Under his flyaway fringe, bright eyes scanned the cobblestone alley. Sandwiched between two buildings and with a solid, red-brick wall cutting off his exit, it was a major risk he was taking. It was one he was willing to take, though. If he successfully cut off this organisation, the rising cloud of fear that was descending over his community would shatter into a thousand pieces, raining down and sprinkling the people he was protecting in hope.

For months, he had been preparing for this moment. He studied their every move, took note of the tiny idiosyncrasies of their operation. He couldn't fail now. The trap was set, and he was the spring, the knife that would dig into their hearts and stop them beating.

A chip packet blew by, propelled by an unseen and unfelt wind. That wasn't right. With barely any movement, a slender piece of wood slipped into his hand. He clenched it, the words on the tip of his tongue, ready for the attack. They wouldn't know what hit them.

His eyes darted up to the brick wall blocking the alley off. A slight movement caught his eyes. Squinting, he caught the trembling outline of a person, barely visible under the disillusionment charm. The words began coming to his lips, he raised his wand.

"Stupefy." A jet of crimson light launched itself out of his wand, zooming towards the disguised figure. A satisfied smile began to play on his lips. Until the unknown person moved at the last moment, calming stepping aside of the spell. The red light slammed into the wall, knocking a hole in it, brick crumbling down to the ground and dust clouding. Gritting his teeth, the man slowly moved towards the brick wall, where the figure was now standing still once again.

What the hell was going on? This person obviously didn't want to get caught. So why were they just standing there? Surely, they could be attacking him. Doing something to disable him, rather than letting him stalk them down to the end of an alley where they would inevitably be apprehended. It was all rather strange, to say in the least.

A sharp crack echoed down the alley. He registered the sound before the pain began to blossom in his lower torso. His wand clattered to the ground, his hand falling slack. His green eyes were wide, glasses not keeping his vision from blurring. How? He staggered backwards, disconnected from reality, red dripping down his legs under his robes.

He slumped to the ground, long hair pooling around his face. Slow, triumphant footsteps sounded down the alley. The shoes were polished, an expensive looking leather, with a slight heel.

"Harry Potter. Who would have known you would be taken down this way?" Her voice was gravelly. Smoker, his mind supplied. "Such a famous wizard taken down by such a simple trap. It's a wonder, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," spat Harry. "Who are you?" With difficulty, he turned his head to look at her. A large beak like nose was all he could see, along with stringy strands of brown hair falling around her face. A pistol was held tight in her hands. For some reason, she seemed familiar. Harry couldn't place it, though. Not that it was much use, as he lay on the cobbles of a street bleeding out.

Forgive me, Ginny. Tears began to pool in his eyes. He would never see his beloved Ginny again. Nor would he see Ron, Hermione, Neville, George, Molly or Arthur. They would all be left wondering how he was taken down by such a simple diversion. It was so unlike him. Something drastic had gone wrong.

"Oh, how sad, he's crying," crooned the woman, bending down. She caressed Harry's face, running her hand through his hair and tucking it behind his ear. "It is a tragedy, isn't it? Never again will you see your family, your beloved girlfriend. It's all sad. Life is sad. So let me make it better for you, before I end you."

She cradled Harry's head in her hands, bringing it up to the level of her face.

"What the hell are you doing?" Blood trickled out of his mouth, clogging his throat. Harry dissolved into a fit of chesty coughs. "Why can't you just leave me to die?" She merely shook her head, before bending down and pressing her lips to his. Harry's eyes widened. Instantly, he groped behind him, reaching for his wand. His fingers touched it, but it was just too far away.

She pulled away, a satisfied smile marring her face. "Sweet dreams, Potter." With that, she gave a mocking salute and left the alley, firing her pistol twice into the air.

The world faded to black quickly after that, Harry's last thought being of Ginny's warm eyes and flaming hair.

"Get up!" A hand came down and smacked his cheek. Pain rocketed through him. His eyes sprung open, bright light blinding him. Several faces loomed down over him. Where was he? Who were these people?

"Where the hell am I?" Harry asked, venom lacing his voice. He tried to get up, but his arms rattled and clanked against the handcuffs securing him to the edge of the bed. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? AND WHY THE FUCK AM I ALIVE?"

A man with greying hair and a moustache tutted, shaking his head. "Such panic will not get you anywhere, young one. Calm down, then we will explain why you are here." Harry rattled and the handcuffs and opened his mouth to yell again. A large, calloused hand was slapped down over it.

"Mmmmphhh! Mmmmmph!" The man sighed.

"This really isn't going as well as I had hoped. Hopper, get the gag, then maybe we can explain what is going on without this hooligan here spouting off at every single thing I say. I can see he is going to be a handful." A woman with large glasses removed herself from the area and returned with a simple strip of white cloth in her hands.

Harry's eyes widened. Surely, they weren't that twisted.

But they were. Despite Harry's attempts to bite the fingers of the man who was covering his mouth, the gag was wrapped around his head, rendering him unable to speak. He still screamed, twisting violenting in the bed. If only his wand were here, then he would be able to get free.

