. "Most cloaks do not appear to be designed for camouflage."

"I guess most of them got normal boring cloaks." Stark agrees. "And that woman's cape had nothing on my suit, even if it let her fly."

"Storm is an asset."

Stark requests intel on where James got the name Storm and if he had ever worked with her. James briefs him on the X-Men, but leaves out the part about the professor invading his mind.

"Are they beating the bad guys?" Harry looks at James. "Are we still looking for the captain?"

"You might need to lay low for a bit." Stark says. He descends into a canopy of trees, where they are obscured from aerial observation, and Harry screams in delight.

Stark performs seven needlessly dangerous stunts, swerving around trees and dipping under branches. James is tempted to use the prosthesis to discourage Stark from putting Harry at risk. They are close enough to the ground that James could gouge his metal fingers into a tree trunk and slow their fall, even if Stark plummets.

Harry's shrieks of delight stop James from assaulting Stark. If anything, Harry is daring Stark, shouting "Do it again!" or "More!" after every dive and spin.

Stark stops to hover in front of a small cottage.

"Don't worry," the faceplate slides up to reveal Stark's mock-placating expression. "It's got working plumbing, you won't have to crap in a hole. Uh, poop. I meant poop."

Pal, Bucky says, that's not the worst thing I've had to do.

James sweeps the perimeter, ignoring both Stark's and Jarvis's assurances that Jarvis is monitoring the property. There are several cameras hidden in the cabin's crevices, and Jarvis assures him there are sensors and security systems as well.

When he is finished detailing the security system, Jarvis voices his sincerest apologies for his failure to protect them.

APOLOGIES ARE USELESS.

James wonders how Stark is going to punish a computer before reminding himself that Stark's threats to his assets are never followed through. Jarvis will simply be reprogrammed, as the Asset was.

Harry quickly locates the smallest closet in the house and takes refuge inside. James joins his son in the dark, cramped space that is almost as small as the cryogenic chamber. A phantom chill spreads through his bones.

Harry's elation from flying has subsided. He waits in the closet, barely moving, as if he is the Asset observing a target or waiting for orders.

"When I said you should lay low, I didn't mean hiding in a closet." Stark calls from outside the door. Harry makes no move to exit.

"Bad guys are going 'ta come," Harry's tone is a mix of childish certainty and resignation. The cottage bares some resemblance to the ski lodge they'd used as a temporary base. Perhaps Harry is having his own flashback of that incident, of agents with guns.

HYDRA IS NOT IN COMMAND.

"Moody is fighting them." James tells him. "You held your own on the plane." He does not want to encourage Harry putting himself in danger, but the boy had been resourceful using the weaponized stick. James feels pride flare in his chest, along with relief that the stick had not transformed him into a frog or some creature unable to protect Harry.

"The good wizards will beat the bad wizards," Harry pauses. "And they'll find Dumb-Bell-Door an' the enemy a'set and beat them forever. And we can play trains and heroes like Dudley."

James's heart aches. Harry should have a life where he can play, unconcerned for his safety beyond scraping a knee. Even Captain America, from James's limited memories, only had to deal with scuffles with neighborhood bullies as a child, not numerous shady organizations attempting to capture him.

"Nobody ever 'tacked Dudley." Harry says. "Not even Ripper."

James feels his stomach twist. He'd told Harry about setting the fire, but the boy still does not understand. "The Dursleys were assassinated."

Harry disregards James's confession. "Nobody'll try to take your brain. Or make you a statue."

Jarvis's voice is slightly muffled by the closet door. "I will employ lockdown and security measures if any hostile forces attempt to enter, but I fear the enemies will be able to break through them as they did on Mr. Stark's jet."

That is more than they had at the ski lodge, but not enough. Harry needs a whole squad of fully-functional assets as protection detail.

He'd need the Justice League, or Captain America and the Howling Commandos, but James is the only commando who isn't dead or buried in ice.

Steve better only be buried in ice, not both. Bucky says.

SEARCHING FOR STEVE IS DETRIMENTAL TO HARRY'S SAFETY.

Please, Bucky scorns the first voice, we were attacked just as often on the run with Harry.

James clenches his prosthesis. No matter where they go, they will be hunted. Until HYDRA is defeated, Harry will not be safe.

'The X-Men may not be the Justice League,' Professor X enters James's mind, 'but I believe we can help.'

X-MEN ARE VALUABLE MISSION ALLIES.

'We're almost at your location. Moody is still extraordinarily suspicious of us.'

James briefly berates himself for not checking for tracking devices before realizing the Professor can probably extract their location from his mind.

If the professor was an enemy, if he was HYDRA, the mission would truly be FUBAR.

Chapter Text

Harry almost believes he's back in his cupboard. He can reach out and touch the wall, and if he leans far over, he can touch the other side without moving his feet. His dad's legs are rigid, almost like a statue's, reminding Harry that this isn't his cupboard. He hasn't felt a single spider crawl across his skin, either.

His dad is silent, and Harry starts to worry that he really has been frozen again until, suddenly, he says "The X-Men are coming. They are allies. Good guys."

"They winned." Harry adds, but he still clings tight to his dad's leg. From outside the door, he hears Mr. Stark talking, and then Moody's growling voice, but he can't hear what they're saying. Harry holds his breath as footsteps approach, until Mr. Stark's voice is right on the other side of the door. "James? You're vouching for these X-Men?"

"They are allies."

The closet door swings open, and Harry squints in the bright light.

"Can't watch for enemies in a closet unless you've got an eye like mine." Moody scowls at James while the magic eye rolls around like the eyes on craft projects Dudley brought home from nursery school.

"Or a video surveillance system." Mr. Stark says. "Which I have, thank you very much."

Harry points at the wizard. "The en'my a'set disappeared, like you." How could his Batdad watch for them if he couldn't see them?

"I need to take a look at that cloak." Mr. Stark grins, but Moody just glares at him. "What does it do, some sort of retro-reflection spell, like some weird mojo version of Helicarrier panels? Jarvis, what do your scans tell you?"

Mr. Stark's brows lower when Jarvis doesn't answer. Harry waits for Mr. Stark to blame him, but he turns toward Moody instead.

"Protective enchantments might have messed with your muggle tech." Moody doesn't sound very sorry.

"Take them down." Stark orders.

"They're keeping Potter safe."

"That's what you're for!" Mr. Stark throws his hands out. "You can't just cancel all my security measures and expect me to be okay with it. Now undo whatever spells are blocking Jarvis."

With an even bigger scowl, Moody waves his wand.

"I'm back, sir." Jarvis says. "Shall I let the X-Men in?" A screen pops up, showing several people who look like another Justice League. Harry squints, looking for Captain America, like Jarvis showed him earlier, but he doesn't see him anywhere. The woman with white hair who made them float is here. Is that the storm lady his dad was telling Mr. Stark about?

Moody grumbles something, but Mr. Stark nods.

When the X-Men enter the cabin, Harry doesn't hide behind his dad's legs, but stands next to him.

"Are you hurt?" Storm bends down to look Harry in the eye.

"Did you win?" Harry looks at Storm, then Moody.

"We won that fight." Moody grunts. "Won't be the last."

Harry wants to say it will be, but every time his dad beats bad guys, more keep coming for them. "We have to beat all the bad guys. My dad beat a giant, and his dog. He could beat Dumb-Bell-Door if he didn't get freezed."

"The assist is appreciated." Mr. A'set speaks over Harry. "You saved us. Did you save any hostiles for interrogation?"

His metal arm whirs, ready to fight.

Harry tugs his dad's skin hand to ask what that word means, when a deep, growling voice like Moody's says "That's not necessary when we've got Chuck. Not that I mind whipping out my claws and doin' it myself, but Chuck prefers his way."

The man speaking is shorter than Mr. Stark, with hairy arms and a hood like Batman's, only part of it is yellow. He doesn't have a cape over his yellow and blue costume, but Harry can tell he's a superhero.

"Who were they working for?" Harry's Batdad asks. "HYDRA? The Dark Lord?"

"Probably at least one HYDRA mole in SHIELD who found out Agent and his secret agent assistant visited me." Mr. Stark mutters something about how they were supposed to track down HYDRA, but conveniently missed a huge wizard battle.

Mr. Stark turns to the yellow-Batman guy and asks who he is. "I didn't see you fighting."

"You dipped out early, bub. Flew off before I started slashing planes. You got any beer?"

"I usually go for something a bit higher end." Mr. Stark waves a hand at the glass bottles on one shelf, then rummages through a pantry and tosses a can to the man. The man pops the lid and tilts it back.

Harry's Batdad is looking at the man like he's one of those hidden picture books Harry found once when cleaning Dudley's second bedroom. Dudley had torn it up as soon as he saw Harry looking.

"Got a problem?" the man growls at Harry's dad.

"You're Logan." Harry's dad still has that same look, and Logan scowls. Harry watches his hands, even though Logan isn't turning purple like Uncle Vernon.

"How do you know these guys, James?" Mr. Stark asks Harry's dad before Logan can answer. "You guys fight together before? Or did you have to fight them?" Harry knows who would win in a fight- his dad is a lot taller, and just as muscular, and he has his metal arm. Harry doesn't even see any gadgets on Logan's belt.

Logan takes another sip. "You got a voice in your head?"

Mr. Stark is still talking over Logan. "Are there huge battles between wizards and nobody notices? Seriously, how does nobody notice? Most of you didn't have those cloaks, you were totally visible, and even Fury couldn't hide freaking wizards from the world." He gestures to the X-Men. "James said you're mutants."

"We keep ourselves hidden." Moody mutters. "We'd be better hidden now with those enchantments."

"You know, we weren't actually attacked until you showed up." Mr. Stark points at Moody.

"We have to fly again," Harry tells Mr. Stark. "So they can't find us."

"Jarvis, did he hit his head?" Mr. Stark glances at the ceiling before going back to looking at Harry like he's sick. "You do remember what just happened on my jet, don't you, kiddo?"

"You fly faster."

"I actually didn't. That would've ended badly for you. And me, once Pepper found out. Don't tell her about the stunts, okay?"

"We have to fly faster." Harry squeezes his dad's hand. His chest is thumping hard as he shifts from foot to foot. "Gun guys will find us here. We haf'ta go." Harry doesn't see any guns on the X-Men, but his dad said they're good guys.

Storm holds up her hands. "Professor X is making sure nobody will find this cabin. He's still at the school."

Harry asks why Professor X didn't make sure nobody found the plane. Mr. Stark bursts out laughing, and looks at Harry with pride, the way Uncle Vernon looked at Dudley. Harry smiles even though he's not sure what's funny.

"I'm guessing this Chuck guy and Professor X are one and the same?" Mr. Stark doesn't even stop for anyone to answer. "And he's got, what, telepathic powers? I'm kind of hoping not, because that's terrifying, but, hey, what's one more thing on my plate?"

Moody grunts a long word that starts with Legil.

"So, is this just a reading people's thoughts situation, or can he actually go and put thoughts in people's heads?" Mr. Stark pauses and looks over at Harry's Batdad. "Did he go in your head to tell you about X-Men?"

Harry's dad doesn't nod, but says. "Affirmative."

"And you didn't think to mention that some guy was messing with-" Mr. Stark's mouth closes, opens, and he mutters one of those grownup words before saying "Sorry. Hey, can he find a certain national icon frozen in suspended animation? Was James too far away to find before?"

Harry stops listening to Mr. Stark, too busy thinking about the man in his dad's head. He stands on his toes to whisper "Did he try to take your brain?"

"He offered to help fix it."

Harry doesn't see anything broken on his dad's head.

Mr. Stark glances between Harry and his Batdad. "You said something about wizards doing that, right? Taking people's brains? They didn't, you know, offer magic therapy or whatever?"

Harry tightens his hold on his dad. He hasn't seen the old man or the enemy asset since the castle, but they're probably chasing them, too. Harry glances at the X-Men. "Can you tell P'fessor X to take Dumb-Bell-Door's brain?"

"Dumbledore's not an enemy." Moody growls.

"Is so! And the en'my a'set." Harry crosses his arms. "My dad's goin' ta beat them forever. And Hydra."

His Batdad's face is stony. "I need backup."

"That's where we come in," Logan clenches a fist and three long, metal claws slide out of his gloved hand. He stabs one through his empty can before tearing the can back off and crumpling it.

Chapter Text

Tony's never been a team player, yet here he is, teaming up with a band of mutants, totally disproving Romanoff's report.

He's got to say, he's a lot more on-board with the idea of mutants than magic. It's much more scientific; this doesn't seem all that different from super-soldier serum, or that incident with gamma rays that turned Dr. Bruce Banner into an enormous green rage monster a few years ago.

Both Moody and Logan scowl impatiently as Tony brings up the Hulk, even though Tony's not rambling, thank you very much. So what if he goes on a spiel about how awesome it would be to meet Dr. Banner- the guy could help them out.

"If we can get him fighting HYDRA..." Tony grins at the thought, though all the files stated he was uncontrollable.

"We've got a beast already." Logan growls.

"Who, you?" Tony arches a brow. He keeps meeting people with murderous vibes these days.

"Hank's huge, blue and hairy," Logan starts, which sounds promising until he adds "Won't fight unless he has to. Got too much of a head for poetry and philosophy."

Across the cabin's living room, James is standing rigidly, blank-faced. "The search target has changed to Dr. Banner."

"No, we're still looking for Cap." Tony assures him, and he swears the man's flesh shoulder loosens the tiniest bit. The metal one is unmoving.

"He can protect Harry."

"That's what we're all here for." Tony says.

Storm stands, announcing that they need to get back to the school, and that she has a class to teach.

"You'll be safer with us," she tells them, leaving Tony somewhat affronted. He is a super hero after all, and all his properties have top-notch security. Then again, so did his jet, which just crashed harder than Cap's plane did back in 1945.

"At school?" Harry asks, both awestruck and all too eager to leave the cabin.

"It ain't kindergarten, kid." Logan says. Harry stares blankly until Tony says that's like Primary School.

"Dudley's in nursery school." Harry seems delighted to be a level higher than his cousin.

"You'd be safer at Hogwarts." Moody scowls.

Tony snorts. "Was Cowblisters taken already?"

Moody shoots a scathing look at him and explains that Hogwarts is a school for people like Harry, that his parents went there and his name's been down since before he was born.

Harry's eyes get wider, his expression slightly hopeful as he looks at James. "You went there?"

"Hogwarts is the castle." James states, at the same time Moody clarifies he meant Harry's real dad.

"No!" Harry yells, before addressing Moody as if he's an even younger child who knows nothing about the world, "Castles aren't schools, and he's my dad."

"Dumbledore thought he was dangerous." Moody tells Harry gruffly, as Harry plants himself in front of James with his fists on his hips. The boy's diminutive form does absolutely nothing to shield his guardian, but the determined look on his face speaks volumes. "He was... mistaken before."

Harry points at the X-Men. "They're not mistaken!"

"So Dumbledore wouldn't try to erase James' memories now?" Tony demands, crossing his arms.

There's a telling silence before Moody says something about "protocols for muggles." and some sort of statute of secrecy.

Well, the implications of that are terrifying. Was Moody planning on wiping Tony's memories, too? Tony knows about magic, after all. Tony's mind is racing, wondering if he can build some sort of defense against mind wipes.

Then again, couldn't this Professor X do the exact same thing? Tony glances at James, who hadn't seemed overly concerned about the professor's voice apparently being in his head.

If Professor X was going to wipe James, wouldn't he have done so already? Why would the X-Men have come here if all their memories of them could have been wiped?

"Can we go?" Harry almost begs James, tugging his hand.

Tony's got to admit, he's intrigued about mutant school. He hadn't passed up the chance to look at James' cybernetic arm when he and Harry broke in through his window, and he's not going to let this chance slip by, either.

Besides, the X-Men presumably have experience taking kids with unusual powers under their wings. Not that Tony's going to ditch Harry there or anything.

James nods at Harry, who cheers.

"You know, most kids hate being shipped to school." Tony tells Harry as they head out the door. He wasn't too fond of this cabin anyway, and there's no way he's leaving the kid with strangers, no matter how well-intentioned they seem.

It's clear Harry doesn't have any plans on leaving Tony, either. He refuses to get on the so-called X-Jet, asking Tony to fly them as Iron Man instead. Tony's on the receiving end of a highly disappointed look from a preschooler when he refuses.

Tony decides not to bring up that carrying them would be a disaster if they get attacked again. James looks tense enough as he enters the jet and sits in one of the seats. Harry's jaw is similarly set, his green eyes shoot another frustrated look at Tony.

Tony, as always, fills the silence as Storm pilots them over dark clouds that Tony's pretty sure she summoned to obscure their jet from view.

Tony's phone vibrates. Jarvis has pulled up a file from SHIELD's servers about a similar incident that occurred at the time Tony was almost dying from Palladium poisoning and being attacked by Vanko. The file isn't about Storm, but about some kind of space viking who may or may not have been the subject of myths fighting a hulking, futuristic robot. Reports indicate he has the ability to control lightning.

"Is he a mutant too?" Tony turns his phone towards Logan.

Logan is about as talkative as Moody or James. After rambling about the hammer apparently only this guy could lift, Tony fires off some questions about Logan's claws, but stops after the second.

Logan probably didn't choose to have them any more than Tony chose to have his arc reactor, and having claws emerge from your knuckles probably hurts about as much as having a car battery hooked up to your chest.

The only thing Tony gets out of Logan is about his claws is that they could slice through his 'tin can of a suit.'

Harry rises to the challenge. "You can't slice my dad's arm."

Logan turns toward the boy, who asks, quieter "Do your uncle an' aunt say you're a freak?"

"Most people would, if they knew about us." Logan's voice isn't quite as gruff, but Tony wouldn't say it's gentle, either. "Chuck thinks otherwise."

The clouds break apart as they descend towards a stately mansion, much like the one Tony grew up in. When Tony consults Jarvis on his phone, he learns they're in Westchester County.

"Couldn't afford a runway?" Tony quips when it appears they're going to touch down on a basketball court, which several teenagers vacate upon seeing the jet.

The court slides open to reveal an underground hanger, and Tony whistles. Harry's squirming to exit before they even land.

"The whole room's like your arm." Harry points at the chrome walls, then the suits lining the wall in glass cases. "Is this the X-Cave?"

Considering their plane is called an X-Jet, Tony would bet they're as bad as Batman when it comes to naming things. There's even a huge X on the circular door, which leads to several silver hallways.

"This is better than a Batcave." Tony remarks, and, surprisingly. Harry doesn't argue, too focused on James, who is staring at the elevator door as if he'll be locked inside. He still enters, but begins to shiver as the door slides closed.

"We're just going up." Harry tells his dad.

The elevator opens to reveal the ground level of the mansion is tastefully decorated and antique, a far cry from the levels underneath.

A few kids pass them in the hall. Tony is, of course, used to being recognized, but he notices that, while the kids glance curiously at the others, their gazes don't linger on James' arm or Harry's lightning bolt scar.

Storm leads them to an office where a bald man dressed in a crisp suit is seated behind the desk.

"Mr. Stark, James, Harry. I'm Charles Xavier, also known as Professor X. It's a pleasure to meet you in person." He moves around the desk, and Tony notes that even the wheels of his wheelchair have spokes in the shape of an X.

"Do you get called by an X-signal?" Tony smirks.

"Do bad guys come here?" Harry asks. "With guns and wep-nized sticks?"

"Occasionally," Professor X says. "But many of us have ways of stopping attackers. You're safe here."

They lay low at the school for a few days without incident, unless you count Tony having to explain everything to Pepper.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters is vastly superior than the cabin, even if it's full of kids. It has a garage full of cars for Tony to tinker with, though some guy wearing visor-goggles promises to blast Tony with what must be laser eyes if Tony touches his stuff.

To Tony's surprise, Logan doesn't threaten Harry when the kid inspects his motorcycle, nor does he seem as annoyed at the boy's questions about whether it flies like in his dreams.

They get kicked out of the garage entirely when a class starts, even though Tony knows more about auto mechanics than anyone else in the school.

Harry is far less scandalized about being pushed away, instead asking if they can make the "moto-bike" fly later.

Even after a few days, he seems more comfortable with people casually using powers around him. One kid runs through walls, and there's a huge metal Russian guy, which leads to Harry asking if he can turn parts of himself metal to be like James, or grow claws.

Both of them tell Harry that he wouldn't want those.

Another time, Tony overhears Harry asking a woman if she's Matilda as she moves objects with telekinesis, despite the fact she's a gorgeous redhead instead of a tiny black-haired girl. The woman says her name is Jean Grey, and Logan tells Tony to back off before he even does anything.

Tony thought Cyclops, the laser-eye guy, was touchy about his cars, but that's nothing compared to when he sees Tony even looking at Jean.

Tony backs off, not because of any intimidation, but because he doesn't want to turn some weird love triangle into a square. Besides, he's never been one for relationships, and with everything going on he really doesn't have the time to get involved in that mess, too.

Still, it's slightly unfair that James isn't threatened when he approaches Jean about teaching Harry to levitate objects and create force fields. Sure, Tony has a reputation, but he's pretty sure Bucky Barnes was a ladies' man back in the day. 

Some of the older kids teach Harry how to play basketball. He becomes a regular on the court, even if some of the older kids don't go easy on him. Tony hadn't realized how competitive Harry could get at sports.

Still, Harry readily abandons the game whenever James leaves.

Tony's not sure what happens when James visits Professor Xavier's office, but Harry stands outside for the entire hour. James exits, not seeming all too different from before. Clearly, even telepaths can't heal over six decades of trauma instantly.

Tony follows James and Harry back to the basketball court, overhearing James tell his son that Steve was always picked last for games, that they snuck into stadiums to see ballgames. Tony had never really thought about whether the famous Cap and Bucky were more into basketball or baseball, but now he has his answer.

Despite the setback, the plan to find Cap picks up speed. Tony can't believe he's listening to Moody about the owl thing, but the wizard claims they can deliver letters to people even if the recipient's location is unknown.

Tony attaches a tracker to the envelope, and after giving the owl a head start, flies after it, along with several X-Men in the X-Jet.

They aren't accosted on this flight, and the Arctic Ocean is similarly undisturbed. The owl is perched on an otherwise unremarkable part of the ice. Apparently it managed to accomplish what Howard Stark failed for years. Tony smiles grimly. He doubts Howard would have paid any more attention to him even if he had known this trick.

The lasers on Tony's suit, along with Jean's telekinesis, make excavating the plane from the ice much less annoying than it could have been. As soon as Tony cuts a hole in the hull, the owl hoots and flies in. Tony hovers down next to it, following as through the abandoned frozen plane.

A ting echoes through the plane when the owl's beak nips at an iconic red, white and blue shield.

Chapter Text

Steve drifts into consciousness slowly, like a drowning man being pulled to the surface.

There's a soft bed under him with silky sheets, and the air lacks the distinct smell of a hospital or medical tent.

Opening his eyes, Steve finds himself in an ornate bedroom, large enough to house his entire apartment back in Brooklyn.

He furrows his brow. Where is he? Not Brooklyn, certainly. He hears no traffic or pedestrians besides the footsteps running down what must be a hallway beyond the door. The unmistakable shouts of children playing drifts through a window.

The last thing he remembers is sending the plane down, Peggy telling him not to. Millions of people were going to die if he hadn't.

Did he save them? Did someone save him?

Steve sits up, swings his legs off the bed, and pads across the ornate rug to the window. The sprawling expanse of lawn confirms his suspicions that, wherever he is, it's not Brooklyn. The children throwing a ball around the court below him are all dressed in strange clothing- rather than jackets and buttoned, collared shirts, the boys are wearing shirts with pictures printed on them, blue denim pants or colorful short pants, and shoes unlike any Steve's seen. None of the girls are wearing dresses.

Steve himself is dressed in a cotton shirt and soft pants. His uniform and shield are nowhere to be seen.

He frowns. This can't be the States, but he hears some New York accents in the playful taunts.

Steve crosses the room again and pulls the dark, mahogany door open. The hallway is just as extravagant as the bedroom, lined with wood paneling and oil paintings. The artist in Steve longs to stop and admire the paintings, but common sense rules he shouldn't.

Steve is alone in the hallway, but a radio broadcast of a sports game flows from an adjacent hall. Just like the clothes on the children outside, something isn't right. The cheers don't sound at all crackly or tinny. and even the way the announcer talks isn't anything like Steve's used to hearing.

Then, a high, childish voice with a British accent remarks that watching hockey on the telly is better than watching baseball. Even fighting all over Europe, Steve never heard anyone call a stadium a telly.

Steve was never a big fan of hockey, and hasn't followed it since the Amerks left Brooklyn due to the war. He quells the urge to defend America's favorite pastime as he rounds the corner.

A man and boy are walking down the hall, away from him. The boy looks to be under four, as small and skinny as Steve was as a child, with an unruly mess of black hair on his head. He's holding tight to the man's left arm, which looks to be entirely metal.

The man has the build, posture and precise movements of a soldier, but no military Steve knows of- Allies or Axis- allows soldiers to have hair falling to their chins. He must be a veteran, one of the many soldiers to lose a limb in service, but the prosthesis is unlike any Steve's seen.

The man and boy turn a corner, the boy's voice slowly fading as they venture farther away.

Steve frowns, feeling like he has a puzzle that's missing pieces. He wonders if this is one of the locations children were evacuated to from London, but that doesn't explain the New York accents he'd heard outside.

Moving down the hall, Steve stops suddenly at the sight of a familiar face through a doorway.

"Howlett."

The short, burly man looks like he hasn't aged a day from when Steve last saw him on the battlefield. Howlett's dressed in a sleeveless shirt, a beer bottle held loosely in one hand. His legs, covered in the same denim pants Steve saw on the children, are kicked up on a low table.

Howlett is staring at the wall where the radio must be, though the doorway hides it from Steve's sight. He glances Steve's way before his eyes go back to the wall. "Looks like I ain't the only one back from the dead."

"Did we win?" Steve asks. He'd defeated Schmidt, but the war wasn't over. "New York, is it-"

"We're in Westchester." Howlett doesn't even glance away from the radio this time. "War's been over for a while, bub."

Steve enters the room, and his mouth drops open to marvel at what's in front of him. Every color in the moving picture is brighter than Dorothy's ruby slippers or the yellow brick road. The image, which switches from an aerial view of an ice-hockey rink to an up-close shot of a player, is crisp, devoid of scratches or spots. The movie seems to be emanating from the flat glass screen rather than projected onto a blank canvas.

"Did you fish me from the ocean?" Steve asks, mind reeling. He must've been there for some time, for this technology to be invented, but that doesn't add up either, because the serum doesn't prevent him from drowning.

"Stark did." Howlett grunts, clearly annoyed that Steve's interrupting the game onscreen. Steve wasn't aware Howlett and Stark even knew about each other, aside from Steve mentioning Stark once on the field.

"Chuck hasn't filled you in?" Howlett growls.

Steve has no idea who Chuck is, but he's not surprised Howard searched for him after he went MIA. Though really, Howard should have known Steve would be dead upon impact.

Except, clearly, Steve's alive.

Steve stares at the fancy screen for several minutes without really seeing it. Hadn't Howlett just said he'd been resurrected?

Howlett sips his beer, silently watching the game.

"The commandos, are they-" Steve stops, no longer hearing the cheers, the announcer, the scrape of skates on on ice. He's clinging to the train in the alps, hand outstretched, his shout of "Bucky, No!" doing nothing to stop Bucky from falling. Wind rushes in his ears until Steve slowly starts seeing the room around him again. The strange screen, Howlett on the couch, his eyes now on Steve.

"Nobody's told you anything?" Howlett raises a brow, before grumbling that just because he occasionally teaches history doesn't make it his job to catch Steve up.

"Catch me up on what?" Steve demands, not even thinking about Howlett being a teacher. It has to be something about the war, but Howlett said it was over.

The man takes a drink from his bottle, eyes back on the screen. Sensing he won't get anything more out of Howlett during the game, Steve turns to leave.

Back in the hallway, he overhears voices coming from the direction of the room he just left.

"He was asleep five minutes ago." exclaims a vaguely familiar male voice.

Steve hears the British boy say "Maybe he died."

The halls must form a loop, since Steve didn't see the man or boy walk past the room Howlett was in.

"He didn't." the man says quickly. "But figures he'd wake up the minute nobody's watching. Isn't Professor X supposed to sense this kind of thing?"

Steve bursts into the doorway and sees Howard Stark holding the shield he'd made, standing around the empty bed with the boy and the soldier Steve had seen just a few minutes ago.

"Howard," Steve says. "Howlett says I was dead."

"Not dead," Stark says, turning around, and it's definitely not Howard, even if there's some resemblance. Did he have a brother he never mentioned? "You were frozen."

The boy glances at the soldier, but Steve doesn't hear the boy's question. His breath feels like it's been punched out of him when the soldier turns around.

Even with long hair, Steve would recognize that face anywhere. He thought he'd never see it again, except during nightmares where he reaches out and fails to catch him yet again. Even worse are the dreams where he does catch Bucky, only to wake up after pulling him to safety.

Bucky's gray-blue eyes are even more haunted than when Steve found him strapped to a table in the HYDRA camp.

"Bucky." Steve hugs him, thumping his back twice. It's not returned. Bucky doesn't move an inch, standing as if at attention.

"I thought you were dead." Steve breathes. He doesn't even hear what not-Howard or the boy are saying, barely registers their presence. He almost expects Bucky to repeat that he thought Steve was smaller. Even after being tortured, he'd carried on a conversation, but now his silence stretches into an eternity.

Steve's elation is starting to sink into a feeling of dread. Something is off, and it's not just the clothes, the futuristic screen or the man who looks like Howard.

Something is off about Bucky.

After another eternity, Bucky says one word.

"Steve."

Chapter Text

When Steve surges forward, instinct screams at James to defend himself from an attacker, but even the other voice says STEVE IS AN ALLY.

Steve is a Captain, outranking James. James stands at attention. He has memories of fighting with Steve, of serving under the captain's leadership.

Steve's arms envelop James in a hug, thumping his back. James hears Bucky's voice say, fondly you're a punk. Not the words a soldier would ever say to a commanding officer. Evidently, Bucky had. James frowns. He'd known Steve before they were soldiers, as evidenced by the memories of Steve as a small, sickly child with a spirit that was anything but frail. That had been one of his first visions on the night he'd taken Harry from Number 4, Privet Drive.

James has a quick flash of Steve returning punk with jerk.

The real Steve does not call James a jerk, does not release him from the embrace that James has not returned, despite the Bucky voice's commands to do so.

"I thought you were dead." Steve breathes close to James's ear.

"Everyone thought the same about you." Stark smirks down at Harry. "Especially him."

Steve gives no indication that he's heard.

James knows all too well that being frozen is nonlethal, though he had no intel that Steve was frozen until recently. Had HYDRA known? If they'd found him...

"Steve." James says.

Steve releases James from the hug, but holds his shoulders, brow creased with concern as he frowns at the prosthetic shoulder.

"Bucky, what happened? The train-"

Steve stops. He appears to be experiencing his own flashback. When it ends, his voice is tight. "You survived. Buck, if I'd known..."

"So did you," Stark says, once again ignored by Steve. Stark throws up his hands.

"Howlett said the war's been over for a while... how long?"

"My dad's James." Harry tugs on James's pant leg until James picks him up. From his vantage point in James's prosthetic arm, Harry stares at Steve with a challenge in his green eyes, as if daring Steve to hug James again. Steve's blue eyes are a combination of bewilderment and pain.

"Your dad?" Steve echoes, glancing between James and Harry, as if trying to find a resemblance. "Did you- it wasn't you and Peggy, was it?"

Steve sounds hurt now, almost betrayed. Something in James twinges.

Really, Rogers? Carter ain't the only British woman in the world. Bucky scoffs, sounding suspiciously hurt as well.

"Where'd he come from?" Steve frowns at Harry. James shifts his son closer to his chest.

"You see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much-" Stark starts in a slightly mocking voice, then glances at Harry and stops.

Steve's face becomes increasingly strained as James reports. After 14.3 seconds, Steve orders James to stop the mission report, and James complies.

STEVE IS A CAPTAIN, repeats the voice, starting an argument in James's head over whether Steve is now a handler.

A third voice enters the debate- Professor X. 'Neither you nor Captain Rogers are currently enlisted. He has no authority over you.'

He always did, Bucky replies. I was followin' that punk from Brooklyn a decade before the war.

James continues to stand at attention, but keeps Harry in his arms.

James is unsure as to how Steve will react when he learns that his former friend had become the Fist of HYDRA for decades, had been an assassin for the Soviets.

Steve will most likely decommission him, or ensure Sergeant Barnes is court-martialed and imprisoned for treason. James will not be able to take care of Harry in prison.

Harry will be better off with Steve. James starts to pass his son over, despite not being ordered to. Harry refuses to let go, trying to launch himself further into James's arms by planting a foot in Steve's stomach and pushing off. "He's not my dad!"

Stark is yelling "Whoa, hang on a sec here," Steve's shouting questions and Harry has begun to scream wordlessly.

The decibels rise until Logan appears in the doorway, growling that he can't hear his damn game. The man steps aside for Professor X to enter.

The professor quiets the room without saying a word or making any sort of nonverbal threat. "I'm terribly sorry for my absence prior to now. Captain Rogers, James, would you care to join me for tea? There is much we need to discuss."

Tony's left to deal with an irate preschooler, but Pepper would probably say it's karma for all Tony's made her put up with.

"Mr. Rogers is stinky." Harry's voice is hard. "And dumb."

Tony snorts and gets a very unamused look in return. Harry seems to be digging for worse words to call Steve, and Tony wonders how kids live without swearing. Finally, Harry exclaims "He's FUBAR in the pits!"

Tony can't help the burst of laughter that escapes, though it dies quickly when Harry continues with "He's not my dad. Why'd Dad-"

Tony's heart clenches, knowing all too well what it's like to have a parent focus on Captain America. Tony hadn't missed how James seemed to have considered leaving back at his mansion.

