I know it's been a while since I last updated but here's the next chapter! It's a little shorter than the others but after getting several messages from people asking me to update this I decided that I really needed to finish this chapter off and post it. I knew it had been a long time since I'd updated this but I hadn't realised just how long. I'm so sorry guys. I hope you enjoy this update despite the incredibly long time you've had to wait!

Under the Hood

One Call: Part 3

Harry turned around, heading towards the door when he heard a dull thud come from one of the other rooms. He turned towards the direction of the noise; his ears alert for any other sound, knowing that there was someone else in one of the other rooms.

He immediately pulled the string of his bow back, only stopping when his fingers brushed his cheek, and aimed towards the door. As he made his way towards it, Harry kept the arrow tip pointing at the centre of the door, three quarters up from the floor, prepared to release the arrow if he felt the need to.

The move felt natural, aiming the weapon was easy, and he made his way to the bedroom door with speed, only stopping briefly to kick the door back on its hinges. The room was basic in furniture, a bed pushed to the middle of the far wall with a small set of draws on either side of it, two cupboards lined the wall that the door was on and a mirror sat to his right. It was tidy too, except for the open draw that had its contents scattered out on the bed beside it and the smashed glass on the floor below it. Usually he would have payed more attention to the contents of the draw; however, his eyes were instead drawn to the only other person in the room.

A boy stared back at him. He couldn't be any older than fifteen, if that, and he held a knife in shaking hands, clearly terrified and with no idea what to do. Harry was momentarily stumped, a child holding a knife was the last thing he'd expected to see when he walked into the room. If he'd had known what was on the other side of the door beforehand he'd have entered the room a little less dramatically. Shocking a criminal who'd broken into a house was one thing, it worked well and gave Harry a fraction of a second to gain the upper hand, but scaring the life out of a child was completely different, and he didn't have a clear idea on how to deal with it.

Why the hell was there a kid in the apartment anyway? What did the boy gain from breaking into a house that wasn't…?

Looking closer at the child, the pieces started to click into place. The blonde hair and blue eyes that watched him with suspicion behind a pair of glasses matched the picture of a sixteen year old that had been all over the local news. It only made more sense considering they were in the Martin family's home. After being missing for a day, Jackson had made his way back to the one place he knew like the back of his hand. Except instead of hiding, or even packing away his own things to run, it was like Harry had interrupted him mid-search; although Harry was unsure what Jackson thought was important enough to risk his own life coming back to find. His family had already been killed here and the closer Harry looked around the apartment, the less plausible the idea of a robbery seemed to be.

Coming to a decision, Harry slowly lowered his bow so it hung at his side. The gesture was less threatening but he could still bring the bow back up to full draw in less than a second, not that he had any intention of using the weapon against a child. Jackson kept the knife pointing at Harry for several tense minutes before he lowered it to the ground in response, his body relaxing minutely as he did. "Who… What are you… Why?" Jackson stopped speaking, realising that his nerves were clearly getting the better of him in the situation and he raised the knife in his hand ever so slightly. But it stopped as soon as it moved, the child looking down at it before suddenly looking up at Harry. "Do you work for him?" This time there was no hesitation as the sixteen year old switched back and forth between questions. With everything that was going on that was what the boy needed to know for certain.

Harry, although ninety-nine percent certain Jackson was talking about Keith Lamont decided to double check. There were hundreds of possibilities to who Jackson meant when he said 'him', and Harry wanted to make sure they were both on the same page before he answered, he figured him answering correctly would be what made the difference to this going smoothly or not. "Lamont?" He questioned, and when Jackson nodded Harry shook his head. "No, I've never met the man before."

He was honest and Jackson could apparently see it because seconds later the boy dropped the weapon, the knife clattering to the ground at his feet.

Taking that as a slight step forward, Harry took his eyes briefly off of Jackson and glanced at the papers scattered across the bed, trying to gain some form of an idea on what they were. Getting nothing he turned back to the boy. "What are you doing here?" He tried to keep his voice neutral, keeping the threatening edge to it out. He added, "It's not safe," to the end of that sentence when he saw Jackson tense slightly at the words.

