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Chapter Text

Thor was bored. Very very bored. He was playing with his hammer, throwing it in the air and then catching it before it hit the ground. It was surprisingly harder than he had expected as the ceiling was much lower than what he was used to. Still, the Asgardian warrior wanted to spend time with his Jane, not sit here in the corner of the room by his lonesome. And yet, Jane was working hard on a serious project and asked him to sit still for a few hours. She was close to some sort of a discovery regarding the runes that were carved on the Tesseract and was now in a heated discussion with her colleague Dr. Erik Selvig and, surprise, surprise, his brother Loki. The latter was released on parole on the condition that Thor would watch over him. There was nothing to watch, really. On some primal instinct, Thor trusted Loki not to escape. The consequences would be dire and his brother would certainly not risk it.

Now, Loki was deeply involved in explaining the theory of magic to Jane and Dr. Selvig as they avidly took notes. Darcy, Jane’s trusted friend, was engrossed in her phone, smiling crookedly to herself, as her fingers moved with immense speed.

Thor threw Mjolnir once more and almost missed catching it, when he heard Jane curse and hit her desk with a delicate fist. “Damn this! We’ll never get to the bottom of it if we don’t decipher these last several runes!”

The love of his life looked like a little spitfire when she came over to the couch and plopped down on it next to Darcy.

“Yes, well, I am more of a magic expert than a rune reader,” Loki muttered as he hopped up on the desk next to hundreds of papers covering it in layers. “Not to mention, this is old stuff, too old even for me to read. These runes are heavily outdated. No one uses it anymore.”

“Darcy,” Jane turned to her friend who was still immersed in her phone. “Didn’t you publish an article on Svingerud Runestone and its ancient runes for extra credit at uni?”

“Mm?” Darcy shook her head. “Sort of, yeah. Though the majority of it was written by this weirdo I met online.”

In the background, Thor could hear Loki snort, muttering something along the lines of stupid mortals who think they know anything at all.

“Surely, you are not thinking of involving some amateurs, Jane,” Dr. Selvig came closer as well. Jane furrowed her brows, sighing.

“I am just at my wit’s end,” she said. “The runes on the Tesseract have the most similarities with the Svingerud Runestone compared to any other runes we have encountered here on Earth.”

Thor came up to hug his lover from behind and she leaned into him, sighing softly.

“The way I see it,” he boomed in her ear, “the faster you solve this, the better, and if some friend of Lady Darcy can do it, let him.”

“Well,” Darcy interjected, “he says he’s in London right now and could come take a look. Personally, I think he’s a bit too obsessed with all that’s ancient. The paper he wrote was three times the length I needed. I didn’t understand even half of what was written.”

“Huh,” Jane muttered. “But you did get the highest mark, no?”

“Oh, yeah,” Darcy nodded. “He’s the real deal when it comes to ancient hieroglyphs and stuff. I wonder why he has never published anything.”

“You know what?” Jane sat up. “To hell with it, invite him over. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“True, if he’s some psycho seeking world domination, at least we have a mighty warrior to protect us,” Darcy noted with a gleam in her eye as she texted her contact.

While they waited for the guy to show up, Jane agreed to make some sandwiches for lunch and everyone settled down for a bit of rest. Thor was just hovering around his lover, asking for more meat to be added, when the doorbell rang.

“That was fast,” Dr. Selvig muttered as he lifted his head up from the papers that he was still studying. With the Tesseract gone, they resorted to using old photographs and records from previous researches on the artifact.

“Quick,” Jane turned to Loki, who was lounging on a couch like an overgrown cat. “Change your clothes, you look totally ridiculous in that helmet of yours.”

“I beg your pardon,” Loki hissed, glaring daggers at the woman. “These horns are the symbol of the sorcery I wield at my fingertips.”

Darcy snorted, “Yeaaah, right, you horny bastard.”

“Be as it may, the poor guy will just run the other direction and we do need some fresh ideas, so, please,” Jane whispered as she walked towards her apartment doors.

“Brother,” Thor muttered coming closer and Loki sighed, waving his hand and casting an illusion upon himself.

“Bah, you people are no fun,” he muttered angrily as he dug deeper into the couch pillows. He’d rather not make an acquaintance of another stupid mortal, thank you very much. He was so tired of these primitive people pretending to know things they had absolutely no idea about.

“Hello, I’m Jane,” Thor heard his lover greet the newcomer and turned to meet the guy. He was of short stature and unassuming in his countenance. Disheveled black hair but noble facial features.

“This is Thor, my boyfriend,” Jane continued the introductions. “Thor, this is Harry.”

The Asgardian prince nodded and reached out his hand for the shake that humans tended to like doing. For a moment, his eyes met that of the newcomer and he was mesmerized by the pure green orbs looking at him. They seemed aglow with some hidden power, an energy that Thor found a hard time to categorize. He was hit with a small whiff of ozone, the scent of magic, and glanced at Loki unsure. Did his brother cast a spell? Loki seemed unbothered as he slouched with no care in the world and seemed to be ignoring the new guy in his entirety.

The handshake lasted but a second and then Jane introduced Harry to the others. Thor shrugged off the strange sensation he got and returned to the plate of sandwiches that Jane had prepared. They wouldn’t eat themselves, after all. He could hear the talks turn to the topic of runes and decided to tune everything out as it was boring as bird shit.

The Asgardian prince had almost cleared his second plate of meat sandwiches, when he noticed the commotion in the living room. Even Darcy seemed to be involved as she stood by the entryway, her phone for once forgotten. Thor came closer to observe. Dr. Selvig and Jane were scribbling something down from a book that Harry was holding open. Even Loki was engrossed in reading whatever was written in it over the newcomer’s shoulders.

“What is going on?” Thor asked Darcy, who shrugged in response.

“They found some kind of a cypher for the runes on the Tesseract. Seems like Harry was just carrying it around in his bag. Go figure.”

“Huh,” Thor munched on his last sandwich mournfully. “Reckon Jane could now take a break and make me more sandwiches?”

“Are you serious?” Darcy shot him an incredulous look. “You’ve just eaten three times the portion a regular human consumes.”

“Ah, well, you know,” Thor looked abashed. “A man needs his nutrients.”

“Do you even know what nutrients are?” Jane’s friend narrowed her eyes in suspicion and the Asgardian simply shrugged in response. Truth was, he had no idea but he had heard Jane mention the word when she was trying to explain the concept of healthy meals to him. It flew right over his head. For all he cared, meat was the only healthy meal he needed.

“Gosh, Harry, you’re a lifesaver,” Jane gushed as she hugged the young man. “We can now truly work on deciphering the inscription. I thought some parts did not make much sense and it’s because we have interpreted it the wrong way.”

“Yes, runes are a complex thing,” Harry said. “While they certainly have their own meanings when used separately, they might carry an absolutely different concept when combined. I’m not a real expert but you must be careful when reading rune combinations. One wrong deduction might just get you in more trouble when it’s worth.”

“True, so true,” Dr. Selvig nodded his head.

“Where did you get this brook from?” Jane asked, turning the book to look at its cover. “I thought I had perused all books on runes we’ve had but here it is.”

“Ah, an old friend of mine gave it to me a long time ago,” Harry said. “He was a true expert in ancient runes, while I’m just bumbling about, feeling nostalgic for some reason.”

“Where’s that friend of yours now?” Jane asked but Harry shook his head, mumbling a soft ‘dead’.

For a moment, everyone kept silent but then Harry broke it with a crooked smile.

“Anyhow, as I understand it, this sequence of the runes speaks of an interdimensional space pocket of sorts, like a portal leading somewhere. An interesting concept, opening portals, that is. Yet, this is only theory. In practice, you would first need to know what material the artifact was made of and how it interacted with the runes inscribed. Not to mention, you would need some very powerful energy to activate it, and lots of it.”

“Ah, yes, that is, well,” Dr. Selvig looked uncomfortable. “It’s just ancient writing, nothing more.”

“Mm, lots of energy,” Harry repeated, for some strange reason glancing at Loki and lifting one brow. “I wonder if you have what it takes…”

“No, no,” Jane laughed it off. “Nobody is opening anything. No portals. It’s just a side project, nothing serious.”

“If you say so,” Harry shrugged with a smile. There was something here that Thor felt missing. “Well, I should be heading home by now. I doubt I could be of more assistance to you and it is getting late.”

“Yes, of course,” Jane said, still flustered, and gave Harry a quick hug. “Thank you so much for your help, Harry.”

Harry waved goodbye to the others and was heading towards Thor when he halted in his steps, curiosity overtaking his features.

“Oh, this feels positively ancient,” the occultist commented as he kneeled down by Thor’s Mjölnir.

Thor suddenly felt alarmed, as Harry traced the top of Mjölnir, along the line of the sculpted runes.

“He who wields this hammer… commands the lightning… and the storm,” Harry read the ancient language as easily as if it was English.

“Why, you should try and lift it. Who wouldn’t want the power to command the laws of nature?” Loki slid closer, smiling like a cat that got the canary.

Harry laughed, “Who says I already can’t?”

Thor blinked as he came to stand near Harry and the scent of ozone grew a bit stronger. Meanwhile, Harry lifted his black locks from his forehead, showcasing a scar that looked much like a sowilo rune.

“Power,” Loki whispered as he stared at the scar mesmerized.

“Oh, is that what got you interested in runes?” Darcy joined in, peeking from behind Thor. “It looks cool you know.”

Harry laughed as he waved his hand, “That it does, Darcy, that it does.”

He turned on his heel and headed towards the door as Thor pondered how a human could have gotten such a wound. He had little knowledge of runes but he did remember that only powerful magic could leave scars shaped like runes.

“Oh,” Harry halted by the doors turning around and winking straight at Loki. “Before I forget, nice horns, pal.”

It took the two brothers a bit too long to realize what the guy was referring to and when it finally clicked, Harry was already out the door.

“I thought you had disillusioned your helmet,” Jane commented as she looked at Loki confused.

“I did,” the sorcerer hissed as he rushed out the door. The stairway was empty. The scent of ozone was strong here and Loki glanced around, detecting traces of a transportation spell. He was not aware there were sorcerers here on Earth. And powerful ones, at that. He did not feel any magic in Harry at all and did not suspect anything until the moment the young sorcerer had given himself away. On purpose, no less.

Loki cursed as he returned to the dreary apartment, where Thor was patting Jane on the shoulder in silent comfort.

“Nice friends you have, dear Darcy,” Loki smirked. “Now, tell me, where did you say you found him?”

“Just online, why?” The clueless young woman asked as Loki practically glued himself to her, peppering her with questions.

Thor sighed. Loki seemed to have another obsession but at least it wasn’t world domination. All was good then. The sorcerer did not seem bad at all, not to mention, when he brushed the runes on Mjölnir, Thor felt the hammer respond in kind, as if reaching out to the man. And if his Mjölnir deemed this Harry worthy, then all was good.