An idea came to him in an instant. Maybe, just maybe, he could call upon his accidental magic, though this time it would be totally on purpose. It could get him out of the situation. He was just under the age where it stopped, which was twenty one, him being twenty. Surely, he would be able to snap the locks, knock the people unconscious and flee this room.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to pull the strands of his magic up inside him. A slow warmth began to build in his chest, what he imagined to be a ball of glowing gold and red, twisting together, melding into one glowing ball that would explode outwards to disable all the systems in the room.

But nothing happened except the monitors around the room going haywire, beeping and sparking wildly. Some bucked like wild animals out of controls, bulls at a rodeo. The people looking down at him jerked back in alarm, desperately trying to secure the machines. They had no such luck. They soon fizzled out, the lights in them dimming until the screens were black as the night.

Everyone's eyes were wide, turning astonished faces to look at Harry. The only one who was smiling was Harry. At least he had managed to rattle them slightly. Next time, he would have more luck, more time to draw on his magic so as to completely escape this new Hell he was trapped him.

"Extraordinary," breathed the moustache man. "It's even better than we thought. He's perfect. Absolutely perfect. He has power beyond belief and it's uncertain if he can die."

Harry's mind was reeling. Unable to die? What was the crazy man on about? He was human, he would die like everyone else. He was just lucky to have been saved by these batshit crazy muggles. Surely, what the man was spouting was false. The entire situation was so ludicrous that Harry wouldn't be surprised if he was dreaming or hallucinating. Maybe this was the afterlife that all the other wizards constantly went on about. Maybe his was just particularly hellish, a place he was bound to spend the rest of his days.

No, that couldn't be right.

"Oh, I just remembered. I haven't introduced myself. I am Logan Cobcroft, head of this operation. I'm afraid I can't divulge any more information, so you just have to rest with the knowledge that I am going to take great care of you and your incredibly extraordinary abilities."

"MMMPH!" Once again, Harry began shaking, desperately trying to get rid of his restraints. Nothing came of it. The handcuffs were metal, and his magic didn't work. He was stuck here until he was able to think up a way to escape. Hell, he wasn't even sure if this was real. Real or not, though, Harry was going to find a way to escape, to find his family again, be reunited with his friends. It was going to happen.

"Come now, Harry, don't you want to hear how you got here? Why you're here in the first place?" All Cobcroft received was a dagger like glare. He chuckled. "Well I'm going to tell you anyway, then we're going to get on with the proceedings. We have a few tests to do before we are able to start the real task. Anyway, why you're here.

"One of my members, Hopper, actually, was walking past an alley when she saw you, dying on the ground. Being the morally right person that she is, she stopped and was about to call an ambulance. She didn't do that though, which should be fairly obvious. What she saw next was something extraordinary, just like you. You're wound, near your belly, was knitting itself together again. The blood was staying, but the wound was disappearing. Within minutes, you were perfectly healed, though still unconscious.

"Because she works with us, a division dedicated to finding and helping unique individuals, such as yourself, she called in the task force. We picked you up, flew you here, no questions asked. Now, we're going to find out the extent of your abilities and then we're going to have a little chat about why you have them when other people don't. Kapeesh?"

Harry was unable to answer. He was still trying to process the fact that he was somehow better. That there was no bullet wound in his torso.

"I figured you would be tongue tied. Here, let me put your mind on something else for a while." In a flash, he pulled out a knife, stabbed it into Harry's chest with a sickening squelch and removed it. Harry screamed into the gag. What the hell was going on? Pain lanced through him, blood pooling around him. It was excruciating, though nowhere near as bad as a Voldemort powered Cruciatus.

"That was a fatal blow. Let's see how you heal that, hmm?" He chuckled, a deep, ominous sound that sent shivers up Harry's spine. The pain was excruciating, though nowhere near as bad as a Voldemort powered Cruciatus.

Croft stood and left the room, leaving a gurgling and bleeding Harry strapped down to the bed.

Tears ran tracks down Ginny's cheek as she read the headline confirming what she already knew to be horribly, terribly true. She tried to deny it, but there was no use. For weeks, no one had said anything about it, not outright. Rumours had swirled, whispers of Harry being away on an assignment with the Aurors, or traveling to exotic countries. Then the rumours began to turn grey as not a word was sent to their world. Not a whisper of Harry anywhere, no news.

'HARRY POTTER, BOY WHO LIVED, MISSING. SEARCH COMMENCES.

She didn't need to read what the article was saying. She knew it all for herself already. Ginny was the one who had raised the alarm in the end, knowing that her boyfriend wouldn't leave without a word, wouldn't just abandon her without at least saying goodbye. Not that he would ever say goodbye. Every time he looked at her, she saw the love in his eyes. She knew that he saw the same. And because of that, Ginny Weasley knew that something was irrevocably wrong.

The young couple huddled at the long, chipped table, bent over papers, quills scribbling madly in their hands. The seats they were in rattled as they shifted their weight. Both of them tried to ignore the tears streaking their faces, though it was hard when they kept dripping into the ink written on the parchment.