The sixteen year old stayed silent, but it wasn't out of fear, more a lack of distrust. "You need to leave," Harry stated, it was a suggestion but Harry used it as an order. The kid could barley hold a knife steady in front of him, even after Harry had lowered how bow to the ground, he had no chance against anyone else who could possibly turn up. He'd much prefer the kid disappeared back to where ever he'd been hiding for the past day, clearly it was safer there than it was here.

And Jackson seemed to consider this before his face grew cold. "I'm not leaving," he replied swallowing his nerves as his eyes flickered towards the bow in Harry's hand as he gently nudged the knife with his shoe, probably having regretted dropping it.

Harry lowered the bow a little more. "You need to." Silence hung in the air, and it almost seemed like the boy was considering this again, Harry would have thought he was if it wasn't for the slight narrowing of his eyes. So he continued, deciding that perhaps, brutal honesty would be the better option here. "This wasn't a robbery, whoever did this. They weren't here to take your new laptop or phone."

Jackson scowled. "The cops said differently," he stated, although there was no feeling in his voice, as if he didn't believe his own words. In reality, Harry knew the boy was only saying it to shut him up.

"Whoever did this," Harry started, moving slightly closer to the bed in an attempt to make out the words on the sheets of paper, "could come back here, and they won't just let you leave if you see them."

"They'd kill me anyway." Harry didn't need to say anything in response to that, his silence was enough to make the child rethink his statement, not that it made the child back down. He wasn't leaving anytime soon, not until he was ready. "I'm not leaving until"- Jackson stopped talking when Harry suddenly brought his hand up, the meaning clear. Stop talking, stay quiet.

Straining his ears, Harry tried to listen out for what had suddenly put him on edge. The flapping of the curtains as the wind blew through the open window, his and Jackson's breathing, the sounds amplified in the near quiet of the room, but there was nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. "What are"-

"Stay here," Harry ordered, turning back to the bedroom door, bringing the bow string back to full draw as he walked back into the living area of the apartment. As he did so the front door burst back on its hinges, pieces of wood splintering away from the door frame, revealing three men each dressed in suites of varying shades of grey. However, what caught Harry's attention was something that would come across as strange to anyone else. Whilst two of the men had guns pointed directly at Harry, the third man was holding a thin stick, finely polished and clearly well cared for.

He had magic?

Despite the unexpected appearance of magic coming into play, Harry didn't hesitate in firing the arrow resting on his bow, continuing to load a second one before he'd even seen the first hit its target, but not having the time to fire it before he dived towards the kitchen island, taking refuge behind it on instinct.

The scream of pain from one of the men as he fell to the ground, a dark red arrow jutting out from his shoulder told Harry his first shot had rang true. But he didn't have the time or the death wish to poke his head around the island corner to see what was going on, as the thud of several rounds of bullets peppered the wood and metal Harry was crouched behind and the bright green flashes of light lit up the previously dark room.

The vigilante huffed in annoyance when he realised what the green flashes were. He didn't know much about the unforgivable curses, only what Hermione had told him briefly years ago when they'd been sitting in the library doing homework. And even then he hadn't been paying complete attention; he'd been more interested in throwing scrap pieces of parchment at Ron, bored. He remembered Hermione had said one of them was green, that it was the worst. But for the life of him he couldn't remember what it did. Later on he would learn that it was the killing curse, the spell that had killed his parents.

Harry waited patiently, both hands on his bow, for a break in the noise, signalling an end to the rain of bullets and spells. Taking the moment of reprieve, Harry thought over what was happening. There were two men left, the third was already out of action and probably would be for the rest of his life. The arrow head would have pierced through all of the muscle surrounding his shoulder causing permanent damage, so Harry didn't need to worry about him. He didn't need to worry about the second guy either, he clearly knew how to use a gun but he didn't know his way around his weapon like Harry did his. All it would take was one more arrow from Harry and the second guy would be down too. It was the third guy he needed to worry about. A bow and arrows weren't the ideal weapon compared to magic, and whilst Harry was sure he could still beat the wizard, fighting from a long distant would take too long and cost too much time. Guns had been fired so the police would have been called by at least one resident in the apartment complex, if not more. There wasn't enough time for Harry to fire, duck and cover repeatedly until he incapacitated the wizard. It needed to be over within minutes.