Chapter Text

Agent Phillip J. Coulson has always liked early mornings. Bright sunshine peeking through the clouds, people rushing about with their own little or big problems, no one actually having the time to pay much attention to their surroundings. It was these moments that Agent Coulson found most peaceful and rewarding. A cup of strong coffee in his hands, a newspaper to occupy his mind and those blessed five minutes of solitude before all hell broke loose. And that tended to happen much too often these days, in his humble opinion.

This morning, however, was turning out to be a bit more stressful and a lot less peaceful than what he was used to. It all began with him deciding to break his routine and visit the local bank. It was a chore he had been delaying for several weeks now but no more. Today, he was heading to the bank and finally taking care of his affairs. He had already warned Commander Hill that he was taking a detour. She assured him all was well and that he could take his time, if needed. Agent Coulson was sure he would not need more time than he had and what he had was three quarters of an hour before he was expected to show up at work. He was not happy with the prospect of sacrificing his morning routine but that was the way it was going to be today.

And so, with a disposable cup of black coffee cradled in his hands, Agent Coulson entered through the glass doors of the bank and sighed internally at the line which had already formed in front of him. Only one teller seemed to be working, making him reconsider his decision to come here on this particular day. It was barely past 8 o’clock in the morning, yet, the teller already looked haggard and in a rather hot discussion with a middle-aged man in front of her. White-collar worker, too tired and too desperate. Judging from the teller’s expression, there was little she could help him with.

Next up, there was a woman with a young boy who seemed to be clinging to her skirt in a shy manner. The woman was touching his head softly, muttering assurances. An elderly woman was leaning heavily on her cane behind them. She seemed to be favoring her right leg and kept glancing at a nearby bench longingly.

A young man with messy dark hair was the last in line and Agent Coulson stopped behind him, ready to wait patiently for his turn. The man finally gave up trying to get what he wanted and trudged dejectedly outside the bank. The woman with the child stepped towards the teller in his stead. Agent Coulson took a small sip of his heavenly coffee and froze momentarily when he heard the sound of a gunshot and someone hollering, “This is a robbery, now get down on the floor!”

He was suddenly reminded of a song with similar lyrics and turned bodily to the entrance to survey the situation. He could hear the people scream and the little boy cry out in fear as he assessed three armed men, who had just entered the hall. One of them was walking purposefully towards them, a Beretta in his hands, the other shot another round of bullets from Colt AR-15 to the ceiling, attempting to further intimidate everyone, while the third one remained by the doors.

“No funny business! Down on the ground, folks!”

Glancing sideways, he could see other people getting down and he, too, kneeled on the floor slowly, trying not to jostle his full cup of coffee.

“Stupid Potter luck,” he heard the man behind him mutter under his breath.

“What are you staring at, huh?” One of the robbers came closer to the young woman, swinging his rifle right in front of the boy. The child whimpered calling out to his mother.

“Please, he’s just a child!” The young woman pleaded as she turned her boy’s head sideways into her chest, trying desperately to hide him. 

“Then tell him to stop gawking!” The robber shouted as he let another round of bullets hit the ceiling. People screamed and cowered down on the ground, covering their heads. Agent Coulson noted the man beside him was the only one not to let out even a sound. He was frowning, his eyes hooded, as he watched the robbers situate across the small hall. The one with the shotgun headed towards the teller already screaming at her to start pulling out the money.

Discreetly, Agent Coulson touched his earpiece muttering barely under his breath, “Code A-5, repeat, Code A-5, back-up needed.”

“Gimme all the money you have,” the goon shouted as the teller rushed to fill in the black backpack she was given.

“That-that’s everything…”

Meanwhile, Coulson’s earpiece stuttered to life, “Roger. Agents Barton and Howl on their way. Police is 5 minutes ATA.”

“What do you mean everything? Cough up more, this shit aren’t enough,” the shotgun guy shook the backpack which was barely half full.

“We-we do not do… many cash operations,” the teller stuttered, hiccupping.

“They gotta have a safe, no?” The guy by the doors hollered.

“That’s right, a safe,” the robber with the Colt grinned and turned to the people. “Meanwhile, why don’t I check these little darlings. Come on, people, what you’ve got in those pockets of yours?”

“In position,” Coulson recognized Barton’s voice, followed by Howl’s. “We’re opposite the bank, visibility 85%.”

“Hold,” Coulson whispered as the goon came closer swinging his Colt carelessly. He did not like the situation. Too much chance of civilians getting hurt.

“The cameras show a fourth henchman waiting in the car,” Agent Hill commented. “Agent Barton, take him out quietly and discreetly.”

“Roger that.”

Meanwhile, the leader and the teller left the main hall to most probably empty the safe. Agent Coulson did not think it would hold much. This was a small local branch that mostly dealt with the elderly who were not adept at online banking.

“Come on, old hag,” the Colt guy once again swung his weapon in the air. “Gimme all you’ve got.”

“I don’t have much, I just-” the woman trembled as she tried opening her purse. Her fingers did not seem to cooperate with her.

“What about that ring? Looks golden enough.”

“Oh, but that’s my wedding ring,” the woman cried out. “I can’t… my dear Billy…”

“Mommy, I’m scared…”

“Shut it with your whining!” The goon turned around to face the boy, the gun pointed straight at the child. “Or I’ll shut it for you!”

“Hey,” Coulson said, hoping to get the thug’s attention. “Calm down, he’s just a frightened child.”

“I have some jewelry I was hoping to pawn later, you can have it,” the young man besides Coulson called out taking a small rucksack from his shoulder and placing it on the ground.

“Oh, yeah?” The Colt guy turned to them, his eyes glinting. “Why haven’t you said so earlier, huh? Take it out, then, go on.”

“The vault is halfway empty,” Agent Hill reported. She must have been able to gain access to the bank’s cameras. “The driver is dealt with. Agent Barton found another way in.”  

“Hold,” Coulson whispered as the goon in front of him pointed his gun at the friendly bystander. Too much risk. He needed to reach his gun or get closer to the gunman to be able to disarm him safely.

The dark-haired man reached into his rucksack and took out a necklace. Coulson blinked and the robber gaped. It was a piece of glittering jewelry of the highest caliber and Agent Coulson felt sure of that even with his limited knowledge of precious metals and stones. It looked too elegant and too extravagant to be anything but.

The guy by the door whistled, “I’ll be damned.”

The necklace was placed on the floor next to the bag. Meanwhile, the stranger reached into his sack again and took out several golden armlets. They were adorned in red rubies and small specks of diamonds. Coulson had never seen anything of the sort. A tiara of pure silver with pearls encrusted all over its top followed the armlets. For a moment there, Coulson forgot where he was and what was happening as the strange (too strange) man kept taking out piece after piece of golden and bejeweled treasures.

At some point, the guard by the door came closer to them, staring fascinated at the pile of jewelry that just kept growing by the minute.   

“Where the hell does it keep coming from?” Agent Coulson blinked at Hill’s voice and, indeed, wondered. The pile was already bigger than the sack but the man kept taking more and more items out of it. It was just inconceivable.

“We-we’re rich,” the Colt guy muttered and his gun clattered to the ground, his hands diving into the pile of pearls and jewels.

And that was the moment the standstill broke. The young man sprung up like a cobra, something long and thin glinting in his hand and then there was a blinding light so bright that Agent Coulson closed his eyes involuntarily. There were several screams he recognized to belong to the women and the boy and a gurgling sound that the gunmen made.

“I have no visibility, I repeat, no visibility,” Agent Hill reported.

“What’s going on here?” Agent Coulson heard the leader’s voice and chanced opening his eyes. The hall was no longer as bright as before, the light dissipating slowly.

“Stupefy!” A stream of red light shot towards the robber and he slumped to the ground as soon as he was hit with it.

Alarmed, Agent Coulson reached for his gun and his badge as a small panic took over once again. The gunmen were all dead but Agent Coulson doubted the young man was in league with them.  

“Quiet down, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division here,” Agent Coulson rattled, his badge doing an effective job of calming everyone down. For some reason, people have always related badges with law enforcement.

“That guy’s efficient, I’ll give him that,” Agent Howl commented in his earpiece as Coulson surveyed the hall. The two goons were down, unconscious or dead still to be determined. The leader was down as well, hit with the weird laser beam.

“Oh,” the young man turned and gave Coulson a crooked smile. “What are the chances of law enforcement being here?”

The gun the stranger used was nowhere in sight. Out of the corner of his eyes, Agent Coulson noted Clint Barton entering the hall.

“Check the gunmen,” Coulson ordered and Clint nodded, heading towards the bodies.

Agent Coulson turned to the dark-haired stranger and smiled sympathetically, “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to surrender your gun momentarily.”

The man arched his brow over his much too bright and green eyes, “I don’t have one, kind sir.”

Agent Coulson frowned. Surely, he had seen the man wield something.

“Your name then, please.”

“Harry Potter,” the man replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ve come to US recently. I’m from England, originally.”

Agent Coulson nodded. The man did have a British accent when he spoke.

“All alive and unconscious,” Clint reported, coming closer. He nudged the pile of golden jewelry with his foot as he whistled. “Holy moly, did you rob a bloody museum? This looks like something only an ancient queen would wear.”

The man laughed at response, “Oh no, I just emptied some of my family vaults. Old money, you know.”

Clint hummed appreciatively as police sirens could be heard outside. Agent Howl entered the bank together with a few policemen as Coulson kneeled by the pile of gold and sighed, “I am sorry to say this, but these will most probably be taken by the police as evidence.”

“Ok,” the man replied amicably. “Could I at least have my bag back, please?”

Agent Coulson nodded reaching for the rucksack, though he personally thought it would be taken away during questioning anyways. The man had some sort of a modern tech gun that Coulson had only caught a glimpse of. It needed to be investigated. Was it some sort of a blinding grenade coupled with a laser gun? Agent Coulson was familiar with grenades meant to blind the enemy but none of them worked like that. Not to mention, there was no sound of explosion. Whatever it was, it was high tech.

“No Harry Potter matching his appearance found, sir,” Agent Hill reported and Coulson sighed. Damn it. He was hoping for an easier morning.

“Sir, Chief Deputy Hadaway reporting,” Coulson lifted his head to face the policeman. “We have secured the perimeter. The witnesses are being questioned as we speak.”

“Yes, thank you,” the SHIELD agent smiled cordially and turned to speak to the mysterious Harry but the man was not there. Coulson blinked and turned his head to look around. Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen.

Coulson touched his earpiece, “Maria, where did this Harry go?”

There was silence for a while and then confusion in his colleague’s voice, “I do not see him. I’ll rewind the cameras, he must have slipped when the police entered.”

“Clint,” Agent Coulson turned to the archer. “Did you see where the man went?”

“Who?”

“The man who stood here a minute ago. We were just discussing his jewelry.”

Clint rubbed his head in confusion, “I don’t remember speaking to anyone. Who are you talking about?”

“Maria,” Agent Coulson took a quick look around once more. “Please, tell me you have something for me.”

“There’s nothing, Phil,” she replied. “One minute he was there and the next he was just… gone.”