"What are we going to do, 'Mione?" whispered Ron, uncharacteristically quiet. Hermione shook her head, not even admonishing Ron for the use of her annoying nickname. "He's just gone. Without a trace. Poof! He never came back from his assignment! And now we're left here, planning a wedding for an uncertain date, without Harry. I always wanted him to be involved in it, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean," said Hermione. "He's always been there for everything. For him to be gone is just...wrong. We need to do something, Ron!" She stood up, her chair scraping along the wooden floor. "I know we've been searching for hours already, but our wedding can wait. Right now, Harry needs us to come and find him, or for him to have the faith that people are looking for him. We will find him, I swear!"

Ron sighed and stood up. "We've been looking for three days straight, for over twelve hours each day. But he's Harry. He deserves years of searching, so let's go."

They ran out the door, struggling to get coats on, wands in hands. Their wedding planning was left behind on the table, to be discovered later that evening by a distraught Molly Weasley.

For the next two hours, Harry lay strapped to the bed, trapped in a never ending Hell. He saw as the wound on his chest melded itself back together. He saw the blood cracking and curling away from his body as time passed. It flaked away, leaving the white bed sheet covered in the awful substance. He studied the cracks on the ceiling, discovered that the light bulb had diamond patterns on the glass. Through all of this, he was thinking of a possible escape plan, though that was quashed by the insane worrying inside of his head.

They ran and ran, sledgehammers in their hands. Smashing down everything he knew and replacing it with the unknown. He was alive. The knife, the wound, it was all fatal. Yet here he was, watching as it rapidly repaired itself, as the pain dissipated into a dull throb he felt throughout his body. A reminder of where he was and that it was unlikely he was going to be able to escape.

No one had ever had this happen to them before. Somehow, he knew this. Nowhere in the wizarding world were there reports of wounds knitting themselves together, being able to survive something that should have killed them otherwise. For everything like this, Wizards and Witches went to the hospital, as was normal. But now, Harry seemed to be his own hospital.

And it scared him.

It scared him more than anything he had ever experienced. He was in unknown territory now, nothing anyone could say would help. He would have to find his own way, make his own path, cut a track through the mountain now obstructing him. Nowhere would he find help. He was solely on his own, the the terrifying knowledge that he might not be able to die. It was driving him insane, to know that he was alone in this room, alone in the world.

So he started singing, quietly at first, a familiar, comforting tune: "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. Teach us something please. Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees. Our heads could do with fill-" Cobcroft burst into the room, a blinding smile on his face. He opened his arms, as if to give Harry one of the sickest hugs imaginable. Harry recoiled, shifting himself to the side of the bed farthest from him. The cold bands of metal cut into his skin, at his wrists and ankles. He grit his teeth and didn't make a sound. There wasn't a chance that Cobcroft was going to be able to see his pain.

And learn until our brains all rot.

"Enough singing, Harry; We have work to do once again. You, my friend, are an extraordinary person. You can survive a stabbing directly to your heart without even blacking out. Nothing like this has ever been seen before!" I told you, weaseled a voice in the back of Harry's head. "But before we commence those, you need food. You're looking pallid, and you haven't eaten since you woke, which was ages ago. Hopper!" The same woman who had grabbed the gag from before walked in with a tray of what looked like mush.

Harry closed his mouth tight over the gag. There was no way he was going to let that hag feed him, not when she was the one that brought him here. She was the condemner, the one who made him endure what was surely just the start of his torture. If she thought she was going to be able to get close to him, she was terribly mistaken.

Unfortunately, in his restrained state, there wasn't much that Harry could do.

"Keep still, Harry. Please, we're feeding you for your own good. We really don't want you to go hungry, that would be a disaster." Cobcroft's voice was low, somehow silky, even when he was sighing his disapproval. It made Harry feel slightly guilty. Wait. There was no reason for him to feel guilty. He was the one that was trapped. And he certainly wasn't one to feel guilty when he was the one trapped. Something fishy was going on, and he didn't like it.

Harry kept shaking his head. Both Cobcroft and Hopper sighed. Cobcroft leaned down, right in front of Harry, his blue eyes directly in front of Harry. Even though they were a bright colour, all Harry could see in the was death and destruction, the desire to hurt others, a sadistic pleasure that came from causing harm to others. The only thing that was remotely close to the malice he saw in Cobcroft's eyes was Voldemort and his crimson eyes.

"Right, Hopper. We're going to have to do this the hard way." Harry's eyes widened as a large hand was put on his forehead, holding him down. The other went to his nose, blocking it. Hopper rushed forward after placing the tray down on a metal table, face wrinkling is disgust as she even touched Harry. She untied the gag. Harry clamped his mouth shut, refusing to open it. There was no way he was going to. They weren't going to get the best of him.

"You're going to have to open your mouth sometime, Harry. Soon you will need air and then you will eat. This is not debatable." Harry started to feel lightheaded, black playing on the edge of his vision, pressing in on him. Suddenly, there were colours swirling in front of him, and he noticed a hovering Hopper, holding the tray, ready to force the mush into his mouth.

He was close to blacking out now, he could feel it. Against his will, he opened his mouth, gulping in great amounts of air. The next thing he swallowed was the tasteless mush. Harry spluttered and coughed, writhing in the bed. There was nothing he could do. He watched as Hopper moved in again and put the spoon in his mouth, not taking no for an answer.