As soon as the two men stopped their attack thinking they'd hit their target, Harry shot out from behind the kitchen island, firing the second arrow at his second target, the smallest, oldest man of the trio, the muggle who held a pistol in his hand. This time there were no screams of agony as the man slumped onto the carpet, instead he lay there unmoving.

Upon seeing his two buddies either dead or incapacitated on the floor, both with arrows embedded in the bodies, the wizard's face grew dark and he turned on Harry, raising his wand as a jet of green light shot out of it in Harry's direction. Without thinking Harry divide to his right, his shoulder connecting with the floor painfully. The action was still done so effortlessly and Harry relaxed his body, rolling off of his shoulder and onto his feet, taking cover behind the couch nearby.

He could feel the impact of each spell as it connected with the couch and he could hear the wizard shouting above the explosions. It didn't stop, spell after spell connecting with furniture and objects around him unrelentingly. Unless this stopped soon the police were going to turn up in the middle of an attack Harry couldn't let them see, not unless he wanted the entire wizarding world to be exposed. He needed a distraction, something that would stop the man momentarily, giving the vigilante the chance to act.

Poking his head around the corner of the couch, Harry cast his eyes around the room for something he could use, spotting the vase of flowers sitting atop a set of draws on the other side of the room. Almost immediately he pulled his head back behind the couch as the spell was fired at him again. It just missed him. And then he waited, taking the chance to slow his heart rate, and then he unexpectedly stood up, firing a third arrow, making it look like he was aiming for the wizard but instead aiming for the vase on the other side of the room. The arrow met its target, smashing the vase and spilling water and dead plants across the ground and draws. The sudden noise caught the wizard off guard and he spun around in its direction, ready to fire another spell at the possibly enemy.

Using the momentary distraction, Harry leapt over the couch, running straight at the wizard who quickly realised what was going to happen. They both braced themselves for the sudden contact as Harry tackled the man backwards and into the wall, one hand immediately grabbing the wrist of the wizard's wand arm, keeping the wand pointing away from the both of them.

Harry then pulled back on the man's wrist, slamming it back into the wall repeatedly to loosen his grip on the wand, just like he would if the man was carrying a gun or a knife, or just about any other weapon. The man tried to push Harry off of him, bringing his knee up into Harry's stomach and knocking the air out of the vigilante's lungs. Harry's grip loosened on the man's wrist at the same time the man dropped his wand, and without thinking Harry slammed his foot down onto the weapon, seconds before the man pushed him backwards and onto a small coffee table. Any remaining air in his lungs was forced out of them for a second time as his body fell through the table and landed onto the ground with a loud crash of splintered wood, the hood of his costume falling back to reveal his face.

He didn't think about that though, there wasn't enough time to worry about pulling it back up when there were no cameras in the room, and rolling straight over onto his stomach Harry pushed himself up from the ground. When he turned around he saw the other wizard staring at three small pieces of wood on the floor. What was left of is wand. And then the man turned to Harry, his skin suddenly paper white as he glared daggers at the red vigilante.

Running with fury and hatred behind his steps, the wizard charged at Harry, the few meters between the two men turning into centimetres within seconds, and threw a haphazard punch aimed at the archers head.

Instead of blocking the punch and absorbing the impact, Harry merely stepped to the side, having already noticed the lack of coordination that the man seemed to posses when he didn't have a wand in his hand. Having expected contact and gained none, the wizard toppled past Harry, making a one way trip to the floor, however, before that could happen, Harry grabbed the man's arm, yanking it back hard and slammed his free hand into the guys temple. This time, when he released the man's arm, he didn't bother trying to stop him connecting painfully with the floor.

The wizard crawled forwards, putting distance between himself and his enemy to give him the room to stand. But Harry didn't give him the chance to move more than a few steps before he landed a solid kick to his stomach, forcing the man onto his back. As the vigilante went to deliver the final blow to his attackers head, the wizard stopped him with three words. "You're Harry Potter," he muttered, barely loud enough for Harry to hear him. "You're supposed to be dead." And then with reflexes as fast as firing a spell, the man stood up. "I guess I'll be the one to kill 'the boy who lived' instead," he added, a dangerous gleam showing in his eyes. And then he charged again, landing on top of Harry who only had a second to prepare himself for the force of impact.

