Harry was in the middle of a training drill when a deep bell toned throughout the room. It was enough to interrupt his concentration and he had to dodge quickly to avoid the stunner that the training dummy fired at him. He grimaced as he stumbled, managing to snap off an immobulus that paralysed the Dummy mid-cast before falling to the floor.

A second swish of his wand sent it and its partner, the one that he'd already blasted across the room until it had fallen in a heap on the floor, back to their places.

The bell tolled again and Harry quickly crossed the basement for the door and the circular staircase behind it that would lead him back up to his apartment. The bell was a charm of his own invention, one that was designed to inform him if he had a visitor, something that he wouldn't have ordinarily have been able to know in a magically sealed room.

After closing the 'closet' door behind him, Harry raced across the room towards where the incessant knocking was coming from.

"Tony?" Harry asked in confusion, seeing the man on the other side when he opened the door.

"Gandalf! What took you so long?" Tony asked. "Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Sure, Tony, come on in," Harry replied.

Harry closed the door slowly, watching the man as his head darted about, taking everything in. For the life of him, Harry couldn't work out why he was there. It obviously wasn't business related, not with Tony wearing a simple pair of jeans, Black Sabbath t-shirt and sport jacket over it. And he couldn't imagine one of the world's most powerful men making a simple house call.

"Huh, I imagined something more gothic," Tony commented offhandedly.

"What?" Harry asked, confused by the non-sequitur.

"You know. Magic stuff. You lot are supposed to be stuck in the Dark Ages, aren't you? At least that's what I've been told. Dark Ages, gothic, thought the two would go together," Tony explained.

"You expected my house to be lit by candles and be all dark and broody with woods and leather and cauldrons bubbling away in the corner?" Harry asked. "I suppose that there's supposed to be bats and spiders and stuff, too?"

"Well, yeah," Tony replied, shrugging off his jacket and flinging it across a chair.

Harry shook his head. "No, Tony. I'm not all that fond of the 'goth' look."

"Huh. Really? You mean that I got it all wrong? That's a first," he commented.

"Actually, if you were in the British magical world, you wouldn't be all that far off the mark in a lot of places," Harry admitted. "Although, you won't see many places with unattended cauldrons brewing and bats tend to only be kept for use as potion ingredients."

"Ha! I was right!" Tony exclaimed. "Can't say I blame you for getting away from it all, though, Merlin. It'd be murder having to dodge all the spider's webs all the time, especially when you're half-drunk."

"Please, don't call me Merlin," Harry asked. "The guy's been dead for centuries and he's a pretty big deal in the wizarding world."

"Merlin was real? Well, there you go. Who knew?" Tony asked rhetorically before looking around the apartment again. "So, where do you keep it all?"

"All what, Tony?" Harry asked, wondering when the point of Tony being there was going to be brought up.

"Your magic stuff. Your cauldrons and wands and amulets and spellbooks and all the other stuff a magic guy like you would need," Tony explained.

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. "My magic stuff?"

"Yeah. Come on, you can trust me. We're Avengers, remember. Team mates. If you can't show your partners, who can you show?" Tony asked, before upping the ante. "I know you want to show it off. Now's your chance."

Harry figured the guy wasn't completely wrong. It'd be nice to not have to keep everything hidden all the time.

"You understand that there's a Statute of Secrecy, don't you, Tony? That means that non-magicals aren't supposed to know about the wizarding world, that we're supposed to keep everything hidden away," Harry said.

"Pfft," Tony waved the concept away with a carefree hand. "I'm in the know already, Sparrowhawk. Now, show."

"Where are you coming up with these names?" Harry asked as he crossed the room.

"What? They're all valid names of wizards," Tony replied. "They're from books, if you must know. What, don't you read?" And then, after following Harry into the library. "Never mind."

Tony turned in a full circle as he took in the shelves full of books and the relaxing reading chairs.

"Well, this is quaint," he said. "I'm guessing that you've never heard of an e-reader?"