Agent Coulson sighed as he waved Clint away and left him to deal with the police. They would have to do a wide search but he had a feeling nothing would be found. He took the sack the mysterious Harry left and tried unzipping it to take a look inside. The zipper did not budge. No matter what he did, the zipper just refused to cooperate.

It was only days later that Agent Coulson was informed by the SHIELD laboratory that the rucksack disappeared from its holding box. One day it was there and the next it was gone. For some reason, that did not surprise Agent Coulson at all.

He filed the case as one more unsolved mystery and promptly forgot all about it. The man did not seem dangerous or malicious. He helped protect the civilians during a bank robbery and did not kill or hurt anyone. As far as he was concerned, this Harry Potter was no threat and was thus placed under Category 5 of surveillance, if he was ever to resurface.

Chapter Text

It was a dreary night outside and the rain was drizzling down on the darkened streets. The heavy doors to a bar on a corner street opened with a creek and a tall man stepped out with a tired sigh. He glanced up at the cloudy sky and the pattering rain and closed the door behind him. Going out into the cold and dark was the last thing Steve Rogers wished to do but he could no longer ignore the stares of the other patrons wishing to get a look at the Captain America. He really shouldn’t have decided to try out a new bar for drinks. He should have stuck to the old place which was also much closer to his current place of residence. To his great disappointment, that was in the Stark Tower or the Avenger Tower as it was called now. As a commander, Steve knew living together with his teammates was strategically wise but he still had a hard time accepting Tony and his flamboyant character.

The wind and drizzle picked up, making Steve hunch down into his old leather jacket and hasten his pace. Now he had to walk across a few blocks to get back home and the weather was against him. He considered hailing a taxi but then thought better of it. He’d rather walk. Sadly, luck was not on his side and soon Steve found himself alone on the street in a pouring rain. Now he was really returning to the tempting thought of taxi but his eyes caught a poster on the wall of the building he was walking past. ‘Wizard Harry invites you on an enchanting journey of magic,’ it said and Steve halted in his steps. Magic? An illusionist? He could recall seeing one when he was a child. Getting plastic flowers from long sleeves and taking bunnies out of a hat. It was a mesmerizing sight for a child. He knew, of course, it was all smoke and mirrors but back then he was naïve and ignorant, believing in innocent miracles.

The rain was getting heavier and on strange impulse Steve pushed the door open and walked in. It was a small pub with round tables for couples or small parties. A stage was situated at the far wall of the hall but no one was on it apart from a wooden stand and heavy curtains which were pulled aside. Steve looked around and shrugged off his wet jacket opting to sit at the corner table. A waitress soon came to him and flashed a smile.

“What will you have?”

“A beer, please,” Steve replied as he put his jacket around the back of the chair to dry. “Is the magic show over?”

“Oh, no,” the waitress smiled warmly. “Wizard Harry’s only taking a break for a few minutes.”

Steve thanked her and the girl went away to get his order. Meanwhile, the recent hero took a look at the other patrons. There were families with children and couples, old and young. Everyone was chatting in high spirits and the atmosphere was cozy. The tables had candles on them, creating a warm and homely atmosphere. Steve leaned back into the chair and waited for his beer, watching the candles on the table flicker in the draft. His beer arrived shortly and Steve took a sip finding it cool and rich in taste.

The lights dimmed slightly and Steve got more comfortable, nursing the beer in his hand. Despite his previously bad mood, he found himself anticipating the show. He missed the times when everything was so easy. The only magic he now believed in was that of lies, malevolent mischief and the destructive power of alien gods. Perhaps, some childish tricks would lift his mood up.

Soon, the stage was alight and a man walked to the center of it. He was short but lithe, black-haired and fair-skinned. Even from afar, Steve could see the bright green orbs of the man who looked to be barely above legal age. He was wearing a black suit with a similarly black cloak upon his shoulders. The man, Wizard Harry, took a slight bow and smiled in warm welcome, his eyes skimming through the spectators.

“Welcome back to the show of pure magic,” he said, his voice reverberating in the hall. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the tale I told you moments ago and now, for this part, I will be in need of a helper.”

As soon as the words were said, there was a forest of hands in the air and Steve was slightly taken aback by the enthusiasm of the people around him.

“My, so many volunteers,” Harry smiled. “And you don’t even know what you’ll have to do, yet.”

People chuckled around Steve and the man smiled softly, relaxing more. Meanwhile, Harry walked to the nearby stand and took off the cloak of his shoulders to cover it. His hands moved around the stand in circles, a mystic smile on his lips. Curious, Steve watched the dark cloth rise up forming into something. Harry took it off in a flash, revealing a black magician’s hat.

“And now, my dear guests,” Harry’s smile grew ever so bigger and his eyes glistened with mischief, “I will need that helping hand.”

The arms rose up in the air once again and Steve watched curiously as the Wizard walked to the edge of the stage and mulled over his choices. In the end, a girl of around six or seven years old was chosen and Steve watched her practically run towards the stage, her mother following after, unwilling to let the child go alone.

Harry smiled at the girl and squatted down to her eye level.

“Hello, I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

“Emma,” the girl smiled shyly and Harry grinned at her happily in return.

“Do you know how magic works, Emma?” he asked and the girl shook her head.

“Well, it’s very simple. You need to gift her with something and then Lady Magic will also give you a gift,” the magician explained patiently and smiled warmly.

The girl nodded her head quietly, her eyes attentive. Her mother stood beside her, smiling benignly, her hand resting on the shoulder of the child.

“Now then,” Harry rose up. “What would you like to give to Lady Magic as a token of good will?”

The girl looked pensive for a moment and then her lip trembled slightly, “Bu-but… I don’t have anything.”

The wizard smiled again and shook his head, “That’s alright, it doesn’t need to be anything of value. A little token will do.”

Seeing the girl think harder, Harry offered, “What about your ribbon?”

The girl’s eyes sparkled and she took the ribbon out of her hair enthusiastically, thrusting it at Harry. The illusionist simply shook his head and led the girl to the hat.

“Now, you need to put this ribbon into the hat.”

Emma did so and then turned to Harry again, who smiled, “So then, Emma, what would you like to receive from Lady Magic in return for your ribbon?”

The girl’s eyes widened for a bit and then she gripped her mother’s hand shyly.

“I… I’m not sure,” she whispered and Harry nodded.

“Well, is there something you’ve always wanted, perhaps?”

“Um,” the girl looked at her mother, biting her lower lip, and then replied, “a kitty.”

“A kitty?” the wizard looked surprised and then nodded his head, “then a kitty it shall be.”

The girl looked awed as Harry turned to the hat and then took his cloak. With a wide gesture of his arm, the wizard covered the hat with the cloak and Steve watched as he once again began moving his arms in wide circles. The man was also murmuring something but Steve was too far to hear anything.

The girl stood to the side fascinated and when Harry stopped and took the cloak off again, she stared at the hat with unhidden anticipation. Harry walked to the stand and leaned forth towards his hat. Steve watched the wizard’s hands disappear within and then, in a moment, he was pulling a white kitten out of it. It was a small and puffy looking creature, mewing pathetically in the hands of the magician.

The girl’s smile threatened to split her face apart as she carefully pressed the white kitten to her chest.

Wizard Harry smiled at her warmly and asked for another volunteer. A few more people went up the stage and Steve was surprised to see the magician fulfill their wishes without even so much as a blink of an eye. Glittering watches of gold, puppies, parrots and pumpkin pies came out of the hat within the next half an hour and Steve Rogers had to admit he was impressed. The man who desired a parrot was sitting merely a few tables away from him and the superhero could watch the bird twitter and chatter all evening. It certainly did not seem to be made out of smoke and mirrors. Steve decided the selected people were most definitely paid to ask for such bizarre items. He supposed it livened up the show for the applause at the end of it was ear deafening.

“Well then, perhaps that is enough for the magic hat,” the wizard smiled at the public. “It’s had quite a day, I must admit. Fear not, though, I do have one more magical trick for tonight.”

Steve took a sip from his third glass of beer and got more comfortable as the illusionist made the hat and the small table disappear from the stage in a puff of white smoke. Despite knowing everything here was just a well-orchestrated mixture of technology and acting, Steve found himself enjoying every minute of it.

Meanwhile, Wizard Harry took a slight bow, “There are many things humans fear in this world. Sometimes, this fear is well based and necessary to survive; at other times, it is unsubstantiated and biased. Tonight, I wish to show you a rare friendship born out of understanding and hard work.”

He stood calmly, outstretching his arm to the side. After a moment of suspense, Wizard Harry snapped his fingers, stating “Ignis” and with a wild gasp the crowd watched as a small flame sprang to life, soon devouring his whole hand. The magician did not seem to be fazed as he rolled his palm this way and that, making the fire grow larger and spread around. Steve watched along with the other spectators, transfixed, as the flames did not seem to burn the man. On the contrary, they seemed to dance along the movements of the illusionist’s arm as he waved it in a wide arch. It was a mesmerizing sight, captivating in its unearthly beauty.

“Fire is one of the most dangerous elements on Earth,” the magician said. “However, if you know how to ask politely, it will play nicely with you.”

He smiled, covering his burning palm with his other hand, muffling the flames, and then suddenly opened them up in a wide arch, releasing a roar of fire which spread up in the air and soon disintegrated into smaller flames. To Steve’s surprise, the flames took shape and he held in a gasp as he realized hundreds of small and larger butterflies of pure red flames were fluttering above them, their wings glittering with amber fire under the dim lights of the hall.

The butterflies soon disintegrated into thin air and the crowd in the hall rose to give their applause. The noise was roaring and Wizard Harry took another low bow, “Thank you for coming tonight and I hope you’ve enjoyed the show! Come back again when you need just a small miracle to brighten up your day.”

With a slight pop he was gone from the stage and soon a few more puffs of smoke followed around the hall. Surprised, Steve took a look around to realize the various objects and animals the illusionist had magicked out of his hat had now been turned back to the same items put in the hat by their owners. Steve smiled and settled down to finish his drink. All in all, it turned out to be a good night.

Later on, he found out Wizard Harry performed every Friday and he came back to immerse himself in a world of childish magic which never seemed to fail to amaze him and make him wonder. It was an innocent and good-willed magic, tricks designed to make others laugh and sigh in awe, and Steve found himself enjoying his Friday evenings more and more. The illusionist seemed to offer new tricks every now and then, ranging from conjuring small animals and objects, floating items around the stage and the hall, changing beer into pumpkin juice, levitating himself or small children, bending spoons and metal forks, playing around with the four elements and even going so far as guessing certain events in the personal lives of his spectators. Steve never participated in the shows and Wizard Harry never chose him, naturally. It was all smoke and mirrors, after all.

But then, one Friday evening, as Steve was getting ready to head out to his now usual place, Tony Stark deemed it a suitable moment to inquire as to his evening plans.

“I am sorry, Tony,” Steve shook his head as he put on his trusty leather jacket. “I already have something planned for tonight.”

The Iron Man spluttered indignantly, “What can be more exciting than getting smashed with all of us together? Come on, Captain, we haven’t had an evening out for almost a month now.”

“Two weeks,” Steve corrected him as he glanced at the mirror to make sure he looked alright.