After eating the entire bowl of the disgusting, cardboard slop, Cobcroft signalled for Hopper to move of out the room. She nodded at Cobcroft, picked up the tray and exited without a word. Harry was yet to hear her speak a word, though it wasn't like he actually wanted her to speak. Just hearing Cobcroft's voice was enough, he didn't need another incessant, tinny voice ringing in his ear.

"Now that that debacle is over, I think we need to have a little talk, don't you?"

"There is nothing to talk about!" spat Harry. "You have me here against my will, you're forcing me to be a labrat for your twisted desires!"

"No, you aren't a labrat. You are a saviour. Once we're done upgrading you, you will save so many people, you will be able to see so much more, past the tip of your nose." Cobcroft tapped Harry's nose. "When we're done, you'll see that what we're doing is good for you and the rest of the world."

"You're wrong."

"How so?"

"You can't possibly think that I am going to listen to what you have to say. I can see enough, I know what I want. You have no right to swoop in and tell me what I can and can't do! So matter what you think, no matter what you force me to do, I will never stop fighting you. I will always fight, no matter what."

Cobcroft suddenly looked very dejected. He twiddled his thumbs, seemingly considering something.

"I now see that we may have done wrong. You know what, if you can fight your way out of here, then I will let you go." Harry's eyes widened. Silently and in disbelief, he watched as Cobcroft bent down, laying his fingers on the metal cuffs securing him to the bed. He tapped on them for a few seconds, his fingers beating an infuriatingly slow.

Inside his head, Harry was preparing himself for his escape. He knew that there had to be people roaming the facility with weapons on them. Though he was yet to step foot outside of this dreaded room, from the way that Cobcroft talked of the place, he deduced that it was military in style. There was also the tiny bit of physical combat training he received after enlisting with the Aurors. That would be coming in handy, one of the first times that it would be.

Cobcroft undid the first cuff with a soft click. It clinked against the side of the bed. Harry urgently resisted the urge to punch the evil man in the face. Instead, he clenched his fists, waiting for all the cuffs to be released. It was an agonizingly slow process, but as soon as the last one fell off his ankle, Harry bolted.

His bare feet slapped on the ground, his heartbeat pounded in his ears. There was a chance he was going to get out of here alive. In fact, he would get out alive, as he was seemingly unable to die. The fact still terrified him to the point of paralysis, but now was not the time to get the jitters.

The door handle was freezing under his hands. Harry turned the handle, but it merely rattled obviously locked. He screamed in frustration and glanced behind him at a smirking Cobcroft. His anger began to feel like it was balling up inside his chest again.

Suddenly, the door handle erupted in sparks, showering the room and singing his pants and blood soaked shirt. The door swung open to both men's disbelief. Harry didn't waste a moment. He sprinted out of the room, legs pumping harder than ever before. Already, his breathing was ragged. His eyes darted around, taking in the stark looking building. It was all grey, with what seemed like hundreds of doors leading into different rooms. There were no windows, no directions.

There! At the end of the corridor was a t-junction, surely that would lead him out of this maze. With his heart bounding, Harry skidded around the corner, only to be stopped by a figure swathed in what looked like black armour and a bulletproof vest. That wasn't what had him rooted to the spot.

The figure had a mean looking rifle pressed up against his shoulder, a rifle that was aimed directly at Harry. He wheeled around, but there was another man with another rifle blocking the other way out. He heard footsteps echoing down the corridor, slow, triumphant ones like the woman who shot him. He wasn't even sure how long ago that was now.

Slowly, dread pooling in his stomach, Harry turned around. Slowly marching down the hallway was Cobcroft a pistol held in his hand. Harry gulped. He was cornered. Sure, he could run forward and make a move at Cobcroft, but then all three guns would no doubt be fired at him, turning him into fleshy, bloody ribbons.

"You know, that was an admirable attempt, Harry. I am amazed that you even got this far. But, your freedom must come to an end now." His voice was tainted with sadistic glee, blue eyes lighting up.

"Why are you doing this? What was the point of letting me go only to shoot me down again?"

"That really should be obvious. I wanted to see if you were going to actually run, or be sensible and stay. I was always going to capture you again, that much is true. But now, I've realised that you are a feisty one. We are going to have to go all out to keep you down."

A sudden rage began zapping wildly through his veins, running up and down his skin. How dare this man think he was going to be controlled? Harry was the only master of his life. He was done being held down and told what to do, he was not going to be controlled. Not again. No one was going to meddle in his life. Especially not a man who seemed to think he could just take dominion over it and operate Harry like a twisted puppet.

Without thinking, he rushed forwards, screaming at Cobcroft. Once again, he heard the roar of gunfire before he realised he was on the ground, screaming in agony, his body ripped to shreds. Blood was bubbling in his throat, fire coated his body inside and out.

Above him, Harry watched as Cobcroft leveled the pistol to his forehead, hand caressing the trigger like it was his favourite thing in the entire world. Harry gasped in a great, raspy breath, knowing what was coming to him.

"Let's see how you survive this, Harry," hissed Cobcroft.

"Fuck. You." Harry said, gritting his teeth. Cobcroft smiled, the gun snapped and everything went black.