Granted, James has a lot of history with Steve- history that James doesn't remember most of, clearly, but it's there. Everyone knows about the inseparable duo of Cap and Bucky- the more classic "brothers in all but blood" view to the controversial theory that they were secretly lovers, which had caused even more of an uproar in some circles than when the paparazzi caught Tony with another man.

Tony's kind of glad Howard wasn't around for that, and he doesn't appreciate that Steve mistook him for Howard. Tony can sort of get why he'd though that, but still- ouch. And he definitely isn't thinking about how disappointed Steve must be that it's him and not Howard.

Shoving that thought away, Tony crouches down to Harry's level. "I'll make sure he won't pull a Howard. But hey, he hugs you and not Steve, right?"

Harry nods miserably. Tony promises that he'll make sure to remind James that Harry's his top priority, then decides that's enough about feelings, either Harry's or his own. Besides, he's pretty sure Pepper would tell him not to promote a competition between Harry and Steve, so he already screwed that up.

Tony tries to distract Harry in the garage, showing him the parts of a motorcycle that isn't Logan's. Tony assures Harry that he could make a flying motorcycle, then has to deal with Harry's disappointment when the results aren't instantaneous. Or maybe that's carryover from his stress about James.

Moody clomps in and lifts the bike with a flick of his wand, which doesn't help Tony's explanation that engineering takes time. Stupid magic.

Harry smiles for the first time in two hours and begs to sit on it. Moody lowers the bike and waits for Harry to clamber on before levitating it again, growling a warning for the boy to be vigilant. Harry beams, pretending to steer and making engine noises with his mouth.

When James silently enters the room, Harry's frown returns. He folds his arms, scowling down at James from his vantage point. "Steve's not my dad. You are."

"I am." James answers.

At those words, Harry scrambles off the bike while it's still hovering, and James moves with superhuman speed to catch Harry in his flesh arm.

"You said 'til the end of the line." Harry says.

Tony catches a glimpse of Steve in the doorway, noting that he somehow looks like a kicked puppy. Harry wraps his arms around James's neck, while James gives Tony and Moody a look that promises a drawn-out disembowelment if they let Harry ride a floating motorcycle again.

Tony raises his hands to show his innocence in the matter. James turns wordlessly and stalks away.

Thawing Steve has made everything more complicated, not easier. James's previous handlers surely would have recalibrated him for this lack of judgement.

Steve alternates between anger-fueled righteousness as he promises to rain judgement down on every last HYDRA base, expressing shock that HYDRA is still active, and giving James deep, pitying looks.

What a hypocrite, Bucky grouses, as James is regaled with memories- Small, skinny Steve glaring in bed, muttering "I ain't made of glass, Buck,"

Steve even tries to join James and Harry in their room at night. James can't object, but Harry does, and Steve reluctantly takes a room down the hall.

At 0056, James takes Harry down to the kitchen for hot chocolate. Logan, sitting in the dark with a cigar and beer, barely acknowledges their presence or preparations until Harry pushes a mug of hot chocolate at him.

"Not really my kind of drink, kid." Logan mutters, but he takes his cigar out to take a sip, grimacing at the sweetness.

"Did you have bad dreams?" Harry asks him. "We did."

James had awoken, muttering in Russian until, slowly, Harry's voice made him aware of his surroundings.

They sit in silence, though if Stark joins them as he had last night, that will certainly change.

Footsteps approach, but they are not Stark's.

"Couldn't sleep, Bucky?" Steve's hair is rumpled, his tight shirt and loose pants provide inadequate protection.

"I am functional." James reports. Steve's face twists, and James waits for his captain to start apologizing profusely, repeatedly, as he had in Professor X's office upon learning James survived the fall from the train. The Professor had used phrases such as survivor's guilt and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is a new code for Shell-Shock. Difficulty sleeping, the professor said, was to be expected. He'd mentioned he could make them sleep, but reliance on telepathic sleeping aids was hardly a long-term solution.

Steve had been adament that he was James's friend, not his Captain.

Steve sits at the table, glancing at their mugs. Harry does not offer to make him hot chocolate, instead scooting closer to James.

Steve starts to debrief a mission that he, Bucky and Logan had completed together, specifically one time they'd made coffee out of acorns.

No flashes enter James's mind during the debrief, James remembers nothing of the mission or working with Logan, but commits it to memory and will add it to the journal that Professor X gave him.

Harry frowns through the debrief and then, as if trying to outperform Steve, says "My dad jumped off a train with me."

Steve's body tenses, his eyes suddenly unfocused.

James waits silently for another round of apologies, but Steve shakes his head and asks James if he remembers Coney Island, how they thought the Cyclone would fall to pieces.

"You forget it's been seven decades?" Logan asks.

Steve's face falters before he returns the scowl. "I just woke up."

"I've been up the whole time, bub."

"You haven't aged." Steve's eyes narrow slightly in thought. "I can't believe Howard had a kid. Tony."

"Mr. Stark's not a kid." says Harry, looking confused.

"And that he's Howard's age."

"Howard Stark is deceased." James reminds Steve, who looks down at his hands on the table.

When Stark staggers in to refill a coffee mug, Steve stands and extends a hand.

"Tony," Steve says, shaking Stark's hand firmly. "I heard all you've done for Bucky, and for that, I really can't thank you enough."

Stark blinks, seeming incapable of forming a sentence, then waves it away and begins a rapid-fire spiel about Dr. McCoy and his research and how Stark, Dr. McCoy, and Dr. Banner should form a scientist superhero team.

Steve continues to stick close to James's side throughout the day, to Harry's obvious annoyance.

While the other students are in class, James has been teaching Harry basic reading, writing and arithmetic. Harry is not the most attentive student, eyes straying toward the basketball court.

James does not want to think about how HYDRA would have ensured Harry's concentration and punished any lapses. He knows that HYDRA would not let James take the punishments for Harry, and the thought of Harry going through that makes the voice scream PROTECT.

James takes Harry out to the court and has him count the number of times he dribbles the ball. Throughout the lesson, Steve keeps interrupting, frequently addressing James as if he's Bucky, as if James had spent no time as the Winter Soldier. Several times, James notes Steve looking at him with a haunted, guilty look, the same look he'd had when he learned HYDRA was still active.

Steve doesn't get quite as worked up when Stark tells him the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles in 1957, but he's not happy about it. James tries to remember if he was awake in that year, though he doubts he would have cared about that information then.

Technology allows them to watch or listen to old games. That evening, Stark has JARVIS compile the highlights of baseball history on his phone and projects it onto the wall. James sits next to Steve on the couch, writing in a new notebook.

Harry frowns at the screen. "Can we watch hockey?"

Steve opens his mouth, and shuts it. He's still clearly unsure of how to act around Harry, and James remembers Steve saying he'd never liked when people handed their kids over for pictures.

Harry goes back to drawing more disproportionate shapes and people. James forces himself to smile when Harry holds it up proudly.

"What is it?" Steve asks.

"Quidditch!"

Moody had told Harry about the magical sport, which involves reckless flying on brooms and balls called Bludgers, enchanted with the sole purpose of ramming into players. At least baseballs and hockey pucks aren't sentient. Quidditch sounds worse than Stark's flying, but Harry is enamored.

Harry returns to drawing, explaining that his new scribbles are a team of people on flying motorbikes and hockey sticks. Steve watches Harry work, and quietly remarks "He looks a lot like me at that age."

Harry's face scrunches, but he doesn't look up from his paper. "No. You have yellow hair like Dudley and no scar."

Steve sighs and grabs his own sheet of paper. He sweeps the pencil across, creating a detailed image of James on a flying motorcycle. Harry inches closer and closer to observe, until his nose is practically touching the paper as he asks Steve to draw hoops.

Harry admires the drawing, then grabs one of his previous ones- three, dark-haired stick figures representing himself, James and Tony. Steve waits with a clearly hopeful expression as Harry grabs a yellow crayon, holding it over the happy people.

Harry draws Steve- on the back of the page, fighting off a hoard of faceless stick figures. He shows the picture and asks "Are you going to fight HYDRA?"

Steve's face becomes grim again, and James does not find Steve anywhere when he reconnoiters the mansion at night. Logan's bike is also missing. Upon receiving this intel, Logan promises that any scratches on his bike will be replicated on Steve's body. The shorter man is unintimidated by James and growls right back.

Professor X disappears into the basement and somehow locates Steve and learns he's raiding a HYDRA base in New Jersey.

Of course it's Jersey. Bucky scoffs, but he urges James to go. The punk needs someone to watch his back.

The voices in James's head almost tear him in two, worse than when Steve was in the ice.

STEVE DID NOT ORDER US TO ACCOMPANY HIM ON THE MISSION, the other voice says, though memories of helping Steve in alley fights reveal that Bucky had often engaged in combat without Steve's orders.

"Look," Stark tells James. "Steve didn't even tell you he was going, and he's single-handedly stormed bases before. You need to stay here with Harry, because I am not qualified to look after a kid."

James nods stiffly, and tells Harry it's time for reading. They skip the picture book about a bear hibernating. Harry flips half-heartedly through a Captain America comic that one student had lent him.

"Where are you?" he asks, looking at a cartoon drawing of Captain America with a kid sidekick greatly resembling Robin.

The Bucky voice is dismayed at what they made him in the comics, and Harry is unhappy about not seeing James in the comic at all.

Chapter Text

Harry's happy that Steve's gone, but his dad hasn't stopped frowning and looking towards the road.

Harry tries to make his dad feel better by saying "Steve's probably not dead," but his dad's face doesn't change.

"The punk will get himself killed one day. Especially with no one to watch his back."

"I'll go," Mr. Stark claps Harry's dad on his metal shoulder, winces and then disappears into the school. He clomps out as Iron Man and hovers in the air.

"Can I go?" asks Harry, longing to fly again.

"No," his dad answers right away.

"Then you can't either." Harry grabs his dad's hand and tugs him back toward the court.

After Iron Man rockets away, Harry refuses to let go of his dad. He shrieks as his dad swings him up onto his skin shoulder, holding him almost high enough to dunk a basketball.

When Harry throws the ball from the ground, it doesn't even get close to the hoop.

Harry can't wait until he's grown like the big kids. If Harry was bigger, maybe Dudley wouldn't have hit him all the time. Harry smiles at the thought, but realizes he'd never be bigger than Uncle Vernon.

"Size ain't everything." Mr. Logan says after hearing Harry's wish to be bigger. Mr. Logan is shorter than all the other guys here, a lot of the women.

"Do you grow down?" Harry asks, confused about how some of the big kids are taller than Mr. Logan. Isn't he older?

Mr. Logan snorts. "No. I just didn't grow much."

The stick between Mr. Logan's teeth wiggles when he talks. Aunt Tuna said only horrible, nasty people used them, but she'd say that about wands too.

Mr. Logan pulls out a small box full of the sticks and offers one to Harry's dad. Harry's dad flicks something and lights the end of the stick on fire. He puts it in his mouth and puffs out smoke, like the dragons Piers told Dudley about before Aunt Tuna forbade him from talking about it.

"Can I try?" Harry begs.

"They're not for kids." Mr. Logan grunts, shoving the box back in his pocket.

Harry crosses his arms and says, again, "I wish I was bigger."

"You shouldn't have these, even when you're bigger." Harry's dad says.

"Why?"

"Ain't good for anyone really," Logan says. "but I heal."

"I heal!" Harry protests. "Sometimes I wake up and don't hurt anymore, even after Uncle Vernon gives me a thrashing."

Both Mr. Logan and Harry's dad look furious, and Harry bites down on his lip to shut up. He doesn't say anything about Mr. Moody making his knee better.

Nobody says anything for a bit, and then Mr. Logan nods at the orange ball laying forgotten on the court. "Try to score some more."

"I can't." Harry says, much quieter. He'd need a broomstick, like Quidditch, or a flying motorbike. Mr. Stark said he'd make one, but now he's gone with Steve.

"You don't need anything but yourself." says a voice behind him. Ms. Jean. Without anyone touching it, the basketball lifts off the ground, flies over the court, and swishes through the net.

"Dad! Did you see?!" Harry shouts, running after the ball. The ball changes direction mid-bounce to hop over to Harry.

Harry throws the ball over and over, but he can't get it to fly, even when he tries pushing with hands he can't see.

Harry spots Mr. Moody watching from the side, and remembers that he'd made a ball fly too. "Can I use your wand? Please?"

"No." Mr. Moody growls. "It wouldn't listen to you."

Remembering the wand he'd grabbed on the plane, and how the window exploded, Harry nods. He doesn't want the basketball to explode, even if Mr. Moody could fix it, just like he had back at Mr. Stark's house.

When it's time for Harry to visit Professor X's office, Harry doesn't let his dad leave.

The professor's office looks fancy and old, a little like the place Dumb-Bell-Door brought them, only the Professor's a lot nicer. He lets Harry play with the horse head and other strange-shaped toys that sit on a board that looks like kitchen tiles. Harry makes some of them HYDRA, and the two he's using as Iron Man and Captain America take them down.

As he's playing, Harry tells the Professor "Matilda's better than me."

"I wouldn't want anyone else as my kid." Harry's dad lays a hand on his shoulder. "Not Robin nor Matilda."

Harry sits stiffly. "You want Steve."

Harry's dad blows out a heavy breath, only there's no smoke now. "I stayed with you."

"Harry," Professor X says, "Steve means a lot to your dad, but that doesn't mean he'll stop caring about you."

Harry drops the figures. Aunt Tuna and Uncle Vernon only cared about Dudley.

Harry crawls into his dad's lap, sniveling like the sissy boy Uncle Vernon said he was. He hears Professor X more than his dad, even though Harry's ear is right next to his dad's mouth. The professor keeps saying that Harry is safe now, that his aunt and uncle won't hurt him here.

"My dad beat 'em." Harry mumbles once he's stopped sobbing. He stares at the scattered pieces on the board. "An' Iron Man's going to win 'gainst HYDRA."

"It won't be fast." Harry's dad says. "Steve fought them before, and they came back."

That's because Steve isn't as cool as Iron Man.

Harry slides off his dad's lap, and picks up one of the pieces with a ball on one end. He smashes the ball into the HYDRA pieces, just like the Bludgers Mr. Moody had told him about.

When Harry tries throwing the piece to make it soar, it crashes to the squares below.

"Why can't I do it?" Harry asks after another throw ends with the piece crashing down. "Ms. Grey made the ball fly."

"Most of my students cannot control their powers when they arrive."

"The big kids can." Harry grumbles. They can do lots of things he can't, like read, shoot hoops, stay up late. He's seen some of them use powers.

"They're still learning." Professor X says. "I taught Jean and Scott to control their powers when they were far older than you."

"Matilda's five, and she can."

"She practiced." Harry's dad tells him. "If you practice, you'll get better."

When their session is over, Harry pulls his dad back to the courts, but Ms. Jean is gone and several big kids are playing ball. None of them make the ball fly like Ms. Jean.

Harry rushes in, thinking about the ball flying to him, but it doesn't. The big kids keep throwing over his head, and Harry gets more and more frustrated until one time, the ball suddenly stops above him and bounces right at his feet.

Harry grins as he grabs it. Did he do that?!

Harry shouts. "Dad! Did you see? Look what I did!"

He hurls it up at the hoop with all his might, and it hits the rim this time.

Harry's dad lifts him onto his shoulder again. One of the big kids throws the ball up to him. Harry throws it and it hits the outside of the rim. Instead of bouncing away, the ball rolls up over the rim to fall through the net.

"I did it!" Harry shouts. It didn't happen every time he wanted it to, but it happened. Some of the big kids cheer, and Harry grins down at them..

He can't wait to show Mr. Stark.

As Harry is carried on his dad's shoulder around the court, he almost feels like he's flying.

Chapter Text

Tony catches up to Steve at Camp Lehigh, which he knows from Howard's endless stories is where Steve Rogers first trained before being souped up with serum.

Cap is currently standing in the abandoned site, looking as if he's seeing a ghost.

"Feeling nostalgic?" Tony asks when he lands, smirking at the slack-jawed look Steve gives his suit.

"I thought flying cars were the future," Cap mutters.

"Yeah, well, Howard couldn't even manage that, and I built my first suit with scraps." Tony replies. "By the way, Logan's pissed you took his bike. And for the record, I'm going to make Harry a flying one."

"I know I'm new to... now," Cap says, "But I doubt kids his age are allowed to drive."

"They are, totally." Tony answers. He gets a disbelieving look before Cap returns to business.

"If HYDRA's still around, they'd want to keep their enemies close, wouldn't they?" Cap rambles something about army regulations and munitions storage, ending with "That building's in the wrong place."

"Maybe some sap turned it into a shrine to you," Tony says as they make their way over. "I thought you were off hunting HYDRA agents."

Cap ignores him, pulling his shield back to smash the padlock.

Tony huffs, pushes Cap out of the way, and cuts it with a laser instead. "We've got better tools these days, Gramps."

When the lights turn on, they reveal a large SHIELD logo on the far wall along with rows of shelves and empty desks with ancient computers. Cap still looks intrigued by the technology, and Tony rolls his eyes.

"That stuff's decades old already."

On one wall has large portraits of Howard and Peggy. Cap stares at them silently and Tony, never one to let silence stick around, says "You know, James almost abandoned Harry to go looking for you. He said someone has to watch your back when you do something stupid, so here I am."

Not looking away from the pictures, Cap seems to be picking his words. "He found someone else to look out for."

"Yeah, he and Harry are kind of a package deal."

"Little kids don't like me. They always cried during photo shoots," Cap shakes his head, "but Bucky, he's great with kids. He has four little sisters."

"Well, now he's got his own kid," Tony points a finger at Cap's chest. "So don't get between them."

Tony thought his life was surreal before, and now he's quasi-threatening a living legend who, until a few days ago, was thought dead. Well, he still is by most of the world.

"He always stuck up for the little man." Cap huffs something that isn't quite a laugh. "Usually me."

Suddenly, Steve is back in Captain America mode, tugging at a set of shelves. "Why hide something in an already hidden bunker?"

The shelves slide to reveal a rickety old elevator, which takes them to a basement full of tape drives. "These are ancient, too." Tony tells his companion.

Right in front of the large, eighties-era monochrome monitor is a suspiciously modern USB reader.

Clearly, someone's been down here recently, though the place seems like it's been abandoned for years.

A USB stick pops out of Tony's suit, and Tony plugs it in. "All right, Jarvis, do your thing."

The tape drives begin to whir, magnetic tape spinning on large wheels all around them. Cap looks around, but Tony's gaze is fixed on the screen.

"Sir-" Jarvis starts. Vertical green lines flash across the screen before forming a crude image of a bespectacled man.

"Zola." Cap mutters. "A German scientist. Bucky and I-"

"I know who he is," Tony says. "He's been dead for years."

The security camera hooked up to the computer turns to point at Tony, and a voice suddenly speaks. "You are wrong, Anthony Stark. Much as Steve Rogers was about his friend."

Cap's mouth tightens. Tony wonders if this is how people feel when they first hear Jarvis, except this voice is much more sinister.

Inside Tony's helmet, Jarvis says "Sir, he appears to be a fully functioning AI."

Tony swears. Not only is HYDRA a despicable terrorist organization, but they also somehow built a cybernetic arm that rivals his suits and uploaded someone's consciousness to a computer, decades before Jarvis or Iron Man were born.

He's going to burn them to the ground.

Zola's going on about how he received a terminal diagnosis in 1972. How he was recruited for SHIELD upon its conception during Operation Paperclip.

HYDRA didn't infiltrate SHIELD, it was lurking from the very beginning.

Cap seems to be having similar thoughts. He smashes his shield into the keyboard, sending shards of plastic keys flying everywhere, as if that will destroy Zola. "It was all for nothing!"

Zola monologues, almost like a supervillain in a movie, about how humanity can't be trusted with its freedom and how HYDRA will bring order.

Then Zola pulls out the big guns, or rather, files. Grainy photos of the Winter Soldier, peering down a sniper rifle. Records of medical experiments with redacted information, though it's clear who the subject was. The screen even flashes headlines about that fateful car crash.

"Jarvis," Tony says, eyeing the screen with loathing. "Deal with him."

"With pleasure, sir." Jarvis replies.

Hours later, Tony rockets back to the school, landing just before all the students go in for dinner. Harry runs up to him almost as soon as he lands. His dark hair is sticking every way, as usual, but he looks like he's been playing outside most of the day, going from the dirt on his clothes.

"Did you beat them?" Harry asks breathlessly.

"We, uh, had a talk with one of the bad guys."

Harry looks highly disappointed. "And then you kicked his butt?"

"He didn't have one." Tony replies, and Harry giggles despite himself.

"When are you going to beat them all?" Harry presses, and Tony almost can't believe this is the same frightened, overly-apologetic boy who showed up at his own mansion. It's a good change.

"It takes time."

Harry huffs. "You were gone all day."

"It takes longer than a day." James sounds as if he's said it a thousand times today.

"Years?" Harry asks in disbelief.

"I hope not." Tony replies. "But this isn't like those Justice League episodes you saw."

Harry glances back at James, then tugs on Tony's armored fingers until Tony crouches down. Harry leans in to whisper against Tony's helmet. "Did Steve die? Dad's going 'ta be sad."

"No." Tony snorts. "Cap's just slower than me."

Harry turns to James to announce "He's not dead, he's just slow."

Tony can't help the burst of laughter that escapes him, though it mellows when Logan approaches with his usual scowl. James does not appear remotely intimidated, some of the tension has left his flesh shoulder after hearing the news about Cap.

"Your bike's fine." Tony assures before Logan says anything.

"I got a basket." Harry tells Tony, who holds out his hand for a high-five before remembering the repulsors attached to his palms. He settles for a fist bump instead, which Harry must have picked up from the older students.

"A shrimpy kid like you? That's impressive."

Harry glowers slightly. "I used my powers."

"That's even better." Tony grins.

"Ms. Grey did too." Harry begins to pull Tony and James toward the mansion. "Mr. Moody said I can't use a wand. I can hit bad guys with basketballs and Bludgers."

"You aren't fighting." James says sternly as they hang back behind a throng of students in the hallway. James is tense again, and Tony catches him glancing back toward the road.

"He's just slow." Harry reminds him.

"He has enhanced speed." James mutters, though Harry clearly isn't listening, talking with one of the older kids about basketball.

It isn't until they're already eating that Steve arrives.

Harry points at the shield on Cap's back and whispers "He's a turtle."

Cap slings himself next to James, and Logan stalks away check on his motorcycle, raising a claw at Cap on his way out.

Moody clomps over. "You need any help getting information?" He actually smiles at the prospect of interrogation, and it's honestly terrifying.

"Did you talk to Piers?" Harry asks, looking more at Tony than Steve.

"Pierce." James corrects rigidly.

"No, it was Zola." Steve says with a scowl. James' eyes go distant and he glances down at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. "On some kind of screen."

Tony's too busy watching James to make a crack at that. The AI version of Zola clearly knew about the Winter Soldier, so he'd almost certainly been responsible for the torture, surgeries and everything else James suffered through.

Tony almost wishes the man was still alive, just so they could have a chat face-to-face.

Harry reaches out to grab his dad's metal fingers, and doesn't say anything when Steve does the same to James' flesh hand.

"I've got him trapped right here." Tony says, holding the flash drive. "The... sicko thought it'd be a good idea to upload himself on a computer, but..."

"You took his brain?" Harry asks, squeezing James' fingers. "Like Dumb-Bell-Door?"

James seems to have calmed down, and Tony wonders if Professor X had anything to do with that as the man drives his wheelchair over.

"Dumbledore's been fighting dark wizards and witches since before you were born, boy." Moody growls. "Your mum and dad did too. It's why they were killed by-"

"You can't die too." Harry says, glancing at James, Tony and even Steve. "You can't die when you fight them, okay?"

"I wasn't planning to," Tony says, softer than usual.

"Dumbledore is tracking HYDRA wizards and Death Eaters across the pond." Professor X informs them.

"Not us?" Harry asks, concerned.

"He will not bother you here." Professor X promises. "Nor will Snape, who you've called the 'enemy asset'"

Tony notes that Moody doesn't seem so convinced about that second part, muttering about how some people never change.

Chapter Text

James doesn't feel when Harry lets go of the prosthesis, as he would with his flesh hand. Harry sprints down the hallway as fast as his short legs allow and grins back at James. "I'm faster than Cap'n Turtle!"

Beside James, Steve sighs, but ends up sketching a red, white and blue turtle with a star on its shell, much to Harry's delight. Harry's eyes practically bug out when Steve sketches a realistic rendition of Harry scoring a basket on a broomstick.

As Harry's eyes start drooping, Stark enters and throws himself on the couch.

The stick in Stark's hand is not weaponized the same way wands are, but it could be equally dangerous in the hands of an enemy. As dangerous as the red book with the black star, if not more so.

The Bucky voice urges him to reach out and crush the device, but Harry is currently clinging tightly to James' hand, curled up in his lap.

"Is this common now?" Steve asks, "People putting their brains in machines?"

"I would say no," Stark shoots the stick a scathing look. "But then again, I'm surrounded by wizards, mutants and super soldiers in a special-powers school. I don't even know what's normal anymore."

He's got a point there, Bucky says in James' mind.

Stark mutters, "Still, it shouldn't have been possible for him to back up his brain on that crappy computer."

Steve stops drawing to study James' face. "Did they do that to you?"

Why would they have backed me up, Punk? Bucky asks sardonically. They were aiming to erase me. Besides, they did the opposite. Put a machine inside a man.

THE ASSET IS NOT A MACHINE.

Perhaps it would have been easier to rearrange his brain if he was.

"Bucky's voice is in my head, not a machine." James replies, which only makes Steve's face look physically stricken. He should try to echo Bucky's voice, but instead looks at the stick.

"Yeah, guess it's a literal memory stick now." Stark grins humorlessly, and his expression quickly grows more serious. "Zola was a mole inside SHIELD the whole time. I mean, you told me about the infestation, but did you know it was Zola?"

James sits rigidly. He remembers Zola watching as the surgeons sawed off his stump and drilled the prosthesis into his bones. Remembers the man pronouncing him the new fist of HYDRA.

ZOLA CREATED THE ASSET BEFORE PIERCE.

James glances up, a phantom agony lingering in his shoulder, more than the usual pain from the weight of the prosthesis. All eyes are on him- he must have been unresponsive.

"We have to extract some more information from Zola," Stark says. "But once we do, you should be the one to destroy this remainder. I know, crushing a plastic stick isn't very satisfying, but maybe we can blow it up or shoot it."

"Or hit it with a bludger." Harry says, swinging a fist through the air.

Stark spins the memory stick in his fingers. "You're good with knives, right?"

James nods.

"You said no knives." Harry accuses, almost slashing his finger at Stark.

"I said no knives for you." Stark replies. "I trust James with stabbing a memory stick."

"I've got you covered there, bub." Logan remarks as he enters the room, making a fist, but keeping his claws retracted.

"If he was still alive..." Steve's jaw is tight and his pencil snaps in half.

"Jarvis is combing through every SHIELD file we can get a hold on." Stark has a similar spark in his eye. "If they're trying to back someone else up, we'll know."

"Chuck's got a computer." Logan grunts. "Increases his power, lets him find anybody in the world."

"Seriously?" Stark gapes. "That would've been a nice thing to mention. Could he make Pierce admit to everything? Say 'Hail Hydra' on national TV or something?"

Steve frowns. "Isn't that what HYDRA did to him?"

HYDRA has wizards and witches on their side, and may have access to a similar device, making it only a matter of time before they locate him. They could use the codewords telepathically, reset him without ever stepping foot in the mansion.

James barely hears Steve asking if Johann Schmidt's brain is in a machine.

As James carries a sleeping Harry to the bedroom, he knows he won't be getting much sleep, himself.

"Dad?" Harry shakes his dad, who's laying in bed, but not asleep. He's a statue again.

Someone stole his brain. Harry shakes him again, but his dad remains frozen.

A dark figure stands silently in the doorway before entering the room.

The man is dressed in black clothes, but not in the nice way Dad and Batman are. He's holding a memory stick like Mr. Stark had, and Harry just knows that his dad's brain is on this one.

"Put it back." Harry demands. He looks down, realizing he's holding his own stick- a wand, like Mr. Moody's. Nothing happens when he waves it.

Harry stands up to hit the man with the wand, but the man just laughs. Punching him gets another laugh. Harry wishes he brought a basketball to bed, so he could throw it at the man.

Another shadowy figure appears at the bedroom door. Harry watches as it slowly enters, wondering if it's a gun guy or a bad witch.

Captain America strides into the room with his shield. He punches the bad guy, but instead of taking the memory stick, he pulls out another one and taps it against Dad's head.

Dad looks at Captain America instead of Harry. He stretches, then stands up.

"Dad?"

"Bucky," Captain America hugs him, and Harry watches metal and flesh arms wrap around Captain America, over his dumb turtle shell shield.

"It's me," Dad says, but he doesn't sound like himself. Harry stares at the star on his Dad's shoulder and the star on the shield. Harry wishes he matched Dad, but he's stuck with a lightning bolt.

The hug finally ends, and Harry holds out his arms, but both men turn toward the door without looking his way.

"Daddy!" Harry calls as they walk out. There's an evil laugh and a flash of green light in the hallway, and then everything is quiet. Harry jumps off the bed, but tangles in the sheets and falls to the floor.

It's as silent as his cupboard was in the middle of the night, and suddenly almost as dark. Harry squirms out of the blanket and hurries toward the door.

There's probably a bad wizard out there, but Harry doesn't hear any fighting, or any sounds at all. He peeks around the door. No evil wizard, no Captain America.

No Dad.

Harry walks down the long, empty hall, sure a gun guy or witch will jump out of the shadows at any moment. The hall feels huge, endless. He wishes Dad was beside him, like when they lived at Mr. Stark's house.

Harry stops at the top of the large staircase. Nobody is fighting in the space he can see below. Harry creeps down the steps and past where the cupboard would be.

The downstairs is just as empty as when his dad found him at Privet Drive. Harry looks around, hoping his dad will appear from the shadows, but he's alone. He makes his way toward the living room, which is a little bit brighter than the hall. Harry glances over his shoulder, just to make sure nothing's sneaking up on him.

Suddenly, gunfire and screams explode from the living room. It's not Dad's scream- surely he won.

An older kid yells "Gotcha!"

Harry enters to find an older boy and girl slouched on the couch. The telly shows an arm holding a gun, and it looks a lot like Dad's flesh arm.

"Daddy?" Harry runs toward the telly, barely paying attention to the other guy, who looks like he fell on the ground.

"Get out of the way," one of the older kids tells him. "Go back to bed."

Harry refuses to move. "That's Dad! Dad, come out!"

"It's a game." the older girl huffs.

"Dad!" Harry exclaims, almost hitting the telly like Dudley had. Where's Mr. Stark? He'd know how to get Dad back out.

"Your dad's with Logan." the girl says. "I think they're going to be drinking buddies."

"They're having hot cocoa?" Harry frowns. It almost hurts more than when he lay in his cupboard, trying to quiet his growling tummy as Dudley slurped mug after mug of cocoa and cried about dreams of freaks.

"Just go," one of the older kids tells him. Harry runs off and bursts into the kitchen, where he finds Mr. Logan, Mr. Stark, Cap and Dad all sitting around the table.

Harry charges toward the captain and punches him in the stomach. "Give his brain back!"

Cap doesn't laugh at being punched, like the other guy, but he mostly seems confused.

Safe, familiar hands, one metal and one skin, lift Harry up and pull him away from Cap.

"You're still pulling little guys out of fights, huh, Buck?"

Harry kicks the air. "He's James."

"I was Bucky."

Harry pauses, then keeps swinging. Dad's only saying that because Cap messed with his memory stick. "Give Dad his mem'ry!"

"Steve didn't take my memory." Dad says quietly, and Harry stills. "Zola did. HYDRA did."

Harry points at Cap. "He used the wrong stick."

"It wasn't a stick." Dad closes his eyes, his face tight. Finally, he says "A chair."

Harry slides off Dad's lap and tugs at his hand until Dad stands from his seat. Cap starts to stand too, and Harry tells him. "Go hide in your shell."

"Do you want cocoa?" Dad asks, heading toward the counter. Harry nods. Only Mr. Stark has a mug- Dad, Mr. Logan and Cap all have glass bottles.

"I think you had a bad dream." Mr. Stark says. "Nobody did anything to your dad. Well, not today, anyway."

This isn't a dream, because Dad doesn't know who he is.

"You're my Bat Dad." Harry insists. "Not Bucky."

Dad says nothing as he helps Harry measure the cocoa mix, which is more like himself, but as he's stirring it in, he speaks. "If it wasn't for Bucky's voice, HYDRA would have us both."

Cap stares at Dad. "You're still Bucky, deep down."

"Really, Rogers? He's not going to be the Bucky from 1945 after everything." Mr. Stark pinches his nose. "I'm not the same man I was pre-Iron Man, and that was three months, not decades."

Cap looks confused.

"I built my first suit in a cave." Harry opens his mouth, and Mr. Stark holds up a finger. "Not a batcave. It wasn't a good place, and I blew it up."

"There was a fire when my A'set dad James found me." Harry shares.

"He rescued you from a fire?" Cap asks, and Harry nods.

"Harry, I set the fire." Dad isn't looking at Harry, or anyone else. He stands like a statue again, and Harry turns to scowl Cap, but he looks worried too.

Maybe Dad's getting a flashback memory instead of having it taken.

Finally, Dad moves. He lets out a long, shaky breath, closes his eyes.

"I started the fire." Dad says. "I did bad things for HYDRA."

"You didn't have a choice." Mr. Stark's voice is firm, his dark eyes flashing.

Dad looks at his metal hand, so long that Harry wonders if he's having another memory. "I still did it."