“Aw, who counts,” Tony waved his hand and grinned, “Come now, Captain, even Bruce is willing to go.”

“I wouldn’t really call it willing,” Bruce muttered in response but was soon quelled by a glare from Stark.

“Look, Tony, I am sure it would be great and fun but I do need to be somewhere,” Steve turned to face the millionaire.

“Ooooh, I get it now, oh I dooo,” Tony grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Why didn’t you just say that you had a date, huh? Is she hot? Blonde? Brunette? Red-headed?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pushed through Tony towards the doors, “It’s not a girl, Stark.”

Tony seemed stumped for a moment and a small flush covered his cheeks as he covered it up quickly, “Ah, I wasn’t aware that you swung that way, but, hey, no worries!”

Steve groaned in exasperation and turned to Stark, “It’s not a guy either! I’m merely going to this show I enjoy watching every Friday.”

“Ah, a show,” Tony perked up once again. “Well, maybe Bruce and I would enjoy that show too, no?”

“No,” Steve sighed, giving up. “It’s a magical show, Tony, I doubt you would find it very interesting.”

“Magical?” Bruce came up, his brows furrowed.

“Magical like pulling white rabid rabbits out of hats, that sort of magical?” Tony seemed to be as confused as his scientist friend. Steve nodded his head, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Well, I haven’t seen the man pull out any rabbits, yet, but I’m sure he has a few somewhere.”

“What, no rabbits? Well, that is just a crime,” Tony stated and grabbed his coat from the rack by the door. “We just need to remedy that.”

“Tony,” with an exasperated sigh Steve tried to stop his colleague. “What are you doing?”

“Why, coming with you, of course!”

Steve soon regretted telling Tony and Bruce about the magic show as the eccentric billionaire decided to tag along and no force on Earth could stop him now. As a result, the two bickered for another half an hour while Bruce sat on the couch rather calmly and waited for Steve to lose.

Needless to say, Steve lost and the three of them made it to the bar to watch the grand magical show of Wizard Harry together. To Steve’s chagrin, they were a bit late and the show had already started. Luckily, his usual corner table was free and the waitress smiled in a friendly manner, recognizing him from before.

“Ooh, is that him?” Tony whispered, leaning forth to get a better look at the stage and Steve inwardly sighed, preparing for a long evening. “Doesn’t look like much.”

Bruce merely grabbed the glass of beer and took a large gulp. The hall was crowded like any other evening and the attention of the audience was riveted to the lone man on the stage. He was taking a large bowl full of water from a waitress. Interested, Steve watched the illusionist put the bowl with water on a low stand and smile at the audience. Steve could not remember seeing this trick before and was glad they made it in time to see it.

“What’s he doing?” Tony was puzzled and Steve shrugged.

“I don’t know, it’s a new trick, I think,” the Captain replied in a low whisper. “He likes to include something new every other night.”

Tony nodded and the three watched as Wizard Harry took a small bow.

“Tonight, I decided to show you a play of elements. Enjoy,” he said and turned to the bowl. His hand hovered above it and in a few seconds, the water stirred. Even from his corner, Steve could see a trickle of transparent water rise above and stretch towards the illusionist’s hand.

“Impressive,” Bruce commented to his side but what followed was an even more amazing sight which brought upon gasps and claps from the audience. Wizard Harry spent the next few minutes manipulating water in all imaginable ways, forming it into a shape that somewhat resembled a slightly disfigured tree. Riveted, Steve watched as with another slow wave of the man’s hand, the trickling water started to freeze over, gaining a sharply cut and precise form of a cherry tree with leaves and intricate flowers. It was a piece of art, nothing less and nothing more.

“There must be some kind of a holo projection screen,” Steve could hear Tony’s silent mutters as he stared at the icy tree in disbelief.

“Now then,” Wizard Harry smirked, “what would a tree be without a bird among its branches?”

A snap of his fingers and fiery flames rose above his hand to form into a shape of a bird. It was made of blazing fire and as it flapped its wings and took flight above the hall, Steve could swear he felt the warmth of fire radiating off it. The bird landed on the icy tree with a soft trill and started preening its bright red feathers. Steve could see the icy branch melt slightly under the talons of the bird and wondered just how detailed the entire show could get.

Soon, though, the curtains were drawn and a break of fifteen minutes followed, leaving the audience to chatter and speculate among themselves. Those fifteen minutes turned to be the longest in Steve’s life as Tony launched into a variety of theories how the trick could have been achieved and seemed rather indignant that the people in the hall actually believed this to be magic. Steve merely rolled his eyes and Bruce nodded his head, pitching in here and there to dispute Tony’s theories. In the end, none of the theories proved to be credible as the stage lacked certain elements and technology to make it work but Tony was adamant it was all smoke and mirrors.

The second part of the show soon started and this time Steve recognized the set up. With a smirk he glanced at Tony, “Well then, seems like your wish will come true. Maybe he will get you a rabid rabbit out of the hat.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked and Steve explained that this part was largely dedicated to magical hat tricks.

This seemed to bring a malicious glint to the eyes of Tony.

“Tony,” Steve started to have a bad feeling, all of a sudden, and Bruce’s worried expression joined his when one billionaire and playboy Tony Stark let out a soft cackle sounding much too evil for his friends’ liking.

“Tony?” Bruce asked questioningly but the Iron Man merely shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

“Now then, I will need a volunteer,” Harry’s voice reached them and as if on cue, Tony’s hand shot up enthusiastically.

Steve groaned and Bruce sighed, picking up his glass.

“Mmm, I think,” Wizard Harry made a small pause, “I think I will choose the boy in the blue shirt over there.”

The said boy got up, his face alight with joy and ran towards the stage.

“Aw, too bad,” Bruce grinned and took a sip of his beer.

Tony merely frowned, “You’re right, the chance of being chosen is close to zero. After all, the volunteers are usually accomplices.”

Steve merely shook his head in desperation, “He most often selects children.”

“Of course, they’re easy to bribe,” Tony smiled as he watched the illusionist pull out a light brown teddy bear with a hat on top of one of his ears. The boy went back to his parents clutching at the teddy with the widest smile Steve had ever seen. Tony snorted.

“A teddy bear, of course.”

As Wizard Harry called for another volunteer, Tony jumped up from the chair and stalked forth towards the stage. Both confused and alarmed, Steve followed after him, hissing for Tony to stop. Bruce gave a forlorn glance at his beer and went after the two wondering what Tony was up to.

Apparently, Tony’s plan was as simplest as it could be as his fast walk attracted the attention of both the audience and Wizard Harry. He watched the three men curiously as Tony ran up towards the stage.

“I dare you to pick me!” Tony said out loud and the hall was quiet for a small moment before it erupted into murmurs. The illusionist looked confused for a moment and he watched as Steve and Bruce caught up to the flamboyant man.

Bruce started tugging Tony away, whispering harshly, and Steve smiled apologetically at Harry, “I’m so sorry, please, just ignore him.”

“No, no, no,” Tony was adamant as he grinned at Wizard Harry. “Come on, why don’t you choose me as a volunteer? I bet you can’t, cause I’m not bribed like the others, am I?”

Finally, realization seemed to dawn on the face of the illusionist and he chuckled, “I assure you, good sir, none of my spectators are bribed.”

“Oh, really, prove it then,” Tony smirked.

“Tony, please,” Steve tried to pull him away but then, Wizard Harry laughed and merely nodded his head.

“Fine by me, come on up the stage, Mr.?..”

“Tony,” the billionaire gave him a wink, “Tony Stark.”

He jumped up the stage and there were gasps around him as people finally recognized the man. He gave a few bows and waved as the people settled down. Harry remained unfazed and merely smiled benignly at the worried-looking Steve. For his part, Steve Rogers was sinking into deeper and deeper depression cursing his bad luck for bringing Tony along. He was pretty sure this evening would soon turn into a tragedy, all with the help of Tony.

“Why don’t your friends come along, as well?” Harry smiled and motioned to Bruce and Steve who glanced at each other unsurely. “Surely, you trust your friends not to be bribed, right?”

Steve winced at the slight mock in the Wizard’s voice but Tony merely grinned and waved to his two friends who climbed onto the stage shyly.

“Well then, I am Wizard Harry, as you know,” the illusionist smiled. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am Steve, Steve Rogers,” Captain stretched his hand to shake and was mildly surprised by the firm and warm handshake.

“Uh, Bruce,” the scientist introduced himself briefly, trying to remain calm. He did not enjoy being in the spotlight. Damn Tony and his bravado. The curious gaze of the Wizard who seemed to have deep and sharp green eyes did nothing to soothe his nerves, either.

“And I’m Tony Stark,” Tony did not miss the chance to reintroduce himself once again. “Billionaire, hero, scientist, genius, philanthropist, you name it.”

Wizard Harry grinned and added, “A non-believer.”

Tony chuckled in response and Harry glanced back at Steve. “Why don’t we start with you, Mr. Steve. I believe I’ve seen you here a few times before so I am sure you know how magic works.”

Steve nodded, embarrassed, his cheeks hot and reddish.

“What would you like to give to Lady Magic?”

Steve shrugged and got his wristwatch off, walking towards the magical hat.

“For those of you who are unaware,” Harry smiled at Tony, “you must give something of value, a token of your good will, for the miracle to happen.”

He walked to Steve who had already put the watch inside and asked, “What would you like to receive, Mr. Steve?”

“Oh, oh, ask for a bat, a bat!” Tony whispered harshly and Steve glared at him once before smirking.

He wanted something easy, something the man had already prepared. He wanted to retain the magic of Wizard Harry no matter how fake it was.

“A white rabbit, please.”

“Oh, funny, very funny…” Tony gave Steve a look but Wizard Harry merely chuckled gaily.

“But of course,” he smiled at Steve and after a small swish of his black cloak, a white rabbit was pulled out of the hat.

Steve cradled the animal in his arms as he stepped away. It was fluffy and real, trembling slightly in the man’s hands. Steve held it gently, petting the animal’s soft head.

“Ok, ok, my turn now,” Tony called but Harry merely smiled.

“Why don’t we leave the best for last,” the illusionist motioned to Bruce. “Mr. Bruce, if you will?”

“Uh, I’m fine, really…”

At the imploring stare of Tony who adamantly told him to choose something outlandish, though, Bruce relented and walked to place his old pen inside. Thinking of something to receive was more problematic, however, as Bruce didn’t really want to ruin the magical show. He rather enjoyed it and his Hulk side was strangely calm throughout, compared to how he usually felt. He had felt the Other One stir when he went up the stage and then, magically, it receded back without even so much as a grunt.

“Um, a book, perhaps?”

“What kind of a book?” Harry wanted to be precise ignoring the angry rant of Tony who seemed very disappointed in the choice of his friend.

“Well, any book will do,” Bruce shrugged, deciding not to ruin the show. He was sure if he were to demand something specific, it would be near to impossible to achieve. Sure, the show holders must have had some rabbits prepared for the show and any old book would fit his order. He was rather worried about Tony’s upcoming request, however.