"Heard of it, never been tempted to get one," Harry replied. "Magic and electronics don't get along all that well."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the wizard before leaning backwards to look out the door into Harry's living room.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but a lot of that stuff you've got out there – the TV, computer, dvd recorder – that all runs on electricity," he pointed out.

"I know that," Harry grinned. "And the only reason that they haven't exploded is because I've enchanted them using magic-suppressing runes."

"Runes?" Tony perked up. "I'd like to see them. What makes them work? No, don't tell me, the answer's 'magic', isn't it? But if these are magic-suppressing runes, wouldn't using magic to get them to work in the first place be kind of redundant?"

"Tony!" Harry near laughed. "There's another thing that you've got to learn about magic: it doesn't follow any sort of logic."

The scientist pouted at that, before dismissing the idea in favour of changing topics. Really, the man seemed to have a thirty-track mind and the concentration-span of a three-year-old.

"So, where's your magic books?" he asked.

In reply, Harry casually flicked his wrist catching his wand as it shot out of its holster into his hand before he tapped one particular bookshelf. Tony's eyes nearly popped out of his head as the bookshelf slid forward and out of the way.

"In here," Harry told him.

"A secret compartment! Now, that's cool!" Tony exclaimed as he rushed forward, intent on examining every book.

When one book rattled ominously at him, Tony quickly backtracked.

"Did your book just try to eat me?" he asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged. "Some of these books aren't exactly safe for non-magicals to be around."

"In that case, it's a good thing that you've got them all hidden away," Tony nodded. "I'm guessing that it's safe to assume that you've got a whole bunch of other magical hidey-holes hidden all over this joint?"

Harry shrugged, making sure to give the best mysterious smile that he could.

"You know, when the Tower's redesigned, I was planning on making rooms for each of us, well, not so much a room as more of a floor for me, but then it is my Tower. Anyway, if you're going to be magicking everything and your magic isn't going to play nicely with my tech, then you're going to have to let me run some tests. A bunch of tests actually. That's why I came over: to invite you over," Tony said.

"Invite me over?" Harry echoed.

"Yeah, well, figured it wouldn't be much fun being here all alone with this part of the city closed, so thought, why not? But now that I know that there's work to do to make sure that you don't blow me up or something, you've simply got to come," Tony said.

"I guess that makes sense," Harry replied. "Just so long as you understand that if you're going to be testing my magic with your tech, I'm likely to blow stuff up."

"You should see the amount of stuff I've blown up over the years trying to figure stuff out," Tony said, blowing off the objection. "Good. That's settled. Now, Gandalf, don't hold out on me. Show me what else you've got."

Harry smirked to himself. "Well, if you're sure ... Then I guess the best place to start would be the closet. Would you like to see what I keep in there?"

"Closet, huh? Seems a bit ordinary, but whatever. Lead the way," Tony said.

ooo00ooo

Doreen took one last, long look around her room, checking that she hadn't forgotten anything important.

There was still a lot of stuff here that she hadn't touched, but it was nothing that she couldn't do without or easily replace. Finally, her eyes settled on a picture of her and her parents.

Mareen and Dor Green were good parents, they'd always had a lot of fun together but it'd never been easy. Having a daughter with mutated genes that made her part squirrel had always been very stressful for them and they'd done everything that they could to make sure that they hid that fact from the world. Not an unreasonable thing, really, especially with the way the world viewed mutants.

It'd always been a battle keeping that part of Doreen hidden and had caused her quite a lot of teasing at school, especially when she didn't participate in swimming or other sports. It wasn't that she couldn't, in fact, Doreen knew that she'd probably beat the pants off of most everyone else, especially with her enhanced genetics. But the fear that she'd be found out was simply too great, so her parents had forbidden her from doing anything like that.

And Doreen was sick and tired of it. She wanted to be free to be herself. And here in L.A., at home with her parents, she knew that that could never happen. She was fifteen now and she was ready to be her own person and she knew exactly where she needed to go to allow that to happen.

Picking up the photo, she stuffed it in her backpack along with the clothes and books and toiletries and her other most precious possessions, not to mention her wallet stuffed with her life savings. Her fingers caressed the envelope that she'd prepared for this occasion and she straightened it on her desk.