Harry can't think of anything bad his dad's done. "You beat the gun guys an' the giant at the castle."

Bucky hadn't done that.

That doesn't seem like it cheered Dad up any. If anything, he looks worse. "I hurt people."

"Only bad guys." Harry argues, and suddenly every adult is giving him a look, and then Dad and Mr. Stark stare at each other without saying anything.

"Bucky would have been a better father." Dad says, and Cap nods.

Harry stomps out of the room and sits against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He hears Mr. Stark demand "Why would you say that?"

"You know what I did." Dad replies.

"It wasn't your fault," Mr. Stark snaps. "Do you want me to blame you?"

"You don't know everything I've done." Dad says, his voice flat but not quite like usual. "I don't know everything I've done."

"Join the club, bub." Mr. Logan growls. "Make 'em regret what they made you. I did."

"That's the plan." Mr. Stark says. "Look, James. Bucky. Whoever. Whatever you did before, you just made your kid run out of here. Plus it's probably the Bucky voice that made you almost abandon him. That's not great father material."

Harry goes still, trying not to breathe, but Mr. Logan says he can smell Harry outside the door.

"I was the fist of HYDRA." Dad says.

"Well, the whole time I've known you, you've been the fist of Harry." Mr. Stark says. "So go out there, give Harry his hot chocolate, and go find Charles. This is above my paygrade, and I'm a billionaire."

Chapter Text

Whenever Steve had imagined the future, Bucky had always been a part of it. When Bucky fell, Steve found himself unable to conceive of a future without him.

Now, Steve's further in the future than he ever though he'd be, and it's nothing like he imagined.

The technology is way beyond flying cars, even if those still don't exist. There are handheld video cameras that the students used to make an amateur film- in color- about Captain America, Bucky and Logan's roles in the war, as if it's ancient history.

Children had always been an abstract, unlikely possibility in Steve's mind, but he's currently surrounded by them, and Bucky has taken the role of a father. Not only that, Bucky had been forced into a role so horrific during the time Steve had been frozen that he hardly seems like Bucky anymore.

One thing Steve had thought was certain about the future- as he'd dived the plane into the Arctic- was that the war would be over. He'd never imagined waking up to find out that HYDRA had been lurking and torturing his best friend for over half a century.

Yet instead of fighting, Steve is currently sitting in an ornate office, having tea with Bucky, Harry and the professor, who is some sort of mind reader.

"I like tea," Harry says, as if it's a novelty. Steve has to mentally remind himself that it's been decades since America or Britain rationed supplies, even if that era of history is a not-so-distant memory for Steve. Besides, Harry had mentioned Dudley getting tea, biscuits and more in an amount that made it clear his home had never seen a rationing or depression, even if Harry himself had been deprived them.

Steve's realizing that Harry's relatives were worse than bullies, and one look at Bucky- Steve still has a hard time thinking of him as James, as he now prefers- confirms this.

"I took care of them," Bucky James tells him.

Steve reminisces of how Bucky would join any fight Steve found himself in, but the Bucky in front of him, with his dark clothes and dour expression, looks like he would have just shot them. He had been the sniper of the Howling Commandoes, after all, and those photos of the Winter Soldier are already etched in Steve's mind.

"They sound like bad people." Steve remarks.

"Not all of them," Bucky James intones.

Harry sips tea from a plastic cup. "They were normal."

"The way you were treated is not normal, although it is unfortunately common among my students." the Professor looks from Harry to Bucky James. "What is normal is how James treats you. Feeding you, tending to your wounds, keeping you safe and playing with you."

"Bucky doesn't do that." Harry says.

Steve glances at Bucky James, whose jaw is tight. He doesn't repeat the thing about Bucky's voice in his head. Steve hadn't been privy to the conversation between Bucky James and Harry after the boy ran out of the kitchen earlier, but hadn't the Bucky part of Bucky James been the one insisting he help Harry?

Harry's already moved on. "Fighting bad guys is normal." the boy says, and Steve finds himself nodding in agreement. After all, countless fathers had left their wives and children when they enlisted. "Mr. Moody said my mummy an' my other James dad fighted bad wizards."

"Fought." the professor corrects gently. "Your parents fought bad witches and wizards."

"Was my mummy like Ms. Jean?" Harry asks in a hushed tone.

"Your mum, Lily, was an extraordinarily kind and skilled witch." the Professor says. "She loved you very much. At the risk of sounding cliché, your parents loved you more than life itself."

"Would mummy have showed me to shoot magic baskets?"

"I'm sure she would have." Professor X says. "She'd be proud to see what a brave, kind boy you've grown to be."

Harry beams, then turns to Bucky James. "Can Ms. Jean be my new mummy? Like you're my other James dad?"

Steve sputters, his sip of tea going down the wrong way. The Professor gives Steve a knowing look and explains to Harry that Jean and Scott are a couple.

"Oh." Harry says. "Is Mr. Stark my other other dad?"

Steve gapes at how casual Harry is about it, but the Professor seems similarly unconcerned about the taboo topic.

"You and Stark aren't..." Steve glances at Bucky James and trails off. Harry had mentioned being at Stark's house, and Bucky James sometimes seems more comfortable with Stark than with Steve, which stings. But Bucky had always slung his arm around Steve's skinny shoulders, and Steve hasn't seen him do that with Stark. He hasn't seen his friend show affection toward anyone except Harry.

"Stark seems more like an eccentric uncle." Steve decides, and Harry shakes his head vehemently. Steve silently curses himself. He's certainly not gaining any favor in Harry's eyes.

"James is Harry's only parent, even if it often takes a village to raise a child." Professor Xavier smiles. "Or a school."

"You're the best dad." Harry tells Bucky James, as if daring him to argue that Bucky would be better. The boy holds out a fist for Bucky James to bump. "'Cos you're my fist."

"I'd be a better father if-" Bucky James starts. Harry gives a glare that rivals Steve's back when he was as scrawny as the boy.

"Get the words out of my head." Bucky James turns to the professor. "Please. I don't know if I'll ever be Bucky, but the words have to go."

"I'll do everything in my power. I may be able to help you render them ineffective." Professor X promises. "Shall we begin now?"

Bucky James gives a clipped nod, face blank.

"Harry, Captain, I must insist you leave my office." the Professor says. "This may not be pleasant."

Neither Steve nor Harry move an inch.

"Scram." Bucky James tells them both.

Steve and Harry linger outside the doorway, both standing watch until Bucky James calls "Harry, go play. We'll play ball when I'm done here. Steve, keep an eye on him."

Steve was uncomfortable enough with the children who looked at him with hero-worship once he'd become Captain America. What is he supposed to do with a boy who doesn't even like him and views Steve as competition over Bucky James?

Harry runs off, not even calling Steve Captain Turtle. Steve finds the boy in the living room, where a teenaged boy and girl are playing video games, a concept Steve had never imagined in his wildest dreams. A metal drink can- another new invention- is perched precariously on the armrest.

Steve wonders if he can pass nanny duty off to the older children- after all, Steve should be hunting down HYDRA agents- but Harry seems to have some personal grudge with these two. The look on his face is all to familiar to the one Steve had given bullies his whole life.

"Where's Mr. Stark?" Harry asks, almost demands. Steve doesn't even know the boy and he's still surprised at how bold Harry's question comes out.

"He's with Beast in the lab." the older boy replies. "They're probably blowing stuff up. You can't go there."

"Where's Ms. Jean?" Harry asks, and he runs through what seems like the entire roster at the school. Jean Grey, Logan, Kurt. Jarvis, whoever that is.

"You've got Captain America." the girl tells Harry in complete exasperation. "Go play frisbee or something."

Before Steve can say anything, the can on the armrest tips as if pushed by an invisible hand, spilling over the girl's lap and the cushions. The girl swears, and Harry slips away with a surprisingly satisfied expression. He says something about a trench bull, and while Steve is quickly learning about this new time he's in, he still has no idea what Bucky James's son is talking about.

"Ready to comply." the Asset tells its handler, somehow knowing the man speaks English despite the Russian trigger words. The crisp suit is familiar, as is the man's age. Perhaps he has been a handler before, but something is different from the handlers the Asset remembers. It isn't just the man's wheelchair that makes the handler different.

The Soldier has not been put in the chair, but that step in the process is unnecessary. It can feel the handler in its head, performing the maintenance without the need for such equipment. It is accustomed to awaking in cold, concrete bunkers, but it is currently in an ornate office with mahogany furniture and shelves of books. Sunlight streams through a window.

KNEEL the internal voice commands. The Asset levels itself with its handler's seated position, in case the handler sees fit to strike the Soldier across the face for any transgressions.

"I will not hurt you," the handler says, inexplicably, in its mind.

The Soldier awaits a command, a mission. It hears children playing outside. Perhaps one will be the target.

No, says a different voice in the Soldier's head.

It does not know what to expect, with the new handler, and spares a glance upward.

The handler's face looks... kind. It reminds the Asset of Pierce, but the man is not Pierce. There had been another handler with a similarly kind expression. Images flash through the Asset's mind. A small boy with messy black hair peers out from a cupboard, clings to the Asset's chest, points to a photo in color of a mansion.

Harry, says another voice in the Asset-James' mind.

Harry was the youngest handler the Asset remembers serving. Where is Harry? Had the Soldier displeased him. He was Harry's fist. The urge to look for Harry is overwhelming, overshadowing any urge to look for Pierce or other HYDRA handlers.

"James." the handler says in the Soldier's mind. James must be its new codename. The Soldier-James- snaps to attention, ready to report the malfunction, but the name brings up another stream of images.

Crackers in the shape of anatomically-incorrect animals, a castle, a fight against a bearded giant of a man, wilder than the Asset itself. A man like the Asset in appearance- dark clothes and long, dark hair, face either blank or scowling. The Asset was immobilized, incapacitated.

MISSION FAILURE.

The Asset has failed, is incapable of returning to the handler. Correction is required.

"You have not failed. You are doing admirably." the handler says aloud. "Are you ready, James?"

"Ready to comply." the Asset-James states automatically. It pauses. That is incorrect. "Further maintenance is required."

The handler presses its fingers to the Asset-James' head, much like the chair. There is no all-consuming pain, only more flashes.

Agents claiming the asset, Harry muttering a word. Eliminating the agents to protect Harry, Harry smiling up at him. A vaguely familiar man who does not cease talking as he repairs James's prosthesis. Ridiculous locomotives with facial features and an even more ridiculous black hooded mask with pointed ears and a cape.

An offer of help from the handl-

"Professor." the handler- no, professor- corrects almost gently. "Professor Charles Xavier. You are James, or Bucky, whichever you prefer. You have no handlers now."

James scopes out the room. "Where's Harry?"

Harry's his son, not a handler.

"Harry is playing." Professor Xavier smiles. "You did well, James. You still prefer James?"

James shrugs, his metal shoulder feeling a tad lighter even though its weight is unchanged. Someone called him another name, he's sure.

Bucky, says the voice that's not the professor's. It doesn't sound right.

He remembers a blonde, muscular man laying in a bed, blue eyes a mix of kindness and pity when he awoke.

Punk's a hypocrite, the Bucky voice grouses. Steve hated pity.

Another stream of images flows through James's mind- Steve's eyes stay the same but his body changes, sometimes scrawny like Harry's, at other times as muscular as James' own. They fought in a war, Steve had a costume more ridiculous than Batman's.

Steve calls James Bucky, but it doesn't feel right.

Steve had been drinking tea, before James became the Asset again. Hadn't James sent both Steve and Harry off, so they wouldn't witness it? "Steve's with him?"

"Yes, I'd hoped some time together would help them get along." Professor Xavier says mildly. "Are you ready to try again, James? You did remarkably."

"I wasn't quick enough." James stares at his prosthesis. The professor has been setting him into the Soldier, and then helping him regain his memories as James. Not Bucky, not yet, if it's even possible, but James. It's taking too long. In the time that it took him to snap out of the Soldier's mindset, he could have killed any or all of the kids outside.

"There's no magic cure, even if there is magic." Charles says gently. "That you are recovering so quickly is astonishing, and I promise I will not allow you to hurt anyone on the premises."

James clenches his jaw. The switch to the Soldier takes only ten words. Others, like the one Harry had used, are instantaneous. "Any way I can switch back that quick?" he asks, knowing the man will understand the full thought process. Maybe he can make some new words and-

Professor Xavier gives James a reproachful look. "I'm not going to program you as if you are some sort of robot."

"You just turned me into a killing machine." James counters, his prosthesis whirring. The professor does not rise to the bait, merely waits for James to slow his breathing.

"Sorry," James mutters. "I know you're helping, it's just-"

"It takes time," Professor Xavier says, though not unsympathetically. "I could merely control you to not be the Soldier, but that would require my intervention every time."

James sighs. Professor Xavier had said something about exposure therapy, that with enough trials of regaining these memories, it would be easier to break programming.

"I sensed no allegiance to HYDRA this time." Professor Xavier tells him. "You were rather focused on Harry."

That would change if they stuck him back in the chair, but it's a step in the right direction. This wasn't the first attempt, and each time taken to switch back to himself has been shorter. He's just accomplished in a few minutes what took weeks the first time around. But he could be made to murder in the matter of minutes it took to switch.

James closes his eyes and opens them again. "I'm ready. Say the words again."

Chapter Text

"You know, normally I don't play well with others, but we make a pretty good team." Tony remarks in the lab, which is almost as impressive as his own. "Throw in Doctor Banner, and we'd be the dream team. I'd love to see witches try to attack us then. Not that Storm didn't do amazing, cause she did, but you know, big green rage machine."

Tony smirks. He's saying that to a hulking, hairy blue guy who, apparently, wasn't born blue. Dr. McCoy had shared that he was trying to fix his mutation of having prehensile feet and somehow turned himself into a blue beast. Sounds a lot like Dr. Banner's exposure to gamma radiation, Tony thinks as he absentmindedly taps his arc reactor with an Iron Man gauntlet.

The faceplate of Tony's suit slides down. He turns to Moody, who has been standing silently in the corner, leaning on his gnarled, wooden staff. "All, right, hit me, moody man. What was it last time? Stupefy? Can't believe that's the name of a spell."

Moody has his usual scowl as the magic eye rolls in its socket. He raises his wand, just as a voice demands "Were you going to shoot that at a child?!"

Tony turns to see Steve placing himself between Moody and Harry, who had apparently been very stealthy slipping in. Tony's suit suddenly sparks, right as Jarvis lets out a warning. Steve seems disgusted. "You hit a man when his back's turned?"

"Constant vigilance." Moody is unrepentant. "Your enemies won't wait until you're looking?"

Steve's leveling Moody with what must've been that Captain's look of disapproval, the kind Howard claims Steve would have used on Tony many times throughout his childhood. It's almost a shock that Captain America seems firmly on Tony's side, but maybe he's loyal to Tony for pulling him from the ice and helping his long-lost best friend.

"Is he the enemy now?" Harry asks, glaring at Moody. "If you hurt Mr. Stark, I'll knock your eye out."

"No, we're just practicing fighting, like you and your dad did." Tony says. "We're going to make it so magic can't stop my suit."

"Dad's going to make it so magic can't take his brain." Harry's small, skinny chest puffs out with pride. Steve looks stricken,

"I take it your dad's busy right now?" Tony asks, this time not taking his eye off the grizzled wizard in the corner.

"With P'fessor X." Harry nods. "He said you're not my other other dad, and they said I can't come here, but I did."

Tony barely registers Harry's defiant tone, his mind actually stuttering for a moment at the word dad.

"Who said I'm a dad?" Tony's voice isn't frantic, no way.

"You're not my uncle." Harry says.

"He'll be dead if he keeps getting distracted." Moody growls. Steve pulls Harry off to the sides when Moody shoots a red energy blast at Tony's suit. Tony counters it with his own blast, and dodges another, to a round of applause from Harry.

Tony snaps his faceplate up, grinning.

Harry shares how he pushed a drink just like Matilda. Steve watches Harry with a look of confusion. Honestly, Tony can relate- he wouldn't trust himself looking after kids, either, but he thinks he's doing a better job of it than Steve is. Take that, Howard.

Steve must have read Tony's face, because he seems unable to run away from a challenge. He squares his shoulders and says "Harry, how about we play ball?"

"What's frisbee?" Harry asks irrelevantly, and Steve clearly doesn't know the answer.

Tony smirks. "It's a disc you throw through the air."

Steve actually chuckles at that. Jarvis informs Tony, in his helmet, that the frisbee wasn't invented until 1957.

"Can I ride it?" Harry asks Steve.

"It's good to see you getting along." Dr. McCoy comments, looking between Harry and Steve.

"Dad said Steve's important, even if he forgot." Harry frowns. "Like I forgot mummy and my other James dad 'cos I was a baby."

"Professor X said they were smart and brave." Steve reminds him.

"Are they coming back?" Harry asks Tony, seeming far more hopeful at the prospect than when he'd mistaken Natasha for his mom. He turns to stare at Steve, brow furrowed a lot like Tony's.

Tony's heart aches as answers "'Fraid not, Oliver."

"I'm sorry," Steve says, awkwardly yet sincerely.

Tony clears his throat and grins. "Maybe Cap'll let you use his shield as a sled."

"His shell?" Harry asks, racing for the door. Steve follows, casting a look back at Tony.

"James would approve." Moody remarks, and it takes a genius like Tony a few seconds to realize that he means James Potter.

Tony continues throwing himself into trying to make his suit immune to magic, fielding calls from Pepper and Coulson. He has several stabbing moments of panic where he's convinced HYDRA is lurking in Stark Industries as well, has Jarvis run background checks on employees. Not that they ever caught Stane before his betrayal.

Tony winds up calling Pepper in the middle of the night, relieved to hear her voice even if she's clearly exhausted and irate.

Tony spends days on work, tracking down HYDRA bases and having Jarvis gather evidence, which is complicated by the fact that wizards and witches apparently don't use technology, not computers, not even lightbulbs.

He hasn't made much progress in tracking down the wizards and witches who'd attacked them mid-flight. Moody says they might be associates of a man named Karkaroff, a former Death Eater who Moody had apparently arrested.

Tony's good at throwing himself into projects to forget or solve his problems, but he can't forget Harry's words. He said you're not my other other dad.

He hasn't forgotten, but he has been so wrapped up in work that he realizes he's barely seen Harry the past few days.

He's turning into Howard.

That's a weird thought. Tony's not Harry's dad. He shouldn't feel bad about leaving the mansion to attend a meeting. Harry's in good hands, and Tony still has stuff to do.

Still, part of Tony feels oddly guilty, so he decides to throw money at the issue.

"I have presents!" Tony announces as he strolls back into Xavier's mansion like its one of his own after a meeting. "Think of me as a younger, more handsome, hi-tech Santa. What is it you Brits call him? Father Christmas?"

"He's not real." Harry scoffs, lacking any of the excitement expected from a child his age. Figures his magic-hating relatives would've forbidden that story.

Tony refrains from commenting on that. "It's not Christmas now, but trust me, your first one with me will be worth all the ones you've missed- not that you should've missed them. These are 'just because' presents."

He presents Harry with a basketball of his very own as well as a kids' plastic hockey set, then pulls out a gift and thrusts it at Steve. "Here, Cap, since you miss the old Bucky so much."

Steve looks at the bear clad in a blue coat with red buttons and a dark mask covering its eyes. He holds the bear out to Harry "Harry should have it."

Harry looks offended. "Teddies are for babies."

Steve looks like he wants to argue Harry is a baby, but instead says "It's probably more cuddly than that basketball you've been bringing to bed."

"That's to beat bad guys." says Harry as he bounces his new ball on the floor.

One of the students takes the bear, crouching to Harry's level and adopting a deeper voice to speak for the bear. "I'll keep you safe from bad guys."

The girl lowers the bear. "You know, I still have some bears, and I'm not a baby." A few other students raise their hands, indicating they also have plush toys, though one student mumbles Tony's gifting a vintage, valuable toy to a toddler, even though it was intended for Steve.

Harry still looks skeptical, dangling the Bucky bear by an arm, eyes locked on the long, thin package Tony had brought, green eyes resigned rather than hopeful.

Tony passes out more gifts, including some better phones for some of the students. Then, Tony turns to James and pulls the memory stick out of his pocket.

"We got everything out of him. He's all yours." Tony smiles grimly. James nods, taking the stick. Tony expects him to crush the small plastic device in his fist, or under his boot, but he looks up instead.

"Any secure places I can plug him in?"

Tony leads James to the room he's been staying in, fetching a laptop that's not connected to the internet. He inserts the stick, and Zola's face appears on the screen.

"Soldier." Zola croaks, then starts to rattle off words in Russian. James shudders, and Tony wonders why he chose to expose himself to something that's clearly triggering him. His eyes are distant, his breathing becomes strained. Zola says two more words gleefully, victoriously.

Tony's about to slam the laptop closed when there's a flash of silver. James punches through the laptop screen, snapping it off the hinges. He shakes the broken screen off his arm, rips the flash drive out with his other hand, and crushes it under the heel of his boot.

Something surges in Tony's chest, almost as strong as when he'd fought his way out of the cave in Afghanistan.

James turns on his heel, the plastic crunching under his boot, but he spares it no further attention.

Taking his cue from James, Tony asks "Want to help give Harry his next present?"

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" Tony asks James, eyes glued on Harry as the boy almost brains himself on the metal pole of the basketball hoop while flying his new Motor Broom.

Harry himself had coined the term upon opening his gift. It's a version of a broomstick, only its based on the propulsion systems of Tony's own armor rather than the magic that enables brooms to fly. Like Moody's broomstick, Harry's has a seat rather like a motorcycle, but instead of a wooden frame, it's sleek red and gold metal.

"I will if he kills himself." James replies. Not long ago, that would've sounded terrifying, a legitimate threat, but there's something almost like a smile on his lips. James looks at Steve and mutters that Steve throws himself into danger too, and had thrown up riding the Cyclone.

Steve's jaw drops in outrage. "You made me ride that!" James claims he can't recall, but Tony honestly think's he's screwing with them.

Harry loops the yard and zips toward them, whooping with delight. Tony holds out a hand for Harry to high-five as he goes past.

"He's a natural." Tony says, seriously impressed when he remembers his own flying attempts. Harry had taken to the motor broom as if he'd been born on it. According to Moody, he'd been flying toy broomsticks even as a baby, racing under tables and knocking over vases.

Now, at four, Harry attempts to pull off a barrel roll only to wind up rolling in the grass. He pops up laughing, climbing on his broom and gripping the sleek handle.

"Is it weaponized?" James asks. Tony shakes his head, but Harry disproves him by swinging his new hockey stick around as he flies, whacking it into Tony's shin.

Harry is the happiest Tony's ever seen him as he soars through the air. He's not quite soaring freely- Tony did think to add some safety features, only letting the broom go a foot or two off the ground. There is a speed limit, but Harry doesn't seem to notice, shouting he's the fastest ever.

Tony takes him up on the challenge, and he's not the only one. They line up at the end of the driveway- Tony in his Iron Man suit, Logan on his motorcycle, Harry on his motor broom, and James and Steve on foot.

Tony hovers more than flying, and Steve and James jog almost painfully slowly. Even Logan plays along, having his motorcycle run at barely a purr.

Harry beats them all to the mansion with a scream of triumph, and soon he's maneuvering, pretending he's outflying enemies on brooms and planes.

Chapter Text

Recovery feels like failing a mission. James knows that it will take time, Professor X has emphasized that James' progress won't be linear, setbacks are almost to be expected.

The desensitization to the trigger words had taken a weight of his shoulders, but the weight's been added again as James remembers more and more real missions. He sees innocents- guilty only in the eyes of HYDRA- shot down by his gun, choked by his hands, stabbed with a knife in his prosthesis.

He writes these in his new journal, along with memories of his life before the war and funny things Harry says. Things he actually wants to remember.

Harry seems to be recovering more successfully than James. Harry sometimes even sleeps through the night; there are nights without a hot chocolate trip at 0214. James misses those trips, even though he is glad his son is suffering fewer nightmares.

Harry's therapy involves drawing pictures and playing under the gentle eye and guidance of Professor X. Harry works through emotions and trauma while getting to learn to be a child.

"Adults can benefit greatly from art therapy, as well." The professor mentions. Steve takes him up on it, but James declines. Steve was always the artist, Bucky says A masterpiece for me was a circle that didn't look like a misshapen potato.

James stares at Steve's latest sketch- a realistic depiction of the Asset jumping off a train, with Harry in his arms. In the background, a man falls off a train on a mountain.

The paper has water damage, indicating Steve had shed a few tears.

James turns from the picture to Steve. Steve still shies away from the prosthesis, and James can still see the metal hand wrapped around Maria Stark's neck, positioning Howard to make the crash look like an accident. James slowly reaches out with his flesh hand, lays it on Steve's shoulder. He nods down at the drawing. "That an art therapy project?"

Stark walks in with Harry on his hip, telling Harry all about how he was famous before he could walk, too. To an outsider, Stark seems to relish attention and fame, yet he actually appears glad that Harry is out of the public eye.

Harry is clearly happy with Stark, but lights up upon seeing James. Stark makes a beeline for James as well, and Harry flings himself out of Stark's arms. James reflexively catches Harry.

"Are you famous too?" Harry asks.

James clenches his jaw. The Soldier was infamous, a legendary assassin.

I was pretty well-known too, you know. Bucky grumbles. Stark can't hear the voice, but voices a similar sentiment. He'd recognized James as soon as he'd removed the mask.

Even before the war, dames were lining up to go dancing with me, Bucky continues. James almost wants to roll his eyes.

"You have to be famous." Harry interrupts James' thoughts and voices. "That's why bad guys are chasin' us."

"I don't want to be famous." Harry decides, not even giving James time to reply. He's clearly picking up Stark's habits. "Mr. Stark said he got kidnapped, but he's not a kid. I need a secret iden-ty."

Harry proceeds to spend the next half hour running around with his face hidden behind his basketball while James stops him from running into doorways. "You don't know me!" Harry shouts to Steve. "I'm Basketball Boy!"

"Funny, you look like you're made from Harry's basketball." Steve replies.

"No I don't!" Harry yells. Stark is almost bent over with laughter. James stops Harry from attempting to fly his broomstick as Basketball Boy.

Later, James finds Harry kneeling on a bathroom sink, scribbling over his lightning-bolt scar with a red marker. Harry scowls at his reflection. "I can't get a star."

"Ask Steve." James suggests, and Harry runs off. He parades around the school, showing everyone how he has a red star just like James does. His hair is starting to grow long. Even though they're not biologically related, Harry is beginning to look like James' son.

James leaves his next therapy sessions feeling worse than when he entered, stalking out and ignoring the Professor's words.

His brain is buzzing, but not like after a wipe. The inner voice rattles off the names of some of his missions, which makes it even worse. His head is filled with screams of victim's families when they saw their loved ones murdered, their screams as he murdered them to ensure there were no witnesses.

Suddenly, his brain's on mute aside from the Professor's voice. James scowls. He's used to ignoring voices.

He should join Logan for a smoke, or a drink. Or several, even if they can't affect him.

Steve is out, which is almost a relief. Stark is nowhere to be seen. Harry sits on the couch with Jean Grey, showing her one of his childish drawings. "See? He got me out of the cupboard, and then we jumped off a train."

James stands silently. Jean looks at him, but Harry is engrossed in sharing his art. He's been making a sort of storybook about his rescue and adventure, narrating his childish drawings of events.

James slips away, finds Logan, who wordlessly hands him a cigarette. Logan doesn't give him pitying looks or tell him it wasn't his fault, wasn't him. Logan doesn't tell him he's a hero, and James appreciates the rather taciturn company.

Sometimes, James feels more of a connection with Logan than Steve. Steve's from his time, they'd grown up together, sure. Steve had been part of an experiment that made him enhanced. But Steve hadn't been wiped, hadn't been turned into a weapon and an unwilling recipient of metallic body modifications. Logan mentions Weapon X exactly once, but from what James can tell it was essentially another Winter Soldier program.

They smoke outside, away from the students milling around. Logan flicks his cigarette butt into a trash can, muttering that Charles complains if they're stomped out on the ground.

"Those words ain't in your head anymore." Logan grunts. "What's stopping you from giving 'em hell?"

James looks at his hands. "I don't want to fight anymore."

Logan's answering grin is almost feral. "Leaves more for me."

"You smell weird." Harry remarks bluntly when James re-enters the mansion. Enhancements negate the effects of nicotine, but don't overpower the odor of smoke. Not to mention the smell of rain from the thunderstorm that had struck, not from Storm.

Stark frowns. "I'm really, really not one to talk, but you're not setting a good example for Harry. I know it was different back in your day, but that stuff blackens your lungs. Well, maybe not yours, but still. Remember when your kid was literally begging for a cigarette? I'm enough of a bad influence for both of us."

James scowls. A lecture from Stark is unexpected, but preferable to getting one from Steve. Not that either of them can talk, Steve had smoked in the trenches with the rest of the boys in the Howling Commandos, sometimes passing around a single cigarette.

James had chain-smoked today, telling himself it calmed his mind as he remembered what went on behind the walls of another base he'd been deployed from. He relays the location to Stark, who adds it to his hit list.

A holographic globe floats above Stark's phone, marked with red dots. Stark's been putting the information he extracted from Zola to good use.

Stark and Steve are clearly planning more attacks, along with Storm and other members of the X-Men.

James sits back. The Asset had never been included in mission planning. James is sure the plans were made before they'd even taken out of the cryogenic chamber. He was simply given a mission, a target, suited up and sent out to eliminate another enemy of HYDRA.

It's hard not to fall into that mindset as the others discuss strategies, which bases to hit, how to draw undercover HYDRA operatives into the open. Stark wants to get his legal team after Pierce and sics JARVIS on Pierce's email and computers.

Stark ends up passing his phone to Harry, shooing him from the room while Harry talks excitedly to Jarvis. James hears Harry tell Jarvis "I missed you," before the door shuts. He hears Harry's footsteps fade down the hall. He's probably going flying again.

"Where's the prof?" Stark asks, looking around. "I mean, I don't mind being the leader of the group, but..."

"Who says you'd be the leader?" Steve counters, though his tone is mild. Storm gave them both an impatient look.

When they leave, Storm sets off toward an already-stormy area, blasting a base with lightning. "What are the odds?" Stark grins, when the news reports of the fire hit.

Professor X stays in the basement the next several days- not building gadgets as Stark had, but changing the course of history. Forget the Winter Soldier, HYDRA would've died to get their hands on this guy and make him join their cause.

With the power of some computer headset called Cerebro that Stark isn't shutting up about, the Professor almost singlehandedly takes down HYDRA.

On national television, Pierce closes a speech with "Hail HYDRA", though James barely registers it. He stands, rigidly, at attention.

He's not your handler, Bucky says. James forces himself at ease. If he can ignore the trigger words now, he should be able to ignore this reaction to a former handler.

Professor X finds the location of several high-ranking HYDRA members even faster than Stark, finds several that James doesn't remember.

"This guy's a Professor X Machina." Stark sounds somewhere between pleased and jealous.

James isn't sure what Coulson and Romanoff have been doing behind the scenes, but one day a Quinjet approaches the mansion. Before Stark can even suit up, Storm hits it with a bolt of lightning and Jean Grey makes it crash relatively harmlessly into a lake. Jean Grey lifts out several STRIKE team members who are immediately taken into custody.

James watches from the basketball court, shielding Harry with his body. One of the members who remained conscious starts to say the trigger words.

"Bye, bad guys!" Harry shouts over the words, waving with a wicked grin as Logan marches the agents away. James waves with his prothesis, a small smirk forming on his lips at the agent's thunderstruck expression. He know the agent won't ever spread the word out that the asset is unaffected by the triggers.

Stark and Steve seem to think the decimation of HYDRA will make James feel better, but seeing the numerous crimes Pierce is charged for just reminds James of everything he's done.

"It wasn't you." Stark says for the millionth time.

"It wasn't them, when they decided to hand themselves in." James retorts. He expects Steve to agree that they're sinking to HYDRA's level by mind-controlling its operatives the way they'd controlled the Asset, albeit far less painfully. He had before. But Steve just seems satisfied.

"They deserve it." Stark waves a hand carelessly. "You didn't. And trust me, my legal team won't let you get locked up."

All the same, James shuts himself in his room. The Soldier had been a closely-held secret, but one of the bases may reveal something. He almost wishes the trigger words were still in effect; there's little proof now that he was brainwashed. Without the words, he seems just like every voluntary agent.

Harry storms into the room, but he doesn't ask James to play or even why he's sitting there. Harry slumps, sulking and ignoring James's presence entirely. James wants to reach out to him, ask what's wrong, but sees his hands reaching out to smother the Dursley boy.

He tells himself Harry may react as Steve always did when he was tiny and pissed off, that he needs space. He's being a bad example, failing his mission to keep Harry happy and safe.

After a while of stony silence, Harry leaves the room. James takes an additional twenty-four minutes before following him. Harry is now all smiles.

How do kids recover so quickly? Bucky muses.

Harry hands James a piece of paper and a green crayon "to get your mad out." He holds up a paper filled with furious scribbling, a few spots torn from the force of it.

James is busy looking at Steve's drawing. The HYDRA skull with its insidious tentacles is near the top. A string hangs from each tentacle, controlling the Winter Soldier like a puppet.

James wonders if Steve knows the codeword Harry had used to become the handler.

He flips past that drawing, sees a progression to Harry and Bucky pulling the Winter Soldier puppet, freeing him from the strings.

"Steve did that." Harry shares, unnecessarily. "Get your mad out, Dad."

James scribbles on the blank paper just to make Harry smile. Harry grabs other materials from a large bin. "P'fessor X said to make safe places. Mine's here, 'cos the bad guys can't get us here. You're here, an' Mr. Stark, and.." Harry proceeds to list off everyone as he builds a mansion out of an old cereal box, dabbing yellow paint on as windows. He makes some basketball hoops out of pipe cleaners on a piece of black paper, then picks up the paintbrush again.