As they fell to the ground the wizard threw a punch at Harry, the vigilante bringing his arm up to block the blow before it could connect with his head. And then the man threw another punch, not caring where he was hitting, as long as he did. Eventually one fist made it through Harry's defences and caught the side of his forehead, and in response Harry threw his own punch at the man's ribs. As soon as he'd thrown his first punch, Harry used all of his strength to push the wizard off of him, delivering another kick to the man's chest to put extra distance between the two of them. With his now free hands Harry pulled an arrow from his quiver with the ease of a person who'd practiced the move thousands of times before, and not having his bow on him Harry did the only thing he could. When the man dived at him for a third time he didn't notice the arrow in Harry's hand, not until it had pierced the clothing, skin and muscle of his chest, his eyes widening fractionally in pain before he slumped forwards. They both fell to the ground for a final time, Harry landing painfully on his already sore shoulder.

He hissed in pain and rolled out from underneath the body, gingerly he pushed himself, rubbing his shoulder. It was only then that he noticed his bow laying a couple of steps away from him in perfect reach and he snatched it up.

"You're dead," the first man he'd dealt with spat out, the words sounding thick as he said them through the blood pooling in his mouth. Clumsily he picking up the weapon he'd dropped on the floor minutes ago with his left hand, only for it to tumble from his grip for a second time when Harry aimed and fired the fourth arrow in his direction. The red arrow now used to incapacitate all of him permanently. That man had heard who he was too.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Harry grimaced, as he turned his back on the man and walked to the door to pick up the splintered wand.

Harry didn't bother sparing the man a second look, instead turning to the dead wizard at his feet. Suits weren't common clothing for a wizard, robes and pointed hats were the usual attire for the magic users, yet looking at the expensive one the man was wearing now Harry could tell the man knew what he was doing when it came to muggle shopping, and he clearly had the money to go with it. It only made everything stranger. These men had come here to kill, and the other two had no sign of a wand on them. They weren't wizard's, so what the hell was one doing working with them?

The door to the apartment hung off one of the two hinges, the second having been torn from the frame and destroyed by bullets. Harry frowned; there was no doubt in his mind that these men had come to kill. And he hadn't been the target, only an obstacle they'd failed to get past. That only left the boy acting far too suspiciously in the other room. Pocketing the pieces of wand, Harry turned at the sound of footsteps, quickly pulling his hood back over his face, and saw Jackson standing in the doorway, his eyes wide, but not with fear. "Who are you?"

Harry shrugged, ignoring the question to ask his own. "Do you know them?" He didn't need to indicate who he was talking about, but he did so anyway, and Jackson carefully walked forwards to look at the men. The knife he'd dropped to the floor before was back in his hand, held so tightly the child's knuckles were turning white.

"Him," Jackson replied, staring at the wizard's body. "He worked with my dad."

Harry frowned underneath the hood, the action going unnoticed by Jackson who could barely see past the shadow covering the vigilantes face. Why was a wizard working for a muggle? Harry thought, staring at the man, taking in the similar clothing all three men wore. And as a hired killer? A wizard who had no worries about killing children clearly didn't need to be working for a muggle. "What did he do?"

Jackson shrugged. "I don't know. I only ever went to my dad's workplace if he was going to give me a lift home from school," Jackson said, seeming to be more trusting of the vigilante in front of him. "I barely ever saw anyone other than my dad or Keith."

Nodding, Harry walked over to the other two men, searching their jacket pockets for anything that could be useful. Both men owned ID cards that doubled as access cards to 'L. Industries', Keith Lamont's business name. "You ever heard of a Darren Clarke or Ian Trent?" Jackson shook his head staring at the three bodies. "What about Lucian Cortez?" Harry asked, pulling out the wizard's ID.

"No," Jackson said, looking at the ID card over Harry's shoulder. "I never spoke to him. I'd just see him pass by occasionally when I'd wait for my dad."

Harry nodded again and put the three cards in his pocket, just in case he needed them at a later date. In the distance he could just about hear police cars making their way towards them. He probably only had a couple of minutes to figure out why Jackson had come back to his home. And so, instead of being subtle, Harry bluntly asked his next question. "Why did you come back here?"

Jackson's eyes shot up to look at the vigilante, moving his bag higher up onto his shoulder in what he thought was probably a subtle way. "I needed to pick up some spare clothes," he said, moving back from Harry, closer to the door. Any small amount of trust that Harry had previously gained quickly disappearing from the child's eyes to be replaced by suspicion and fear.