Cobcroft sighed. The young man was really going to be a challenge to keep down if they needed to keep shooting him. He glanced down at the bloody corpse. Surely, he wouldn't be able to survive this.

Yet, to his astonishment, the wounds were healing themselves even quicker than before, melting together ridiculously quick. Cobcroft realised it was only a matter of time before the man woke up and would try to escape again. So now, the best thing that they could do would be to keep his asleep and sedated until they knew what they wanted to test next.

An evil grin began to grace his face. He knew the perfect way to keep him under until they next needed to wake him up. It would be fine for them, but absolutely freezing for the poor man. No mind, though. It wasn't as if Cobcroft cared what Harry was feeling.

All that mattered was that Harry would become theirs, that they could train him until he was the most lethal weapon the world had ever seen.

The family settled down at the same table, still littered with wedding plans. It was now six months since Harry had gone missing. The Wizarding World was still in uproar, the searches continued. There was still a gaping hole in all of their hearts.

And though there were six of them sitting at the table, there was an extra dish set out, in front of an empty chair.

The sky was a cheerful blue, stars no larger than pinpricks winking down at Harry. He sat on the moor, in the confusing state of day and night, picking at the coarse grass. He tried to whistle with it, though no sounds came out. He slumped down, lying on the grass and gazing up at the sky. This place was very strange. Strange things happened all the time.

Like the one time a prick was felt at his elbow and some of the grass turned a startling red colour, then turned back to the normal grass. Or the time that the sky seemed to brighten dramatically, though he wasn't sure why. It was an agonizingly slow state of limbo, he was nowhere and yet he was everywhere.

All he knew was that his name was Harry, and when he settled down the sleep he was always cold, a chill that slowly sauntered up his spine, spreading over his body until all he could do was shiver in his sleep. And though it felt like time was whizzing by, it was as though he was stuck in the same minute, only with the slight breeze to let him know he was even alive.

Slowly, Harry woke up. He gasped in air, realising that he was somehow free from that limbo that he had been stuck in for ages. He was away from the cold, away from the boredom and the search for his memories, away from the grass that turns red when he was seemingly pricked.

The room he was in was warm, almost too warm. The surface he was lying on was soft, almost too soft. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. He didn't know what, just that Cobcroft was up to something.

Cobcroft! Harry bolted upright, remembering where he was and what had been done to him. His head spun around, and he leaped up in fear when he saw he was in a room with no doors, and at the other end of the homey, comfortable room was a raging fire, creeping towards him. That was where the heat was coming from.

Harry kept spinning, desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation. There had to be a way out of the room, Cobcroft kept saying that he wanted to test what Harry could do. This had to be a cruel, twisted test, one to show what he could do, to let them know the extent of his abilities. The fire was racing now, the heat blazing against his cheeks, against his back. All he was wearing was a black pair of pants, his upper half out to the world.

There must be a window, a way out that he wasn't seeing. And that was when he saw it, the wallpapered wall at the other end was slightly shiny. It must be a way that they were viewing him, it had to be. There were no visibly cameras, and they would be destroyed by the fire.

Harry rushed towards the window, punching it hard. Nothing happened except that pain rippled through his hand. He snarled.

"I know you're behind there. I know that you put me in here. But I am letting you know, I will get you back for this. I guarantee it." He eyes were pure venom, his lips twisted into a vicious snarl. He could imagine the people watching, he could imagine them laughing at his predicament, intrigued to see what he was going to do.

He turned around, coughing as the smoke made his way into his lungs. The fire was less than a metre away now, licking at the furniture and caressing the ceiling. Harry felt dread in his stomach, felt it in his head. There was no way he was going to get through this. The fire was too hot the dread too much, there was no way, unless something absolutely incredible happened.

An incredible pain surged through him, more pain than he ever thought he would feel. A deafening crack surged through the room, shattering the window at the end. As he watched the fire swirled around, then froze, ice climbing its way up until there was no blazing flamed left, just the astonishment of what he had just done. The pain was still rocketing through him, and he fell to the ground, convulsing. He heard people rushing towards him as the pain began to subside.

Soon, it was a comforting warmth fizzing just under his skin, and with a fire running through his veins, Harry realised that it was his magic. Somehow, it had broken free of his core and was now flowing freely through his body.

Then something happened.

The edges of his vision began to black out, he was tingling all over. A bright light was all he could see, he was walking down a tunnel. A slight pain came from his hand. He glanced down at his palm and saw a thick black circle there.

And then he was gone.

Harry opened his eyes. Everything was dark, though he could see one person ahead of him, perched delicately on a bench. Her flaming red hair and vibrant green eyes caught his attention, and soon Harry was sprinting towards her.

He skidded to a halt, his breathing louder than anything he'd ever heard before. Sitting in front of him was Lily Potter, his mother. How this was happening he didn't care. His mother stood, tears pricking her eyes. She cupped his face in her hands, impossibly gentle, brushing his hair aside and wiping the thick, salty tears off his face.

"Oh, baby, what have they done to you?"