"It's too big to be a broom," Harry frowns, demonstrating that the brush is nearly as long as the entire craft basketball court. Harry eagerly holds the brush out to Logan as he passes by. "Cut it into a broom, please!"

Logan takes the brush, slices off the end with his claws, and hands it back to Harry, who grins. James could've easily snapped the brush with one finger, if Harry had asked him.

Harry pushes the bin of craft supplies at James. "You should make your safe place."

James picks up a plastic tube, thinking of the cryogenic chamber. It had been horribly cold, of course, but at least he'd known he wouldn't hurt anyone, wouldn't be hurt until he was thawed again.

James snaps off pieces for chimneys and helps Harry add details to the miniature mansion.

"Next thing I know you'll be building an Iron Man suit." Stark remarks as takes in the scene. Harry grabs Stark's sleeve and gleefully points out every detail of the mansion.

When the tour of the craft is done, Harry gathers toilet paper tubes, painting them red and gold. The suit isn't finished by Harry's bedtime, and Harry tries every tack to stay up.

"I'm not tired." he whines as James picks him up and heads to their bedroom. Harry speaks around his toothbrush, bartering for hot chocolate, arguing that Mr. Stark gets to stay up, the big kids get to stay up.

"I have to watch the paint dry." Harry protests pathetically as James tucks him in. James raises a brow at that one, and Harry crawls across the bed to adjust the position of their miniature mansion.

Harry asks to hear the story of their adventure, slipping out of bed again to grab the drawings he was showing Jean several days before.

James flips through them, rehashing the events of taking Harry, running from HYDRA and Dumbledore, finding Stark and finally moving from Stark's mansion to this one. He must make it sound like a boring report, because Harry's eyes are soon drooping.

Harry falls asleep while gazing at his replica mansion, safe and sound in the real one.

Chapter Text

Steve still struggles to sleep, and sometimes feels as if he's now the only one, besides Tony Stark who keeps ungodly hours. Steve doesn't hear Bucky-James or Harry get up tonight- or rather, this morning- for hot chocolate. The kitchen is deserted. Even Stark seems to be asleep, or he's quite possibly on another trip.

Steve gets back in his too-soft bed and stays wide awake. Giving up, he makes his bed with military precision and heads for the gym to run on a treadmill. He'd like to go for a run outside, and fight any HYDRA agents that make an appearance, but he wants to stay close to James, too.

By the time the sun rises, Steve's pummeling a bag. As he leaves the gym, he can hear students stumbling around, but no excited shouts from Harry.

Harry's door is closed, and Steve hears a high-pitched cough instead of Harry's usual chatter and squeals.

"You okay in there?" Steve asks with a knock. The door swings open, and Bucky- James- is standing there with his long hair mussed, his eyes frantic. "Get some cold towels." he barks.

Steve stands, nonplussed, until he sees Harry laying in bed, several washcloths draped over him. He'd been in Harry's position more times than he could count.

"Go." James growls, and Steve fetches some clean cloths from his own bathroom- a luxury he'd never had before.

Harry's still coughing when Steve returns. His green eyes are dazed, vaguely tracking the gleam of the rising sun off James' prosthetic arm, and his skin shines with sweat.

"Harry will be fine," Hank, a big hairy blue guy, assures James after coming to check on him. Neither Steve nor James are quite so convinced. "Children crash hard but usually bounce back quickly."

"That punk didn't." James mutters, putting his flesh hand against Harry's forehead, covering the scar.

"He doesn't have my laundry list of ailments." Steve agrees. Steve figures the future probably has new illnesses to fight along with new HYDRA agents, but at least polio was eradicated when Steve was in the ice.

James sends Steve to fill the bathtub, then checks the temperature himself before lowering Harry into the water.

Watching James tend to Harry, Steve realizes, is the most of Bucky he's seen in James. Bucky was practically a mother hen when he cared for Steve. James doesn't leave Harry's side for an instant,

Back when Steve was sick, Bucky had to leave for school, and later work, though he clearly hadn't wanted to. In this mansion, James has nothing but time to gently towel Harry off after the bath and tuck him into bed. Steve shouldn't be glad Harry's sick, but James seems better than he's been in days. All his current brooding is clearly related to Harry's health.

Moody clumps in, growls that Potter is compromised, and stands guard outside the room. Tony gives James a phone that allows Jarvis to scan and report Harry's vitals.

Steve finds himself playing delivery boy, fetching cool cloths, soup and tea, even new medicine that's apparently commonplace now. Harry stays in bed, mostly sleeping, though he wakes up periodically and clings to James like a teddy bear.

"I'm here," James presses his flesh hand against Harry's forehead.

Modern medicine is a marvel. Harry's fever breaks far sooner than Steve ever expected. Harry asks about flying and basketball, but James orders him to stay in bed.

Steve's been Harry in this situation. Tiny, surrounded by blankets and arguing he's well enough to do stuff again, while James nearly pins him in bed insisting he's in no condition to be up and about.

Harry has it slightly better, though. Apparently hot chocolate is good for sore throats, but they usually didn't have it when Steve was sick.

James holds the mug to Harry's lips, after ensuring it's not too hot. Harry frowns.

"I'm a big kid." Harry mumbles, and immediately spills the mug on the bedcovers. Steve strips the blankets off the bed and throws a replacement set to James. Even in a mansion, it's somehow shocking to realize how many spare sheets there are, though not as shocking as the washing machines and dryers.

By the second day, Harry is more awake and much more antsy. He tries to get out of bed, but James won't allow it.

Steve hands Harry some paper and crayons. "Art helped me pass the time, when I was sick. Which was all the time."

Harry gets his mad out, scribbling over the paper as he coughs and sniffles. James mutters that Harry hadn't been this congested since they were on the run.

Harry wipes his nose on the back of his hand, ignoring the handkerchief Steve offers.

"I want HYDRA to be sick," Harry snuffles. "So they're stuck in bed."

"Several of them are stuck in cells, now." Tony remarks as he strolls in with several boxed plastic figures, including Iron Man, Batman, and even Captain America. Several of the figures talk, and Iron Man even lights up. Steve wonders if he'd made them- it'd explain why he'd been gone for two days, but didn't explain the absurd amount of tape and twine traps the figures in their boxes.

Harry studies the boxed figures, then frowns at James. "Is this like your crying tube?"

"Cryo." James corrects. "I wasn't tied down, but..."

"There's no toy you." Harry says, looking at the assorted characters.

"He's here." Tony picks up Batman, then grabs Robin and grins. "And here you are. Remember?"

"No!" Harry folds his arms with a scowl.

"Here, make them fight while you're in bed. But if you make Batman win, I'm blasting him out the window."

"The only toy me is the bear you didn't want. But you've got the real me right here. I'm not leaving." James glances at Tony. "Who did you bring?"

"Come on in, doc!" Tony calls.

Steve expects Hank, but the man who enters isn't blue. He's slightly rumpled, with curly hair, and he seems rather uncomfortable, fidgeting with his glasses.

"Looking at this place, you didn't really need me." the man mumbles.

Tony waves that remark aside. "Always could use a second opinion. Don't let Bruce tell you he's 'not that kind of doctor' because he was running a clinic in Calcutta. He's not that Bruce, Harry." Tony turns to the doctor. "I don't think Harry's had his shots, but you know, I'm not entirely sure he's here legally. I didn't even smuggle him over like you, he and James just showed up at my house. Still, in hindsight, Harry really should've gotten shots."

Harry's eyes are wide as he clings to James. "Dudley hated shots." he whispers, saying that his cousin had cried and screamed before the doctor until his aunt promised him all sorts of sweets and toys.

The rumpled doctor turns to Harry.

"I'm all good," Harry insists immediately. He coughs before adding, "I don't need a shot!"

"I'm not going to give you shots."

"Doctor Banner?" Steve holds out a hand. Had Tony really flown across the world and back in the past two days?

Steve isn't all that surprised to realize Tony had. Banner, for his part, only looks slightly surprised to see Steve. Tony had probably filled him in on the flight, and the doctor turns back to Harry when the boy begins coughing.

"Are you a mutant?" Harry asks.

"You could say that." Doctor Banner mumbles it so Harry doesn't hear, but Steve and James do.

"I'm going to be a mutant when I grow up." Harry puffs his chest in pride, then hunches in another coughing fit. James rubs his back.

"Harry's getting better," James proceeds to describe Harry's condition and development in far more detail than Steve would have. Doctor Banner listens and nods, then pulls out a stethoscope and explains what it is.

"Mutants don't need shots." Harry tells him. Doctor Banner gently explains what he's doing, then listens to Harry's heart and breathing. James is tense- he's walked Harry through breathing several times, even though Harry still isn't as sick as Steve had often been.

When the checkup is over, Doctor Banner tells Harry he's been a very brave boy and apologizes that he doesn't have a lollipop to give him.

"He just got new toys. Wait til you see the toys in the lab. The lab's not as great as mine, of course, but it's better than most." Tony pulls Doctor Banner out of Harry's room. The doctor starts to protest that he was planning on going back to Calcutta, but Tony talks over him. "You'll have to come to my place, of course, for science. Seriously, all that hiding out isn't good for you."

"Isn't Captain America hiding here?" Doctor Banner asks wryly.

"He's my secret." Tony replies. "But you shouldn't stay a secret. Besides, we've got some great bad guy bases for the green guy to smash."

Their voices fade from even Steve's hearing. Harry's once again insisting he's well enough to go flying, but James won't budge.

Steve puts his former stage skills to use, acting out several scenarios with Harry's new toy figures. Harry enjoys the show, but frequently interrupts to direct the story himself or give warnings to the toys. "There!" Harry yells as the Joker sneaks up on the toy Captain America and Iron Man. He laughs as the mini plastic shield veers horribly off course, rolling under the bed, but this starts another coughing fit.

"I'm better with the real one," Steve promises as he makes the Captain America figure turn and punch the Joker in the jaw.

Harry claps, then sends Steve to fetch one of his crafts.

Tony pops in again as Harry is slipping the painted toilet paper armor over Iron Man's plastic limbs. "You're making my suit look like a beast."

"Yeah!" Harry holds the toy as if its flying, then throws it, clearly expecting actual flight. Most of the cardboard armor slides off as the toy crashes to the floor.

"I've had landings like that." Tony picks the toy up, replaces the armor, and helps Steve stand the figures on the nightstand so they're guarding Harry's craft mansion.

Harry reaches for Batman, asking Steve to paint it like Logan, "with forks for claws."

Steve brings the paints in so Harry can supervise. As Steve works, Harry throws a miniature basketball at the hoop Tony had placed on the door. He gets frustrated that the ball only flies back into his hands once, but doesn't want James or anyone to pick it up. He glares at the ball for daring to stay on the floor.

Steve's mind wanders to times long ago, when it had been him coughing. Bucky would come home, read pulp fiction aloud while Steve sketched the scenes painted by words. Steve shakes his head as he paints Batman's cowl yellow, to make Wolverine.

He'll never have those times again, but he never thought he'd get Bucky back in any way. Even if James prefers Logan's company and doesn't tease Steve like Bucky used to, at least they're both here.

Logan himself severs the tines from forks for Steve to use as the figure's claws.

Surprisingly, Harry picks up the Captain America figure too, making the toys kick and hurl the basketball around the bed. Wolverine frequently outruns the Captain, who moves slowly with his shield on his back.

Steve looks at the figure of himself. There seems little need for Captain America when Professor X can take down HYDRA single-mindedly. Steve might follow James for a change, and it's clear James is staying here with Harry and trying to renounce the soldier life.

Currently, James is kicked back on the bed with Harry on his lap as Harry narrates a story, between sniffles and coughs. Harry's story isn't about superpowers or grand battles. He tells of a simple trip to a hockey rink. "An' we go see a game, not just on the telly. And then we go see Quidditch, and come home and fly."

Steve finds himself sketching the scenes from Harry's story.

Steve leaves for his therapy session, though he has a strong feeling James will skip his own. Professor X informs Steve of even more developments in taking down HYDRA, that someone at SHIELD wants to meet him, but they quickly shift to more personal matters.

Steve doesn't think Professor X has to read his mind to tell that he's wondering what to do with his life.

Professor X offers to let Steve teach an art class. Steve feels slightly uncomfortable with all the teens staring at him when he first enters the classroom, but soon becomes absorbed with drawing comic book panels of several of the teens using their special powers, then walking between the tables, coaching students on technique and admiring all the student's work.

Some students are drawing on tablets plugged into computers, and Steve is still surprised that the motion on the tablet is captured on the screen.

One student named Rogue struggles to draw a proportionate figure. Her hands are gloved, and she shies away from Steve when he bends down to help.

"I should get Logan to model," Rogue grumbles, but then starts laughing at the thought. She'd teased Logan about Harry's Wolverine figure earlier.

The students are impressed that Steve can draw so well from memory, and Steve doesn't mention that his memory is the only way he can see his ma, or the Howling Commandos or Peggy. Even the old Bucky is just a memory now.

Rogue shares that once she can draw Logan well, she'll draw him cuddling a puppy.

Steve can picture it in his mind and is strongly reminded of James.

Steve finds himself sketching James holding Harry, then expanding over the canvas. Several other figures take shape- Tony, Professor X, Logan, Storm. He keeps going, knowing he's going to add every member of the mansion.

After all they've done for James, they deserve Steve's recognition. Last but not least, he draws himself. Not Captain America, but Steve, with ink-smudged hands and clothes. Harry had literally made the mansion his safe haven, and Steve realizes it's his, as well.

Chapter Text

Back at his aunt and uncle's house, Harry would have given anything to be tucked in bed like he is now. He remembers Dudley bringing something home from nursery school and getting Harry sick too. Harry had stayed in his cupboard, trying not to cough or sneeze while he listened to his aunt fuss over Dudley, arranging blankets and pillows on the couch and bringing Dudley any toy he asked for, including new ones.

Harry's been in bed for three days now, and he even got new superhero toys from Mr. Stark. He's at superhero school, which is lots better than Dudley's nursery school, and Harry's dad fusses over him almost as much as his aunt did over Dudley.

Harry has everything he'd wanted, but he's bored.

Steve acts out more puppet shows with the toys, but Harry watches the window instead, longing to play ball and fly his broom. When Harry tires of making the superhero toys play ball on the sheets, Mr. Stark brings brings a bin of blocks that snap together. "I really should've gotten you LEGOs weeks ago," he says as he shows Harry how to make a motorcycle and a chair like Professor X's.

While they're playing, Mr. Stark gets a phone call from someone named Rhodey, or honey bear, or Platypus. Harry's not sure what his real name is, but Mr. Stark uses big words like "compromised", "traitors", and "terrorists" before Dad shoos him from the room with a look at Harry.

Building a LEGO house helps some with Harry's boredom, but he still hates staying in bed.

"I know how it feels," Steve says, busy drawing a picture of Harry in bed with Dad beside him, just how they are right in front of him. "I was stuck in bed a lot as a kid."

"Did you have a cupboard?" Harry asks. Steve grimaces and shakes his head.

"I was sick a lot. Bucky looked after me while Ma was working.." Steve points to the bedroom mirror in the drawing, but it shows Dad with short hair and two skin arms, and the guy in the bed isn't even Harry.

Dr. Bruce does a lot of checkups on Harry. After one of them, Mr. Stark pushes Dr. Bruce toward Harry's dad, urging them to talk about guilt or alter-egos. "Bonus points if you say 'it's not easy being green'."

Harry points to the leaves on the tree outside and says "That's green. My eyes are green. He's not green!"

"I know what green is," Mr. Stark rolls his eyes.

Neither Dad nor Dr. Bruce say anything to each other.

"Beast is blue," Harry shares with the doctor. "But green's better."

"My, uh, bad side is green." the doctor says.

"We're all freaks here," Harry says. "We're a freak family. But freak's a bad f-word, so we're mutants."

He's heard from the older kids that some people call them the bad word anyway, or mutie.

"I'm not like these mutants," Doctor Bruce plays with his stethoscope. "I hurt people."

"I hurt people too," Dad says.

"Sheesh, book a joint session with the Prof already." Mr. Stark huffs.

"Have you talked to him?" Dad asks. Mr. Stark tries to talk about something else, but Dad keeps staring at him seriously. Eventually, Mr. Stark admits he hasn't, and Dad orders him to right back.

Harry tells Doctor Bruce more about Beast, who's blue, and Colossus, who's all metal. Why would the doctor hate being green?

"Are you going to be in the superhero family picture?" Harry asks the doctor. Steve had mentioned he's painting one, but he won't let anyone look at it yet. Maybe it's bad, Harry thinks with a snicker, though Steve's art is usually really good, almost like photos.

Steve had said it's the least he can do to show his thanks to Mr. Stark and everyone in the mansion for helping Harry's dad so much.

"I don't think I'm family yet." Doctor Bruce laughs.

"You're here." Harry points out. "Logan says there's family here. And families live in the same house."

The next day, Doctor Bruce and Beast both agree that Harry's finally well enough to go out and play, but it's raining. Harry's ready to go out anyway, until Dad stops him.

"I wouldn't get muddy flying," Harry explains. "Moody says Quidditch doesn't stop for rain."

"You'll catch cold," Dad tells him. "You just recovered."

"But I want to go out."

"You don't want to get sick again."

Harry pouts as raindrops race down the window. He blinks back angry tears so his eyes don't rain too.

Steve had talked about mud in the trenches, wherever those are, and sleeping in the rain. When Harry brings that up, Dad mutters "That was war."

"I want to fly." Harry tries stamping his foot like Dudley. Dad looks at him until he says "Please."

Dad picks Harry up and swoops him through the air as easily as Harry flies his action figures around. Harry tries to stay mad- it's not the same as flying his own broom, but soon he's laughing as Dad dips him towards the sofa and lifts him up again, eventually dropping him so he bounces on the cushions. Harry jumps up and Dad takes him soaring again.

"Paint me flying!" Harry shouts as they zoom past the art room, where Steve and some big kids are painting. Harry tries to peek at Steve's superhero family portrait, but it's hidden under a large cloth. If Harry had a cloak like Moody's, he could sneak in and peek at it.

Once Dad stops flying Harry around, Harry bounces his mini basketball down the stairs to see how high can go. Once, it floats up near the chandelier.

He pokes through the craft supplies, not knowing what to make. He builds some with LEGO, then idly makes his new Wolverine figure drum his dad's metal arms with the fork claws to make metal music like some kids talk about.

When the big kids finally finish classes, most sit in front of the telly instead of playing ball. The telly shows a guy in handcuffs, and the big kids push Harry away when the screen shows a building on fire, saying he's too little to watch. He'd seen his aunt and uncle's house catch fire. And he'd seen bad guys end up all bloody.

The people on the telly talk about trials and Mr. Stark talks about a shield that's probably not Steve's. Harry wonders how many bad guys can hide behind one shield- they were hiding in the shield, just like Dad said. But Dad says that SHIELD is a name, just like HYDRA, and that SHIELD thought they were the good guys. But then he said HYDRA thinks they're the good guys too, even though they're the bad guys.

Grown-ups don't make any sense, even Dad. Dad seems to think he was a bad guy, even after helping Harry when he's sick. He didn't leave when Harry was sick, but he starts to go smoke with Logan again. But even that's bad. Dad says Harry would have to see a doctor for his lungs and be stuck coughing in bed again if he smoked.

Harry wrinkles his nose. It smells pretty bad too. Dad adds that people didn't know it was bad before, but do now.

"You're doing it," Harry argues, and Dad stamps the smoking stick out under his boot.

Harry decides he won't smoke if it means having to see the doctor. He hopes he's done with doctors forever. Even though he's better, Doctor Bruce suggests checking his teeth. Dad reads Harry a book about a bear going to the dentist, but when the bear sits in an odd chair, Dad holds the book so tight it ends up crumpled and torn.

"You had a worse dentist than Dudley," Harry says sadly, remembering how Dudley had screamed before going. Dad doesn't seem to be listening. "Do you have cave-ties?"

He'd heard Aunt Petunia tell Uncle Vernon that the dentist warned her that Dudley was going to get black holes in his teeth, but she still gave him all the sweets he wanted.

Harry doesn't want to see a dentist, but Beast says he'll do it, and knowing it will be a familiar face helps. He promises it won't be in a chair and suggests the bed, but Harry shakes his head. He just got out of bed, he doesn't want to be stuck there again.

On the phone, Jarvis tells Dad and Harry everything that will happen. It sounds like the dentist is going to stick metal things in Harry's mouth, so Harry practices with his new Wolverine toy's fork-claws.

Dad lets Harry poke around his mouth with the fork claws, too. Harry peers inside and gasps. "You have orange teeth!"

He laughs as he pushes an orange slice in Dad's mouth, but Dad's not laughing. Dad clenches his teeth, shaking and breathing fast until juice runs down his chin. He spits out the orange slice, grumbling that it tastes like rubber.

Harry doesn't eat the rest of the orange. Even though Dad's scared of the dentist, he insists Harry have his appointment, and Harry decides to be brave too.

Since he can't play it with Dad, Harry plays dentist on his Joker figure, because Joker's the only one with teeth.

Dad doesn't seem very scared, though he insists on holding Harry on the couch. Beast crouches next to them, and Doctor Bruce hovers nearby.

It's not scary, being on the couch, but Harry still squirms, hoping they don't find another reason to keep him in bed for days.

Beast looks in Harry's mouth with a metal circle on a stick. "I'm used to caring for fangs," he grins. Doctor Bruce laughs, but he keeps looking at Beast with something like wonder.

Beast brushes Harry's teeth, just like Dad does every morning and night. Beast says Harry's teeth look good, but they'll fall out in a few years. That doesn't sound good.

"Did your teeth falled out?" Harry turns to Dad, worried.

"Yes, and my adult teeth grew in." Dad replies, seeming much less scared than when they read about or played dentist.

"Am I going to get fangs?" Harry asks eagerly. Doctor Bruce says probably not, and Harry nods. His dad doesn't have fangs.

"When will my arm fall off?" Harry grins, admiring his teeth in Dad's shiny metal hand.

Dad snorts. "Stark's arm didn't fall off. Steve's didn't. What makes you think yours will?"

"'Cos yours did." Harry says. He's going to be just like Dad when he grows up- except for smoking. Harry has long hair now, just like Dad's, and sometimes a star instead of a lightning bolt on his forehead. So why wouldn't he have a metal arm when his falls off?

"I hope yours never does." Dad says. "I don't want you to be like me."

"We made the dentist not scary." Harry tells Professor X during his next therapy session. "Beast's not scary! Or Doctor Bruce. But he thinks he's scary."

"Some people see the worst in themselves." Professor X says.

"Dad had a really bad dentist."

"Were you scared of yours?" Professor X asks.

Harry shakes his head proudly. "Doctor Bruce and Beast said I'm a brave boy! I got my shots and I didn't cry!"

"It's okay to cry." Professor X tells him.

"But it didn't hurt as bad as Uncle's hits." Harry says. Why would he cry over a little poke and pinch? It seems so silly now.

Harry looks down at the LEGOs spread on the dark wood desk- Professor X can't get on the floor to play with him, so Harry climbed into the man's lap and is playing there. He's been busy building a staircase, and puts a door under the stairs. His cupboard door didn't have a window like the LEGO door does. He'll let Dad break this later.

"Why does Dad write a journal but Steve draws?"

"Different things work for different people." Professor X tells him.

"Dad's isn't working." Harry breaks the cupboard apart himself, but doesn't start building. He slips off the professor's lap to get paper and crayons. "But he has his brain back, right?"

Professor X doesn't answer right away. "They can't control him anymore. But they took so much from him."

"From his brain?" Harry bites his lip. Dad sometimes looks sadder after his times with the Professor. "You go in his head."

"I promise, I haven't done anything your dad hasn't asked me to do."

Professor X has never yelled at anybody, never even looked angry. He always lets Harry play, and doesn't get grumpy when Logan or Dad are. "You're the grandpa!" Harry announces in realization. "You're grandpa in our mutant family!"

Professor X smiles, and Harry wonders how Dad could possibly feel sadder after seeing him.

The professor seems to know what Harry's thinking. "Some things are hard to talk about,"

"Dad doesn't want me to be like him." Harry pauses. Maybe it's because Dad says smoking's bad but does it anyway?

"I think he hopes you don't go through what he did." the Professor says.

"Like HYDRA?" Harry asks, even though he knows the answer. HYDRA is most of the bad guys after them, most of the bad guys who are on the telly now.

"You're as safe here as you'll be anywhere." Professor X tells him. "And you are much like your father, already. You're brave and kind, and you both love each other a lot."

Harry nods. He loves Dad even when he says he can't go fly in the rain. He stands up, wanting to run and tell Dad that right now.

"He knows you love him," Professor X smiles. "But I'm sure he'd love to hear it again. After we're done."

"P'fessor X... grandpa?" Harry grins. "Do you go in my head?"

"I have not. I would have asked before."

"Can you?"

"I don't believe there's any reason to."

"You go in Dad's." Harry says. "Can you find how to make my scar a star?"

"I usually help with mental scars." Professor X tells him, but agrees to go in Harry's head. The Professor taps a finger to his own bald head, a closes his eyes. Harry frowns, not feeling anything, and then the professor frowns too.

Is the professor copying him, like a game? Harry tries waving his hands, but the Professor doesn't. He keeps frowning, pressing harder into his own bald head.

Harry swallows, knowing something is wrong.

Chapter Text

"You're saying there's someone in his head?" James hopes he's heard the professor's words wrong.

Sounds familiar, Bucky comments, unnecessarily, as James watches Harry rub his head in confusion. He doesn't want Harry to go through what he's gone through. He'd been braced to hear some horrible new detail of abuse Harry had suffered, a topic which angers him even more than the tortures he'd suffered at the hands of HYDRA, but would have never guessed this.

"It's more like a fragment, a memory."

Bucky scoffs. You sure you're not looking in this head?

The professor sends James a look.

"Can you take it out?" James is desperate. "Put it in my head, if you have to. I'm used to it."

IF HE COULD DO THAT-

He would've put that voice away. Bucky interrupts the other voice that relayed the Soldier's orders and directives.

"I didn't hear a voice." the professor says slowly. "It was more of a presence."

James holds his son close, asks Harry himself. "Do you hear a voice in your head?"

"I want Jarvis in my head, Grandpa." Harry says.

Grandpa? Bucky sounds somewhat shocked. He ain't our dad.

James grits his teeth. It's not the time. Harry reaches toward James's pocket, which is empty. Stark had given James a StarkPhone that was specially calibrated to respond to both his hands, with full access to Jarvis, but James isn't used to carrying his phone everywhere as Stark and most students do.

"It's not Jarvis." Professor X clearly agrees with Harry that the AI would be a better option. "It's Voldemort."

The name is familiar, and it takes a few seconds for James to place it as the wizard who murdered Harry's birth parents. The Dark Lord. If it weren't for Voldemort, Harry would have grown up loved, and James would be-

REPORTING. ASSASSINATING. THE FIST OF HYDRA.

Still with those monsters. Bucky agrees. What's that monster doing in our son's head?

James turns to his son. "Are you hurt? Can you feel him?"

"I'm just Harry," Harry is wide-eyed at James' concern, which is even more pronounced than during his recent bout of illness. "I don't want to go back to bed."

"How did he get in there?" James asks. It's been over three years since that incident with Voldemort, hasn't it?

"I believe it's linked to your scar." the Professor tells Harry. "The night you got that scar, the night Voldemort was defeated, it seems a part of him attached to you."

Harry scowls, rubbing furiously at his scar. "I'm just Harry."

James sighs. So there isn't a murder's voice telling Harry what to do. Still, James wants the presence out of his son's head immediately.

Harry rubs at the star on James' prosthetic shoulder. "Do you have a bad guy in there?"

"No." James says.

"I need a star!" Harry takes his Wolverine figure, poking the fork tine claws against his forehead, scratching them over his skin.

James doesn't mention that bad guys put the star on his arm, put the arm on him in the first place. He's too focused on Harry, and pulls the fork tines away from his son's head.

"Let's ask Logan to make it a star," Harry says, looking toward the door, beyond which the real Logan is somewhere.

"No." James says. He likes Logan, but he'll fight him if he extends those Adamantium claws anywhere near his son's head. He turns to the Professor. "Please-"

"I have gifts, but I'm not magical." the Professor says, apologetically.

"Moody, then." James gets up to seek the wizard out, but he isn't sure he trusts Moody around his son's head.

The Professor shakes his head. "Moody was a skilled auror, but this isn't something that can be removed with a spell."

"Or telepathy," James frowns even deeper. He knew the Professor and Jean couldn't fix everything- they can't fix him- but he's still unhappy to hear it. How can magic do this to a person, but not have a reversal spell?

You're sayin' that like they made an easy reversal for us, Bucky says. Science can fry a guy's brain but can't fix it.

Harry, however, is full of ideas. "Would the doctors make me stay in bed, if they got it out?"

"I'm afraid the doctors can't help us here," Professor X says.

James frowns. Surely, Doctor Banner would have removed the Other Guy from his own mind if he could.

Harry pulls James toward the door. "Where's Mr. Stark? Let's get a mem'ry stick and put the bad guy on. And you can crush it."

James smiles humorlessly. "I don't see a port in your head."

Harry frowns, considering, and pokes a finger in his ear. He begins to dig in with earnest, face scrunched as he tries to pull something out.

"Can't reach your brain from there." James mutters, pulling Harry's earwax-infested finger out.

Professor X promises he'll try to look for a way to remove it. Harry pulls James from the room, looking for Stark. James snatches his phone from the nightstand and sees a message from Stark, which reads: What are your names?

Thought you were the one with memory problems, Bucky teases in James's head.

James starts to type, but Jarvis announces that Stark is calling him before he's finished.

"I meant, changing your names. So people can't track you, it'll give you a bit of privacy. That sort of thing. Plus, neither of you really have citizenship papers here, at least not ones that are suspiciously out of date."

"I'm just Harry." Harry sounds thoroughly exasperated. "Where are you? We need a mem'ry stick to get the bad guy out of my head."

That makes Stark speechless for a second. "What?"

James grits his teeth and explains.

"Wow. Okay. Who knew that was a thing?" Stark mutters. "I didn't know that was a thing. I mean sure, Bruce has Hulk, but this is... wow. I really wouldn't have pegged you as having a wizard nazi in your head, Harry. I mean, it's not like you act like a power hungry, sociopathic warlock."

James huffs- in hindsight, he wishes Harry had some sort of dissociative disorder with multiple personalities, terms he'd heard the Professor use during his own sessions.

"We need a wizard or witch to get it out." James informs Stark, because he's sure the man's mind is racing to solve this new challenge.

"We need a mem'ry stick!" Harry insists, clearly frustrated his ideas aren't being seriously considered.

"Love the thinking, kid, but sadly this isn't a Zola situation. Otherwise I would've sicced Jarvis on this Dark Lord in an instant."

"Can we put Jarvis in my head?" Harry asks.

From the phone, Jarvis replies "I'm afraid not, Master Harry."

James reiterates the information about the soul splitting and attaching to Harry's scar.

"So we get Logan to cut it," Harry says.

"Remember what I said?" Stark's voice is suddenly sharp. "No knives kid. Don't want you killing yourself in the process of getting rid of this parasite."

"Moody might know something." James reluctantly admits. The man is supposed to be their magical guardian, after all. Even if the Professor says it can't be easily removed, the wizard might know how.

"Yeah, he looks like he's seen some serious sh- uh, stuff. Some serious stuff." Stark says. "Tell you what, you ask Moody, I'm flying back ASAP. I know Pepper's been after me about this Expo, but come on, I'm saving a toddler from a maniac. That's gotta give me some PR points. Not that I'd tell the press or anything, I hear you're famous enough and I won't exploit you for brownie points."

James sighs when he hangs up the phone. It's not quite relief- it won't be relief until they get this monstrosity out of Harry's mind. He knows Stark won't stop, either, until they figure this out.

James strides through the mansion with Harry in his arms. Harry leans close to his ear to whisper, rather loudly "I love you even when it's raining."

James hugs Harry tighter, but not too tight. That's not something an evil wizard would say. At least the thing in Harry's head doesn't seem to be affecting him as much as the voices affect James. Still, James is almost frantic. He runs into Doctor Banner, who comments that he looks ill.

Sure enough, when Doctor Banner hears of the presence, he taps his head and says he hasn't figured out how to get rid of the Other Guy. His self-deprecating smirk turns into a wince as he forces himself to take several deep breaths.

James leaves him be. Finally, they find Moody. "How do we get someone out of Harry's head?"

"Occlumency." the wizard growls, until James explains it's not telepathy like the Professor and Jean. Moody's eye narrows as James tells that it likely entered the night Voldemort was defeated. Moody's magical eye is fixed just as firmly on Harry's head. Can that eye see through into Harry's mind?

"Dad. Let's find Logan," Harry says, and repeats his idea of getting his scar changed to a star.

"I don't want anyone cutting your head," James tells him firmly.

Harry rubs his scar. "It is a cut!"

James can't argue that the red lightning bolt was a cut when he got it, but he doesn't tell Harry that.

"His claws are useless against that, boy." Moody growls. James has a sudden mental image of Steve bashing his shield into Harry's forehead. That's useless too.

"Can you go in his head?" James asks. "Professor X said we need a wizard."

"It'll take more than Legilimency to get rid of this," Moody's scowl doesn't leave his face.

"Do you know how to get rid of it?" James asks, hoping it won't be a no.

Moody doesn't shift either eye from Harry's head. "You should ask Dumbledore."

Chapter Text

Now probably wasn't the best time to build a tower in New York City, but Tony's never been held up by what other people consider to be good ideas. Besides, he'd contracted it before he'd found a mutant mansion hangout in Westchester.

Anyway this tower's already towering in the heart of Manhattan, so it's still worth it. Pretty soon, it'll have its own arc reactor powering it, and be a beacon of clean energy.