Lost in his musings, Bruce missed the entire cloak swishing part and came to himself only when he was handed a small book in hard cover. Jekyll and Hyde, it read. Bruce stared, flummox. And then raised his head to stare at Wizard Harry.

“How did you-”

The man merely smiled mysteriously and winked at him.

“What, what?” Tony peered at the book and glanced at Bruce questioningly. The scientist evaded his eyes and clutched the book to his chest in wonder. Did the man know? But then why? He refused to admit to Tony that Jekyll and Hyde used to be his favorite story when he was but a child. It lost its magic after the Hulk incident. The story hit far too close to home, to his liking. Yet, Bruce said nothing, hiding the title away from Tony and stepped away to stand next to Steve who looked worried.

“Well then, I believe it would be only fair to fulfill your request now, Mr. Tony,” Wizard Harry smiled. “But first, a token.”

Tony was quick to relinquish one of his golden rings into the hat and smirked at the illusionist.

“I won’t show any mercy, you know,” the billionaire said and Harry shrugged in response.

“Surely not. What would like to receive from Lady Magic?”

“Mmm, let me think,” Tony pretended to ponder for a moment and then grinned maniacally. “Oh, I know, how about a golden lion wearing a pink tutu and a fluffy feathered hat… oh, oh, and his claws painted red!”

Tony smirked satisfied with his request as the hall roared with laughter, his friends stared at him incredulously and Wizard Harry seemed both bemused and slightly alarmed.

“Ah, perhaps, something smaller?” the illusionist eyed the magical hat warily. “And less dangerous?”

“Nope, I want what I said,” Tony looked pretty much victorious and Wizard Harry turned to stare at him in wonderment.

“Tony, please,” Steve seemed to beg with his eyes, as he held onto the white rabbit. Meanwhile, Wizard Harry scanned the audience which watched on riveted and sighed.

“Alright then,” it was the illusionists turn to smirk as Tony blinked in disbelief. “One golden lion in pink tutu, feathered hat and red painted claws, coming right up.”

With the same small smirk on his lips, Wizard Harry got the ring out of the hat and let it roll across the floor. The golden band made a few full circles before coming to a stop with a tinkling clatter. Then, the young illusionist took the cloak and threw it elegantly to cover the ring lying on the floor of the stage.

“Please, step back a little,” he asked and Tony retreated backwards to stand next to Steve, confused and bewildered. Surely, no smokes and mirrors could produce his rather specific and exotic request?

However, the illusionist seemed pretty sure of himself as he waved his hands, making the cloak shift and rise up as if something was forming underneath. The irregular looking shape was growing rapidly, until, suddenly, Wizard Harry grabbed one edge of the dark cloak and pulled it firmly up and to the side. The material fluttered out of sight and the crowd gasped, both frightened and surprised. A large lion with a golden mane sat on the stage, his body wrapped in a pink tutu. A hat with fluffy large feathers was on his head and the animal shook it off in his apparent confusion. The large golden mane shook as the feline opened its jaw to let out a roar and jumped to his paws to turn and try pull the tutu off.

“What the…” Tony was staring with his jaw opened as the lion seemed to grow angrier and turned his head to the new sound.

A low growl and the lion lowered on its haunches in preparation of attack. That was the moment that Wizard Harry stepped up and Tony could see him throw some type of glittering powder. A puff of smoke covered the stage and when it was gone, only the fluffy hat and the pink tutu remained.

“How… what… that…” Tony was gob smacked but Harry merely walked to the remnants of the clothing and leaned down to pick something up.

He turned back to Tony and the billionaire soon found himself with an armful of a lion cub. It mewled and the sharp claws dug into the sleeve of Tony’s jacket.

“I’m afraid an adult lion is a bit too dangerous to have around,” Wizard Harry winked and Tony’s ears were soon flooded by a deafening roar of applause from the hall.

The sharp little claws of the cub dug in deeper and Tony looked down only to find them painted red. He missed the ending of the show that followed and the drawing of the curtains as he still gaped at the lion cub in his arms. It was kneading the flesh of his arm riveted on the material. And then, the feline was gone in a puff of smoke and a loud popping sound, leaving a golden ring in its stead.

“What-” Tony was unable to voice his thoughts as Steve patted his shoulder.

“They always turn back to whatever you give Lady Magic at the end of the show. It’s just a trick, Tony,” Steve smiled, putting on his watch.

“No magic trick can do THAT,” Tony hissed as he looked around. The stage was empty now, the curtains drawn and hiding them from the public. “That lion cub, it felt real, it was real!”

Steve merely shrugged in response and Bruce seemed to be deep in thought.

“Look,” Tony gritted his teeth. “I can understand the rabbit, he must have a dozen of those ready, and a book is hardly difficult to find, but a lion cub? How would he even know I’d ask for one? Hell, I didn’t even know it until I had the idea at the last moment!”

“Just leave it, Tony,” Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s just a magic show, nothing more and nothing less.”

“Oh, I am not gonna leave this,” Tony shook his head as he headed towards the doors in the back of the stage. “I’ll figure this one out even if it’s the last thing I do!”

However, during the upcoming weeks neither Tony nor Bruce were able to crack the mystery that was Harry the Wizard. Countless theories and practical experiments in the privacy of Tony’s lab, yet, the Iron Man was nowhere close to the answers he was seeking.

“Oh, please, Tony, would you just leave it?” Steve sighed in exasperation as yet another attempt at making an illusion of a lion blew up in the genius’ face. “It’s all smoke and mirrors, Tony.”

“No, no, no,” the Iron Man shook his head and Bruce rolled his eyes behind him. “I’ve tried anything and everything I could think of and there was no way to make such a realistic illusion, or-or what? Transport a lion cub from out of nowhere? It’s impossible and unplausible! There is only one explanation to that and we all know it.”

“Tony, please…”

“Face it, Steve, your little subject of affection is either more technologically advanced than humanly possible or… magical.”

Steve pressed his lips together in a thin line of disapproval as he glared at Tony. The latter continued undisturbed, “And we all know what happens when a magical creature comes down upon Earth.”

Disheartened, Steve glanced back to his other friend, hoping the scientist could disprove Tony’s theory.

Bruce sighed heavily as he took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “He is right, Steve, I cannot think of any way to do the tricks he did. It is… a bit suspicious.”

“Even if he is… magical,” Steve frowned at the word. “Maybe he’s not bent on world domination. I’ve been going there for almost a few months now and nothing particularly evil has happened.”

“Yet,” added Tony gravely.

Steve merely sighed glancing at the billionaire genius reproachfully, “So what do you want to do? Go and tell Fury?”

“What? Of course not!” Tony hollered waving his hands enthusiastically. “We will apprehend the man ourselves! Why let the SHIELD have all the fun and glory?”

“Need I remind you, Tony, that Steve is somewhat right and nothing particularly menacing has yet happened. Maybe we should just try talking to the man first?” Bruce tried to intervene but was waved away by Iron Man on a mission.

And that was exactly how Steve Rogers found himself back in the little bar looking for the owner together with Tony and Bruce. However, as usual, nothing went according to plan.

“Wizard Harry?” The owner seemed to think really hard upon the question and then continued unsurely, “I think he… yes, I think he went away on some tour. I don’t quite recall… Hm, well, he no longer performs here, that I can tell you.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Bruce asked but the owner merely shook his head after a brief contemplation.

“When did he leave?” Tony asked next and the owner told them it was but a few weeks ago. Even Steve had to admit it was somewhat suspicious, the man leaving straight after the show they visited.

“Can you perhaps track him down, Tony?” Steve asked reluctantly as he watched the genius mechanic saunter beside him deep in thought.

“Tony?” Bruce nudged him and the Iron Man only nodded his head.

“Oh, that is exactly what we are gonna do, my friends,” the determined glint in Tony’s eyes did nothing to alleviate the worry Steve suddenly felt.

And yet, even with Tony’s technology and the assistance of Jarvis, they were unable to find anything even remotely related to Wizard Harry. There were no records, no ads of upcoming shows or tours matching the one they have watched and no camera recordings or facial recognition matches.

It was as if Wizard Harry was never there to begin with.

Chapter Text

The air was dry and hot, grains of sand grating upon her skin like sandpaper, the wind getting the small particles into her eyes despite the shawl she was wearing. The sun was beaming down upon her relentlessly and there was nowhere to hide, no shadowed corner to take a rest in. Her patience was running rather thin as she trailed after the target inconspicuously, her arm interwoven with that of her partner’s.

“I hate Baghdad,” he muttered silently and Natasha could not help but agree.

“It could be worse,” she smiled enchantingly at him and Clint cocked his brow inquiringly.

“You could be sitting up on the rooftop like an egg ready to be fried,” she mocked and the archer snorted in return, turning her swiftly to face a table with jewelry.

He picked a bracelet up showing it to her as the salesman chattered on in the background. Natasha smiled and cooed at the way it jingled all the while keeping an eye on the target who seemed to be loitering along other stalls. Clint paid for the bracelet and Natasha pretended to admire it on her wrist for another few minutes until the two followed the man again.

The master spy could not help but wish the target had finally headed where they needed him to go. Sadly enough, it was not to be as the attention of the thug was caught by quiet gasps and awed sounds further down the street. The man closed in towards a small crowd standing in a half circle and the two agents followed him, blending silently into the crowd.

Their target pushed towards the front of the crowd and Natasha and Clint made sure they ended up but a few meters away from him in a good position to watch the man or follow after him swiftly, if needed.

The man’s gaze was riveted to the front and Natasha turned to a slim-built youth sitting on the hard pavement. He was wearing loose pants and a sort of a jacket which was opened in the front. She could see his uncharacteristically pale skin and had to wonder how he remained untanned in this heat. For some reason, he reminded her of a genie from a movie she had seen ages ago and if the silent snicker from her partner was any cue, he had the very same thought.

The young man held a flute in his hands and was playing a soft and soothing melody. It had hypnotizing notes in it and Natasha watched somewhat intrigued as three white cobras in front of the man swayed to the rhythm in unison. It was quite a sight, she had to admit. She had seen snake whisperers before but she had never seen anyone enchant three snakes at the same time.

Her gaze slid back to the youth who seemed quite focused on playing the flute. He was young, in his twenties, and had jet black hair which contrasted with his pale complexion rather nicely. His eyes were half closed but she could make out two green orbs glittering like jewels.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed movement and stiffened immediately watching one of the snakes move. Gasps were heard as the snake slithered closer to the performer and Natasha could feel Clint tense beside her. The street performer did not seem bothered by it and mesmerized she watched the king cobra weave its way onto the man’s body, twining around his neck. The two other snakes followed her example and were soon wrapping up and around the man, entwining their bodies with his limbs. Their scales shimmered in the sun as they swayed from their perches on the man. The snakes started letting out hissing sounds in tune with the music. It was as if they were listening to a small choir singing. It was uncanny and eerie, yet, somewhat magical at the same time.