Harry raised a sceptical eyebrow; despite the fact the boy in front of him wouldn't be able to see it. The he walked to the door himself, stepping in front of the child. He ignored the glare he received for it. "In your parents' bedroom," He stated and Jackson suddenly looked away in discomfort, unable to look at the man that had caught him out in the lie. "Those men" Harry said, pointing at the three men on the floor, "they didn't follow me to your house which means they followed you. And they had their weapons ready so they could've killed you at anytime yet they waited for you to come here. Why?"

"I don't know," Jackson said through clenched teeth, still avoiding Harry's eyes.

"They wanted something." Jackson said nothing and Harry bit back an annoyed sigh. "Did they kill your family?"

Jackson shot a glare in Harry's direction, the anger burning in them aimed right at the vigilante. "I don't know." Whilst Jackson seemed certain of what he said, Harry heard the slight quiver in the boy's voice. He'd been lied to again. By now he could hear the police sirens clearly, and by the way Jackson looked to the door, Harry knew he'd heard them too. "I need to leave before the cops arrive."

Harry stared at the child, knowing that he was right. They both needed to leave before they were caught at what was now a murder scene again. "Yeah," Harry said, moving out of Jackson's way. The sixteen year old quickly ran past the vigilante and pulled the door back further on the one hinge it still held onto, only to stop when Harry called back to him. He watched as the vigilante went to a desk draw, searching it for a piece of paper and pen before he scribbled something onto it. "Take this," Harry said, handing him the paper. "I know Keith Lamont isn't who he makes himself out to be. I think he's killed people before, and I want to stop him before he can kill anyone else. So… if you know anything else on him… call me."

Jackson didn't move for several seconds but he eventually, somewhat reluctantly took the piece of paper being offered to him and Harry felt a little bit of hope. If he'd taken the paper then he'd most likely call… eventually.

And with that Jackson left the room, leaving Harry alone for several seconds before the vigilante left the building through the window, ready to return back to the Queen mansion.

-o-0-o-

Harry sat at the desk in his room in the Queen family mansion, the three ID cards and the broken wand set out on the desk top in front of him whilst his phone sat beside them, always close by.

A day had passed since he'd met Jackson and so far he'd received no calls from the child. And with no other leads on who the men were or why they were after Jackson's family he could do nothing much more than wait for Jackson to call him. And he was certain the child would. Before their final conversation Jackson had looked at him with a little more trust, although only just. But if Jackson had trusted him then, Harry couldn't see why he wouldn't now. And if not? Harry planned to visit 'L. Industries' himself to find out why. Whatever Jackson had, Lamont wanted it. And the reason why would be somewhere in that building.

After all, he had three ID cards that gave him access to the building. No one would even need to know he was there.

But I have no idea who else is working there, Harry thought, looking at the broken wand, the splintered wood reminding him of his own wand lying somewhere at the bottom of the ocean. If Lamont had one wizard working for him then who knows how many more he could have. He'd only been back in civilisation for a couple of days. He had no idea whether there were any more wizards or witch's living in Starling City, he didn't even know where he'd look to find a wizarding village, if there was one. If Keith Lamont did have other magical beings working with him, Harry had no idea how he could find out, and until he did, he'd just have to assume there were more out there. Which meant this particular job had become twice as hard than he'd originally thought.

The wand itself seemed normal enough. The three pieces it had been broken into were all smooth and polished, and the jet black wand almost seemed to have a hint of red to it when the light caught it correctly. There was no defined handle, where the man had held it the wand had been worn down and didn't have the same glossy look as the rest of it. In fact, it actually looked quite expensive, more expensive than he remembered his own wand costing.

He almost felt bad for breaking it. Wands were one of the more treasured belongs of any witch or wizard. He knew that at first he'd felt lost without his own. He'd even been a little angry. But he'd been nowhere near as angry as Lucian Cortez had been. The colour had drained from the man's face, only returning when he'd thrown himself at Harry in response. Not long after the colour left his face again when he realised the Hood hiding Harry in shadow had fallen down, revealing the lightning bolt scar that still hadn't faded on his forehead. Lucian's eyes had widened as he'd said 'you're Harry Potter,' in a British accent. But he hadn't been scared, just shocked that Harry Potter was still alive. When the shock has worn off he'd actually looked happy, the corner of his lip curling in delight. 'I guess I'll be the one to kill 'the boy who lived'.'