Tony checks on the construction. He throws out some ideas for the Stark Expo; his Iron Man armor could easily be adapted into prosthetic for amputated war veterans, children born without limbs, and so on. Pepper sends him a knowing look, but doesn't comment.

Tony hightails it out of there in his Audi soon after. Nobody seems surprised- after all, Tony's been known to play hooky from his own award ceremonies.

Now, Tony's living more of a double life than ever, and he was already a superhero. He'd been a billionaire philanthropist genius for years before, but unlike Harry's beloved Bruce Wayne, Tony's never had a secret identity. He'd been the one to announce to the world he was Iron Man.

Now, however, Tony is keeping three identities secret.

He figures it wouldn't do for anyone to find about about Harry and James yet, especially when there are still HYDRA agents out hunting them. And Steve, well, he's not supposed to be alive.

Tony had been prepared to set up new identities for them, so they wouldn't be recognized at every turn, only to learn over a phone call that Harry's got another secret identity in his head. The very same evil wizard that killed his birth parents.

It's quite possibly even more shocking than the HYDRA reveal, which still hasn't been completely cleaned up.

All in all, Tony's been busy, and he can't catch a break.

Tony scoffs at himself. Harry's the one who can't catch a break. Abused, running from an evil organization, not to mention dealing with magic powers and apparently an evil wizard in his head. Then there's James, who was tortured, brainwashed, and is still struggling to find who he is. Hell, Steve just woke up to find out his best friend- and the whole world- changed without him to the point of being nearly unrecognizable.

Really, Tony thinks as he pulls up to the mansion, doesn't he have it easy compared to them? A voice in his head tells him it's not a competition; that the horrific traumas faced by others don't discount his own.

The voice sounds suspiciously like Professor X. Tony glances at the mansion. The professor could easily be reading his thoughts, though he'd promised not to.

He'd like to think nothing in his head would shock the guy after what he just found in Harry's.

Tony arrives to a very heated debate about whether to involve Dumbledore or not. Harry's standing as tall as he can, glaring up at Moody, not the least bit intimidated by the rather unsettling wizard.

"You want the most powerful wizard on your side," Moody points out. Harry opens his mouth, likely to say Dumbledore is a bad guy. "You act as if I'm suggesting You-Know-Who."

"No dumb doorbell guys. No dumb doorbell guys." Harry chants, clearly thinking he's reaching the peak of insulting puns. "Or enemy assets."

"Considering Dumbledore sent Snape after you," Moody's eyes shift to bore into James. "I'd have thought he'd recruit you for his cause. I bet you were already protecting Harry, but Dumbledore didn't realize that."

"He freezed Dad and flew him away!"

Moody tries to gruffly placate Harry. "They won't take your dad away."

"You said wizards erase muggles' memories." James states, flatly, just as unwilling to budge as Harry.

"We don't obliviate any Muggleborn's family."

"So, no obliviating anyone here." Tony assures Harry. "That counts me, mad eye. I'm not saying we should call this doorbell guy, I mean, I'm sure there's a way science can solve this. My new tower's going to have a state of the art medical lab, we can run some tests. MRIs or something. Is this a tumor we can remove?"

He glances at Bruce in particular. Really, Bruce is the expert of having someone living in his head.

Surprisingly, Steve backs Tony up on the technology front. Then again, to a guy from the forties, ordinary tech like computers and cell phones with digital cameras all likely seem like magic. That's not even counting Tony's own contributions of technological genius.

"If Zola could stick himself on a USB, I'm sure there's a way we can pull this wizard out of Harry's head." Steve says.

Harry, of course, had already latched onto the USB idea. He runs to the craft table and makes a crude attempt at a flash drive, shaping the clay into blobby imitation. He mashes it into head, frowning when the clay squishes, then pounds the whole thing into a shapeless lump. He tears off pieces and scattering them over the table.

"He's dead!" Harry announces, satisfied.

"He will die," James promises, and Tony's abruptly reminded of his unwilling, if very effective, past as an assassin.

Moody clomps into the room and Harry eyes him suspiciously. "Did you ring the dumb doorbell?"

"I haven't contacted Dumbledore yet." Moody leaves but I should left unsaid.

"'Cos you can't use phones." Harry snickers suddenly. Moody always eyes phones with a great deal of suspicion.

"Tragic, isn't it?" Tony says. "Almost as tragic as-"

"We don't need a old wizard." Harry interrupts. "We have my Grandpa an' my sort of mom. Ms. Jean. And Mr. Stark's gonna build a mem'ry stick."

Tony's done the impossible many times- he miniaturized an arc reactor with scraps in a cave, created a new element when said arc reactor started poisoning him, made several Iron Man suits.

Removing an evil soul from a child's mind isn't really a problem he ever thought he'd have to solve. He'd much rather be working on a new prosthesis for James, but James would object if Tony prioritized that over Harry.

Harry doesn't quit badgering Tony about a real memory stick, evidently realizing his version was pretend. Clearly, he hadn't been listening on the phone, either, and Tony finds himself having to state, flat out, that something is impossible. Harry isn't a computer with a virus or a sentient program that can be debugged or stored on a flash drive.

There isn't a whole lot to go on. Tony's woefully uninformed about this magic stuff, and even as one of the richest people in the world, he apparently can't walk into a magical bookshop to buy knowledge without the accompaniment of someone magical.

"Lead the way," he tells Moody. Moody doesn't.

According to Moody, very few bookstores would have information on soul fragments. They aren't common, are in fact some of the darkest magic known.

Moody insists that, even with books, Tony would be incapable of implementing anything he read. "You need a witch or wizard."

"We have you," Harry says. "Are you a bad wizard?"

It takes Tony a second to realize he means incompetent, not evil. Tony jumps in. "Coulson found you, somehow, so I'm sure he can find someone who's not Dumbledore. But I still think there's a way science can solve this."

Tony's not one to let someone else solve a challenge for him, and he's definitely not going to give up on science and hand it over to magic. Besides, clearly the resident wizard isn't doing any better than he is.

Bruce and Hank inspect Harry's scar under his longer, still messy hair. Aside from being oddly shaped like a bolt of lightning, there's nothing notable about it. Nothing to suggest what's hiding in Harry's head.

Harry opens his mouth wide, like he had during his dental appointment, as if they could see the entity from his mouth or pull it like a tooth.

"There might not be a way to get rid of the guy," Bruce murmurs apologetically once Harry's stopped saying ahh. "Trust me, I've tried a lot of ways, and..."

"Am I going to get sick?" Harry asks, as the adults scrutinize him.

"It doesn't seem to be affecting you much," Tony mutters. "I mean, you're pretty damn wholesome kid. Seeing you with your dad, it's hard to believe there's a mass murdering megalomaniac in your mind."

"What if I turn into Joker?" Harry's eyes widen. "Will you put me in jail?"

"That won't happen." James promises. "You haven't hurt anyone."

Tony's not great with feelings, but he can sense the guilt coming of James in waves. He sends James a look, which is ignored. James is focused solely on Harry, smoothing the boy's hair- which now resembles James's own- down reassuringly.

"But HYDRA put a guy in me too," Harry says into James' shoulder.

"I think he put himself in you," Tony's glad that Harry's young enough that the entendre flies right over his head. Not what he meant at all.

"Dad says old him's in his head, but he was younger." Harry's face scrunches, more confused about that contradiction than he's been about the murderer in his own head. "You're not a grandpa, Dad."

"I'm older than the Professor," James replies, and Harry laughs as if he's joking. "The old me meant the me from before. Bucky."

Tony thinks that it's good Steve isn't around to hear that.

As they leave the infirmary and make their way through crowded hallways, Harry calls out "Does anyone have hoover gifts? I need a bad guy sucked out of my head!"

Several students look at him curiously, and Harry isn't at all hesitant to tell everyone about his situation. Or how his "Aunt Tuna" made him help hoover, and it sucked everything up so surely it could suck a bad guy out.

Over the next several days, Harry keeps asking if Dumbledore's coming, stating that Tony will blast him if he does.

Harry's own attempts to get rid of the so-called Horcrux become more and more wild. Once, Tony spots Harry crouched next to a small snake, hissing at it. Harry picks it up, bringing it toward his head before James snatches it away.

Harry frowns, reaching for the snake. "I asked her to go in my ear and eat the bad guy."

"That image belongs in a horror movie." Tony mutters.

Harry ignores him, frowning at James. "You let me ask a snake how to get to the Batcave."

"That's not how we ended up with Stark." James sounds weary.

"Is too!" Harry stalks off to begin venting his frustrations by flying on his motor broom. Somehow, he flies high enough to be eye level with the adults, even though the safety features shouldn't allow him to go that high.

Harry seems to be trying to crash, dive-bombing the ground and tumbling on the grass, speeding at trees until James hauls him off the motor broom with a glare at Tony for being a bad influence.

"I'm going to knock him out." Harry protests, shaking his head wildly so his hair flies around.

"You're going to knock yourself out." James sounds amused, yet still exasperated, as he mutters that soon Harry will try to knock the Horcrux out in other ways and "I'll be pullin' another punk who likes getting punched out of fights."

"I don't like it!" Harry insists. "It hurt when Uncle Vernon-"

"I didn't mean that," James says, his face suddenly murderous. He confiscates the motor broom until Harry can learn to fly safely.

Harry plays several games where he hides his Joker figure behind his own head or in his hair before making the hero toys defeat him.

Bruce tries to coach Harry in meditation on the grounds it helps him with the Hulk, and nightmares. Harry complains it's too boring and barely gives any effort before running off.

By this point, Moody is extremely fed up with their attempts, and hinting even more strongly that they should consult Dumbledore. Tony keeps wondering if he's sent one of those message owls out, but the mansion remains undisturbed by old wizards.

Professor X even puts in a good word for Dumbledore, but Harry and James remain unconvinced.

Stark Tower is finished sooner than the horcrux situation. Steve's been sketching the outside of it from pictures Tony has shared, seeming far less impressed than others are. The more he sketches it, the less ugly he seems to think it is.

Tony brags about how the tower will be entirely clean energy when several students express environmental concerns.

Harry exclaims that it's better than any castle ever and asks endless streams of questions. "Is JARVIS there? Is there a basketball court? A Quidditch pitch? A cave? Can we fly there?"

He barely gives Tony time to answer, but judging from several people's expressions, what goes around comes around. Tony's having a hard time remembering the boy who was hesitant to question anything.

Tony takes Harry, and others, along for the grand opening, when he'll finally hook up the arc reactor. He gives Bruce a tour of the labs, mentions the fully-stocked art studio to Steve.

Harry runs around the penthouse delightedly, exploring every nook and cranny and playing hide-and-seek. Jarvis pretends not to know where Harry is, but finds Steve immediately when he joins the game. Harry cackles and James says that Steve's idea of stealth is a flag costume that stands out like fireworks.

Eventually Steve sits and sketches the view of the New York skyline. "It's no Brooklyn," he tosses to James as the pencil details the Chrysler Building.

Pepper arrives in time to distract Harry as Tony leaves to light up the tower. Tony has Jarvis keep the comm line open, listening to Harry tell Pepper all about their time at Xavier's Institute. They'll likely go back, of course, but it's nice to have a night or two to themselves.

Tony would never have expected Captain America would be a part of those nights, but that hardly ranks as the strangest thing that's happened in his life recently.

Once Tony lights up his tower like a Christmas tree and flies back, he shares drinks with Pepper, James and Steve. Harry is back to playing hide-and-seek with Jarvis until, suddenly, Jarvis announces "Sir, my protocols are being overridden,"

Tony turns to suit up again, but then a call comes through. It's Coulson, not HYDRA.

The elevator doors open. Tony's somewhat miffed that the man's here, and that Coulson seems unsurprised to see Bruce. Pepper seems unsurprised to see Coulson, and even calls him Phil. Tony's incensed about that, but he's been waiting for this moment, in a way.

Tony smirks as the usually composed Coulson turns into a starstruck fanboy at the sight of one Steve Rogers. "That's right, Agent. I've already assembled most of the Avengers initiative."

Chapter Text

"I know you won't eat me now," Harry points at Romanoff when she emerges from the elevator. Last time, in Stark's lab, Harry had been convinced Romanoff was his mother, a witch, coming back to devour him. James marvels at how far his son has come, how much safer he feels about magic in general, even if the Widow is not truly a witch.

"She won't hurt you," James replies, as much a threat to Romanoff as a reassurance to Harry.

"I'm just here to chat. No fighting this time," Romanoff agrees. "You saved us a trip to Kolkata."

"Guess it's not a super secret boy band if you're in it." Stark levels a look at her. "I remember you saying they shouldn't invite me. Something about being volatile, self-obsessed, not playing well with others."

Romanoff glances at the mostly assembled team. "Clearly I was wrong. Are you going to exclude me now?"

"Nah. I need to set a good example for the kid," Stark glances pointedly at Harry.

"There's good witches and wizards." Harry tells Romanoff, who had been unaware of magic at the start of her last visit, "But the bad one in my head is trying to eat my brain. Like Dad."

"Next thing I know, our lives are actually going to become a zombie movie," Stark runs a hand through his hair. "Though I guess Cap here did come back from the dead."

Steve is too busy dealing with Coulson's obvious adoration to comment that he was in suspended animation.

Coulson smiles, shaking Steve's hand profusely. "Captain America. You're alive. It's like a dream come true."

Steve's eyebrows rise and Stark snorts something about fanboys. Coulson clears his throat. "I mean, it's an honor to meet you, Captain. We were searching for you, of course, but-"

"I did what dear old dad never could," Stark raises a hand and conveniently forgets to mention following an owl. "Or you and Fury's monkeys. You know, I'm totally going to lord this over you forever."

To Stark's obvious annoyance, Coulson does not deign that with a reply. The agent smiles at Steve again. "I can't say how relieved I am that you were found by the right side,"

Stark grins, clearly about to gloat some more, but Steve's jaw tightens and he very pointedly avoids glancing at James.

I know you're thinkin' about me, punk. Bucky says in James's head. Steve's eyes are full of guilt, and still won't meet his. No doubt wishing he'd been found by HYDRA to spare James.

"We could really use someone like you, now." Coulson lets go of Steve's hand after shaking far too long.

"To fight HYDRA," Steve nods, expression growing even darker. "Since I did so well defeating them last time,"

'Least you didn't wind up working for them. Bucky's voice sounds far guiltier than Steve. James has a sudden urge to sling an arm around Steve's extremely-broad shoulders. It would feel wrong. His arm remembers Steve's shoulders feeling far narrower and bonier.

"We're getting them this time," Stark claps an arm on Steve's shoulder. James still hasn't moved to do so himself.

"Did you find a better wizard to get the bad guy out?" Harry asks Coulson. "Moody can't."

"We're dealing with a lot of bad guys right now." Coulson is clearly too preoccupied to truly listen to what Harry is saying.

"Too many bad guys." Harry nods in agreement, casting an offended look out the window. "Too much HYDRA."

James ruffles Harry's hair, though his face is somber in agreement.

HARRY IS NOT SAFE UNTIL ALL HEADS ARE SEVERED.

"Do you want the Avengers fighting HYDRA?" Potts does not even feign ignorance of group..

"Ideally, yes. Unfortunately-" Coulson is quickly interrupted by Stark.

"We're fighting them already, but they keep popping up like whack-a-moles." Stark pulls up holographic videos of Captain America, Iron Man, and a large green guy that must be the Hulk. Banner looks intensely uncomfortable.

Stark gestures to a screen showing a muscular, bearded man with long blonde hair holding a huge hammer high to summon lightning. "Guess that's why you're recruiting a hammer guy for our real life Justice League, huh? So what is it, HYDRA wizards?"

"He's like Storm," Harry sounds rather unimpressed, having seen her make a tornado in addition to lightning.

Banner winces, clearly worried about the mansion's privacy, but Coulson nods.

"He has similar powers, but he is an alien."

"From Space?" Steve sounds almost awed, and James tries to ignore the excitement of the Bucky voice. "Stark said we went to space, but the only aliens he mentioned were fictional. He looks human."

Stark gestures almost proudly at Banner. "If you're expecting little green men, we've got a big one right here,"

Banner doesn't return Stark's smile, glancing anxiously at the agents as if they'll suddenly whisk him away. Romanoff holds up her hands in a gesture of peace. "We're just here for your help finding the Tesseract."

"What do you want me to do, swallow it?" Banner's lips quirk in a wry smile.

"We want you to find it." Coulson tells him calmly, not projecting any worry about Banner's other form. "We're dealing with a very powerful wizard, and we don't want him to acquire more power."

"Dumb-Bell-Door?" Harry interrupts with a look back at Moody.

Coulson raises his brows at Harry. "Thor's brother, Loki,"

"He's after me and Dad," Harry sounds more resigned than scared, though he grips James' prosthesis tightly. "Bad guys always are."

"The good news is that he shows no sign of knowing you exist, and, being from another world, has no known connections to HYDRA. He tried to destroy Puente Antiguo last year, and now he's here himself."

"So now there's competition for world domination," Banner smiles wryly as he plays with his glasses.

"That seems to be his goal," Romanoff tells them. "He stole the Tesseract, and the mind of one of our best agents."

Her face is still blank, carefully controlled, but James recognizes the concern in her eyes. She cares more about the agent than the Tesseract.

James was already wary but now his body goes rigid, ready for a fight. Steve's expression grows stony at the mention of the Tesseract.

Sounds like HYDRA. Trust me.

LOKI HAS ACCESS TO A CHAIR. THREAT LEVEL: HIGH.

Romanoff takes a tablet from Coulson and hands it out to Banner, but addresses Banner and Stark at the same time. "Doctors, we need you to look this over."

"Finally, someone remembers my doctorates." Stark mutters.

"It's sick?" Harry points at Banner. "He's my doctor. He made me stay in bed."

Harry's pout turns into an all-out scowl when Coulson gestures to the night skyline and tells them that Harry should be in bed, as he had suggested during their one previous encounter. "Have you set up a consistent sleep schedule for him?"

"I'm not sleepy!" Harry protests as James scoops him up. Stark, just to be contrary, argues that superheroes don't need Coulson playing supernanny.

"Bedtime," James states, almost an order.

Harry tries every tack to delay- he's hungry, he wants a hug from Stark, and Potts, and Banner. He even quickly hugs Steve's legs, though he shies away from getting a hug in return.

Running back to Stark, Harry mentions that he didn't get to see the tower's promised basketball court, ice hockey rink and flying area.

"Later," James says. He doesn't want to promise too much, doesn't want to promise tomorrow. There are too many threats, and this tower is very conspicuous.

James tucks Harry into bed, where his protests become quieter. "Don't leave. The bad guys are out there." Harry stares out at the city below.

MORE THAN HE KNOWS.

Jarvis helpfully blocks the view, and provides a holographic night light. Harry falls asleep quickly, despite his protests.

James smooths his son's long hair again, though he does not run a hand through his own.

Jarvis promises to watch over Harry- a bit unnecessarily, since he constantly monitors the interiors of all of Stark's properties as well as watching for external threats. All the same, it eases something in James's still coiled chest as he stands and goes to learn more about Loki.

Harry's nightmares have been getting less frequent as they've settled into some degree of safety at the mansion, but James isn't surprised when Harry wakes up from a nightmare tonight. Waking up in a new room, especially, seems to make things scarier.

James himself hasn't slept. He is unable to stop thinking about Barton and Selvig, whose minds were stolen, their loyalties forcibly realigned. Coulson said it was recent, and fast. Loki opened a portal, used a scepter to rob them of their agency, as Professor X would say.

Coulson reported it was almost instantaneous and appeared painless.

James is torn between relief that nobody has to go through the long, torturous reprogramming processes he'd endured, and jealousy. Not that he wants to be wiped into an obedient soldier servant ever again, but the scepter sounds like it would have been vastly preferable to the Chair and compliance conditioning.

Even if they'd had the scepter, they would've used the Chair, the thought comes in Bucky's voice.

HYDRA did love pain. His pain, of course, not their own.

James is almost relieved that Harry has a nightmare. He must be an awful father, to find any positives to his son's fear, but helping Harry helps keep James out of his own head.

Someone- Stark or, more likely, Potts or Jarvis- had the foresight to stock the penthouse kitchen with the ingredients for hot chocolate, along with copious amounts of coffee and tea. As Harry helps mix the cocoa, he shares of vague nightmares of creeping hands reaching for brains. Of James's own brain being pulled out.

"I'll do everything to make sure Loki doesn't steal my brain," James promises, as much to himself as to Harry. He tries not to think about how there's likely little he could do to prevent it, should Loki's scepter be pointed his way.

Harry wraps his hands around a cup of warm cocoa.

"He could take the bad guy out," Harry rubs his scar. Before James can tell him that's his worst idea yet, worse than asking a snake to slither in his ear, Harry adds "but he's badder."

"He is worse," James agrees.

Harry abandons his cup, racing to the window and pointing at the night sky. "We need the X-Signal to call the X-Men! Jarvis, please?"

Jarvis projects a holographic X near the window. Of course, it does nothing to summon the X-Men, but Harry grins all the same.

"I would be happy to call the mansion for you, Master Harry." Jarvis tells him. "However, I must warn you that it is 3:56 am and the residents are most likely sleeping."

Harry nods. "Is Mr. Stark sleeping?"

Stark and Banner had left for the shiny new lab, Stark promising something called a geiger counter while dropping terms like "reverse polarity" and "stabilizing agent". Steve had followed, looking confused but seeming determined to strategize.

Clearly, Steve will be picking up his shield once more.

"Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner in the lab, working on tracking the Tesseract." Jarvis replies.

"What's that?" Harry's brow furrows.

"The Tesseract is a cube of-"

"What's a cube?"

Ever patient, Jarvis helpfully projects a glowing blue cube, identical to the projection Stark had pulled up during the later briefing, when Harry was in bed.

"It's a box!" Harry nods in understanding, pointing at the transparent floating model and making it spin. "Is it empty? Is Loki going to put brains in it?"

"It contains an amount of energy that could be used for world domination."

"I have lots of energy!" Harry declares, repeating what Stark had, quite hypocritically, mentioned as Harry ran around the penthouse before Coulson and Romanoff arrived with their bad news.

"Too much, sometimes," James scoops Harry up, dangling him by his ankles so Harry sees an upside-down view of Manhattan's skyline. Harry shrieks as James swings him around.

James stops when Harry is breathless with laughter. Bucky's voice berates James for wearing Harry out. The voice doesn't sound too worried- Harry's breathlessness is due to amusement rather than asthma.

Too soon, Harry's expression grows too serious for a child, his eyes seeming too weary. "Are we going to hide from Loki?"

"Coulson said he was not looking for us."

BARTON IS A SPY. IF HE MENTIONS THE SOLDIER-

Loki is a myth, like the Soldier. James wouldn't be surprised if he went hunting for an infamous assassin that was viewed as a ghost story by many. James has already proven himself easy to reset.

LOKI WILL NEVER BE A HANDLER.

James grits his teeth. He wouldn't actually have a say in that matter. His practice with Professor X may provide resistance to the trigger words, but the scepter is another matter entirely.

James wonders if the professor would be able to help him reemerge from the Tesseract's grasp, as he had during the exposure therapy to the trigger words.

THE PROFESSOR WAS A HANDLER. THE PROFESSOR FREED THE SOLDIER.

James glances at Harry- another handler who had tried to relinquish control. Loki, likely, will not be that handler at all.

"I can fly us on my moto-broom." Harry suggests when James picks him up and heads toward the stairs. The thought of standing in a small metal box, watching doors shut in front of his face, makes his body shiver even if Jarvis keeps the elevator comfortably warm and the box is ten times bigger than the cryogenic chamber.

In the lab, Stark and Banner are busy typing lines of code on computers and continuing to drop long, scientific terms that even Harry doesn't ask the meaning of. Steve has a holographic map pulled up, busy pinpointing locations with his finger. Romanoff watches with folded arms.

"Look who joined the party!" Stark tosses a grin at James and Harry before turning back to his code. "You had hot cocoa already? There's some here if you want it. I don't want you on a sugar high, kid. I know none of us are good examples for consistent sleep schedules, but Coulson's supernanny powers might be right about that one."

"I had a bad dream." Harry shares, far more openly than any of the adults in the room would, despite all of them suffering from nightmares as well.

James rounds on Romanoff. "Did you tell Barton about us?"

If Loki extracts the information from him, they'll have another hunter on their tails.

Fortunately, Romanoff shakes her head. "Nothing specific. We've been a bit busy demolishing HYDRA. We started dumping all their files on the internet."

"The X-Men are going to kick Loki's butt." Harry grins, swinging his dangling feet. James continues to hold Harry close.

"Yeah, but the Avengers will help, too." Stark continues to scroll on his computer as he talks. "Superhero teams teaming up, it'll be epic. This sort of thing would make billions in the box office. Not as many billions as I have, but heck, there are already movies about you, Cap."

"Bobby and Rogue made one," Harry adds helpfully. Steve had been embarrassed but encouraging, watching their amateur video filmed on the mansion's front lawn.

"Jarvis made an X-signal." Harry crosses his arms in the shape of the letter.

"Professor X might be able to break Loki's hold on Barton and Selvig." James glares at a screen, avoiding eye contact as to avoid seeing any pity or sadness.

Stark points finger guns at James.

FINGER GUNS ARE ENCOURAGEMENT. NOT A THREAT.

"Right. And I know I saved Natalie a trip to Kolkata, but it looks like we're heading for Stuttgart."

Chapter Text

Predictably, Bucky does not sound pleased that James is staying behind as Steve boards the X-Jet.

Someone's gotta watch the punk's six. Bucky argues. Several scenes of having Steve's back flash through James's mind.

Steve has a team, James tells the inner voice. Two teams.

THE X-MEN AND AVENGERS ARE CAPABLE ALLIES. WE NEED TO WATCH HARRY.

"I'm going to fly my moto-broom" Harry announces, clearly relieved that he won't be flying in a jet after what happened in Stark's.

Stark sends Harry a knowing look. "You're going to try to follow us to Stuttgart, aren't you?"

"I can fly there!" Harry protests the word try.

"It's a thirteen hour flight, Oliver," Stark sighs, and, seeing Harry's blank look, amends his statement. "You'd be flying for a whole day, from when you get up all the way until bedtime."

Harry is insistent that he could fly all day, and stay up late since he already got up. Even though he has spent several hours zipping around on his motorbroom, James ensures that Harry fill his days with other activities as well.

"You said we're all going to Stugar." Harry frowns, crossing his arms petulantly. "We means us too."

"Trust me, Germany won't be very fun," Steve tells Harry. He's perhaps the worst person to tell Harry this, because Harry stubbornly insists it will be.

"It wasn't fun the last time I was there," Steve tries. Harry remains unconvinced.

"The big kids get to go," Harry points at Rogue, Bobby, Jubilee and a few other students in the X-Jet. "Dudley got to go out with Aun' Tuna and Uncle Vernon. To the park an' the movies an' for food and everything. But I always have to stay!"

Stark raises a brow, seeming impressed that Harry pulled the abused, neglected child card. Not long ago, Harry believed it was normal to be left behind on family outings.

"We're sitting in the jet the whole time," Rogue straps herself into a seat, and Harry doesn't look jealous about that aspect of the trip. "It's not like we'll be fighting Loki."

"You have a whole high-tech tower to run around," Bobby is clearly under the impression that Harry has the better deal. Stark looks exceedingly smug hearing this, considering he'd been admiring the X-Jet.

"Go use the hockey rink." Stark shoos Harry away with a hand.

Harry glances up at James. "But you don't like cold 'cos the ice box."

"We'll do something special, just the two of us." James promises. With all Harry's jealousy since Steve was thawed, James would have expected Harry to be delighted at the prospect of receiving undivided attention, at having his dad's company all to himself.

Harry watches the jet take off, turning invisible even before it rises into the clouds. Like Moody's cloak, Harry points out.

Harry slowly turns to James. "Are they going to die?"

James does not want to make any false promises, and Harry continues. "They're going to get attacked."

"They're on the lookout," James can promise his son that, at least.

"But bad guys can kill good guys." Harry's voice is now quiet and serious. "Like my mummy, and my other dad. What if he kills them?"

James blames Stark for Harry's abrupt shifts in topic. He opens his mouth, hoping to assure both Harry and himself. "Steve's defied death multiple times."

So have we, pal.

"What about Mr. Stark?" Harry asks impatiently, then exclaims "He has armor! He's Iron Man!"

Harry rattles off several defenses of the team- Logan's claws, Storm's tornadoes to suck the bad guys up, Jean's mind powers. He's clearly trying to reassure them both as well. "Does Black Widow have a whip?"

"No," James frowns. Harry's seen Romanoff fight during their first encounter, where she whipped herself around and tried to choke James with her thighs. "They are all skilled fighters. They can handle themselves."

"And you can beat bad guys up." Harry proclaims. "But what if they're magic?"

James senses this could continue all day, and reminds Harry "Today's special."

"Why? 'Cos they're fighting?" Harry asks. Despite his concern for the team, it's not a new occasion. Stark and Steve have raided HYDRA bases over the last few weeks.

"Not that." James leads Harry to the gym that Stark had shown off on the tour. "You get to fly inside."

Harry's eyes go wide as he jumps in excitement. Soon, Harry is soaring around the large, open area of the gym, trying to roll between the ropes of the boxing ring. James admires the shooting range and takes out some of his energy on some punching bags, and lifts weights.

As he careens around the gym, Harry shouts questions to Jarvis. "Did you see me? Look! See me now? Are they there yet?"

"You're asking if it's bedtime?" James's voice is level as he hoists a weight.

"No!" Harry shouts, laughing and outraged at the same time. "We didn't even eat lunch yet!"

Harry's onslaught of questions continues. Every few minutes, he asks after the team. Where are they? Did bad guys attack? Jarvis answers with unwavering patience, assuring Harry the team is safe and that they are still flying, just like Harry.

As much as he loves flying, Harry clearly wants to emulate James. He lifts small dumbbells while gawking at the size of the barbell James is holding over his head.

"Steve can't lift that!" Harry crows, pointing to the enormous weight.

"He probably could," James tells him, setting the barbell down.

"You have your robot arm. Cyborg." Harry tugs at the barbell, which does not move a millimeter. Harry grunts and pulls until he suddenly lifts it.

"I'm stronger than Dudley! And Steve!" Harry shouts, clearly not noticing that James is doing all the lifting from behind him.

James wonders if he's made a mistake. He shouldn't be misleading Harry about his strength, but the smile on Harry's face is worth it.

When Harry- or, rather, James- sets the barbell down, Harry announces that he's going to lift it with his magic. He waves his hands and says "Up!" but the barbell remains on the floor.

They eat lunch, and Harry inquires about the team every other bite. The news about the team is still good, but the Professor says he's having a difficult time trying to break the control of the scepter. It's not just a mental block (and James's have been tough enough). A foreign entity is interfering with Barton and Selvig's minds.

We had foreign entities interferin' too. Or did you forget getting zapped?

James ends up snapping a metal fork with his prosthesis. Harry stares, eyes flicking between James's scowl and the shattered fork.

After the meal, Jarvis suggests they try some of the video games, though he cautions that children should not have too much screen time. On the tour of the tower, Stark had made sure to show off an entertainment center even more elaborate than the ones at either of the mansions they've resided in.

James has seen students at Xavier's Institute playing games ranging from war simulations, futuristic war simulations, sports games, and cart racing games. One popular game with the students involves various cartoonish human and non-human characters brawling with fists, weapons and magic.

So far, James has avoided the war games, and ignored Bucky bragging that he could totally own any of them- as well as Bucky's use of modern slang. James knows Bucky is right; he could beat defeat any other players in the shooting games, even if the controls are unfamiliar and nothing like real guns. James is adaptable.

One of the systems is called a Nintendo Wii, which makes Harry giggle about loos and poop. According to Stark and Jarvis, the Wii is the most family friendly system. Rather than controllers with joysticks and buttons, like some of the systems, the Wii uses long remotes that are pointed and waved at the screen like wands. Joysticks can be attached separately as nunchucks.

Jarvis walks James and Harry through creating cartoonish models of themselves called Miis. Harry's brow furrows when he sees there is no lightning scar option, though he claims "I'm not putting a bad guy in my head."

"He's in your scar," James reminds his son, though he wishes he didn't need to. Harry nods slowly, but grows more frustrated that James's Mii can't have a silver prosthesis.

"He's wearing sleeves." James tells Harry, shaking his head when Jarvis offers to hack into the system to provide the modifications. Jarvis mentions that Stark had felt the need to add his self-proclaimed glorious goatee, so a prosthesis would be no issue.

Despite his frustration at the lack of options, Harry insists on making Miis of everyone in the mansion and all the Avengers, even Steve.

One by one, a crowd of Miis fills the screen. Harry jabs his new "wand" at the characters walking around a blank white room onscreen. "It's like Steve's painting, but they're moving. Are they in ice?"

"No," James frowns. Harry frowns in concentration, trying to make Beast but realizing there is no blue skin. Nor is there a wheelchair available for "Grandpa'fessor".

"Moody's eye isn't here," Harry remarks, though he does not seem inclinded to make the wizard a Mii, regardless.

They ain't exactly realistic anyway, Bucky drawls. When James points this out, Harry laughs.

"They have ball hands." Harry curls his own hands into fists, swinging them around. "Look, they're walking!"

"They can play, as well." Jarvis points them toward a shelf full of disc cases.

James knows that Bucky had lived in a time where, if one couldn't get baseball tickets, the most they could do was listen to the game on the radio.

Now, James and his son can swing remotes and the Miis onscreen will either pitch the ball or swing a bat. Harry, for once, doesn't immediately declare baseball boring, though he does grow frustrated when he strikes out too many times. "Throw your ball hands!" he tells the Mii batters, which don't even have arms in the game.