His heart leapt into his throat. The embrace he was in was totally impossible. He couldn't be here. He couldn't be sobbing into his mother's chest, letting all of his strength disappear, like a dam was suddenly opened. Yet here he was. Harry didn't care that it was impossible, that it was wrong. He had dropped the stone He had dropped the Resurrection Stone in the Forbidden Forest, felt it slip through is slack grip, heard it gently collide with the leafy ground.

He had said goodbye to his parents, to Sirius, to Remus. He knew he was never going to see them again. And even though it had taken a while for him to recover, he made it back to a happy place. And now, seeing his mother, Lily, knowing that she was going to be torn away from him soon, was devastating. But he wasn't going to waste this precious moment.

"I don't know, Mum," he whispered, quiet as a breath of wind. "But I can't die. Why can't I die?" His breath was ragged. Lily pulled away and gestured to the carved wooden bench. She gently sat down, crossing her legs. Harry fell down into it, edges of his eyes stained red from tears.

"The Hallows, son. It's all about the Hallows. Everything is to do with the Hallows." Her voice was sympathetic, yet there was a dark edge to it. Her lips tightened. "You don't know how much I wish that you could just lead a normal life. But these things happen to you."

Harry sighed, eyes cast down. "Don't I know it. This is just another crazy situation I've found myself in. I've learned to accept it. But this is different." He drew in a deep breath. "Why are they doing this to me? There's no reason for it." Lily's eyes were suddenly alight with a shockingly bright flame.

"Damn right, you are. There's no reason for it. I've watched, over the six months since they captured you, I've wat―"

"Six months?" Harry stuttered. "It's been six months? I thought...I thought it had been a few days. How has this happened?" His blood was running ice cold through his veins, red beginning to tinge the edges of his vision. How dare these people presume that they can just waltz into his life and lay a claim on him? "What have they done to me?"

And he wasn't prepared for the answer.

"They..they...it hurts me so much to say it." Lily grit her teeth and ground the words out. "They experimented on you, they pumped things into you. They broke your magic and twisted it to their will. It is now more powerful and more volatile than it's ever been. You no longer need a wand to perform magic. They've somehow put something inside of you that enhances your healing to extreme levels. They want to get it to the point that you can get shot in the head and keep walking like nothing happened."

Harry sat there, horrified. Fists clenched and teeth gritted, there was only one thing that came to mind. He was going to turn their own experiments against them. If they were going to turn him into some indestructible force, then he was going to turn their own creation against them.

Lily seemed to sense what Harry was thinking. She sighed, slumping down into the seat. "I thought you would think that. Well, let me tell you this―" She was cut off as the world around them began to shift. She seemed to sparkle, before starting to vanish. "You don't have a chance of getting out of there at the moment. You need to play along, let them teach you everything they want to." Her voice was desperate now, and Harry could barely see her. "I love you, Harry. Get out of there!"

The world around him slowly flaked away, with Harry unable to speak, barely comprehending what his mother had just said to him. As the world disappeared into fractals, his resolve hardened.

He was back in a war.

The frigid air shocked him into consciousness. Harry groaned and picked himself up off the ground, taking in the room. Lily was right about what she'd said. The ice, twisting, in the shape of the fire it just was, was, quite frankly, impossible without a wand. And yet, he'd done it. Something had been done to him. And he wasn't just going to sit there, chained to a bed, unconscious for months.

He was going to get out of here.

Several people emerged from behind the pillars, shivering and shaking. Their lips were blue, all of them pulled into a vicious smiles. Harry spun around and realised that he was surrounded. No matter. Things were going to change from now on.

"That was incredible, Harry," exclaimed Cobcroft. "It's working! It's finally working!" His voice was filled with a sick elation. Harry had to stop himself from shivering.

"I guess that's a good thing?" Harry asked. His voice was softer than before, though still with a very sharp edge to it. Cobcroft's eyes widened. "I guess this means that we are going to progress to the next stage?"

"Oh my God. IT WORKED!" Cobcroft was running his hands through his hair, leaping around the ice rink of a room. Harry just stood there, tracking Cobcroft with his eyes. It took all of his might not to leap over and throttle the evil man's open neck. "YES! We are going to the next stage. Right now, in fact!"

He lunged forward, roughly hooking his hand around Harry's arm. He started running for the door, dragging Harry along behind him. Suddenly, he slowed to an orderly walk, gently opening the door. Cobcroft chuckled.

"Can't be getting too excited. We aren't even halfway there. You know, when you're finished, I'll finally be able to join that Godforsaken organisation. Can't say their name, you might go babbling.

"Now, because our previous experiments were such a success, we're going to start our next ones right away. But before we do that, you need some basic combat training. You need to learn how to fight. You aren't going to be able to rely on the magnificent, beautiful energy of yours when you're out in the field, you would be stomped. So, we're going to spend around two months giving you basic training, before we give you the 'Enhancer', as we call it. It will increase your skills tenfold. We aren't sure if you'll survive, though. It's a gamble, but I'm sure you'll pull through."

Cobcroft playfully nudged Harry's ribs like he was Harry's father. He tried no to retch at the idea. Harry didn't speak, but put the information away for further use. From all the information Cobcroft stupidly spilled, his best chance of escape would be after they put this 'Enhancer' in him. He knew he would survive, the damn Hallows would make sure of that. Now, all he had to do was gain Cobcroft's trust enough that he would spill even more things about what they were trying to do with him.