Maybe Ollivander knew something about the man. The strange old wand maker had made a point of letting Harry know he remembered his mother's wand when she'd first bought it. If Lucian had a British accent and had known about 'the boy who lived' the chances were he'd bought his own wand in England. Harry quickly wiped that train of thought from his head.

I can't go back, not yet.

He needed to stay out of the wizarding world for a little while, getting to grips with the muggle world was what he needed to do first. When the muggle world felt less foreign he'd start looking into the wizarding world, maybe he'd call Hermione and find out what was happening with everything in England. Considering the world hadn't ended whilst he'd been on the island Harry doubted Voldemort had come back, if he had then he obviously wasn't a threat.

Harry leant back in his chair; his mind slowly wandering in the direction of what his life could have been like if he'd never been on that Yacht five years ago. Would Oliver even still be alive? Would he still have been living with the Dursley's or would he have convinced Dumbledore to let him stay at Hogwarts permanently? Surely he would have been able to annoy the ageing wizard into letting him stay there. Technically he wouldn't have been alone over the holidays, there were ghosts constantly roaming the halls. Or at least that's how he remembered it.

Harry huffed out a laugh, the memory of Ron walking through one of those ghosts in the halls coming to mind. The smile dropped from his face though when there was a knock at his door and he immediately brushed the stolen property on his desk into the open draw beside him, closing it as he called "come in!"

Raisa's head appeared around the side of the door, smiling at him when she saw him sitting at his desk doing nothing. "I came to let you know dinner's being served," she said, pushing the door open a little further, letting the smells of cooked food enter his room.

"Alright, I'm still getting used to food being cooked for me," Harry replied, standing up and heading to the door, only to stop when his phone started humming against the wood of his desk. Both occupants of the room turned to look at it and Harry ran back over to pick it up, noticing it was an unknown number. He looked back to Raisa apologetically and she smiled.

"I'll let them know you'll be down soon," Raisa said, understating the look she was being given. "Shall I keep the door open?"

Harry looked at the phone, knowing that it could be Jackson. "Actually, could you close it please?" If it was Jackson then he couldn't risk anyone hearing his own side of the conversation. Raisa nodded, closing the door as she disappeared from the room again. "Thanks," he called through the door and then he put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"It's Jackson," the person on the other end of the line said. "You told me to call you if I knew anything about Keith Lamont. Can we meet up somewhere?"

There's probably only going to be one more chapter left of this sub-episode and then it'll be back to the second episode of Arrow! I really hope you all liked this.

Thank you to everyone who's followed and favourited this so far, and thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter: bigfan22, white collar black wolf, Jigsawiskiller, dhnysports88, CurtFirefly, GBTtown, Bountyhunter1977, mangopeach2012, LoganAlexander, LupinCriss, Charmedguy1993, ekrteddybear357, SF31, Smokeing, and KeegSlytherin.

And thanks to those who sent me a PM, it reminded me that I hadn't updated this in months. Because I don't know when I can next update this fic, (hopefully it won't be as long as before), I've been thinking about writing something on my profile so you guys know how far through I am with the next chapter. I don't actually have anything on my profile so I might as well use it for that. What do you guys think?

Also, I've been thinking about re-writing the previous chapters to address any problems that I've realised are in there. If I do this then there could well be some drastic changes that I feel will just improve this fic further and make it different from the others out there. People have given me suggestions in the past and I'm really considering using them. For example Bountyhunter1977 mentioned that having Harry be injected with Mirakuru would be interesting and I definitely have to agree with them here and would love to explore that. If I do this though I'm going to have to update the previous chapters before I add any more and you may well have to re read them to understand future events.

I've got one more question to ask before I go though. If I was to do a pairing with Harry who would you want him to be paired with? I'm not saying this will definitely happen I'm just really curious to see who you think he should be with. They could be from the Harry Potter universe or the Arrow universe. It really would be great if you could let me know your thoughts.

Again I'm so sorry for how long it's been since I updated, hopefully the next update will be sooner.