Harry lasts all of five minutes before asking to play hockey or Quidditch.

James insists they try the golf, bowling, tennis and boxing before switching discs. Harry waves his "Wii wand" wildly for most of them.

"Can we play Quidditch?" he asks as his character fails to hit a tennis ball.

"I don't believe there's a Quidditch game," Jarvis says apologetically, then suggests another collection of games with air hockey. "We have real air hockey as well."

Taking the hint that Harry has had too much screen time, James guides Harry to the real air hockey in the rec room. When Harry tires of that, he attempts to whack billards balls with the cue until James shows him how to play. Harry argues he could fly his broom into them instead, then tries to shove the balls with his magic. When that doesn't work, he carries two around as hands.

Jarvis reports that Loki has surrendered.

The next day, they try out another Wii game with virtual laser hockey, cow racing, a toy tank game, and shooting.

The shooting is simple. Even though James hasn't shot with a remote before, it's all too easy to aim it and click the trigger on the back to snipe virtual cans and targets.

James guides Harry's remote, though Harry seems to believe he's doing all the aiming. The game is simple, likely too easy even for the untrained students at the mansion. This is nothing compared to sniping the scientist through Romanoff.

At the last round of the game, Miis pop up in the grass. Flying saucers come to abduct them, and Harry shouts "It's Loki! He's stealing their brains!"

The saucers attempt to steal the Miis' whole bodies, but James snipes them out of the sky with ease.

Harry frantically waves his remote like a wand, and the screen suddenly explodes in a shower of sparks. The saucers and Miis disappear.

Harry stares guiltily at the TV, going suddenly still. As the sparks die down, he whispers "Did they die?"

"You merely exploded the television." Jarvis's tone is a combination of amusement and reproach. Likely Stark has broken much more than Harry, though Harry mutters something about Dudley kicking the telly. "The Miis are stored in the Wii itself."

"Did we beat Loki?" Harry's voice is a little louder.

"Loki has surrendered, and the team is due to arrive momentarily," Jarvis pauses as Harry and James watch the real jet descend onto a landing platform. The ramp lowers, James is already backing Harry into a corner. He pulls out one of his many knives as boots descend the ramp to the platform outside.

Chapter Text

Harry knows the shiny metal red boots he sees going down the ramp but he doesn't know why Iron Man is walking instead of flying. Storm follows Iron Man out of the jet even though she can fly too.

Steve's red boots appear next as he walks down in his Captain America suit.

Then Harry sees black boots like Dad's, only they're worn by that hammer guy that Mr. Stark showed videos of. Thor is big with long blonde hair and a beard and a red cape. Next to him, in similar boots, is a thinner man with pale skin and dark hair.

"Is that Loki?" Harry tries to peek out more, but Dad keeps moving in front of him, blocking Harry's view.

Harry knows Loki is the bad guy, but he was imagining someone like the Joker, with an evil smile, or all those HYDRA guys with helmets and no faces. He heard Mr. Stark say Loki and Thor were really, really old but they don't look as old as Dumbledore, or even Harry's Grandpa'fessor.

Harry's reminded of himself and Dudley as Thor pushes Loki forward, a hand on his shoulder. Thor doesn't punch Loki like when Dudley played Beat Up the Bad Guy with Harry.

Thor starts shoving Loki away and Harry asks "Are you throwing him in jail?"

"He threw me into an abyss," Loki snaps.

"You let go, brother. You fell." Thor looks like he might cry, and Harry wonders if he'll throw a fit like Dudley. Steve's face gets tight, too, and he keeps looking at Dad and then looking away.

Thor keeps his eyes on Loki. "If I'd held onto you-"

Steve looks at Dad again.

Mr. Stark looks between Thor and Loki and Steve and Dad. "It's like having another set of you guys around. Except you're not a megalomaniac wannabe monarch, James."

Harry's still trying to work out the word Loki used earlier to try and figure out Mr. Stark's.

"What's abyss?" Harry asks, but before Jarvis can answer, Loki suddenly turns to Harry.

Loki's blue eyes seem to look inside Harry, like Dad's, but they don't make Harry feel safe at all. "Imagine the darkest place you can, a cupboard perhaps, and imagine it stretching out for eternity."

Harry frowns, picturing stairs getting stretched like clay. Is eternity a fancy way to say clay?

Dad actually snarls, even more fierce than Batman. "Don't talk to him." He says it to Loki, not Harry. "If you go into his head-"

Harry gives his own scowl and waves his Wii wand at Loki. "If you try to take Dad's brain, you'll get blowed up like on the telly."

"Worry not, he no longer has his scepter," Thor points his hammer to a long case that Steve is holding.

"Dibs! For science!" Mr. Stark grabs for the case like it's the best present ever, wrapped just for him.

"Careful. It looks like a HYDRA weapon." Steve says.

"Yeah, so it's not like we're ever going to hand this over to SHIELD." Mr. Stark points the case at the broken telly. "What happened, you threw the remote? I know I live dangerously- I just brought a supervillain here for crying out loud- but even I use the wrist straps."

"The bad guy blowed it up with magic."

Thor turns to Loki like it's his fault. Harry remembers how awful it felt when Dudley blamed him for things he hadn't done, just so he'd get in trouble.

Instead of looking scared, Loki grins like the Joker. "I was busy surrendering. But you..."

Loki's laugh is just as crazy as Joker's, too. "The things you could accomplish, with me molding even your mortal magic."

"You will not lay a hand on this child." Thor pulls Loki back.

"You are all children, incapable of taking care of yourselves, of making decisions." Loki sneers like Harry's Aunt used to. "You need someone to make your tough choices and show you the way. You need cloaks to conceal yourselves."

Loki stares into a corner, where Moody appears, throwing off the cloak he'd been hiding under. His wand is pointed right at Loki's chest.

"I knew not of Midgardian magic." Thor turns to Harry, but it's like he's seeing someone else instead, like Dad does sometimes. "This boy looks quite like you, brother, and he is magical. Did you sire a Midgardian child?"

Mr. Stark snorts. "Wasn't Loki the mare who birthed an eight-legged-"

"That is a mere myth." Thor booms, and dark clouds start to show up right outside the window.

"Young minds are so malleable." Loki still has that Joker grin. Dad moves almost too fast for Harry to see, hurling a knife at Loki while continuing to block Harry. Loki dodges, just as fast, and starts to laugh.

"Ah, you'll make a wonderful asset to my team of assassins. An obedient puppet to-"

Harry and Steve both start shouting. Harry waves his Wii wand, Steve jumps in front of both Harry and Dad, quicker than any turtle, and holds his shield held up to block them. Harry hears Iron Man's repulsors firing up.

Thor gives Loki a rough shake. "Still your tongue, brother, or I will use the muzzle."

Dad's hands become fists, but not like the Miis' ball hands. His metal arm whirrs angrily.

"These are the heroes you call to defend your planet? Mindless beasts, pretending to be men." Loki shoots a scary look at Dr. Banner, who looks away, then Logan and Dad, who stare back like they want to hurt him.

"Beast isn't here," Harry says, loudly and slowly, because Loki clearly doesn't know who anybody is.

Logan snarls. "You want to find out how feral I can become, bub?"

"How desperate are you, that you call upon such misfits?"

"They're mutants!" Harry says.

"For someone who surrendered, you're sure acting all high and mighty." Mr. Stark says. "Let's get you locked away."

Thor and Miss Romanoff march Loki toward the elevator.

Harry wonders if they'll just shut him in there, and not let him go up or down. Then they couldn't use the elevator either. There are so many stairs in this tower but Harry hasn't seen a single cupboard under any of them.

Thor pushes Loki into the elevator, but follows inside himself. The doors close.

"I can fly you down, Dad." Harry offers with a smile.

Dad's still staring furiously at the elevator doors where Loki, Thor and Romanoff disappeared, but he asks "Fly me down where?"

Harry points down at the city. "'Cos they're in there so we can't use it."

Not long after, Jarvis tells them that the group has left the elevator and it's ready for use.

"I don't want to be like Loki," Harry whispers to Dad.

"You're nothing like him." Dad promises. "Even if you look somewhat similar."

"But what if my bad guy makes me badder and take people's brains?" Harry glances at the elevator. "Then you'll have to lock me up too."

"You are not a criminal, Master Harry, so this will not be your fate." Jarvis says as he brings up a holographic video of Loki in a padded room. There's a window looking inside, like Mr. Stark's basement lab by the beach, only this room doesn't have robots or tables or anything. Just a big padded bench.

The grownups talk a lot about what to do with Loki, and the Tesseract. Thor shares that Loki has an army called the Chitauri, and none of the grownups to know that word, either.

"There's going to be another fight?" Harry's tired of all the fights and bad guys. He misses playing with Dad already.

Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner have already switched to talking about portals. It isn't quite as boring as when Harry had to listen to Uncle's business dinners, but Harry still doesn't understand most of what they're saying, until Thor and Storm talk about how they can both make lightning.

"I always have lightning," Harry shares, pointing at his scar.

"You must be a fine warrior, to have acquired such a scar." Thor smiles at him. Suddenly, he doesn't seem so much like Dudley.

"The baddest wizard tried to kill me, but I lived." Harry shares, before wondering if Loki's worse than the Dark Lord.

Jarvis announces another plane arriving, a SHIELD plane, and Harry wonders if it's HYDRA guys, but then he hears his Grandpa'fessor's voice in his head, reassuring him. Dad and Logan don't look ready to stab someone, so maybe they heard him too.

An angry man with a long, dark coat and an eye patch stalks down the ramp.

"Fury. Hey, we've got two dwarves now." Mr. Stark nods to the new guy and Moody. "I should really introduce you two to Happy. Some of his personality might rub off on you."

"Dwarves?" Thor asks, confused. "You people are tiny, but not dwarves."

Steve smiles slightly. "Bucky and I saw that picture. It was like magic, even better than the usual cartoons."

Steve had said there was no telly when he was a kid, and an adult. Did he lie?

Harry waves as his Grandpa'fessor rolls down the ramp in his wheelchair.

"We have Loki in custody," Miss Romanoff reports.

The angry pirate guy, Fury, tells Romanoff that he wants to know how Loki turned men into flying monkeys.

"Monkeys?" Thor seems just as confused as Harry. "I do not understand."

"I do," Steve raises a hand, smiling slightly. "I understood that reference."

Harry frowns. "He made them monkeys?"

"Not literally," Mr. Stark laughs. "It means he took their brains, and is making them do bad things."

"Did he put in monkey brains?" Harry asks. Or did their bodies turn into monkeys? They already knew he was a brain-stealer like HYDRA.

Miss Romanoff goes down to ask Loki where Barton is and how to get his brain back.

Grandpa'fessor goes too, to try and get the bad out of Loki's brain. He hasn't been able to get rid of Harry's bad guy, though.

Harry watches them on the screen. Grandpa'fessor has his eyes closed and is probably talking in his head.

"Where's Loki's scar?" Harry asks. Loki's forehead is blank, like everyone but Harry. Maybe it's on his shoulder, like Dad's, or maybe some people have their bad guys on the back of their head. "What shape is it?"

"My brother does not have a scar." Thor says.

So nobody put bad stuff in him?

"Was he always a bad guy?"

"No. As children, we were playmates, brothers." Thor takes a breath. "We fought together. Now I must fight him, but we are still brothers."

Harry never had a brother, but he'd heard his Aunt saying Dudley and Piers were like brothers. They ate snacks together, watched telly, crashed trains and pretended to be heroes. Harry had listened to their laughter, knowing the only time he'd ever get to play was when they needed a bad guy to beat up.

Sometimes they'd fight, when Dudley took Piers' snacks.

"Did you play Beat Up Bad Guys?" Harry asks. Thor definitely beats them up now, with that huge hammer. Dudley had pounded Harry with a hammer from a toy workbench, and once used the toy electric drill on Harry's scar.

"Aye, we often pretended to slay Frost Giants in our youth." Thor somehow seems both happy and very sad remembering that. He tells another story of Loki turning into a snake, and when Thor picked the snake up, Loki turned into a person again and stabbed him.

Even though Harry doesn't want to be like Loki, he kind of wants to turn into a snake. He can already talk to them, but it would be fun to be one for a little bit, but not forever.

"You believed he was good?" Fury's one eye stares at Thor like he's crazy.

"He enjoyed mischief-"

Mr. Stark interrupts with "Murderous mischief."

"Have care how you speak." Thor rumbles. He turns to watch the video of Loki. "Loki was not himself when he fell. I know not what happened to him in the void or how he acquired the scepter, but my brother has yet to return. His true nature has been hidden his whole life,"

"You mean his true nature of attempting to conquer other worlds." Fury says.

"Nay," Thor shakes his head.

"Suicidal tendencies?" Mr. Stark says more confusing words. "Yeah, I didn't forget that part."

"His appearance. Given what I know now, I am shocked he is choosing to hide behind blue eyes."

"What do you know?" Fury demands, his eye narrowing. Moody human eye does the same.

"He was born different."

"A mutant?" Harry asks. There are some bad mutants, like Magneto, but Grandpa'fessor says he's not all bad. It's confusing, how people can be good and bad at the same time even though they're opposites.

"A different race from another realm." Thor replies. "Father adjusted Loki's appearance to fit in. His eyes have been green as long as I've known him."

"His eyes were blue when he arrived." Fury scowls. "Barton's eyes turned the same blue when Loki invaded his mind."

Dark clouds form outside the window again. Thunder booms almost as loud as Thor's voice "Someone has used the scepter on Loki!"

Dad's frowning now, but Fury says "You say he got the scepter after he fell. That means he decided to destroy Puente Antiguo all on his own."

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki," Dr. Banner says. "That guy's brain is a bag full of cats. You can smell the crazy on him."

Chapter Text

James's head throbs, the voices inside it drowning the conversation out after Banner's comment about Loki smelling crazy. James is fairly certain Logan voices his agreement, but James does not hear it.

THREAT ASSESSMENT OF LOKI: EXTREMELY HIGH blares the one voice, as if James was not already aware.

Harry's head is clearly bothering him as well. He rubs his scar, repeatedly, and if he could, James would take Harry's pain for him. He doubts even his headache and Harry's combined would be worse than the Chair, or the feeling of the trigger words tearing his will away from him.

James still isn't hearing anything, but he sees Steve sign as his lips move. "You look like you need a nap."

Bet the punk sees this as revenge for makin' him sleep all those times he was sick. Bucky's tone is fondness hidden behind exasperation.

James didn't know he knew sign language, but he doesn't remember learning Russian, or relearning English when he'd been acquired by HYDRA. He's fairly certain he knows other languages besides those three, but does not know which languages they are.

Harry opens his mouth, clearly protesting that only babies need naps until Steve speaks and signs again. "Harry can join you."

James twists his mouth. He couldn't get any sleep, with the voice shouting as loud as if it's under heavy fire in the trenches. He realizes, after the fact, that his hands, flesh and prosthesis, are working together to sign Can't sleep.

Even if the voices shut up, he wouldn't be able to sleep with Loki nearby. He glares at the hologram showing Loki locked in the cell, his mind being probed and prodded by Romanoff and the Professor. The Professor has been able to help James recover quickly from the trigger words, but judging by the pained concentration on both his and Loki's faces, Loki's mind is an even tougher nut to crack than James's own.

Loki has assets and an army and is seemingly the commander and strategist behind the whole operation of invading and conquering Earth. Yet Thor is clearly convinced that Loki has been influenced by the Scepter, that what he'd done to Barton and Selvig had been done to him as well.

He sure seems willing, Bucky sounds thoroughly unconvinced. He's willing to do it again, to us and Harry.

LOKI WILL NOT COMMAND US. The mission voice sounds oddly reassuring.

James can sympathize with Barton and Selvig easily, and hopes that the hold on their minds is broken soon. But trying to imagine Loki in the same possessed state is like trying to imagine Pierce being mind controlled.

He has been, and even he wasn't as diabolical as Loki. Bucky points out. Pierce had always been calm, almost gentle occasionally before he'd slap the Soldier across the face. Pierce had never had that crazed gleam in Loki's eye, even if they both are after world domination.

HAIL HYDRA rings through James's head, and he scowls. The mission voice is not proclaiming its allegiance as it had before. Pierce had said those words on an international broadcast, undoubtedly under the influence of Professor X.

Once James is able to hear past the voices, he almost wishes he couldn't. Onscreen, Loki is practically taunting Romanoff about all the red in her ledger, promising to make Barton kill her before waking up to realize what he's done.

From his place next to James, Logan growls like an animal.

The noise in James's head picks up again, but it's not the voices this time. He hears screams, pleas, gunshots. Brief silences broken by more terror. Instead of the tower, James sees targets and entire families murdered by his hands.

Slowly, the sounds of death are replaced by the Professor's voice in his head, telling him to name five allies in the room with him. James glances around the room. Stark. Logan. Steve. Banner. Harry.

James feels a small hand grasp his and he looks down to see Harry staring right back up, concerned. Harry is still clutching his "Wii wand" but their games from earlier seem long ago. James is more used to having long stretches of time- years even- seem moments apart due to being frozen for the duration.

Looking up, James catches Steve's gaze. Steve is clearly in the middle of strategizing, yet can't seem to stop glancing his way, just as worried as Harry.

Over the video feed of Loki's cell, Romanoff stops fake crying and calmly reports "Loki's after the Hulk. And the Winter Soldier."

He's not in the driver's seat anymore, Bucky says. James clenches his hand. He can fight back now, can regain control from the words made to control him.

"Loki's after me, too." Harry says. James pulls Harry close to reassure himself as much as Harry.

Stark is busy questioning Moody about how the Imperius curse works, how to counter it, and whether or not it could counteract the effects of the scepter. The whole conversation makes James twitchy, imagining Loki making good on his promise of turning him into an obedient puppet.

Then, Stark opens the case and takes out the scepter.

Tony's ready to scan the hell out of this glow stick of destiny and make it tell him all its sweet secrets.

Okay, so the secrets really aren't that sweet. The scepter, while interesting, is quite frankly vile. Not as much of an abomination as the mind-wiping chair, sure, but Tony doesn't blame James at all for glaring daggers at the thing.

Even taking it out of the case makes the air seem... sinister somehow.

James is regarding the thing with extreme suspicion and wariness, and will probably keep Tony from doing anything too risky to it. Bruce also seems to be on team Keep Tony From Prodding the Unknown Alien Artifact Too Much. Thor insists it is too powerful for a mortal.

"Well, I'm known to do the impossible." Tony shoots a grin around the room. "We need to take it apart to know how it works, then we can reverse it."

"It's a stick too. Is it a mem'ry one?" Harry asks. "Are we going to crush it like the Zola stick?"

"That'll probably set it off." Bruce sounds far more strained than Tony's heard him yet, even more than with the reveal of HYDRA. His eyes aren't turning green yet, but there's something somewhat beastly about his voice.

"So, tell me what you see, J." Tony lays the scepter on a table.

"Do you put a mem'ry stick in it?" Harry leans closer until James pulls him away. Before Tony can answer, Harry's asking another question.

"Is Loki going to take the Queen's brain?"

"I thought you humans no longer had monarchy." Thor's brow furrows in confusion.

"We don't," says Steve. "At least, not here."

Harry gives Steve a look like he's a baby who knows nothing. "Yes we do! God save the queen!"

"I will save her if I must," Thor promises solemnly, and Tony can't hold in his laughter.

"There's only one god, and he doesn't dress like you." Steve sighs and gives Tony an exasperated look. "We don't have a queen in America."

Harry's frown is half directed at Steve and half thoughtful, clearly considering something he's never thought about before. "Who's king here in America?"

Logan raises an eyebrow. "Tell me you're not going to ask that in history class ten years from now."

"We fought a whole war to not have a king anymore," Tony tells Harry, though he's back to inspecting the scepter. "Well, not us personally. Even Cap and James aren't that old."

Harry nods slowly. "So now we'll fight a war so Loki's not king?"

"Looks like it," Steve squares his shoulders, putting on his Captain voice. He had essentially just been in a war a few weeks ago, since it's not like he remembers his seven decade hibernation.

Tony glances at James next. He seems sick of fighting for completely understandable reasons, but Tony has no doubt that James will use all his skills to protect Harry.

"The only sort of king Loki will ever be is Scar." Tony mutters, receiving mostly uncomprehending looks. Harry rubs his own scar again, and Tony rolls his eyes. "Geez, I should've started a movie night policy the day you two showed up at my house. Seriously, I haven't shown you The Lion King? Scar literally is Loki in lion form."

"Loki has not shifted into a lion, to my knowledge." Thor says, though he'd been the one who said Loki had shifted into a snake. If Tony didn't know that Bruce could shift into a hulking green figure, he would have said it was impossible.

"If he's a lion, he can eat the queen." Harry says. "Is she magic?"

"No." Moody growls. "He'd go after the Minister of Magic."

"And the King here?"

"There's no king here." Steve repeats, starting to lose his patience.

"Yes there is!" Harry shouts. "Pierce was the bad guy enemy king here!"

"He was secretary, not king." Fury's jaw is tight. Tony's pretty sure Fury was close to Pierce, which brings up some serious concerns about the intelligence agency's intelligence.

"He's going to break out, like Joker!" Harry waves his Wii wand angrily, and a nearby chair skids away several feet without being touched. "And Loki's going to break out, too, 'cos bad guys always break out!"

Tony's enjoyed watching Harry come out of his shell more, lose that submissive and meek demeanor that his scumbag relatives beat into him, but this seems to be full-on toddler tantrum levels. Tony can't blame him, but it's giving him a headache, anyway.

As the arguing continues, Bruce picks up the scepter and Fury barks at him to put it down, reaching for his gun. Harry, who hadn't seemed to notice the gun, yells even louder.

Jarvis raises his own volume to report that all of their heart rates and pulses are elevated, and that the scepter is emitting colossal amounts of an unknown energy. It's glowing more than it had before.

"I'd recommend putting it back in its case immediately, sir." Jarvis says.

James snatches the scepter in his prosthetic hand, shoves it back into the case, slams the lid shut, and deposits the case on the other end of the room. When he returns, a bit of the tension in his shoulders seems to bleed from his body.

Just a bit, though. He's still so tense that both his shoulders look like metal.

Harry, however, is still rubbing his scar. Tony thought that the kid would bounce back the quickest, and then he could kick himself as Harry rubs his scar even more furiously.

Sure, let the kid with an evil wizard's soul trapped in his head near the thing that another evil wizard has been using to amass an army of mind-slaves.

Great thinking there, Tony.

"You, uh, don't feel Loki in there, do you?" Bruce asks Harry. From what Tony can tell, Harry hadn't actually felt the Dark Lord in his head.

Harry keeps rubbing his scar, but he says "He can't fit, 'cos I'm little."

"Little enough to only house one villain," Tony mutters, gesturing to the screen. Loki hasn't made a move to escape yet.

From the stories Thor told of Loki, Loki hadn't always been evil. Tony feels like he almost would have gotten along with the Loki that Thor described. The Loki with a razor-sharp wit and a fierce thirst for knowledge.

The way Thor told it, Loki had been that way for a thousand years, and had only recently turned into a power-hungry, destructive opponent. Thor clearly thinks it was the work of the scepter, but Loki hadn't had the scepter when sending some Iron Man-esque destroyer robot to New Mexico.

But then again, after new Mexico, he'd apparently tried to kill himself in a void. He clearly hadn't been in the best state of mind.

Still, it begs the question of what will happen once the scepter's effects are reversed. Will Barton's loyalty shift just as suddenly back to Fury? If Tony's learned anything about mind control, it's that it has some very lasting effects. But then again, James was brainwashed for far longer than Loki or Barton have been.

"I'm going to take run some tests in the lab. Find what makes the glow stick tick." Tony says, and Bruce gets up to make sure Tony won't blow it up with his tests.

James stalks out of the room, muttering that he's going to the gym. Harry doesn't follow immediately, swinging his Wii remote at the case, then glancing guiltily at Bruce as if that will make the scepter explode.

"Aren't we going to crush it like the mem'ry stick?" Harry jumps, stomping his feet on the ground as hard as he can.

Bruce tries to explain that the thing's stronger than a flash drive, but Harry just looks confused and frustrated. "My dad's stronger than a dumb stick. Is it magic?"

"Whatever you call it, I'm going to understand it soon."

"I'm going to the gym," Harry copies his dad's tone, even his gait, stalking out of the room like a mini-James.

Tony and Bruce head to the lab. Tony's eager to dive in, and quickly loses himself in work. Jarvis keeps him updated on current tower events- Loki's still in his cell, Professor X goes down to the gym.

"We know he's skipping leg day," Tony smirks, earning him an unimpressed look from Bruce. Right, the professor's probably going there to lend an ear. Loki's arrival has affected Harry and James the most, and Tony wouldn't be surprised if James is defeating some workout equipment in his stress.

Tony's fairly certain the Professor thinks Loki is redeemable- after all, he seems to see the best in Magneto, who has similar views of being above humanity.

"Guess our Prof X Machina can't solve this," Tony gestures to the scepter. Honestly, he's having a blast talking science with Bruce in a way the others clearly wouldn't understand. Now he just has to get Hank over here to weigh in, and possibly have the Professor mind-probe it when he's done talking with James and Harry.

Jarvis's readings are very interesting and more than a bit ominous. There's some sort of powerful object in the middle, which Tony supposes was obvious, but still. It's more than he's gotten from Moody's wand. Tony's still half convinced that Moody was joking about wand cores- though he'd pointedly not mentioned his own. Seriously, unicorn hair and dragon heartstrings?

Whatever is in this scepter is more like a stone.

"Sir, an arrow-" Jarvis is cut off as an explosion shakes the tower.

"An arrow has struck the building, sir." Jarvis says. "It exploded before I could notify you, and Captain Rogers has asked what you're doing down here."

"You know it wasn't me." Tony replies, already calling up a suit and glancing at Bruce, who's breathing heavily but has the presence of mind to leave the lab. "Looks like Barton's coming to crash the party."

Chapter Text

James focuses his punches with his right hand, because if he sees his prosthesis punch through a bag, it's going to bring forth images of it breaking people's faces instead of padded leather.

He stops himself, just to ensure he can, and lowers his fists to his side. He hasn't been able to say much to the Professor, but one benefit of a telepathic therapist is that words aren't needed. At least, not out loud.

The Professor is trying to help ease James's mind about Loki, and is giving Harry's concerns equal value, though Harry asks about the medicine balls just as much as the recent events with Loki. "Are they Bludgers? Quaffles?" He hoists one of the lighter ones into the air and starts to carry it to his motorbroom.

James's mind is far from eased. He can fight the trigger words now, but what use is that against Loki, who seems to use a whole other level of mind control.

Part of James wants to take Harry and flee, to disappear rather than stay in the same tower as Loki, but he's painfully aware that, no matter where they go, somebody will find them.

As Harry zooms by on his broom, he offers again to fly them to their safe house. Yet HYDRA had found Xavier's Institute. Many of the X-Men are here in the tower, meaning they would have fewer allies in the mansion. They might be safer here, despite sharing the tower with, as Harry says a brain taker.

With Loki and HYDRA vying for world domination, nowhere they go will ever be truly safe.

As James thinks this, an explosion shakes the tower gym.

James's prosthesis whirs, the plates rippling as it clenches into a fist. Surely Loki's escaped, or Stark has blown up the scepter in his lab.

There is no blaring alarm, thankfully. Instead, Jarvis reports that an arrow has struck the tower and Barton and several agents have entered. The only good news is that Loki is still in his cell, being constantly monitored, and the scepter is intact.

According to Jarvis, Barton and the other agents have infiltrated a few floors above the gym and are busy fighting Romanoff, Steve and Logan.

James still grabs a large barbell, ready to fling it at any intruder. He distantly hears the Professor say, in his head, that such a method is too violent, too lethal. James doesn't want to kill, not anymore, but if it's between killing a HYDRA agent and being recaptured,

Then, a roar shakes the floor, loud enough to be heard from several stories away.

"Hulk." Xavier explains, closing his eyes, clearly trying to form a link with Hulk.

"Hulk's a good guy?" Harry checks, glancing at James. He attempts to lift a small free weight, then drops it and clutches his Wii wand.

James doesn't know if the Hulk is on their side or not, but a more pressing issue presents itself.

Barton drops out of an air vent, not quite catching James by surprise, but dodging the weight hurled at his head. He unslings the bow hanging over his shoulder. Despite the tense situation, Bucky sounds amused. A bow? Those were outdated back when I was active, pal.

Harry waves his wand furiously, shouting "Go 'way, arrows!" It is not as effective as when he'd unintentionally disarmed Romanoff. One arrow drops feebly out of Barton's quiver. A more vigorous wave makes an arrow shoot upward. Barton grabs the arrow from midair, nocks it in his bow, and fires.

Barton's aim and speed with his bow easily rivals James's own marksmanship. James's prosthesis is the only thing stopping him from being pierced, and he flings the arrow away in case it explodes.

James leaps at Barton, who dodges behind a treadmill, then vaults off of it too retrieve his arrow from the ceiling.

James wants to shout at Harry to run and find somewhere to hide, but it sounds like Banner's still rampaging somewhere as the Hulk. Harry could run into the other agents or, even worse, Loki.

"Get behind the ring!" James orders, but Harry does not listen. He's flying toward them on his motorbroom, struggling to hold a medicine ball with one hand. The weight of the ball makes him lose his balance and he topples off the motorbroom onto the floor. An easy target for Barton.

Barton turns toward Harry as the ball rolls to James's boot. James hurls it at Barton, who spots it coming and ducks just in time.

Barton uses the large gym to his advantage, keeping his distance and climbing up a rope for a better perch. He is far more impressive a fighter than other enemy assets- namely Snape- were, despite not appearing to have any magic. His weaponized sticks are all projectiles, and when James corners him on the ground, he uses his bow as a quarterstaff.

Romanoff drops out of the vent, wrapping her arms around Barton's neck. James punches him in the head but holds back, not wanting to kill him. Barton has no more say in what he does under Loki's control than the Soldier had under HYDRA's, and despite Loki's threats to mess with Harry's magic, Barton had not attacked Harry.

Barton goes down with the blow, groaning, and Romanoff rolls off his shoulders but crouches, ready. Barton's eyes are no longer the blue of the scepter, and they soften slightly when they catch sight of Romanoff.

"'Tasha?" he asks. His eyes travel to Harry, bruised on the floor, and widen, concerned.

Romanoff kicks Barton in the head, and he goes down. A hearing aid slides across the floor. He's alive, but unconscious, though Harry clearly doesn't know the difference, nonchalantly asking if Romanoff killed him.

Romanoff's face is blank, but James knows she would be devastated to lose Barton.

James glances back at the Professor, who had backed his chair off to the side during the fight. His expression is far-off, his mind clearly somewhere other than the gym. Despite all his telepathic powers, the Professor could not break the control of the scepter, yet a solid blow to the head seems to have returned Barton's mind to him.

If a punch had been enough to break the Chair's effects, well, the HYDRA handlers would have seen different results during compliance conditioning.

Romanoff picks up the hearing aid and starts to haul the unconscious Barton off, saying she'll check his allegiance when he wakes.

James kneels down, checking Harry's injuries. He's bruised from his fall, but it's no worse than the injuries he'd sustained on other flights.

"Don't ever do that again," James tells him sternly. "I told you to hide."

"But it's medicine!" Harry argues. "It makes the sick stop. And gives brains back."

If the ball had hit Barton in the head, it likely would have had the same effect as a punch, but Harry doesn't need to know that.

Harry would likely try throwing it at Loki next.

"I don't want you getting hurt." James says.

"I don't want you getting hurt!" Harry says back, furious tears welling in his eyes. "Nobody hurts my dad!"

"I'd hurt more if you were hurt." James pulls Harry close. "Stop doing dangerous things."

Even though Harry and Steve are not particularly close, they share a similar trait of stupidly throwing themselves into danger. The Bucky voice would probably be amused if he wasn't so worried about Harry and whatever Steve is up to now.

Punk's probably throwing himself at the Hulk. Bucky is clearly itching for James to go check on Steve, even though he's no longer ninety-five pounds and with a long list of health conditions.

James knows Jarvis can't hear Bucky's voice, but Jarvis answers all the same "Captain Rogers has just neutralized the agents that accompanied Agent Barton. Mr. Stark and Professor X have talked the Hulk back into Dr. Banner, but not without some significant property damage. Loki remains in his cell. He attempted to trick Thor into thinking he escaped until I informed him Loki was casting an illusion. Mr. Moody is keeping his eyes on Loki as well."

All in all, it could have gone a lot worse. Barton was likely trying to set Loki free, but they set Barton free instead.

It would be best if Barton wakes up to a familiar face. Romanoff sits beside the bed where Barton lays unconscious. The bed is angled, more like a chair. When she'd brought Barton in, Romanoff had started to strap his arms down. The sight made James's breath come out harsh, his body rigid despite there being no metal halo above the bed.

James and Harry wait in another room, behind a one-way mirror. Not even Barton's sharp eyes would be able to pick them out.

"Is all his bad out?" Harry asks for the tenth time as he rolls the medicine ball around the floor. He swings the Wii wand at it, trying to make it roll on its own, but nothing happens.

"Seems to be," James replies. "We can't be sure until he wakes up."

The Professor has not probed Barton's mind to check, claiming he's been invaded enough recently and has not consented.

"Why's he sleeping?" Harry pokes the glass. "He's a grownup. Grownups don't take naps."

James recalls at least three assassinations that would disprove that, the napping targets unaware that they'd never wake up.

"They do if you hit them hard enough." James says. He never liked bullies and doesn't want Harry to learn the wrong lesson. "Don't hit people to make them go to sleep."

"You did,"

We don't hit you at bedtime, Bucky says, then swears colorfully, sounding guilty. James does not voice that thought aloud.

The medicine ball thunks against the wall separating the two rooms. Harry does it again. "When's he going to wake up?"