The hissing song lasted for another five minutes and then the snakes finally settled down on the man’s shoulder for what seemed to be a nap. A few more minutes of the soft and calming tune and the young performer laid down his flute. The snakes did not stir from their places even as the snake whisperer got up and started gathering his belongings. The crowd tipped him generously, though quietly, most probably wary of the three cobras around his neck and shoulders.

Their target then moved away wearing a grin and a strange gleam in his eyes, and Natasha and Clint left the street forgetting the young snake whisperer almost immediately. Performers alike him were not a rare sight in Baghdad streets.

It was in three more days that they encountered the young performer again and not at the best of circumstances.

“Are you in the position yet?” Natasha whispered in her ear piece and received a negative response from Clint. She cursed under her breath as she tiptoed along the edge peering down into the warehouse. There were eighteen guys down there, one of them holding a young green-eyed man she recognized only too well. The snake whisperer. He seemed to be calm and unfazed so far and she wondered if it was his job with the snakes that allowed him to retain his cool.

While their task was to take down the ring dealing in poison making, she could not allow an innocent bystander to suffer if she could do anything about it. Only a few more minutes and Clint would be in position to help her out. No matter how much she wished, Natasha knew she could not help the man now. Not even the great Black Widow could take on eighteen thugs armed to the teeth all by herself.

So, she perched above the despicable criminals and waited for the right moment to descend upon them while the said thugs bickered among themselves and mocked their captured victim.

The street performer did not even bat an eyelash at their jeers as he stated in a calm voice, “I am merely looking for my cobra, gentlemen. She disappeared yesterday and all the traces led me here.”

“Well, what do you say? A cobra, huh?” One of the gang leaders laughed loudly and the others followed suit. “What did you say she looked like, huh?”

“She’s a king cobra, all white. A very intelligent one, too,” the man explained unperturbed.

“Why, I think we do have a few of them down here, right, boys?” The leader hollered and motioned for his goons who rushed to comply with the silent order.

Natasha could not help but feel shivers run down her spine as she watched a large dug up hole being uncovered. It was not the hole itself which went deep that unsettled her but rather what was in it. Hundreds if not thousands of snakes slithered and writhed in the dug trench, a mass of entwined scaly bodies, their hissing so deep and so loud now that the cover was taken down that Natasha could not tear her gaze away from the sight.

The goon holding the street performer pushed him towards the hole and chuckled, “See a friend of yours, perhaps?”

“Clint, you’d better be ready,” Natasha whispered furiously and she watched the leader of the gang mock the man further. It was plainly clear they would throw the young man into the snake pit any moment now. At least she now knew what they did with the snakes after extracting their poison. Why’d they keep all of them in one pit was a mystery to her but Natasha was pretty sure it was quite a great method of getting rid of unwanted persons. She also knew that even though most of the poison had been removed from the snakes, their bites still carried a bit of venom and while one snake bite would most probably had little to no effect on the man, a hundred or more bites would be his death.

“Clint,” she whispered again and waited with bated breath for his reply. None came, only static and she could wait no longer.

The goons were practically pushing the man over the edge though the latter did not seem to resist overly much. She cursed under her breath and descended upon the men in a flurry of shining metal and cold-blooded fury. She whirled quickly and cut down the thugs mercilessly, trying to get to the innocent performer as soon as she could. While she had the advantage of a surprise, it did not last long and her heart sank as she saw reinforcements come forth. She was already on the edge of the pit and noticed the snake charmer give her a curious glance as the thugs started surrounding them.

“Well, nowhere to run now,” the leader mocked and Natasha gritted her teeth praying Clint was here and ready to back her up. She was calculating the best approach as she felt a warm hand wrap around hers and then tug. Surprised, she failed to resist in time and soon found herself falling. She landed on something soft and moving, her ears registering laughter and incredulous shouts from above and her mind screaming at her that she was dead, dead, dead… her body simply froze as sleek bodies writhed around her.

“Do not fear, fair lady,” the soft voice with British accent whispered and she turned her head to see the snake whisperer behind her. He was sitting comfortably among snakes and a soft smile played on his lips as he said, “They won’t hurt you. No, not you.”

She stared at him both in shock and trepidation as suddenly her earpiece came alive with Clint’s breathless voice, “In position. Where are you, Tasha?”

She could not reply him; her body was still frozen in primal fear and no training could have ever prepared her for this.

“Oh, this is just perfect,” the leader was leaning over the edge mocking them but Natasha’s eyes were riveted on the performer who was staring at her so intently she almost felt hypnotized by that green gaze.

“Stay calm and breathe,” he whispered. “Breathe.”

And so, she did. She took a breath and let it out, for the moment ignoring the taunts and jeers, not replying to the frantic questions of Clint and turning a blind eye to the fact she had just been pulled into a pit of venomous snakes.

Her focus came back after the third breath and her hands stopped trembling. Her eyes took in the situation quickly as Natasha tried forming a plan. But then, as she catalogued her position calmly, she could not help but wonder… There were no snakes around her. None.

All the slithering creatures had retreated forming a perfect circle around her and the street performer. They were lying still as if frozen, their eyes riveted on her and the young man beside her and no sounds escaping their venomous mouths. Not even a single hiss. The thugs had quieted down, perturbed by what they were seeing.

“What the hell…” she could hear Clint whisper in her ear. “The fuck… Tasha, tell me you’re okay, tell me you’re fine.”

“I’m ok,” she whispered watching the snakes warily, “I’m ok.”

“Good,” the snake charmer whispered back and beamed her a charming smile. And then, he turned away towards the congregated snakes and hissed. Sibilant and whispery sounds carrying so softly in the air that for a brief moment in time she thought it was her imagination. But it was not. Another hiss, a sharp and cutting one this time, and the illusion of a stand-still broke.

The seemingly calm and motionless snakes were suddenly writhing and hissing and slithering one atop the other and in a matter of seconds they were up and on the edge of the pit. She watched, her mouth agape, as the creatures climbed and climbed and the eerie silence was cut by screams as the snakes descended upon the thugs viciously.

Shots rang in the air and Natasha could hear Clint cursing but she could not help but tremble in the eerie calm of the snake charmer in front of her. A huge white cobra had slithered upon his shoulders, hissing in his ear. An albino, Natasha thought, watching its unblinking red eyes.

“My friend here says the bad guys are no more,” the snake whisperer said. Natasha could only nod, noticing the eerie quiet in the warehouse. Even her partner was silent in her earpiece.

“Would you like to get out now?” The man asked. “Do not worry, the snakes will not harm you. They are peaceful creatures, when unprovoked.”

“Uhm, yes,” Natasha muttered, clearing her voice and getting up from the ground. “We should try and climb out.”

She glanced around only to realize the pit was too deep to climb by herself. The snake whisperer was a short man and his height would not be enough for her to climb out. Natasha turned to her partner in trouble and blinked several times to dispel whatever it was that she was seeing. There, on the opposite wall, the ground was shaped like a stairway. A narrow, muddy and all-together unsafe looking stairway. It was not there just seconds ago.

“That was not here before,” she pointed out.

“Are you quite sure?” The snake whisperer asked as he smiled benignly. He was standing so close to her, that Natasha once again noticed his eyes, which were a rather bright green, an unnatural green, if she could say so.

“Perhaps, having found yourself in such a stressful situation, you have simply missed it,” the man continued and the Black Widow shook her head once, twice.

“Isn’t that right?” The snake man smiled wider. “The stairs have always been here.”

“Yeah,” Natasha muttered. “Of course, they have.”

“Come on, then,” the man led the way up and Natasha climbed the earthy stairs, marveling at their sturdiness. Of course, the stairs have always been here. How could she have thought otherwise?

She dutifully climbed up after the mysterious man, shaking off the thoughts of the stairs out of her head. She dreaded what they would find up ahead. She did not wish to speak to Clint on her comms as to not give him away and so she kept silent as she took the time to look around. Dead bodies lay everywhere. And then, the snakes. They lay on the ground, surrounding the pit Natasha has just climbed out, not a hiss, not a movement, as if dormant.

The snake whisperer bent down to let the giant king cobra slither to the ground. All at once, the snakes reared up and Natasha took a step back. It was eerie and unnatural.

“Fuck me, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Clint’s voice grounded her a bit, reminding that she was not the only one witnessing this macabre spectacle.

The man let out a long hiss, serpentine and seemingly unending, like a high note that a singer kept singing till he ran out of voice. The snakes swayed in the air once, twice, and then started slithering their way out of the warehouse. Hundreds of snakes crawling and sliding across the ground to the nearest crevices they could find. In a matter of minutes, the warehouse was empty, save for the bodies.

“How in the world…” Natasha muttered, disbelief clear in her high-pitched voice and wide eyes.

“Oh, just a little gift I have,” the man said as he turned to face her. “Thank you for being so calm. You did great.”

The Black Widow shook her head, lost as to what she should say to the man. There were too many questions she wanted and had to ask, too much that seemed incomprehensible even in t

“I think you might find what you came here for over there,” the snake whisperer pointed somewhere behind her and Natasha turned her head to look at the ramshackle office of the goons. She realized her mistake when she heard the man mutter a muted “Good luck” and a strange popping sound.

She whirled around but the man was no longer here. The warehouse was empty.

“Clint, did you see where he went?” She muttered into her comms and received a negative reply.

“He didn’t,” Clint said. “He just… sort of disappeared. Fuck this magic shit. How the hell are we even supposed to report this in?”

“Hell if I know,” Natasha said. “I couldn’t explain half of what’s happened here.”

“Fury is gonna be-”

“Furious,” the both of them finished in unison as they chuckled, trying to imagine Fury’s face when he read their report.

Later, when they did file the said report, the description of the snake whisperer matched the appearance of another mysterious man who seemed to have similarly disappeared during a bank robbery. Apparently, Clint was there too but for the life of him the archer could not recall seeing the green-eyed man before. He truly hated these stupid mind tricks, especially, after what had happened to him during the Tesseract mission. The danger level of the mystery magic man was elevated and Agent Coulson took on the case himself, working hard to gather information and evidence to be presented to their leader and commander Fury.

This strange magic user, albeit with no malicious intent so far, could no longer be ignored.

Chapter Text

To say that one Colonel Nicholas Joseph Fury known to most of his agents and non-agents simply as Nick Fury was, well, furious, would be an understatement of humongous proportions. Nothing seemed to actually go his way today or, truth be said, the past two weeks and a half. Even though the crisis of yet another plan of world domination was well and truly averted, Nick Fury had yet to get at least an hour of free time. Consequently, this meant he had not slept for days and was snapping at pretty much everything that moved or breathed or simply stood in his line of vision. And despite his lack of an eye, his line of vision was vast enough, thank you very much.

All things considered, it was a wonder how he was still standing but let no one say that Nicky Fury did not do his job properly. However, he was running on empty fumes and now that he finally had 6 hours of marvelous and call-free night ahead of him, he could not… fall asleep.

Yes, Nick Fury was incapable of getting his god-damned well-deserved rest for the night and he had been turning and tossing around for a good hour now. He was out of sleeping pills and as there was no way he would send any of his agents to fetch him something as mundane as sleeping pills, he had to do it himself.