"I'm sure I will. And then what?" The question was phrased as an innocent query. Cobcroft, so caught up in his manic triumph, didn't hesitate to release the information.

"Then we send you out in the field to test your skills. After you've been frozen for a few months, of course. That will give time for the Enhancer to process and make its way through your bloodstream. Oh, isn't this exciting?" He looked at Harry, as if waiting for a reply. Harry didn't. Cobcroft scowled. "When I talk to you, I expect a reply. I don't want a mindless puppet. I was someone with personality, who I can have a laugh with. I mean, you also need to listen to what I say and do as I command, but we can ignore that. So, Harry, isn't it exciting?"

"It sure is." He tried to make it sound like he was excited. It was hard. Harry could tell this was going to be one of the hardest thing he ever faced, second only to the Horcrux Hunt of seventh year. Cobcroft was a total madman, finding glee in the evilest of things.

"You're right. Ah, here we are." They had reached a metal door with no window, unlike the others in the stark building. Cobcroft held the door open for Harry, gesturing for him to go through. Harry did, nodding thanks. It wasn't genuine, not in the slightest. But now that his anger was dying down, he was beginning to think rationally about things. Specifically escape.

"Harry, this is the room where you will be living for the next two weeks. No, I think I'll make it three month. That will really give you time to get used to fighting with a mix of combat and Energy. Then we can continue. This is amazing! I'll finally get that job, and you'll be the most incredible person the world has ever seen.

Inside, Harry was raging at Cobcroft. On the outside, he was smirking. Like he wanted this to happen.

"When do we start?"

It was the eight month mark of Harry Potter disappearance. The somber crowd huddled in the drab square, rain spitting down from the dark, brooding clouds. It was a suitable atmosphere, reflecting almost everyone's mood. They didn't know what to do. Everyone had been searching like mad, traveling the world, looking for any sign of him. Nothing had been found, not after eight months.

It was finally time to stop.

If Harry Potter was going to come back to them, he would be found one day. It just wasn't this day. Or the next. It was time to move on with their lives, keeping the memory of Harry alive in their minds. The memory of him, what he did for them, would always be there. His smile always at the forefront of their minds. His sacrifice burned into their memories. They would never forget him.

Tears were tumbling down faces, eyes were bloodshot and hands were shaking. This was especially true of the large group standing at the front of the crowd. Most of them were tall, with red hair and freckles. There were the odd ones with kinky black hair, frizzy brown hair and shining blond hair, though they were rare. In the middle of the group, Ron and Hermione huddled, arms locked around each other.

It couldn't be true. They couldn't be giving up on Harry. The world still needed to search. Every day, they were scouring newspapers, looking through obscure little towns. They'd even gone to Europe and talked to the high ranking Ministry officials of France, Germany and the Netherlands. But nothing. No one heard anything. There wasn't a trace of Harry, except for the wand that had been found in a cobbled London alley. It was now in a display case in the Ministry of Magic atrium, with a plaque underneath it.

But to them, it didn't matter that there wasn't any sign of Harry. They would still keep searching. They would know if he was dead, there would be a void in their hearts that would never be filled again. And that wasn't how it felt at the moment. They were just searching now, infuriated that the Minister of Magic was going to give this speech despite their pleas not to.

Around them, the Weasley clan were stony faced and dead eyed, stoic. Molly Weasley was grasping Arthur's hand like it was a lifeline, so tight her knuckles were white. Bill, Charlie, George, Percy, Ron and Ginny were also there. It was almost too sad. But among them, there was one truth.

Harry would come home.

A tall, dark skinned man with no hair walked onto the wooden stage, clad in deep purple robes. This man was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, and a damn good one. Even though a lot of people now harboured mild dislike for him because he was about to announce that the search was off.

He walked up to the front of the stage, surveying the crowd. He looked down at the Weasley clan and flinched when he saw their venomous glares. He steeled himself and looked out over the hundreds of people who had turned up for the address.

"People of our world, it is indeed a sad day. For eight months, Harry Potter has been missing. For eight months, everyone has put everything on hold to try and find out saviour. But to no avail. The only thing that we found was a wand in an alley, and after extensive searching we found nothing.

"I regret to inform you that the search for Harry Potter has been called off." There was uproar in the crowd, even though everyone who was here knew what was going to be said. "Please, calm yourselves. I have good news, despite the bad. I have decided, last night in fact, to assign a small squad of ten Aurors to the case, to keep looking for the next two years. They will do the job of looking for him.

"I implore you, go back to your normal lives. We are looking for him, I swear. Even though the main search has been called off, it doesn't mean that we are going to stop. Harry Potter is too important to us to just give up. We aren't going to.

"And one more thing, before I go. We do have a name for this squad." Shacklebolt smiled slightly. "Potterwatch."

Harry whipped to the side, narrowly missing the blow directed at him. He slashed back with the knife in his hand, gashing the other man's arm. His opponent hissed and pulled out his own knife, lunging forward and driving it along Harry's face. Harry grit his teeth but kept going through the pain. He could already feel the wound knitting itself together, even quicker than before. It was now more difficult to see through the crimson liquid dripping down his face, though he didn't let that phase him.