Barton groans in the other room, squinting before opening his eyes. James watches Barton's eyes do the familiar scan for threats, allies, weapons exits. Barton grimaces, clenching his fists, and his forehead shines with sweat.

James hears Romanoff tell Barton he's going to be all right. "You know that?" Barton echos in disbelief.

"Have you ever had someone take your brain out and play? Pull you out and stuff someone else in?"

All the time, pal.

"You know what it's like to be unmade?" Barton asks, almost demands. Romanoff remains calm.

"You know that I do," Romanoff had even told Loki, during the interrogation, of how Barton had been sent to kill her but made a different choice.

Romanoff glances at the one-way mirror. "But I know someone who knows even better than I do."

James takes his cue from Romanoff, stepping into the room. Barton's gaze fixes on James, boring into his eyes, likely assessing if they're tesseract-blue. James knows his own eyes have some gray in them, aren't the same color as the brainwashed agents' or Loki's.

"I fought you." Barton tells James, unnecessarily. His memory isn't quite that bad. "You're on our side."

"I'm won't work for SHIELD." James says, tone flat. Barton had recruited Romanoff, but he won't recruit James.

Barton snorts slightly. "I'd be worried if you wanted to, at this point. Seems half of SHIELD was secretly HYDRA."

He grimaces as if smelling something foul. "How many of our agents did I-"

"Don't." Romanoff cuts him off immediately. "Don't do that to yourself. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic, and HYDRA. Nothing we were ever trained for."

Barton's eyes dart back toward James. Clearly he hadn't missed how Romanoff had been speaking to both of them.

In 1.2 minutes, Barton's already said more about his time under Loki's control than James or Logan have shared about the Winter Soldier or Weapon X programs in weeks.

"You got him out of my head." Barton says to James. "How'd you do it?"

"Cognitive recalibration," Romanoff says. It sounds like-

THE CHAIR.

Barton's brow furrows, and Romanoff explains "We each hit you really hard in the head."

Part of James is still jealous it was that easy, but he's glad Barton didn't lose himself permanently. It appears Barton has been repaired, re-made. There was enough left of him to return.

Too much of Bucky has been wiped out. The Professor confirmed that Bucky is a memory, an echo, not enough to become a person again. Even if Bucky had somehow made it back fully, Professor X had stressed to both Steve and James, he wouldn't be the Bucky that Steve remembers. Becoming a parent changes people.

James wonders what would have happened if HYDRA had used the scepter to control him rather than the chair. He pushes the thought away. There is no use thinking of what-ifs.

Harry bursts through the door without knocking. "Is all his bad out?"

Barton stares at Harry, eyes quickly cataloguing his bruises. "Did I knock you off that- whatever it was?"

"I fell," Harry says carelessly. "Does Dad need to punch you again?"

"No, I'm good." Barton huffs and turns to James. "You've got a mean swing. I've heard you have wicked aim too. When all this is over, ten bucks says I can beat you at darts."

Ten bucks?! Bucky's probably remembering how much that was in the forties.

"Aun' Tuna hit me with a pan and I waked up in my cupboard." Harry rubs the back of his head this time, mussing his long hair with a petulant pout. "Why's my bad guy still in my head?"

"Loki's got you too?" Barton stares into Harry's green eyes.

"I have another bad wizard."

Barton winces in sympathy and turns to Romanoff. "When Coulson gave me the crash course on magic, well... I didn't expect mind control."

The words are light, but his tone is heavy.

"Thor says Loki's being controlled too."

Barton scowls and thinks. "I don't like the bast- bad guy" he quickly censors himself in a way that indicates he's familiar being around small children. "When he first showed up through the portal, he was sweaty and shaking. Pale."

Just as Barton is, now.

Barton doesn't need to say more. James is familiar with torture, and he's sure the two agents are as well.

"I don't think he's the head honcho." Barton mutters, clearly unhappy about the fact. Harry rubs his head again, confused, and Barton cracks a minuscule smile. "The big boss. The person upstairs. At least, not this time. But he's going to make his move soon. Today."

"He's still locked up," Romanoff glances at the ceiling, and Jarvis confirms that Loki is still in his cell.

"If we hit Loki, will his bad come out too?" Sure enough, Harry looks back toward where he left the medicine ball before looking at the ceiling as well. "And then there's no war?"

"It's worth a shot," Barton says with a frown. "If it doesn't work, well, a shot from my bow might do the trick. And help me sleep at night."

Chapter Text

"Dad needs to hit Loki's head really, really hard!" Harry tells the other superheroes, trying to hold the medicine ball and point to Mr. Barton at the same time. "It made his bad leave. Only it didn't work when Uncle Vernon tried to wallop the freaks outta me."

Logan growls at that. Mr. Stark looks angry, and the new guy, Mr. Barton, holds his bow tightly.

They were not trying to help you, Harry. Grandpa'fessor's voice is inside Harry's head now, not outside. He's somewhere else, not in the room, unless he's invisible like Moody can be. They hit you to hurt you.

"Did you get hurt when you got hit?" Harry asks Mr. Barton, out loud instead of in his head.

"A mighty blow freed you from the scepter?" Thor pounds his big hammer into his own hand. "Mjolnir did not free Banner from his berserker form."

"But if it does free Loki, he'll go back to normal?" Steve asks, folding his arms.

"Aye," Thor says, seeming hopeful.

"That's not super reassuring, considering your childhood stories involve him literally stabbing you in the back." Mr. Stark says.

Mr. Fury still seems angry, but he agrees with Steve and Mr. Stark. "And your adult stories involve him leveling towns,"

Thor is quiet before saying "He's adopted."

"What's adopted?" Harry repeats the word carefully.

Mr. Barton crouches to be Harry's height. Harry smiles. It's nice not having to look up at all the adults.

"Adopted means that your birth mom and dad couldn't take care of you-"

"They died." Harry shares.

Mr. Barton winces and says sorry, even though he didn't kill them, the bad wizard did. "So someone else chose to be your dad."

Harry grins and squeezes his arms around Dad's legs. He tells Mr. Barton and Thor about having a whole X-Family now. "Mr. Stark's my other, other dad, only Ms. Jean's not my other mum. But I have a grandpa'fessor, and Logan, and a big blue doctor." Harry sighs. "And Steve."

"Yeah, he and your dad were like brothers." Mr. Barton says.

"I wish Loki took the news as well as you." Thor tells Harry, sort of sadly. "No matter what Loki may believe, he will always be my brother. The scepter hold on Loki may be hard to break."

Harry holds up his medicine ball, almost dropping it on his head. Dad snatches it out of the air and says "No."

"It's not medicine." Mr. Stark laughs, and Harry scowls.

"You're not that doctor," Harry reminds him, because Mr. Stark said that himself. He's some other kind of doctor that doesn't help sick people, even though that's what doctors do.

Harry looks around for Doctor Banner or Doctor Beast, but neither are here right now.

"Doctor Beast said I'm the doctor and it's medicine." Harry reaches for the ball, but Dad holds it out of reach.

"He didn't say that." Dad tells him.

"Yes he did!"

Mr. Barton starts laughing too. "Oh boy, the bluffing stage. You're in for it now, Stark."

"Yeah, and some people never grow out of it." Mr. Stark shoots a look at Miss Romanoff for some reason.

"Give it, please!" Harry stands on his tippy toes reaching for the ball, but Dad keeps it out of reach. "I'm going to heal Loki. Take his bad out. And then he has to stay in bed so there's no war."

"I have no doubt you're a fine warrior," Thor tells Harry with a wide smile, in a way Dudley never smiled at Harry. "But leave this to me."

Thor strides off with his cape billowing. Harry asks Jarvis where his and Dad's Robin and Batman capes are.

"I thought you hung up your cape. That you didn't want to be a superhero anymore," Mr. Stark says.

"But I have to, 'cos there's so many bad guys." Harry sighs. "And Dad was going to get hurt."

"I told you," Dad squats to look Harry in the eye, even more serious than usual. "I'd be hurt more if you were hurt."

Harry squints, confused. How could Dad be hurt more if Harry stopped him from getting hurt?

Dad lets out a breath and runs his metal hand through his own hair. "Don't fly your broom into battles. When I tell you to hide, you hide. Like with Jarvis."

"If I were your dad, I'd take your broom away." Mr. Barton glances from Harry to Dad.

Harry glowers. "You're not my dad."

"No motorbroom for the rest of today." Dad tells him. "Or tomorrow."

"No! I need it!" Harry cries. He tugs Dad's hand, hoping he'll change his mind.

Harry feels something hot, like when his scar's on fire, only it's in his chest. Dudley would have screamed and shouted until he got his way. Harry wants to scream too.

He stomps his foot as a test. He got treated like Dudley when he was sick, all tucked in and cared for, so maybe he can get away with this.

Harry starts to stomp toward the elevator, ready to go back to the gym to get his motorbroom, but Dad pulls him back, still crouched down.

With a shout, Harry rams his head into Dad's metal shoulder, pressing his lightning scar against Dad's star. There's no shock like when Storm shoots lightning; instead, Harry's head hurts and he sees weird colors.

Dad scoops Harry up over his shoulder, still keeping the medicine ball out of reach, and carries him into a bedroom.

Jarvis speaks from the ceiling. "I trust I need not inform you that spanking is considered an unhealthy discipline technique?"

"I'm not going to hit him," Dad mutters, then looks into Harry's eyes. "I'm not going to hit you. Ever. Besides, you're hurting yourself enough."

"Time-out is an appropriate discipline technique for toddlers. Many parents designate a space- typically a chair- to act as the time out location."

Harry can feel Dad's skin hand trembling, though his metal hand stays still. He's not really looking at Harry anymore.

"My sincerest apologies,"

Dad's still shaking, and after a bit he shakes his head. He looks at Harry again. "I'm not going to shut you away somewhere. You've had too much of that already."

"You do not need to 'shut him away' anywhere. The cells here are not for children. You merely need a safe area where Master Harry can be alone and calm himself down."

Harry was by himself in the cupboard, except for the spiders. He liked being left alone there, but he didn't like being hungry, and he starts to wonders if Dad won't give him dinner.

"I'm won't take food away either." Dad says. "Just your motorbroom. As long as you're safe with it when you get it back, I won't take it away again.."

Harry wants his motorbroom back so bad. He stamps his foot again.

"You know better ways to get your mad out. You've shown me some. You can draw. You can punch a punching bag or a pillow." Dad reaches for the pillow on the bed and passes it to Harry. "Stay here."

Dad walks out of the room, leaving the door open a bit, so Harry can see the crowd of superheroes standing in the sitting room.

"You're a bad dad!" Harry yells after him. He doesn't get it. Uncle Vernon never said "no" to Dudley. Dudley fought a lot. He hit his parents and hit Harry with toys until they broke. Dudley always got a new, better toy, and Harry always got in trouble for breaking things.

"Master Harry, I want to stress that you are not in trouble for having these emotions." Jarvis says, as calm as always. "It has been a chaotic couple of days, and it is quite understandable that you have big feelings you don't know how to handle. Some quiet time will help you calm down."

"Would I be in trouble if I throwed a fit like Dudley?" Harry knew better than to try it at the Dursleys', or even ask, but here he's loved like Dudley was.

"I would not advise behaving in such a manner. Since you are four, I am going to set a timer for four minutes." Jarvis shows a hologram and Harry stares at the numbers in confused anger.

"That's three and five." Harry jabs the floating numbers. The four's supposed to be in the middle, and the number after the five keeps changing.

Jarvis doesn't answer with words, but two holographic bulbs appear next to the numbers. See-through sand falls from the top bulb to the bottom one. Harry sticks his hand through it, trying to get the clear sand to fall faster, but it doesn't work.

He climbs on the bed to jump. It's not quite flying, but it's something he never got to do at the Dursleys. He jumps until Jarvis tells him that the timer won't start until he's sitting calmly.

Harry flops onto the bed to watch a bird fly past the window, and imagines flying over the city when he gets his motorbroom back.

Tony tries to ignore the memories of Howard casting him away, dismissing anything he did and generally treating him as a nuisance.

That's not what James is doing here. Tony's not entirely sure what James is doing, and it seems James isn't either, but Jarvis has been researching parenting. With Jarvis's help, Tony figures they can't be screwing Harry up too badly. Not that any of them are shining examples of well-adjusted adults.

The fact that Harry felt safe enough to start a tantrum seems like something to celebrate, but Tony certainly doesn't want Harry to become like his descriptions of his cousin.

James slips out of the bedroom, moving as silent as a shadow to stand next to Agent Barton. He trusted the agent surprisingly quickly considering their first interaction was a fight. Then again, Logan isn't exactly easy to get along with and James is chummier with him than with his long-lost buddy Steve.

Tony snorts at his own mental description. James isn't chummy with anyone, not even Harry.

He notices Barton studying him, and gestures to Barton's bow. "Hey, Legolas. If you want an upgrade from the middle ages, all you need to do is ask."

Barton doesn't rise to the bait. "I'm surprised you hid a kid from the press. I mean, you announced you were Iron Man."

"You're surprisingly comfortable around kids. Have you and Coulson been watching Supernanny together?" Tony counters. Seriously, the guy seems more at ease with a preschooler than any of them. "Not to mention, you're surprisingly invested in his privacy."

Barton shrugs noncommittally, face impassive, but Tony's starting to suspect he's not the only one keeping secrets. Not that spies keeping secrets is a surprise by any means.

Tony's thoughts are interrupted by the ding of the elevator and the doors opening. Professor X rolls out, followed by Thor, who has his arm draped over Loki's shoulders.

Suddenly, Harry's punishment seems inconsequential compared to whatever Loki's will be.

Several people in the room immediately tense up, and Barton slips on a pair of shades that aren't as cool as Tony's.

Tony asks "You want a drink?"

Not waiting for an answer, he saunters over to the bar, pulling decanters off the shelf. He pours several glasses and throws Logan a beer, even though he has much better alcohol.

Thor seems reluctant to let go of Loki, but eager to try the scotch. He pronounces it weak compared to Asgardian mead, and Tony makes a show of acting personally offended.

"I'm going to be good now!" Harry announces as he bursts out of the bedroom. His time-out or whatever must be up, because Jarvis and James don't tell him to go back. Harry skids to a stop, suddenly noticing Loki's arrival, and asks "Are you good now? Is your bad out?"

It's childishly simple, yet Thor also insists that his brother has returned. Harry accepts the news easily.

"My turn!" Harry insists, staring at Loki. "He's magic and you got his bad out! So now we get my bad out and I'll never be in trouble again."

Loki's green eyes aren't as crazed, but they seem to see into Harry, and he reaches out a pale, slender hand.

James pulls Harry away with a murderous glare, clearly not ready to trust Loki near his son.

"He has a parasite," Loki says. "Nothing you mortals could remove without serious injury."

"If you lay a hand on him-" James leaves the threat hanging, the servos in his prosthesis whirring ominously.

"First show us you're on our side," Thor says, pulling Loki back.

"I'd advise you be on your best behavior," Tony tells Loki sternly. "If you aren't, we've got a whole team here who can pummel you into the ground."

Tony glances at Harry and hastily adds "Not you, kiddo."

"Ah, so I get treated to your especially tender hospitality." Loki smirks. Now that his eyes are green, his resemblance to Harry is more unsettling. "Or did you threaten Agent Barton as well?"

"How come you get locked up for fighting?" Harry asks out of nowhere, seeming more cautious of Loki than scared.

"Because he did a bad thing." Tony says. Most of them have, honestly, but Harry doesn't know their whole histories.

Harry seems more confused by Tony's answer. "But Dad's not locking me up,"

Thor is gazing meaningfully at Loki. "You may be able to lessen your sentence, if you help us stop the invasion."

"That you brought," Barton points out, though with less heat than Tony expected.

Neither Thor nor Loki acknowledge Barton. Thor is still focused intently on Loki. "Show that you were not in control, that you are in control now."

"He still killed people before, when he was in control." Fury's eyes bore just as deep as Loki's.

"And you haven't?" Loki asks, with an imperiously raised brow. He'd spouted off Romanoff's dark past and hinted at James' time as an assassin. It's unsettlingly possible that he knows all of their secrets.

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. Loki's got a point. They all got second chances, and it's only fair if Loki gets one as well. Combined, they may have killed more people on Earth than Loki has.

The elevator dings again, and Coulson joins them. "SHIELD has a habit of looking past people's pasts,"

"And looking past HYDRA." James keeps his voice deadpan. Coulson is normally unflappable, but he looks rather ashamed about that. Fury looks as angry as ever.

"So if I help you fight, I walk free?" Loki asks. "I could break out, of course, but-"

"Why does he get to fight?" Harry demands.

"Because he's a grown-up." Coulson explains, simply. "You're not old enough to be a soldier."

"Or drive," Steve adds.

"I'm old enough to fly!" Harry boasts, and his face falls comically as he remembers he's not allowed on his motorbroom. He starts to whine again, "I want to help save people,"

"You don't want to be a soldier," James says with his usual thousand-yard stare. Thor looks like he'll refute Barnes on that, but chooses not to say anything.

Barton crouches to be on Harry's level again.

"I know you're surrounded by heroes, Harry. Seems like your family's full of them." Barton must be looking around the group, though he keeps his shades on. "Is there anyone in your family who isn't a superhero?"

James gestures to himself, and Harry frowns, clearly disagreeing. He thinks for a moment.

"My Aunt and Uncle weren't." Harry says, and Barton nods.

"They sure weren't. I meant in your adopted family."

"My X-Family's all heroes!" Harry spreads his arms and legs out like an X. It's a ridiculous pose, but Harry stands confidently.

"Exactly. Of course you want to be a superhero, being surrounded by heroes. But there are so many other things you can be, right now."

"Like an engineer," Tony offers. Quite frankly, the best part of being Iron Man is making the suits. And flying, but he won't mention that to the kid whose broom's been taken away.

"On a train?" Harry asks, not particularly enthused. It's been a while since he talked about Thomas or trains. Batman had taken over, and since they've been staying at Xavier's school, he's been all about superpowers and sports in an effort to fit in with the big kids.

"I meant building things," Tony lists off examples. "Like your safe house, or the armor for the toy me. You're a creative kid."

"Or drawing," says Steve. "Sports."

Harry climbs atop one of the bar stools, hoisting himself onto the countertop.

James offers his own praise, stating Harry makes good hot cocoa and he could aspire to be a baker instead of a hero.

Harry reaches for one of the glasses on the bar.

Thankfully, Jarvis had thought ahead to stock the bar with apple juice. "This is the kid drink," Tony clarifies, pouring Harry a glass. "None of the big kids can have what I'm having, either."

Barton snorts, clearly figuring Tony hadn't been one to follow alcohol age laws.

Once Harry's finished with his juice, Tony shoos him away to play Wii or build something. Really, Harry needs to focus on being a kid, and let the adults worry about saving the world.

Chapter Text

Harry seems to have forgiven James for implementing time-out, but still, part of James feels guilty. He'd witnessed the Dursleys give Harry time-out in the cupboard.

The bedrooms in the tower are, if possible, even more grandiose than the bedrooms at Xavier's Institute or Stark's mansion in Malibu. James does not remember any of the Brooklyn apartments that Bucky had lived in, but Steve had commented that bedrooms now are bigger than entire apartments they'd lived in before.

Rich people bedrooms, anyway. Bucky notes. The smaller buildings visible from the window clearly have smaller apartments, many of which are likely the dimensions Steve described. We're in the lap of luxury.

Keeping Harry safe had already been a full-time mission, but Harry's making it harder, and James doubts that time-out will magically fix the issue.

He glances at Steve, who had spent a lot of time out sick and would be back to scrapping in alleys as soon as he was well enough to go out again. Harry has the same stubborn streak as Steve.

James half expects he'll be dragging Harry out of fights his whole life, just as Bucky had with Steve.

For now, though, Harry asks to play Wii.

THE WII HAS BOXING,

The Wii might not be the best choice if he's trying to convince Harry to stay out of fights. James wonders if he should confiscate the Wii remote. Harry had tried to use it as a weaponized wand twice, on both Barton and Loki.

Would Barton suggest confiscating it like Harry's motorbroom?

Before James can ask, Jarvis shares that too much screen time is not healthy for development, and Harry has already played the limit recommended by doctors.

Harry asks if he's in trouble, and clearly doesn't get why doctors would say it's bad. "Can I ring Doctor Beast?"

Beast confirms that Harry should play with something that doesn't involve screens. Harry huffs about doctors being no fun, making him stay in bed and not play.

"There are plenty of things to do, Master Harry." Jarvis suggests finding a book to have read to him, drawing Harry's attention to the children's books on the shelves.

Instead, Harry pulls thick books off the shelves, staggering under the weight of a large stack. He's determined to carry it, proudly proclaiming himself strong, but accidentally dumps the pile on the floor.

Rather than picking it up, Harry waves the Wii wand at the stack. "I'm going to lift them like Miss Jean!"

The books levitate, neatly stacking themselves and floating to Harry's arms. Harry gasps, dropping the Wii Wand on the floor. "Did you see me? Did you see?!"

He's so excited that he almost drops the stack again. James notices Loki smirking faintly, having made a quick gesture with his hand as the books stacked themselves.

"Do you Midgardians encourage boys to pursue scholarly activities?" Loki shoots a scathing, pointed look at Thor.

"We do here," Stark replies easily. "I made being a nerd cool."

Thor beams at his brother. "He is indeed much like you."

Something almost like approval flashes over Loki's face as he watches Harry. James isn't sure he likes the thought of Harry being like a younger Loki.

Harry frowns as he deposits the stack of books on the floor, careful to keep them balanced. Rather than opening any of them, he runs back to the shelf for more. He keeps stacking them rather than reading them.

Loki levitates a few more, but Harry soon realizes who is really doing the magic. He takes those books off the tower and insists on doing it himself.

By now, the tower is as tall as Harry. He throws books up in the air, clearly hoping they'll settle on the top. He almost knocks the whole tower down, but it's held up by an invisible force that seems to actually be Harry's doing rather than Loki's.

Professor X tells Harry that he must treat books better, and Loki clearly agrees. The books float gently to the ground.

"Okay, Grandpa'fessor," Harry dutifully hands books to James, who places them atop the tower.

When they're done, Harry takes all the credit.

"I made our tower!" Harry points proudly to the precarious stack that really should have fallen over. Harry pokes his finger against individual books. "Here's the car floor, and here's the gym. This is the time-out for bad guys floor."

Harry pauses to stare at Loki, then stretches in an attempt to reach the top. "And when everyone's good, they go all the way up here!"

Moments after admiring his creation, Harry abruptly demolishes it. The toppled books spill across the floor.

"Gentle," Professor X admonishes.

"The monsters killed it!" Harry shouts at the top of his lungs.

Stark eyes the mess of books. "I hope that's not what happens to this tower,"

Harry swings his Wii wand wildly, battling invisible foes.

James sighs heavily. Had the whole talk of being something other than a hero gone in one ear and out the other? James thought he was the one with a bad memory.

Then again, as Barton had said, Harry's surrounded by heroes and is obviously trying to impress them.

Loki snaps his fingers, and the scattered books immediately fly back to their places on the shelves, lining themselves up neatly.

Stark makes a nonsensical remark about a spoonful of sugar helping the ingestion of medication.

Harry doesn't pause his pretend battle as he protests "I'm not sick!"

Stark laughs and mentions Mary Poppins, though the name appears to be as meaningless to Loki and Thor as it is to Steve, Harry and James.

Harry climbs onto the couch, ready to leap off. Barton swoops in at about the same time as James. Even so, Barton doesn't turn his back to Loki for an instant.

James glances at Barton. Barton isn't a handler, but still seems to know how to implement discipline.

James is frozen, unsure what to do. The amount of power he has over Harry makes him dizzy. Harry unknowingly had even more power over the Soldier and never abused it. James doesn't want to abuse his power here, but it's all he knows. He doesn't know how to have this much authority, after a lifetime of having none.

Even if Harry can argue and whine in ways the Soldier couldn't, it feels like too much.

The thought of punishing Harry still makes James uneasy, remembering his own punishments in the hands of HYDRA, but he'd seen firsthand that being too lenient creates pint-sized delinquents like the Dursley boy.

Steve's ma wasn't lenient, and he was still a pint-sized punk.

James ignores Bucky.

Should he send Harry to time-out again? Can there be too much time-out?

"I think you need an even better fortress than a tower," Barton says, and Stark tells Barton, indignantly but without any heat, to get out of the tower if he can't properly appreciate it.

Barton huffs with a small smile. "You ever make a blanket fort, kid?"

"Like a bed?" Harry asks, skeptically.

"Not quite," Barton then tells Harry he has a super special mission for him, and sends Harry to gather all the blankets and pillows from the bedroom.

When Harry's off on his mission, Fury and Coulson question Loki about the Chitauri, clearly believing they'll bring ruin to New York as Harry had to the book tower. It is a more intense interrogation than the questioning James had undergone as Batman when Romanoff and Coulson invaded Stark's workshop in Malibu.

Minutes into the interrogation, a high shout comes from the bedroom. "Dad, help! Logan!"

James almost slams the door off the hinges in his haste to get to Harry. He envisions agents dropping from the vents or smashing through the window as several thuds come from the bedroom.

Bursting in, he finds Harry on the floor with the king size sheet wrapped around him like a mummy's bandages. Harry's trying to roll out of it, but entangling himself more, kicking the nightstand as he squirms.

Logan arrives at James's heels, and Harry shouts from his coccoon. His voice is muffled, and even with enhanced hearing, James can't tell if he says get me out or cut me out.

There is no snikt of Logan's claws. James kneels down to unwrap the sheet from around his son.

"It won't make a good fort in ribbons," he says.

Once Harry's been extracted from the still-intact sheets, he insists on dragging them himself, even though they're four times his total size.

Harry manages to haul the sheets out on his own, but they keep falling to the floor when he tries to prop one end over the sofa.

James helps Harry secure the blanket over the couch, then stretch it in an incline to the floor.

During the process, Harry interrupts the interrogation to ask his own questions. After spending time around Moody, Harry is completely unfazed by Fury's glare.

Harry asks if Thor ate all the food, gesturing between Loki's slender body and Thor's bulkier frame. Thor's barely admitted that he enjoys feasts tremendously before Harry's rattling off more questions, mostly about magic.

"Can you make things fly? Can you make me fly?"

"No flying," James reminds him.

"I'm not on my broom!" Harry says. Loki smirks and James shakes his head, giving Loki more of a warning look than Harry.

"No flying," James repeats, sternly. Harry humphs, but soon returns to working on his fort.

By the time the fort is finished, Steve is leading the planning session on how to hold off the army. It sounds as if prevention is no longer a possibility. There will be a fight.

Loki offers his own strategies, which Fury is clearly torn between accepting as inside intel or viewing as an attempt at sabotage.

BE MISSION READY, the voice commands. The Soldier usually hadn't been privy to the planning sessions, merely thawed to receive orders and be sent out, but it still feels as if James supposed to be preparing for an op.

James reminds himself that the mission is to protect Harry, who has climbed into the blanket fort. James does not like the idea of going under the blanket, of not having visuals of his surroundings when there are agents and former enemies present.

"Dad! Come see my cozy cupboard!" Harry calls from under the blanket, far calmer than he'd been before.

James frowns at his son's choice of words. It would be as if James built himself another cryogenic chamber, or languished on the armchairs that he still cannot bring himself to sit on, no matter how superficial their resemblance to The Chair is.

Taking a breath and trusting Jarvis, Stark or Logan to alert him to any threats, James ducks under the blanket fort. It's smaller than the cupboard, but Harry seems far from bothered. He's sprawled over the pillows, stroking the fabric walls.

"I'm going to live in here forever," Harry smiles, but James's frown doesn't lift. The blanket walls are not opaque, he can see see his surroundings outside the fort, but the feeling of leaving himself vulnerable doesn't leave.

How does this not feel like a punishment to Harry? Why had he protested staying in a large bedroom with a city view, and is now reverting to shutting himself in tight places?

"You won't be able to see all your family in here," James points out. The fort's barely big enough for him and Harry, let alone their large family they've built for themselves.

Harry sits up, considering, then wriggles out of his fort. James ducks out, too, relieved to leave.

Harry runs into the kitchen, and returns with an armful of food. Stark makes no comment.

As Harry slips back into his fort, he shouts, "Come in! It's big enough! I love magic!"

James ducks under, figuring the fort seems bigger without him in there. The fort is much, much more spacious than it should be. It appears to be a whole suite now, with sprawling rooms and lots of lighting. The pillows have been replaced with actual furniture.

James isn't sure Harry needs his own penthouse in the middle of Stark's.

Stark pokes his head in next, his eyes widening as he starts talking about all the laws of physics that are being broken. James is sure Stark will be interrogating Loki next.

Harry jumps on the sofa, delightedly proclaiming that they can do that in his cozy cupboard.

"This isn't a cupboard," James tells him.

Other members trickle in, but some seem wary to leave Loki out of their sight, despite the slight transparency of the blanket walls remaining.

Harry takes his duties as host seriously. He leads his guests the kitchen, which has far more food than the things he'd smuggled in. Nobody seems particularly willing to eat it, unwilling to trust magic food. Romanoff eyes the expanded walls as if they'll suddenly begin shrinking until they're all squeezed into one blanket.

"You allow smoking here?" Logan asks.

Jarvis interrupts to insist that smoking only take place on the balconies, citing the dangers of secondhand smoke inhalation for non-enhanced individuals, especially children.

Outside the fort, Steve has suited up in his Captain America suit, and tells Logan it's time to don his suit. James sees Loki's clothes suddenly change, magically, no doubt.

Steve pokes his head in to eye James. They're both silent, leaving much unsaid. Steve is likely thinking of past battles he fought with Bucky. He opens his mouth, but Stark brushes past and holds something metal out to James.

"You already have a kick ass prosthesis, but I know you rival Legolas over there. And I stopped making weapons, so no rifles."

James takes it, and the thing wraps around his prosthetic hand, an extra layer of metal over metal.

It's a gauntlet, modeled after the ones on the Iron Man suits. It shines the same silver as his arm, but there's a thin, red lightning bolt on one of the fingertip.

James is silent. He's a sniper, of course, was in both his lifetimes. He doesn't want to fight, but having the ability to shoot down enemies from a distance before they get to Harry means more than he can say.

"I'd say try it out, but you'll wreck Harry's place. It'll work, guaranteed." Stark claps James on his metal shoulder and saunters back out to put on his Iron Man suit.

Harry slips out of the fort to watch, in awe, as the X-Men, the Avengers, Thor and Loki stride across the penthouse in their costumes and armor. Harry bites his lip, clearly wanting to ask about his Robin suit but remembering what he was told.

"The fort is fireproof," Loki tells him.

"So's the tower." Stark shoots back, then he takes off. Thor flies with his hammer, and Storm follows suit.

Loki simply vanishes, much to Fury's fury.

Barton perches on the penthouse balcony, readying an arrow. Romanoff, Logan and Steve head into the elevator, leaving Fury, Coulson, Professor X, Harry and James in Stark's penthouse.

James keeps his eyes peeled on the skyline. Lightning fills the sky, and he's not sure if it's Storm or Thor calling it. Harry joins him at the window, but grows restless soon. He heads back to his fort, saying "I'm going to build a fort in my fort."

Chapter Text

"I need eyes on Loki," Fury demands, and Harry pokes his head out of his fort.

"He has eyes. Green ones." Harry sort of wishes Loki's eyes weren't the same as his, even if Loki's good now. "Do you want a different color? Are you going to give Loki a magic Moody eye? How come you just have a patch?"

Harry's Grandpa'fessor has his eyes closed and his finger against his head, like his minds flying off to talk to other people.

Fury looks down at Harry. A vein in his forehead jumps, like Uncle Vernon's did when he was mad, only he doesn't hit Harry. Instead, he barks at Dad. "Get your kid out of here."

"I don't take orders anymore," Dad's voice is flat, and he stands like a statue, not moving to take Harry anywhere.

Fury grumbles something about this being an active war zone, a top-secret base.

Harry scowls right back. "We were here first, Mr. Pirate." As soon as Mr. Stark's gone, this angry pirate's trying to take over the tower and kick them out.

Harry glances at Dad. Are they sure Fury's a good guy? Pirates are bad, right?

Harry whispers, loud enough for Dad to hear "Are you going to fight the pirate?"

"No," Dad says. Fury doesn't look any less angry hearing that.

Harry watches Mr. Barton shoot arrows from the walkway outside, and Iron Man zooms past the window.

Dad has a glove just like Iron Man's over his metal hand, but he's in here, not shooting anything. Harry doesn't understand it. "Why aren't you fighting? You're a soldier."

"Not anymore," Dad shoots a look at Fury and Mr. Coulson when he says it, like he wants to make sure they hear him.

Harry feels like he's lost something, suddenly.

"You're not my soldier? My fist?" Harry looks at Dad's hands. They aren't fists, but he's still standing like a statue.

"I'm retired."

"I'm not tired," Harry boasts. Why is his dad tired? He's a grown-up. Only babies take naps.

Now Dad has a small smile on his lips. "Retired. I'm not working as anyone's soldier anymore. I only fight if I have to."

Fury mutters something about goddamn alien invasions. Harry doesn't know what it means, and Dad doesn't reply.

Fury is still barking orders, and Harry wonders why he hasn't pulled out a sword and joined the fight. He goes to lift the man's dark, leather coat, but Fury steps back and gives him a hard, one-eyed stare.

Harry still isn't scared of him, even though Fury seems to think people should be. He's probably grumpy all the time, like Moody.

Jarvis starts to explain about personal bubbles, and how Harry shouldn't go right up to people and touch them. Even as Jarvis talks about personal bubbles, Harry thinks that Mr. Stark breaks them all the time. "Is this like how Mr. Stark can fight and say bad words but I can't?"

"I've given up on Mr. Stark," Jarvis replies.

Harry laughs, but then glances out the window. There's a huge hole in the sky now, above the tower, and bad things are coming out of it like bees. "He's not going to die."