Her decision made, Doreen picked up her belt of many pouches, each one filled with nuts, and slung it around her waist. Next, she donned her fingerless gloves, before her favourite old, bomber jacket was slipped on.

ʆ"Come on, Monkey Joe; time to see the world,"ʆ she said in squirrelese.

With one great leap and a little scampering, her best friend had found his perch on her shoulder.

Then, after picking up her backpack, Doreen left her room for the last time, being careful to close the door behind her. They had a bus to catch.

ooo00ooo

"This is where the kid grew up?" Clint asked, the disgust clear in his voice.

"Harry's not a kid, Clint; if you'd read his file you'd know that he's thirty-one," Natasha retorted.

"I did read it," Clint replied. "Doesn't change the fact that he looks like a kid. Well, at least like someone in his early to mid-twenties."

"The file also indicated that magical people age at a slower rate. Guess he just got the good genes," Natasha said.

Clint looked at his partner. Like she was one to talk. While she'd never told him a lot, he knew enough to know that the Red Room where she'd grown up and had been trained had done a number on her genes as well; she was a lot older than she looked. Her, Steve, Thor and now Harry. Clint couldn't help but shake his head – he was surrounded by teammates whose age and looks simply didn't match up.

Oddly enough, what should have been a simple mission was a lot harder than either of them were expecting. S.H.I.E.L.D. had tasked the two of them to find out more on Harry Potter's background and to recommend plans if S.H.I.E.L.D. ever needed to step in and provide security due to the Mage's secret identity being compromised, at least in terms of the non-magical world; the magical side of things Harry would have to take care of by himself.

Thus, Clint and Natasha found themselves in England; their first stop being a small neighbourhood in Surrey called Little Whinging. Unfortunately, they hadn't counted on every house seemingly being made from a cookie-cutter. Infiltrating hadn't been easy. Eventually, they'd managed to find a house where the occupants had gone on holidays that they'd 'borrowed', the perfect place for them to watch the house across the road.

Number Four, Privet Drive was occupied by a single older couple, Harry's aunt and uncle, according to the file. From what they'd seen so far, their lives appeared very ordinary and incredibly boring. The woman seemed to do nothing but stay home all day and peer out the window at anyone walking past. The husband had a job at a drill company that he went to every morning at the same time and came home promptly at the exact same time every evening.

Clint was sure that if he'd grown up in a place like this, that he would have gone mad within the first week. No, there were merits to having grown up in a circus, even if it did mean that he and his brother had become orphans when they were very young and that they'd had to run away from the orphanage to join the circus in the first place. Thinking about it, there were a couple of parallels between the life that he'd lived and the life that Harry'd lived. Maybe one day the two of them would have to sit down and compare notes.

"I don't think we're going to learn anymore by staying here," Clint stated. "These two live perfectly normal, boring lives with no variation. What's the next part of our assignment?"

"The cousin, one Dudley Dursely or Hermione's parents, take your pick," Natasha replied.

"Let's get the cousin done first," Clint decided.

With that, the two quickly began packing their gear, eager to move on.

ooo00ooo

The instant that he slunk into the newly reopened Marauder's Den, Gwen Stacy's eyes narrowed.

Peter Parker.

She had a few choice words for him.

As she filled the next order – delivering a trayful of drinks to Flash and some of his football teammates – she watched the smaller boy with dark brown hair slide into a seat at a table off to one side as was his normal habit.

"Gwen ..." her boss began as she returned the tray to the counter.

"I'm going to need a couple of minutes," she said, cutting him off without taking her eyes from her quarry.

"O-kay," Harry said, not that she was paying attention, having already begun weaving her way through the tables.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed as she slid into the seat across from Peter.

Instantly, his head shot up and his brown eyes locked onto her blue eyes.

"Gwen?" he asked.

"What were you thinking?" she asked again, beginning to get impatient that he had yet to answer her. "You could have been arrested and I could have been fired!"

"I wouldn't let that happen, Gwen, you have to believe me on that," Peter replied.