This was how one Colonel Nick Fury found himself striding along the dark street towards a drugstore he knew was open 24/7. He could only hope and pray the store had the pills he needed as by now, in his worrisome career, he needed the strongest sort there was.

As he crossed an intersection, a small neon sign in a window caught Fury’s eyes. A new drugstore? It seemed to be a small one but it was open. The man hesitated for a moment and then as if compelled by some strange force, pushed the door open and stepped inside. If the store had his pills, then he’d save time. If it didn’t, five minutes hardly mattered one way or another.

Inside, it was dark and sort of gloomy, shelves upon shelves of bottles and glass vials of myriads of colors glinting softly. Fury immediately narrowed his one good eye, noting the only other door there was and then focusing on a young man behind the counter.

“Welcome to Prince’s Brews. My name is Harry,” the man greeted him with a smile as he leaned on the counter. “How can I help you tonight?”

Fury took a quick glance around and wondered if he really came to the right place. This definitely was not a regular run of the mill pharmacy. Alternative medicine, then? He was unsure about that. Plant-based medication was all good but it didn’t quite work on him that well.

“I think I’ve got the wrong store, sorry,” Fury murmured as he turned around to head back towards the door.

“Hmm, and I think you could use some good old sleep,” the shop assistant commented, making Fury halt. He turned around to face the man as he continued speaking, “Unsteady gait, even though I do commend you on your attempts to hide that, prominent bags under your eyes, both, I must say, a hard to focus gaze, mm, a sleeping draught might just do you oceans of good.”

The man muttered something else under his breath as he stalked to one of the shelves to take a small bottle. It looked to be of a dark purple color, but Fury was unsure due to the overall darkness of the premises.

The man hummed once again as he rolled the bottle in his hands, “Hm, maybe a stronger one, after all.”

He placed the bottle back on the shelf to take another one from the very back of the line of bottles. They seemed all the same to Fury but he didn’t comment, opting to glance over the shop assistant again. He seemed like a relaxed man, some well-toned muscles on his body, graceful and lithe. Military training, perhaps? Or martial arts? Someone who moved like that had certainly trained himself in one combat style or the other. He didn’t have distinct facial features apart from his eyes which seemed to glint even in the darkness. The man returned to the counter as Fury moved closer.

“Herbal medicine doesn’t do much good to me,” Fury commented.

“Well, I do sell regular medication as well,” the shop assistant smiled good-naturedly at him. “Though I do recommend trying my sleeping draught first. What do you usually take?”

Fury rattled off the name of his sleeping pills as the shopkeeper, Harry, he reminded himself, made eye contact with him and smiled, “I do have those in stock. Give me a minute.”

He walked off to another cupboard to open its drawer and Fury narrowed his eyes, wondering how he had not noticed it before. He could have sworn there was an empty wall there. Well, given the poor light and his sleep deprivation, he might have just missed it. Fury shook his head as he glanced back at the sleeping draught. It glinted back at him in the dim light. He wondered if it was the bottle that was purple or the liquid itself.

“What’s it made of?” Fury asked, glancing at the shop assistant.

The man was on his way back carrying a package of his usual sleeping pills.

“Oh, just some standard ingredients, a bit of lavender, a few sprigs of valerian, several swirls of magic,” the shop keeper smiled as he placed the box of medication next to the sleeping draught. “Now, I do know it is a scary thought to try something new-”

Fury scoffed at the man and rolled his one good eye as the shop keeper continued, “But I do recommend at least trying it once. Herbal medication is not as taxing on the body as over the counter pills. My brews are pretty strong as well.”

The man took a piece of paper from a nearby drawer and a - Fury blinked in a stupor - a bloody old-fashioned quill of all things and started scribbling on the paper. Parchment, if Fury was not mistaken. He was starting to get a rather medieval vibe in here.

“Take three drops before going to bed; you can take it straight or mix it with water, tea or food, it won’t get diluted and the effects will be the same,” the man explained. “Set your alarm when you wish to wake up, if not, you will sleep for eight hours.”

He finished writing in a flourish and then took the bottle to tie the slip of paper around its cork with a dark purple ribbon.

“Make sure not to take the draught for more than five nights in a row. Make at least a three-night pause; the substance is quite addicting,” the man smiled at Fury as he finished tying the ribbon.

Fury merely grunted as he eyed the bottle suspiciously, “I think I’ll take my regular medicine, thanks.”

The shop keeper smiled indulgently as he asked, “Do you have to pull all-nighters often?”

Fury merely shrugged as he fished out his wallet, “How much?”

“Tell you what, I’ll give you something extra,” the shopkeeper said as Fury raised his brow. “You look like a good man and I’m usually a good judge of character.”

The man slipped away from the counter once again only to return with three green flasks of another liquid.

“This is Invigorating Draught. If you ever find yourself in need of an extra boost, just take one vial and you’ll feel energized for the entire day. Now, it will be sixteen dollars and fifty cents.”

Fury merely grunted unsure if he wanted to try strange new products but if it meant getting his medication, to hell with it. He’ll take some extra bottles along.

He paid the man who placed his purchases in a small paper bag and cheerily waved him goodbye, wishing a good night’s sleep. Fury merely grunted his goodbye, his patience wearing thin and hurried home.

Not even half an hour later, sitting down on his bed with a weary sigh, Fury eyed the paper bag in consternation. It was murky brown with an elegant jade green script reading Prince’s Brews. Weird name for a shop, he thought. His fingers reached automatically for the dark purple vial and Fury rolled it in his hand pensively. The slip of paper with the instructions made him furrow his brows. The handwriting was nothing more than a chicken scratch.

Three drops, huh. What would it hurt to try? Fury unscrewed the bottle and positioned the dropper over his tongue. One, two, three. There. He placed the flask on his nightstand and lied down. He’d give it half an hour maybe and then take his pills. He could not quite remember if the shop assistant mentioned how long it took for the draught to take effect. A half an hour was reasonable, no?

Later, he realized he could not remember the moment he drifted off to sleep. He woke to the sound of his alarm six hours later with a head as clear as never before. He felt so rested and full of energy that he could only stare at the dark purple bottle and blink in surprise.

Well, god damn it, that thing actually worked.

+++

It was a few months later that Fury had to pull several all-nighters once again. He had already used up almost all of his sleeping draught as it brought him the sweet relief of dreamless sleep. With an exasperated sigh, he called for one of his agents and sent him to find the store and purchase some more of those strange products. He could clearly remember the name of the shop as it was a very peculiar one; however, his agent could not seem to find any stores by that name. They did a search on a country-wide database and then a world-wide one too but no results came up.

Having decided that the store owner simply went bankrupt and was most probably working illegally, Fury simply gave the remaining vial of the Invigorating Draught and the last drops of the sleeping draught to the lab for analysis. Surely, his chemists could recreate a simple herbal elixir.

Surprise, surprise, the best scientists in the world could not figure it out even after numerous experiments. They did try, of course, but nothing came close to the real thing. The best theory they had was a secret ingredient that left no traces. Having seen the shit that the universe could deal out, Fury had his own suspicions and so, a world-wide search was announced. Prince’s Brews could be a security breach and had to be investigated thoroughly.

With nothing but a first name of the owner and an unregistered shop name to go with, the search was not fruitful, to say the least. Perhaps, the shop name got changed, Fury mused as he trudged home late at night. What he wouldn’t give to find that shop again. By this time, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the investigation to be done with or needed that thrice-damned sleeping draught in his hands.

He was so focused on his thoughts that the somewhat familiar blinking neon lights did not register at first. Fury halted in his steps after he had already passed the tabloid, his mind registering that there used to be no stores in this street. He turned around. There, in the darkness, the letters Prince’s Brews shone like a beacon.

“What the…” Fury muttered a curse as his fingers dialed his best agent. They had been searching high and low for this store and it stood barely a few miles from his home. Sure, the location had changed but what the actual fuck? It was strange and unexplainable and certainly not normal.

Having issued orders and sure that he would have back-up in five minutes, Fury pushed the doors open and entered the store. He would have a talk first and then see how things went from there.

The drugstore was the same as he remembered. Gloomy dark shelves, rows and rows of stocked vials glinting softly. The same shop assistant behind the counter. Harry, Fury recalled. He had introduced himself as Harry the last time he was there.

“Looking for something again?” The unassuming man smiled politely.

“You could say that,” Fury muttered stepping closer, his hand lowered to where he kept his gun. “I seemed to be unable to find your store.”

“Perhaps, you were not looking hard enough,” Harry replied, leaning on the counter. He held a glass vial with a golden liquid in his hand, turning it this way and that, looking pensive.

“Believe me, I did,” Fury commented, watching the man closely. He seemed relaxed and unbothered. “You changed location.”

“Ah, yes, the store does that sometimes,” the shop assistant said lazily, still twirling the vial in his hand. It was almost hypnotizing.

Fury shook his head to dispel the effect. He felt he was dealing with something else.

“What are you looking for this time around?” Harry asked, cocking his head sideways. “Some Sleeping Draught? Me? Or both?”

“Answers,” Fury said. “I was hoping for some answers.”

“You might not like them,” the man said, humming under his breath. His eyes wandered towards the doors the exact moment that Fury’s agents reported being in place. “And, truthfully, I do not feel much inclined to give them. Not yet.”

“I’d still prefer to hear some,” the Colonel said, watching the man closely.

“Ah,” the shopkeeper sighed. “I so hate moving.”

Fury narrowed his eyes readying to pull out his gun and give the command but the shop keeper seemed to be faster. There was something in his hand, a stick of sorts, perhaps, a light reflected in his eyes, and then… nothing.

Fury came to himself as he stumbled on the sidewalk. Agent Hill was there, concern evident in her eyes and the outstretched hand, supporting him by his shoulder.

“Sir?”

Fury blinked. What was he doing here?

“Why are you here?” He asked instead. His head felt fuzzy, everything right but something wrong. Why was he here? Why were his agents here? What was here? Where was here?

He turned around. Empty street, chipped pavement. Old apartment buildings. Flickering street lights. There was nothing here.

“You called for back-up to investigate Prince’s Brews,” Agent Hill reported. “We’ve just reported our positions and waited for your command when you stumbled out of this apartment building.”

She pointed to a house in front of him. Yes. Suddenly, the memories rushed in, his head cleared and Fury recalled he had found the store and the owner. They were talking and he was getting ready to take the guy in when everything went blank. The man had done something. Attacked him.

There was no store here anymore, though he could have sworn the neon tabloid hung just overhead.

“Should we charge in, Sir?” Agent Hill asked and Fury shook his head. Somehow, he knew they would find nothing. Nothing and no one.

He clenched his hand and realized he was holding something. Fury glanced down to see a small vial of familiar liquid. A thick parchment label hung. He lifted it up to read it closer.

‘For bad nights’, it said in a chicken scratch written in expensive black ink.

“Huh,” Fury muttered and closed his hand around the vial. He would just have to save it for those really bad nights, then. He had a feeling he would not find Prince’s Brews again. Not yet. Though he would search, of course, he would.