"I should hope not. I monitor Sir's vitals constantly,"

"I hope nobody dies. Except bad guys." Harry turns to Dad. "I won't die, 'cos I beated the bad wizard as a baby."

Harry makes his hands act like they're blowing up, but they fall slowly to his sides. He lived, but the bad wizard killed his mummy, and his first James dad. And bad guys keep trying to kill his X-Family. What if they kill them for real this time?

"I don't want any more dead family," Harry says, quieter. Dad smooths his hand over Harry's hair, which is as long as Dad's, only messier.

That dumb wizard is still in Harry's head, so doesn't that mean the bad guy kind of won? Even Grandpa'fessor can't get him out.

Harry stamps his foot. Bad guys aren't supposed to win! They don't win on the telly, but they win in his life. It's not fair.

"I don't want bad guys to win," Harry grumbles, glaring at the ones flying outside.

"We've got Earth's Mightiest Heroes on the job," Mr. Coulson gives Harry a small smile, though he looks quite proud of himself. Fury turns his angry look toward Mr. Coulson, who says "Well, it's not just the Avengers now, is it?"

Harry points at Dad. "He's mighty too,"

Dad shakes his head again. "I'm not fighting."

He keeps saying that, and Harry doesn't get it. "But you're like Batman."

Dad just looks at Harry for a bit before asking, "Batman was a disguise. Are you still Robin?"

Harry retreats into his fort, then hides under another blanket. He's not Robin. It's his fault that the bad guys are here now. It's always his fault that they're getting hunted. Even before Dad, back with the Dursleys, Dudley always hunted Harry down in the house, to pinch and push him.

Harry hates being hunted. This new blanket isn't even growing big like the other one did. Harry throws it off and storms around his new fort, which is at least as big as the whole tower floor. Through the fabric walls, he sees lightning flash outside the window.

Dad's still at the window, watching Mr. Barton shoot arrows. Harry runs to watch, too.

"Can I try that?" Harry asks. If he could shoot things, he could shoot any bad guy hunting them down.

Jarvis says there's a Wii archery game, but that Harry needs to move around, not just sit in front of the telly all day. Nobody ever said that to Dudley. Besides, Harry jumps and swings his Wii wand around, so that is moving.

Jarvis says Harry's seen too many screens.

Dad has a glove just like Iron Man's, and he's really, really good at shooting on the Wii. Maybe Harry doesn't need to learn to shoot, because Dad can shoot for him. But Dad said he's not a soldier, and he still has an Iron Man glove.

"Are you going to shoot bad guys?" Harry asks.

"If I have to," Dad says, his eyes like ice, but they warm when they look at Harry.

Harry wraps his arms around Dad's legs. "I'm sorry we're being hunted."

Dad looks down at him, then crouches and ruffles his head. "It's not your fault," he says, quietly but firmly. "Bad guys are after me, too. And Stark. They'd hunt Steve, if they knew he was thawed."

"Bad guys hate us," Harry agrees, "'cos we're good guys. I hate when bad guys win."

Harry needs to win something. He can lap the outside of the fort faster than he can run around the sofa.

Harry could fly around the fort faster than he can run, but Dad took his motorbroom away.

Harry tugs on Dad's hand. "Go inside my fort."

Dad turns away from the window, looking worried. He'd looked worried when they went to get Loki, but he still played with Harry almost the whole time. And that was more than a day.

Dad ducks into Harry's fort, and Harry announces, "I can beat you around. Ready, set, go!"

Harry races around the outside of the fort, then pokes his head in. Dad is still standing at the door.

"You didn't run! I beat you!"

"I did run," Dad's face is blank, like it is a lot, but his eyes aren't. They're like Mr. Stark's when he thinks he's being funny.

"Did not! I didn't see you run."

Harry watches Dad jog along the fort's sheet walls. He's fast, but not as fast as Harry was.

Harry punches his hands up as he jumps around, cheering for himself.

"You didn't run," Dad says, his eyes shining even more, though he still doesn't smile. "I won that one."

Harry opens his mouth to argue, but Mr. Coulson says "Why don't you both run around the outside of the fort, or around the inside?"

Harry doesn't answer, and Fury adds "Or go to the gym,"

The gym was where Dad fought Mr. Barton and gave him his brain back. Only Harry didn't get his brain back after fighting in the gym.

But the gym has basketball, and maybe Dad will give him his motorbroom back.

Harry runs to the lift. Dad says they should take the stairs. Dad always takes the stairs, never the lift.

Harry jabs all the buttons in the lift, and Jarvis asks "Do you wish to stop at all the floors, Master Harry?"

"I need to win," Harry says, hoping the lift doors will close soon.

The lift goes down, swiftly, and the doors open at the gym. Somehow, Dad's already there.

Harry throws the basketball like usual, but he keeps thinking about how Ms. Jean or Loki could make it fly, and how everyone's still fighting without them.

Harry climbs on the boxing ring. He balances on the ropes and tries to bounce off of them. "I can jump higher than you," he calls to Dad.

Jarvis says Harry's being too competitive. He explains that means Harry's trying to win too much, and that doesn't mean anything about computers even though it sounds like it.

But winning is good. Harry doesn't want to be a loser.

"Perhaps you could work on something with your dad, rather than trying to beat him," Jarvis suggests. Harry frowns. He wasn't going to beat Dad up, he just wanted to win all the games they played.

Jarvis leads them through workouts. Harry does jumping jacks and somersaults while Dad runs on some machine.

Harry gets tired, but Dad seems like he could go forever. Harry tries to jump harder, so Dad won't win, but then Dad taps some buttons and the machine slows to a stop.

Dad starts to lift Harry like the weights, though he acts like Harry's lighter than a feather. He keeps pretending to drop Harry before catching him, until Harry's laughing so hard he can't breathe. It's almost as good as flying, because Dad's catching him.

Dad still worries about Harry losing his breath, and stops just to watch him and tell him to breathe.

"Let's play!" Harry begs, sad that the game ended. Dad nods, but says they'll play something else.

"Are we going to punch bags?"

"That is not the best way to release your frustrations, though punching inanimate objects is preferable to punching others," Jarvis pauses and says it in smaller words, since Harry's smaller. "It isn't the best way to get your mad out, but it's better than punching people."

"What if we punched bad guys?" Harry asks.

Dad lets out a long breath. "I'm not a soldier, and neither are you."

"What are you now?" Harry asks. "'sides tired?"

"Retired." Dad reminds him. "I'm your dad."

"Forever?" Harry asks slowly. If Dad stopped being a soldier, maybe he'll stop being Harry's dad. Or he'll get killed too, like Harry's old dad, and he'll have to get another dad. Or would he just live with Mr. Stark? But Mr. Stark's fighting now and he might die.

"Forever," Dad promises, pulling Harry close.

"What do you want to be?" Harry's voice is muffled against Dad's chest. "For a job?"

"I don't know. What do you want to be?" Dad asks him right back.

"A magic mutant man," Harry answers at once, grinning. He's already magic, but he's going to grow up to be a mutant like almost everyone in his family, except Mr. Stark.

"What jobs do magic, mutant men have?" Dad's almost smiling with his mouth now.

"They..." Harry says the word for a long time. He was going to say they fight bad guys, but he doesn't think Dad would like that answer.

"They work at school homes!"

Dad asks if he wants to be a teacher.

"A grandpa'fessor," Harry grins. Dad tells him he won't be old enough to be a grandpa until he's a really old adult, which Harry already knows, but he could be a professor.

"I'm going to teach P.E." Harry decides. "And I'm going to be a doctor like Dr. Beast and Dr. Banner and Dr. Gray, so I can help people."

"Doctors are heroes too, Master Harry." Jarvis agrees. "It is an excellent career choice. You can save lives and help people, without all the violence."

Dad pulls out a little notebook and starts writing things down. Harry sees the letters P and E next to each other, though he can't read the rest.

"That's P.E." Harry points to the letters proudly. "Draw a basketball."

Dad quickly sketches a basketball, then a stethoscope for a doctor. "I'm not an artist, like Steve," Dad mutters. "You could be an artist. Should I add that to the list?"

"And a builder engineer," Harry nods and decides that he'll make Steve draw jobs when he gets back. "Are they done? Steve's better at drawing."

"The battle is still ongoing," reports Jarvis.

Maybe they'll want a party when they get back.

Harry grins. "I'm going to throw a party!"

"A splendid idea, Master Harry. Mr. Stark is quite fond of parties."

"I like parties," Harry declares, even though he's never been to one. He'd slept through Jubilee's birthday party when he was sick at the X-Mansion. He hadn't been too sad, since he thought he wasn't invited, like at the Dursleys'. But Jubilee sent him a piece of cake and a balloon.

Mr. Stark had said opening the tower was a party, but now there's this war going on.

"We need cake," Harry suddenly remembers that his family suggested he bake things instead of being a hero. He'd helped his aunt with a few cakes, only now he dares to hope he might get to eat some. And Dudley won't stick his fingers in the icing and then say it was Harry, so Harry won't be smacked.

They go up to the kitchen, and Harry sees that Mr. Coulson and Fury are gone.

Jarvis tells Harry where everything is in the cupboards. Harry even gets to put on an apron, which is a lot like a cape. It's a backwards cape, going down his front to save his clothes from getting messy.

"Bakers are heroes for hungry people," Harry tells Dad and Jarvis as he fetches things from the cupboards. He wants to help hungry people, like how Dad broke him out of his cupboard and gave him food.

Harry cracks open eggs and watches the goop slide into a bowl. He's suddenly glad he hadn't cracked his head trying to get the bad guy out. He wouldn't want all his brains to slide out like egg goop.

"I'm glad too," Dad tells him, when Harry shares this.

They open the flour, and Harry says "It's like snow, but it's warm."

He knows Dad hates the cold, but Dad tells him not to play with the warm flour snow either. When Harry asks why, Dad answers "It's wasteful,"

The tower has electric mixers and things that his aunt used, but Dad says Steve never had them. Dad doesn't use the electric tools. He seems to like using his hands to stir.

Harry tries too, but it's really hard to move the spoon. He tries stirring with his Wii wand, but Dad keeps stirring anyway.

Finally, after lots of measuring and mixing and pouring, all the batter is in the pan. Dad puts the pan in the oven without putting a mitten over his metal hand.

Now they have to wait. Harry's good at waiting. He watches the cake, then watches out the window, then goes back to peering through the oven's little window. The cake rises very slowly.

"Mr. Stark is calling," Jarvis announces, and then Mr. Stark's voice comes through the speakers instead of Jarvis'.

"Hey, so I'm about to shoot for the world's biggest basket, and it might go boom-" Mr. Stark starts.

"You can't die!" Harry yells. "If you die, I'll throw the cake on the floor."

"Cake?" Mr. Stark asks.

"Yeah. For saving the world."

Mr. Stark laughs, only it's a weird laugh, like a cry. Suddenly, Harry sees Iron Man fly toward the hole above the tower. He's holding something big and round, but it's too long to be a ball. He flies up, up until Harry can't see him anymore.

Harry holds his breath. He can't lose Mr. Stark.

The hole in the sky shrinks and shrinks, like water going down the drain, and Harry still doesn't see Iron Man.

"Dad! I need my moto-broom!" Harry shouts, trying to look up out the window instead of out at the city.

Dad rushes out onto the balcony. Mr. Barton isn't up here anymore, and Harry hopes he didn't fall. Harry follows Dad out, staring up at the shrinking hole. There's no sign of Mr. Stark.

Suddenly, something shiny and red falls out of the hole, right before the hole disappears.

Iron Man falls and falls. He'd caught them when they fell from the plane, but now he's falling, too far away to catch.

Harry needs his motorbroom now. Where are Ms. Jean and Storm? They can stop him from falling.

Iron Man's already fallen past the tower as Harry hears something smash through the floor behind him.

Dad pulls Harry back away from the edge of the balcony, but Harry hears a roar, and the building shakes a bit. His motorbroom skids to a halt behind him, but Dad doesn't let go of Harry.

Not long after, there's another roar, and Jarvis says that Mr. Stark is okay, and that they won.

"We won! We won!" Harry cheers as he runs back to the kitchen. Winning is definitely a reason to have a party. It wouldn't be a very fun party if they lost.

James pulls the cake out of the oven and writes words with frosting. Harry can't read any of them, but Dad says it reads "Congrats on saving the world."

Jarvis connects another call from Mr. Stark.

"Hey, so I made the basket. I'm alive. We're all alive, and we're going to get shawarma."

"What's shawarma?"

"I don't know, but I want to try it. You guys can come along, and then we can eat your cake."

"I can come?" Harry asks, shocked. The Dursleys never took him out, and Harry didn't get to go out at Mr. Stark's mansion or the school, either.

"Of course," Mr. Stark says. "Loki says he can disguise you, but even if someone recognizes you guys, well, they probably won't mess with us,"

Harry tugs on Dad's hand before the call ends.

Dad makes him wait long enough to put the cake in the fridge.

Even with a huge battle and time-out, and all the worry, Harry's getting to go out today. He runs toward the elevator, until Loki pops up in front of him.

"I know a faster way," Loki tells him with a huge grin.

Chapter Text

They've blown that rule about keeping magic a secret right out of the water, and several buildings and roadways are in shambles, but they won.

Tony's resolutely not thinking about how he was almost trapped in a wormhole, how the darkness had closed in on him a second time until the Hulk's roar startled him into consciousness. But, hey, at least Thor or Storm didn't need to jump-start his heart... at least, not that he remembers.

No, Tony's thinking about shawarma, and then cake. Thor is vehemently agreeing that it is appropriate to have a feast following their victorious battle.

Loki materializes in a golden shine, bringing both Harry and James along with him. Harry blinks, shocked.

"I'm not sicking up like when we appeared at your house." Harry looks from his clean shirt to Tony.

Loki has a rather superior expression on his face as he remarks that his teleportation is a much smoother ride than that of "Midgardian mages".

Moody's glare just makes Loki's smirk widen into a rather sharklike grin.

"At least you didn't throw them out the window," Tony mutters. Despite fighting on their side during the most recent battle, Loki still seems like the type who would enjoy defenestration.

"You forgot Grandpa'fessor," Harry turns to accuse Loki, though Jarvis informs Tony that Professor X is headed down in the elevator.

"How come we're not at home?" Harry eyes the chunks of rubble and smashed cars, proclaiming the street to be messier than Dudley's other bedroom.

The fact that Dudley apparently had a second, wrecked room while Harry was locked in a cupboard dampens the feeling of success a bit. Tony's going to donate enough to make sure that child protective services are better funded, better staffed so cases like Harry's don't fall through the cracks.

Hell, he's going to start his own nonprofit for that. Harry's Hope or something. Harry's Haven? Some catchy alliteration, even if he may not use Harry's actual name.

Tony needs to do something, because not every child is going to be kidnapped and then ultimately rescued by a super soldier.

But, like he said once he'd realized they won, they can take tomorrow off before trying to fix their broken world.

Professor Xavier drives out of the tower's entrance. Steve casts a glance across the street, then asks the Professor if he'll be able to navigate over the rubble.

Tony raises a brow. "Let's do a head count. I can fly, Jean can levitate his chair, Storm can fly him up or lift his chair with a gust of wind, Thor's got a hammer.."

Logan adds "Even without flight, several of us are strong enough to carry Chuck and his chair over any obstacles."

"I appreciate the offer, but I believe you could simply push obstacles out of my way, rather than carrying me." Professor X smiles mildly.

"I didn't do this," Harry gestures at the wreckage like he expects not to be believed, and then blamed for it.

"We know, Oliver. It was aliens."

Harry casts an accusing look at Thor rather than Loki, before attempting to lift a chunk of rubble.

Tony frowns. Aren't kids supposed to resist cleaning up, or at least drag their feet? Sure, Harry had clearly been put to work by his awful aunt and uncle, and had probably been blamed for all of Dudley's messes, but this still takes Tony by surprise.

Earlier today, Tony was marveling at how Harry made enough progress to throw a tantrum. Now he's back to thinking he has to clean up other people's messes, and he hasn't even spent enough time around Pepper to pick it up from her.

Or is it Harry's obvious hero complex that's compelling him to help out? His 'grandpa'fessor' had just mentioned moving the wreckage.

Steve mentions that children had helped gather scrap metal, but even with his limited time in the current century, seems to realize that kids aren't supposed to work now.

Loki waves his hand and the chunk simply disappears. Harry looks shocked while Barton suspiciously asks "Where did you put it?"

"In a pocket dimension," Loki says casually, as if that's not ringing science alarm bells in Tony's head. He's going to put Loki through so many tests.

"You're the best wizard," Harry gawks at Loki in awe. Tony catches Clint looking very disgruntled behind his sunglasses, clearly thinking Loki doesn't deserve the admiration.

Loki makes another gesture, and the dirt and grime covering Steve vanishes. Tears in their uniforms repair themselves.

James pulls Harry away from the rubble. "Remember your jobs."

"I'm not fighting," Harry points out. "I can clean. And I'm super strong, so I can lift big rocks."

"Those aren't rocks," Tony points out. Can't Harry see the chunks missing from buildings?

There's a camera crew a few blocks away, and Tony moves to block Harry and James from sight. Steve's going to be thrust into the spotlight again, there's really no avoiding that, but Tony is starting to kick himself.

He doesn't want to exclude Harry from things, but it sounds like Harry's already a celebrity back in magical Britain. He doesn't need more celebrity status here.

Somehow, despite the gaggle of heroes, the camera crew turns the other way, seeming intensely focused on reporting on a dead Leviathan.

The walk to the shawarma joint takes a while, and not just due to the rubble or Moody's prosthetic leg. James is tense, and Harry's picking up on it, falling silent and clutching his father's metal hand. This is Harry's first time out in the city too. Sure, the streets may have been cleared of civilians during the battle, but there are squadrons of police.

If Tony weren't in their little hero crowd, he'd never notice James, who is staying stealthily in the middle. The police look at the heroes, and see no sign of James or Harry.

At the shawarma place, Harry turns his head in awe. "I always wanted burgers."

"A kid after my heart," Tony chuckles, but explains that these aren't burgers. Doesn't Harry smell the difference?

Thankfully, Harry doesn't throw a fit over hearing these. He seems to regard Shawarma as close enough since it's meat and bread that he can eat with his hands.

By the time they get their orders and push together a few tables, everyone has fallen silent, even those with superhuman stamina. Clint watches Loki suspiciously. Moody sniffs the shawarma with what's left of his nose, but doesn't take a single bite.

The press would probably be shocked that Tony isn't talking, and even Harry has stopped asking what different ingredients are.

They eat in silence, knowing that the world has changed and will never be the same.

As if Tony hadn't seen enough changes already. At this rate, literally nothing will surprise him anymore.

Harry crashes before they get out of the restaurant. Despite his protest of naps being babyish, he conks out and James carries him back to the tower.

They put off the cake party until later.

Tony's exhausted, but he knows if he closes his eyes, he'll see the blackness of space surrounding him. He stays in his lab, blasting music and cursing the fact that this event ruined his half-baked plan of making Iron Man an astronaut.

Bruce has no trouble sleeping after Hulking out, seeming almost as tired as Harry, and Tony's not jealous.

Harry sleeps for six hours straight and wakes up around ten p.m., and Jarvis doesn't even start getting preachy about consistent sleep schedules.

Clint and Natasha have disappeared to who knows where, probably briefing Fury despite the fact he was surely watching the whole battle.

Thor and Loki disappear as well, beaming up to Asgard with the Tesseract before Fury can object. Thor seems convinced that Loki will be sentenced to imprisonment in the tower, and community service to help rebuild Manhattan.

Tony's not sure he likes the idea of Earth being the dumping ground for arrogant, entitled alien princes to learn humility. Plus the fact this Allfather isn't even asking whether Tony would mind housing Loki in his tower.

Professor Xavier has offered his school to help rehabilitate Loki- after all, there are several qualified adults to help keep Loki in check, and Tony's pretty sure the school would be open to anyone, regardless of their past.

But, well, Loki can't really help clean Manhattan from Westchester. So it seems like Tony's tower it is.

If there's any basis of truth to the myths, though, Tony would take Loki into his tower just to prevent him being tortured by a snake dripping venom into his eyes. Tony doesn't jive with torture, even for criminals, and Loki's a complicated case, to say the least.

As the hours tick by, JARVIS updates Tony on the news of the attack as well as the conversations about it online.

The public is, in general, not as shocked about an alien invasion as they would have been a few years ago. With all the recent news about HYDRA lurking for decades, about how widespread the infestation has been through governments and companies around the globe, a lot of citizens seem pretty unruffled by the whole alien thing.

Or, rather, a lot of people seem more focused on the whole magic bit. The news constantly loops footage of the X-Men using their powers, which the press and public is branding as magic, despite the fact mutants aren't magic.

Then there's the ever-circulating footage of Loki taking down Chitauri with magic, turning their blasters into baguettes and making their speeders buck them off like broncos. This is often played side-by-side with the news footage of him in Stuttgart, ordering civilians to kneel.

There are, of course, all sorts of wild theories about that, but some people are hitting pretty close to home and guessing mind control, noting the change in his eyes from blue to green, and the lack of a certain glowing blue scepter in the Manhattan battle.

Tony's pretty sure the cat's permanently out of the bag now. Muggles or no-majes or whatever they're called know about magic on a widespread scale. Frankly, the fact someone hadn't caught it on camera by now is sort of shocking.

Tony's not sure if even Professor X could erase everyone's memory of magic with Cerebro, and frankly, he's not sure he wants to know either. That guy would be terrifying if he were on the other side, and if he ever decides to become a supervillain, well, it'd be even worse than this whole Loki fiasco.

Tony's in the kitchen, where another pot of coffee has been mercifully brewed when Harry comes running from the bedroom and past the magical fort.

"Where's Loki?"

Harry seems surprisingly disgruntled to hear that Loki went away. "He was going to make my head so small inside that the bad guy can't fit."

Harry gestures pointedly to his fort, though Loki had done the opposite to it.

"Not a good idea," Tony sips coffee just shy of hot enough to burn his throat, "unless you want brains leaking out your ears."

Harry wrinkles his nose in disgust, protesting, "Loki can't leave. He needs cake. Did Thor eat it all?"

"Nobody ate your cake, Master Harry."

"He's probably coming back," Tony says, still not entirely happy with the idea. Harry, however, smiles.

They slice up the cake, and Harry insists on saving pieces for Loki, Thor, Clint and Natasha (he's even more disappointed to hear that Clint is gone). Tony finds it hilarious that Harry insists 'the angry pirate' shouldn't get a piece.

The remaining members of the team, besides Bruce, who's still sleeping off his Hulk out, gather when JARVIS informs them that there's cake.

Harry uses his Wolverine toy's fork claws to stab cake, and urges Logan to do the same with his real claws. Logan spears a bit to make Harry smile, but doesn't eat off of them.

As they're finishing up the cake, Harry shows off a list of jobs he'd made during the battle, and insists Steve draw a broomstick. Steve sketches Harry riding his motorbroom, and Harry protests "No, just the broom."

"But isn't this for your job list?" Steve asks, baffled. "Aren't you going to play... Quidditch?"

"No, I'm going to be a broom!" Harry insists.

Steve shakes his head, as if he feels he might be dreaming this conversation. "But you can't be a broomstick."

"Yes I can," Harry folds his arms petulantly. "Then Dad can't take my motorbroom away."

Tony bursts out laughing. "You've seen Storm and I fly without brooms. Why not be like us?"

Harry huffs, annoyed at how slow they are on the uptake. "You said I can't be a superhero."

Steve asks if Harry will have arms and carry pails of water. It's Harry's turn to stare blankly and then copy the tone of an adult being confused by a child that Steve had just used "Brooms don't have arms."

Steve sketches a few scenes from Disney's Fantasia, saying Harry might like it because of the magic. Steve's rendition of Sorcerer Mickey is uncanny.

As Steve sketches, Tony delights in sharing some of the theories that Steve was cloned by aliens, or resurrected by magic.

Though really, Tony deserves all the credit for finding him.

Harry conks out again around midnight. James retires for the night as well, but Tony dives into work. He calls Pepper about the charity for child abuse, examines the scepter that Thor and Loki graciously left behind.

Around four in the morning, Thor and Loki return. Thor's prediction is correct, and Loki is here to fix some of the damage.

When Harry wakes up and sees Loki later that morning, he's thrilled. "Loki! I saved you cake!" Harry glances at Thor and adds "And you,"

"And I got you burgers," Tony boasts, gesturing toward the burgers he'd ordered for breakfast. Yes, they can be breakfast, and Jarvis has been ordered, under threat of reprogramming, not to comment or inform Pepper.

James doesn't comment, and Professor Xavier is off doing something.

Thor devours his cake heartily, while Loki takes his time, neatly cutting it with his fork. Harry struggles to bite into his own massive burger, mumbling that he wished he could have a snake mouth.

"Don't even think about it, brother," Thor warns. "You know the consequences if you do not comply with Father's guidelines."

At these words, James crushes his own burger so the bun splits and the ingredients plop onto the countertop.

"Mr. Stark says you can't make my head small to get the bad guy out," Harry shares, half a challenge and half disappointed resignation.

"It would not be advisable," Loki agrees, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender as James emerges from the bedroom with a murderous glare. "I have research to conduct before I can remove the parasite,"

"Can you make me a broom?" Harry asks.

"I made you the best broom," Tony protests.

Harry shoots him an exasperated look, and Tony sighs. Despite not sleeping, that conversation about growing up to be a broomstick feels like a fever dream.

"No, he won't turn you into a broom," James says. Harry adopts James's own glare, but of course James is unaffected.

Neither James nor Harry back down from the impromptu staring contest, and there aren't many people who could stare at the former Winter Soldier without being intimidated. Harry's got guts, especially since James has parental authority over him.

Harry's glare abruptly vanishes when he realizes "I get my motorbroom back today."

The motorbroom zooms up to Harry, almost like an excited puppy. Is it Loki's doing, or Harry's?

"That should keep you busy," Tony remarks, dragging Loki off toward the lab to run some tests. Loki, surprisingly, doesn't protest. James looks like he's getting flashbacks to Tony's fascination with his cybernetic arm.

Thor stands to protest. "Loki was sent to help with repairs-"

"I said we weren't going in today," Tony answers breezily over his shoulder. "Besides, it looks like we don't have to hide magic anymore, so Loki can just pull a Mary Poppins tomorrow."

Chapter Text

Steve knew that he'd be back in the spotlight when he put on the old stars and stripes suit and battled in the middle of Manhattan. He was resigned to being paraded around, but at least he'd be doing something rather than just being a figurehead like in his USO days.

Then again, he'd fought in the last war, and that hadn't turned out very well. Sure, it had looked like they'd won on the surface, but HYDRA had stayed lurking underneath.

Even with the recent reveal of HYDRA, they still have to make sure to chop off every single head, so none can grow back. At least, they had been focused on it before the alien invasion.

The battle in Manhattan had been smoother than Steve expected- astonishingly, there were no civilian casualties, and while there was a lot of property damage, it doesn't seem as drastic when his team contains a woman with telekinetic powers and two wizards who can fix things with magic.

Cleanup goes rather quickly with those powers at their disposal. Steve still pitches in, lifting chunks of rubble that Iron Man and Cyclops cut with their lasers. Loki does several hand-waving motions that either vanish the rubble or restore it to where it had been.

Of course, Harry insists on helping. Loki somehow switches James and Harry's appearances so they look nothing like themselves- Harry's scar and James's prosthetic are both gone, yet James looks nothing like the Bucky from before, either. Both are blonde, until Harry gripes about being "yellow like Dudley".

In the blink of an eye, both Harry and James have flaming red hair that is, thankfully, not literally flaming.

Loki actually does turn Jean's red hair into fire once as a prank, and Jean hurls him through a building in retaliation.

Climbing out of the hole and dusting off his clothes, extinguishes Jean's head with a snap. He tilts his head imperiously toward the new whole caused by his body "I believe the goal was to clean the city, not wreck it further."

Loki casts a look at Thor's hammer, then restores the building with a wave of his hand.

Of course, there are journalists filming, snapping photographs. Every news station is clamoring for interviews with the Avengers and X-Men (a common question is why they have two names when they're one team).

Tony handles a lot of the press stuff, already very well versed in public appearances even if he evidently didn't always focus on giving the best appearance in the past.

But of course, they want interviews with the whole team. Even as Steve's moving rubble, he finds several microphones shoved in his face as reporters shout questions.

There's a lot of interest in the team, sure, but even so, the world is a lot more focused on the existence of aliens and, especially, magic than the resurrection of Captain America, and Steve's honestly a little relieved.

The civilians have had a lot thrown at them, recently; in a way, their world has changed just as drastically as Steve's has. Sure, they hadn't slept for seventy years, but like Steve, they're having to face the reality of things that most would have called fictional only a few days ago.

The public seems very split on magic and mutants, and very unsure of the distinction (from what Steve can tell, mutants have more individualized powers, whereas magicians have a wider range but require specialized tools like wands).

Seeing as how the X-Men had been saving them from aliens, Steve had hoped that the public opinion of them would be favorable, but of course there are those who think they're dangerous and should be chipped by the government.

Tony goes on air to argue that anything can be dangerous if wielded by the wrong people. He cites the government trying to take his suit, stating it was a weapon, and how well that turned out for them. How evil people tried making their own Iron Man suits, but that doesn't make Iron Man any less of a hero.

It becomes very clear to the public that Tony Stark supports mutant rights and freedoms.

Just like the non-magical, non-mutant civilians, actual mutants, wizards and witches seem pretty split on the reveal as well.

Professor X seems delighted, viewing the reveal as a way to finally bridge the divide between mutants and the rest of humanity. Some of the team are slightly more cynical. Wizards are, perhaps, even more concerned with being revealed.

Yet there are some wizards that use the reveal to openly hunt Muggles. Steve's pretty sure it's the Death Eaters Moody had mentioned, and gets ready to gear up and hunt them down, but it seems that Dumbledore and other wizards in Britain are already fighting them.

The tower has a copy of that computer called Cerebro that the Professor uses to communicate with people around the globe. Professor X has several long, telepathic conversations with Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic regarding the world's knowledge of magic.

Professor X refuses to erase everyone's memories of magic, leaving the wizards stuck. The wizards can't possibly erase everyone's memory, just as they can't erase the evidence from television and computers.

Wizards, witches and mutants will just have to cope with muggles knowing about them, just as the muggles are having to cope with learning about them. It doesn't always go well, but several celebrities share their personal connection with mutants or mages.

With the cleanup happening rather quickly after the decimation of Manhattan, life moves on.

Tony is a whirlwind of activity as always, and seems to sleep even less. He jumps from endlessly complicated conversations about magic and science with Loki, Bruce and Hank to egging on Loki's ridiculous pranks. He gets Miss Potts to help kickstart a charity for helping fund child services and providing for children in foster care. He's talking of furthering screenings for abuse.

Even with all that going on, Tony still manages to look over a lot of the Avengers and X-Men merchandise hitting the shelves like wild, faster even than the Captain America comic books, or even the Captain America and Bucky Bears had back in Steve's day.

Both the bears are making a comeback, but supersized Hulk bears are the surprise smash hit that everyone seems crazy to get their hands on; Bruce honestly doesn't seem to know how to react. "Beast Bears" are only slightly less sought after.

One week after the battle, after watching Loki clean the city, James approaches Loki and, without any pleasantries, says "You can get the parasite out of Harry's head."

Steve's not really sure what he was expecting, maybe a lot of yelling and chanting like the exorcisms in old radio dramas. Loki gets Harry comfortable on the couch, presses a hand against his head. Something erupts from it, which really does seem demonic.

Smoke forms into a bald, noseless who looks remarkably like Red Skull, only paler. The Pale Skull man yells and hisses until Loki does something that makes him writhe and disappear.

Harry rubs his head, then rushes to the mirror. The lightning scar is still there, but he claims it doesn't hurt.

"Why's it not a star?" Harry asks. Loki snaps his fingers, and the scar suddenly becomes a star. Harry laughs and begins requesting other shapes- a snake, a moon, a snitch. Each request is met with a newly shaped scar, and Harry seems to have entirely forgotten the previous procedure of removing the horrible presence from within.

About a week and a half after the battle, Steve gets Loki to disguise him and James so they can walk through the park anonymously. Harry wears a plastic firefighter hat over his scar, as well as the ridiculously expensive sunglasses Tony got him, which are sure to break any day with Harry's rough and tumble play. Steve reminds himself that they've got people who could fix them in a blink.

Steve tries not to think about walks he used to take with Bucky (which were usually much shorter and certainly never involved a child, unless Bucky's sisters were tagging after them).

Steve discusses taking Harry and James to Coney Island, despite the Bucky memories associated with there, too. James clearly has no memories of the place, not even forcing Steve to ride the Cyclone, but he listens with interest as Steve describes it. Or, rather, how Coney Island used to be.

Harry, wide-eyed, seems enamored and utterly fearless at the prospect of roller coasters. He begs to go and demands to know if it's faster than his Motor-broom.

Steve assures him it is.

Despite all the merchandise now and in his USO days, Steve's still taken aback when he sees a woman throw a frisbee that resembles his shield for her dog to catch in Central Park.

Not twenty yards down the path, they see a boy with huge rubber Hulk fists pretend to battle a girl with plastic Wolverine claws. The children bash and slash at each other before teaming up to wallop invisible aliens.

Steve looks down at Harry, who doesn't run up to play with the other children, like he always did when the older kids were playing basketball. Despite all his fearlessness around people with actual superpowers, Harry half hides behind James, his eyes tracking the Hulk fists as if they'll pummel him.

James squats, encouraging Harry to go play. He assures that the kids won't be like Dudley and Piers, and if they are, they'll have to answer to James.

"And me," Steve says. "I don't like bullies."

Harry nods and slowly approaches the children.