"You still haven't answered my question, Peter," she said. "What were you thinking sneaking into Oscorp like that?"

Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up somewhat.

"I had to go, Gwen, don't you see," Peter replied. "I just found out some stuff about my dad and I wanted to learn more. He used to work at Oscorp."

Gwen sat back in her chair, her head nodding slowly. She could understand the attraction of wanting to learn more – his parents had been dead for a very long time now.

"But why sneak in? Why not just make an appointment with someone to ask about your father?" she asked.

"The opportunity came up and I just decided to go for it?" he replied, trying one of his big grins on her and she was not going to let it distract her. No, definitely not.

"You know that the guy you impersonated got thrown out, don't you?" she asked.

Peter's head dropped slightly. "Yeah. Figured he would."

"Well? Was it worth it? Did you find out anything about your dad?" she asked after a few moments of simply staring at him.

Peter's nod became a shrug before morphing into a head shake.

"Well, there's a few answers for me to pick," she said sarcastically.

"Look. I'm not sure," Peter said. "My dad used to work with Curt Connors ..."

"My boss?" she interrupted with a sharp intake of breath.

"Yeah. And I got to meet him, at least. Well, sort of. And there might have been something else, but I'm not sure," he finished in a mumble.

"Next time, ask me and I might be able to help," she said, "assuming that you promise not to go wandering off by yourself again."

Once again, Peter gave her that huge smile that was all teeth and bright eyes.

Suddenly, the expression disappeared and she felt his foot connect with her chair before both it and her were yanked two foot to the left. The sound of something smashing and splashing all over the floor and table where she'd just been moments before whipped her head around.

Gwen couldn't help but stare at what was obviously once a very full teapot full of boiling water. If Peter hadn't ...

"My god! Are you alright? I am so sorry! I was bumped and it just unbalanced. It could have landed all over you," Lisa, one of the other waitresses babbled.

"I'm fine," Gwen told her.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, materialising out of nowhere. "None of that landed on you? You're not burnt at all?"

"No. No, I'm fine. If Peter hadn't ..." she trailed off as she stared wide-eyed at the top of the messy-brown hair.

"It was nothing," Peter mumbled into the tabletop.

"No. It wasn't," Gwen told him, reaching out to lay a hand on his, bringing his head up just enough to see his brown eyes. "You saved me from a serious burning."

"Gwen's right, Peter. Thank you," Harry agreed. "Whatever you two want, it's on the house today. I've a policy here to never charge heroes. And a little something to calm you down won't go astray either, Gwen."

"Thanks, Harry," Gwen smiled up at him.

"I'm no hero," Peter protested.

"You are today, Peter," Gwen said, patting his hand. "And Peter? Thank you."

His shrug and small smile was enough to have her smiling back at him.

ooo00ooo

The leader of the Hydra council glanced down at his notes. The meeting was close to being done and there were only a few more points to cover. With his memory of the next item on the agenda restored, he turned to face the one that he'd charged with the task.

"What is the status of Project Sinister?" he asked.

"Things are proceeding according to schedule," he was assured. "Our man inside Oscorp has managed to gain access to the 'Special Projects Division'. It is everything that we could have hoped for. The equipment and technology that we need is all there, just waiting for the taking."

"And what of the correct people to operate the suits and technology?" the leader asked.

"We've begun compiling a preliminary list of candidates," he was told. "Only one name stands out so far, but he will actually need some specialised equipment not found at Oscorp. I have some of our people already creating it."

"His name?"

"Frederick Myers. Born in Australia. He has already proven that he has the potential to hurt Iron Man. With a little training and the right equipment, he could be formidable."

"What of Sterns and Blonsky?" the question was asked from the far side of the table.

"For now, we'll leave them where they are. Our plan is that at the correct time, we'll orchestrate for Sterns to escape with the knowledge of how to gather the rest, including Blonsky."

"What is the timeline that you are thinking?"

"Unknown at this time. While we've found the tech that we need, the appropriate individuals need to be determined and recruited before we move them into the open. Move too early and either S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers could hear