Several weeks later, Agent Coulson reported to him with a case of a mysterious magic user, his appearance matching the owner of the Prince’s Brews quite accurately. Fury sighed as he stared at the recreated digital portrait of the man. Why was Earth such a magnet for trouble making magicians? He issued his orders regarding the man and averted his attention to more pressing matters. Sooner or later, this Harry Potter would show up on their radar once again.

Chapter Text

He was not sure why he kept coming back to this strange version of the Earth he knew. Harry was well aware he had already come into contact with several local agencies and garnered their unwelcome attention, which, knowing his Potter luck, would not end well, but something about this Earth drew him in like a moth to the flame.

By now, he figured it was the anonymity. The fact that no one here knew him. His fame and glory had cost him a lot back in his world. It reached the point where he could hardly walk the streets, magical or muggle alike, without being accosted. Hermione assured him it would all die down but Harry Potter was never known for his patience. And so, when one Draco Malfoy muttered something along the lines of a mystical doorway to alternate dimensions, Harry knew this was it. This was his question and his answer.

He called in several favors in the Ministry and soon became the first human (and wizard) to cross realities. And then come back, of course. He could walk through the doorway as many times as he wished. Yet, so far, he was the only one who could do it easily, without getting bedridden for weeks. Apparently, crossing over took a lot of magical energy, forcing regular wizards to nearly exhaust their magical reserves. Yet, Harry Potter had power in spades and jumping forth and back had never given him more than a few days’ worth of a headache. Despite being able to return home whenever he wished, Harry had to admit he rather enjoyed this alternate version better than his original one.

Or, to be more precise, had enjoyed. A well placed blasting curse killed off another wave of what seemed to be Inferi-like creatures and Harry sighed, taking off his glasses. After several magical treatments he had undergone, they were not needed anymore but he liked wearing them sometimes, like a relic of bygone times. He put them in his pocket for safe keeping and stood there in the emptied street, wondering. Should he just go home and leave this shit to the local authorities? He had seen some of their so-called superheroes and had even had a run-in with several Avengers. They all seemed capable enough.

But then… he could help them deal with this, whatever it was. The local people had run screaming “Zombies!” and Harry figured they might be right. The creatures were easy to kill, much easier than the Inferi which only feared light and fire. These zombies recoiled from any light source like the Inferi but they could be easily killed with blasting curses and well-placed cutting hexes. The head was the key. Not to mention, fire worked like a charm.

The problem was in the numbers. The zombies seemed to be everywhere and hundreds of them poured through the streets. They were in varying shades of decay, some easier to kill off than others. Sighing once again, Harry cast the Firestorm charm to create a flaming ring of fire around himself. The flames moved together with him and burned anything that would come in contact with them. It was a spell that Dumbledore had used in Riddle’s cave to defend against the Inferi and Harry had worked hard to learn it. He was glad for his endeavors now.

Feeling well prepared, Harry moved across the streets in the direction the zombies were coming from, shooting spell after spell to destroy any of the undead he came across. As he walked, he met less and less civilians who seemed to have been evacuated successfully. He had noticed aircrafts and military moving in earlier and figured that at least this world’s government tried when it came to saving its people.

Collaborating with the Ministry meant he had to report any observations on the progress of this world and he was doing quite a fine job at it. Even Hermione was surprised he had not yet ruined the whole thing with his inability to stay undetected and his penchant of getting involved in some sort of a trouble.

As he slashed the zombies-Inferi-whatever-dead-creature-it-was left and right, Harry wondered how these things came to be. He had yet to meet any magical humans or creatures in this world, save for the Asgardian gods who seemed to be a real deal here. Having learned that bit of information, the Unspeakables made it their mission to find out if any such gods existed in their world but had yet to find anything of the sort. They figured it was one of the differences between their realities, much like the technological advancement here that Harry’s world lacked.

A robot-like humanoid crashed into a building on the far right from Harry. The wizard watched him shake off the crash like it was nothing and fly up in the sky at immense speed. The Iron Man. That’s what he was called and secretly Harry thought he was the epitome of what technology could do. A fascinating man, truly. He once wished he could meet Tony Stark but when he did, at one of his magician trick gigs, Harry realized it was best not to get involved with the man. Too nosy, too prickly, too arrogant and too smart for his own good.

Unraveling the mysteries of this world was like a breath of fresh air to him and Harry figured it might have something to do with the fact that he was no longer a child, battling for survival. This was an adventure, where he knew he could defend himself and perhaps help others in the process. Not to mention, he did get paid by the Unspeakables. While the Ministry was debating on the morality of crossing over to other realities, Harry was simply enjoying his life here.

So far, he has worked as a snake charmer in the Far East as he searched for magical communities there, done several magician shows to lure any potential magic users and even ran a pharmacy in the memory of the late Professor Snape. He had traveled all around this new world but had not found anything remotely similar to the wizarding world of his own reality. The communities he discovered were largely built on advanced technology and the individuals he encountered seemed to rely on either technology or some inborn talent. Oh, there was magic here, sure, but it was spread thin and their users were rare to find. Those that he did find, were too dangerous to approach without the Ministry’s approval. Truth be told, Harry was kind of tired of waiting for the so called green light. So, if he just happened to run into one of those organizations by accident, and I repeat, completely by accident, no one’s gonna blame him, right?

Harry nodded his head decisively and cast Diffindo in a wide arc. This helped him free up the way ahead and Harry continued on, his figure still surrounded in a blazing fire. These zombies were starting to get on his nerves. He needed to reach the center of this mess and deal with it, if the local heroes had not yet done so.

Seeing no civilians around to be saved, Harry apparated onto the roof of one of the nearby buildings and started jumping using his apparition magic to travel closer to the source. Sounds of explosions reached him, assuring Harry he was nearing his goal. One more jump and he landed on the last rooftop, looking down at the cause of the zombie creatures.

A distorted and twisted creature stood, resembling a figure of a man who seemed to have undergone either a bone breaking curse or a mutation of sorts. Gangly limbs swaying in the air, contorted in impossible angles. Pale skin, rivaling that of Voldemort’s. Harry almost expected its eyes to be carmine red but, alas, there seemed to be only hollow pockets of darkness instead of human sockets for eyes.

“End this madness at once and you will be tried fairly,” someone said and Harry glanced down at the man in tight spandex. Captain America. Never let it be said that Harry did not do his research. Not after the Voldemort fiasco. Now he was into preparation as much as Hermione.

“Hah,” the creature huffed in answer, “the madness is only beginning. This is your fate, mortals. Know and serve your master.”

Ok, totally insane, then, Harry decided. Nothing new here. He was getting used to mad megalomaniacs.

“I don’t think you can reason with that thing, Captain,” the Iron Man noted, hovering a meter or two in the air.

Captain America frowned as his teammates got ready. Harry recognized most of them either from his research or encounters with them. The archer and the Black Widow were here, along with the quiet man, who was supposed to turn into a huge beast.

Having cancelled his protective fire spell, Harry apparated down to side with the Avengers, cheekily adding, “You can never reason with evil overlords, trust me on this one.”

“You!” The Iron Man explained, pointing at him in surprise.

“Bow to your death, mortals…”

“Huh, haven’t I heard that one before?” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes at the grandeur of the mad creature in front of him. His newest enemy opened his mouth to let out a screech and his zombie underlings crawled out to attack.

“We’re so gonna have a talk about this!” The Iron Man shouted as he blasted the creatures attacking them. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for you?”

“Tony, focus!” Captain America ordered as he threw his shield into the fray. Harry had never seen the Avengers in action before and it was both intriguing and informative, watching them go at the zombies.

Tony was wielding his robot suit like a second skin, raining down carnage from above. He was aided by an archer, perched on a nearby building, shooting arrow after arrow, which exploded upon contact into huge balls of fire, taking groups of zombies at a time. Harry vaguely recalled seeing him at the bank though he had not had much contact with the man. There was another member of the team that he was, however, intimately familiar with. The Black Widow was whirling amongst the zombies with amazing grace and steely attitude. Her calm demeanor was something Harry almost envied. And then there was the Hulk. The man had transformed into a beast so fast Harry almost missed it. He had not previously witnessed the Hulk but he had felt the creature stir back then on the stage. He wondered if Bruce suffered like Remus did and whether his magic could help him some. The Asgardian god, Thor his name was, was throwing his hammer around, whooping battle cries. Harry wondered where his brother Loki had gone to. He would not mind chatting with these two at a greater length.

Sighing at the opportunities laid out before him, Harry started throwing spells left and right, rejoicing at the freedom of casting with no limitations. Between him and the Avengers, it was almost too easy to dispatch the zombie army. The creature that raised them was another matter entirely. Bullets and whatever else the Iron Man deigned to throw at it did not seem to work. The fireball that Harry sent at it did not seem to do much damage, either.

The fight came to a halt as the Avengers plus one dimension-traveling wizard surrounded the twisted creature and it hissed, twisting its limbs threateningly.

“Game over, pal,” Tony commented, aiming one of his phasers at it.

“Your victory is futile,” the evil overlord roared and then returned to screechy hisses. “I am pure darkness, I am all your fears combined, the despair you feel at night…”

Harry nodded along as he added two and two together. Darkness, fear and despair sounded a bit familiar and he knew one wonderful spell to get rid of all of that at once.

“Allow me,” he smiled at the Avengers as he brandished his trusty wand, interrupting the mad thing mid-sentence, “Expecto patronum!”

The bright light was blinding and the feelings of hope, happiness and devotion overwhelming as his loyal stag leapt high and rammed the creature with its silver antlers. Skewed across in half, it did not take long for the monster to emit screams of pain and anguish. The stag was relentless in its attack as he shook and twisted his antlers, throwing the monstrosity to the ground. Harry’s patronus reared up and then slammed down its hoofs, trampling the twisted being into oblivion. Having protected its master, the stag looked back at Harry, bowed its head and then dissolved into small specks of light.

Silence reigned for a while and then Tony let out a huff, his phasers pointing down, “What in the world-”

“Holy shit,” Clint muttered as he rubbed his head. “I’m not hallucinating here, am I? There was a deer here, right? Please tell me, there was a fucking deer here.”

Harry chuckled at the shock on their faces and holstered his wand, looking around at the mayhem. He supposed he could stay a while and cast a few Reparo spells here and there.

“You and me, buddy,” Tony said, “are gonna have a long long talk. With some demonstration involved, preferably.”

“Sure,” Harry smirked. “Why not?”

And that was how Harry found himself seated in the Avengers Tower having a conversation with an AI of all things (Hermione would have loved this), floating glasses of beer and transforming empty bottles into kittens with their claws painted red. Tony and Bruce were all over him with their little gadgets and Harry wondered if they were gonna find anything or not. Back in his world, no one was interested much in the scientific side of the things but he was curious. Was it something in the blood? His genes? How did it all work? Sipping his cold beer, Harry smiled to himself as he watched the Avengers bicker and relax after a hard day of saving the world. This alternate dimension seemed to be quite promising, after all. He’ll leave all the bureaucratic shit to the Ministry and simply enjoy his adventures here. He had no doubt he was going to have plenty of them.