Rating: M-ish

Warnings: Bad language (it's Logan), slash, silliness, mentions of meddling ghost!Dumbledore, crack, crack crack crack.

Word Count: ~10,000 (COMPLETE)

Pairings: Harry/Logan, with implications of Harry/Ginny (past), Charles/Erik, and Tony Stark/Steve Rogers

Summary: Agent Harry Potter is a menace, Logan's sure of it. It doesn't matter that he's absolutely charming, or that he smells like almonds. So does cyanide.

Disclaimer: I don't hold the copyrights, I didn't create them, and I make no profit from this.

Notes: Yes, this story is mine; no, I'm not plagiarizing. Yes, I took it down a year ago; yes, I'll eventually repost all of my HP/X-Men crossovers. However, if what happened before (rude PMs demanding continuations, even ruder people demanding that I write more such crossovers, etc.) happens again, I'll take them down for good. Please. These stories are COMPLETE and there are no sequels in the works. I'm also out of this particular fandom, so pretty please, be content with the return of this silly, ridiculous story. I enjoy it, and hopefully you will as well.

Rhododendrons

When they meet, Wolverine is on a solo mission for the X-Men—get in, look around, make sure the Brotherhood and/or the government isn't causing trouble, and then get back out, with no destruction. Simply reconnaissance. Nothing more. No heroics. No tantrums. Peaceful.

Really, Wheels takes all the fun out of life, but Logan supposes he can force himself to live with it.

And then the mission suddenly isn't so peaceful anymore as a man with messy black hair and nerdy glasses is right there when Logan would have sworn up and down that there was no one before. He doesn't jump, but he sure as hell gets out of the way of whatever surprise is about to be tossed at him.

Except…nothing comes.

The kid—not that much of a kid, but sure as hell younger than Logan—just raises one eyebrow and says nothing. Instead, he shakes his head slightly, pushes his glasses up his nose, and strides out of the shrubbery as though it's normal for a man in a three-piece suit and tie to be mucking around in the rhododendrons. Logan watches in quiet disbelief as he walks right past the guards at the entrance, as if they can't see him or the leaves in his messy hair. There's no showing of ID cards, which Logan knows by now is standard procedure for all visitors. There's also not so much as a twitch from the bigger guard, who Logan's noticed is a jumpy, trigger-happy bastard.

It's like they don't even see him.

Logan wants to splutter. He also wants to follow the nerdy-glasses-guy and see what, exactly, the hell he's doing, because there's a certain fishy smell about all of this that puts Logan's teeth on edge. The Professor's mind tricks have never worked on him, not with any regularity, and he can't help feeling that that's the only reason he saw the kid in the first place.

Mutant?

Probably.

Up to something?

Almost definitely.

And the hell of it is that Logan, without all those mind-fuck tricks and fancy powers, is stuck sulking behind a flower bush instead of following the unknown agent.

It's another hour and a half before Nerdy-Glasses-Guy comes strolling back out, this time carrying a briefcase.

He's whistling.

The guards don't even glance at him as he walks past, but Logan seethes—if in a quiet and unnoticeable way. It took him all morning to find this spot that the cameras can't reach and he's not about to lose it in a fit of pique. But this is the last time he's going on any surveillance missions, Chuck can count on that.

Nerdy-Glasses-Guy™ struts right down the path, makes a ninety-degree turn into the rhododendrons, and tosses Logan a cheery, two-fingered salute and a jaunty wink. He spins on his heel and vanishes, briefcase and all, without so much as a sound.

Logan really wants to hit something.

Before he can, however, there's a muffled boom from deep inside the facility. It makes the guards spin and shout, even as a whole horde of people in lab coats comes spilling out of the glass doors. They're shouting, voices sharp with panic and confusion, and smoke is spilling after them. It's the thick, dark, and greasy kind that means something important is burning, and Logan doesn't need three guesses to know who set the fire.

He's also pretty certain that whatever was in that briefcase? It had to be exactly that information that the Prof was after. He's equally certain that it is long, long gone.

Knowing that the area will soon be swarming with the authorities, Logan abandons his post as covertly as possible. If he gives the damned rhododendron a kick on the way out, well, there's no one else there to witness it.

"Yeah, Chuck," he says into his phone as soon as he's a safe distance away. "I think you'd better check on the Brotherhood—someone got there before me. The place is going up in flames, and their guy probably took everything we needed."

Charles sounds concerned, like Logan expected. "The Brotherhood wouldn't have endangered any mutants, even with so many civilian targets available, so I believe we can assume there were none there," he says, his frown all but audible. "Perhaps it was an entirely different group. Did you know the agent?"

Logan scoffs. He's not an idiot, and the professor is quite aware that if he had known the guy, he would have said so. "No, and it didn't smell like Mystique. Don't think she'd be caught dead in those glasses, either. But he was definitely a mutant—teleporter, like Nightcrawler, only without the brimstone and crack-of-thunder impression."

"I see." Now Chuck most definitely sounds wary. Logan can't really blame him. Last time someone used Nightcrawler's powers for evil, they were one step away from killing the president. That's not a comforting thought. "Logan, return as quickly as possible. I'm afraid we might need a full force of X-Men all too soon."

It takes a lot of self-control to bite back a sigh—and really, screw Cyclops for implying that he doesn't have any when he most certainly does—and simply agree, but he does, and heads back towards his bike. It's half-hidden behind a nearby barn, and the smell of cow shit is so overwhelming that Logan almost doesn't notice the skinny guy with the thick glasses perched on his seat until it's too late. But he does, because three-piece suit does not fit with barn and his brain rebels at that, making him take notice.

He freezes and stares at Nerdy-Glasses-Guy, who looks for all the world like he's completely at home where he is. The shiny metal briefcase is swinging from his grip, and while he hasn't started whistling yet, Logan can tell he's on the verge.

Smug is a good word to describe that smile.

"Missing something?" the guy asks, and that accent's even more out of place in rural Iowa than that suit on a farm. Even so, Logan can't bring himself to laugh, because the guy's just walked in and out of one of the most secure government facilities Logan's ever laid eyes on. It doesn't matter that he's holding the briefcase out with a charming smile, or that he smells like almonds.

So does cyanide.

The pseudo-geek must notice Logan's lack of enthusiasm, because he rolls his eyes and sets the case down on the grass by the front tire. "You'd think a mutant would be more accepting," he mutters, then sighs and raises his hands in the classic "I surrender" gesture. "Look, mate, I'm guessing this is the reason you were skulking about there. My people already got what they needed, so the rest is up for grabs. Thought you could use it. Was I wrong?"

"No," Logan admits warily. "But why were you in there?"

From the look he gets, the kid's obviously wondering if he's got brain damage. "Same reason as you, yeah?" he says slowly. "Thought they had some of our people, and I was sent in to rescue them. The information's just a bonus." He glances down at his wrist, where something that looks like an unnecessarily complicated watch is strapped, and winces. "Fuck, I'm late. Nice meeting you, mate, hope we cross paths again."

Another half-turn on his heel and Logan's alone again.

The briefcase sits innocuously in the grass, and Logan hates it more than just a little bit. With a sigh, he pulls out the phone and dials the Professor again.

"Hey, Wheels, you know that kid I was talking about…?"

It's going to be a long ride back to New York.

And somehow, he gets the feeling that they haven't seen the last of this guy.