One more month and he would be out of this hellhole. One more month. That was his mantra. One more month, thirty more days, that was all he had to endure. Already, he was feeling strange, like electricity was dancing beneath his skin. Now, in this fight, it was already amplifying.

Harry held the blade tight in his hand, and realised that this was the perfect time to use his magic. For some reason, he was holding back using it in these fights, wanting to learn how to fight his way out of here without relying on his unpredictable magic. But now, he was decent enough at fighting that he could try and use it without compromising his combat skills.

He swiveled around, turning to face his opponent once more. He was a tall, lean man, with a reach advantage over Harry. Harry's advantage was his speed. The man was lumbering, his swings clumsy. Harry leaped forward, aiming the knife towards his opponents bicep. They had healing serums here. It didn't matter if her hurt these despicable people, though he hesitated to even call them that. The knife lodged itself in the bicep. The man roared in pain and shook Harry off. Unfortunately, Harry lost his grip on the knife as he flew across the room, leaving it in the bicep.

He took a deep breath and dug deep into his magical core, which he now knew was snapped. The excruciating pain during the fire room, that had been his core snapping, the magic spilling out to run freely through his body. In his room, he had been experimenting with what he could do. One of the more interesting things that he had found out was that he had an affinity for magic relating to fire. So now, he imagined that vire was running through his veins and coming to his finger tips.

The air began to sizzle and a burning, spitting whip materialised in his hand, deadly and long. His opponent's eyes widened in shock. Harry smirked. He could see Cobcroft in his mind, cheering wildly behind the glass. His entire training regimen was overseen by Cobcroft, from behind two way glass that looked like a wall to Harry. He knew they were there though, observing his every move.

Well, he was now going to give them a show they would never forget. He lashed out with the whip, a massive crack echoing around the large, gym like space. The thin line of fire dashed through the air, making instant contact with the howling man who was grasping at his bicep. It whipped across his face, leaving bubbling, stinking flesh in its wake. Harry winced. He still didn't like hurting them, even though they hurt him. But if he wanted to get out of here, he would need to gain Cobcroft's complete trust, then get let out on a mission. And to do that he needed to show that he wouldn't hesitate to hurt people who were in his way.

Steeling himself, Harry slowly walked forward, coiling the whip in his hand. It stayed there, spitting and hissing, a reminder of what Harry would do in less than a second if the man even said a word. Harry was now standing in front of the whimpering man. His face was ruined, that much was clear. Harry wasn't sure if the healing serum would even be able to get rid of the scar. Guilt was beginning to run through him, but the man would be okay.

"Don't get up, or you will get another dose of this," Harry said venomously. Over the last two months he spent hours perfecting his voice, making it seem like he was angry, that he wanted to see them hurt. "And you know how that feels." The man grunted in return, unable to speak from the excruciating pain that was wracking his body.

Harry knelt down, looking intently at the man. There was one thing he hadn't been able to find out, and that was why they wanted to turn him into a weapon. Specifically Cobcroft. Sure, he wanted a job, not that anything more was said about that. It puzzled him and put a raging wildfire in his belly, deep down in his gut. This fire sprang to life now. Harry felt heat travel down his arms and to his fingertips. A strange urge to touch the man's face came to him. Curious about it, Harry did.

He regretted it immediately.

Blue lightning sprang from his fingers. Within seconds, the man was turned to ash, little embers drifting through the air. All that was left of him was a small grey pile of dust. Harry jerked back, the whip disappearing from his hand in his shock and fear. As it disappeared, a sharp pain stabbed into his palm. Harry looked down and saw a thick black line bisecting the strange circle on his hand. He gulped as he realised what that tattoo was.

The Hallows were etching themselves into his hand, piece by piece.

The stench of burning flesh reached his nostrils and Harry recoiled, scrambling back over the springy floor to get away from the dead man. The dust. He didn't want to kill anyone. He hadn't meant to. But somehow it happened against his will. He killed a man. He KILLED A MAN. Guilt, cold as ice and hot as fire began to rush through him. A blind, black hole of terror began to pull him in.

NO!

He wouldn't be sucked in by it. He needed to get out. He needed to find a way to get out. But he would do it without killing another person. Harry's thoughts turned to the tattoo on his right palm. With trembling arms, he looked at it. He saw the line, saw the wand clasped in Voldemort's hand. Now he was carrying a reminder of it everywhere he went. He didn't need this. He didn't need any of this thrust upon him. All he wanted was a normal life. But he needed to listen to the words of his mother. He needed to get out, get out of this hell. When he was skilled enough. He still needed to play along.

So, what Cobcroft would see is a man who didn't regret turning a man into a pile of dust. He would see a soldier who was doing his bidding.

Harry heard clapping and rushed footsteps. Cobcroft was running over, grinning wider than ever. Harry dusted himself off and stood at attention, like he was told to whenever Cobcroft paid a visit. It wasn't often now, though it did happen. He watched as the greying man ran forward, ploughing straight through the pile of ashes. Inside, Harry winced.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," gushed Cobcroft, skidding to a halt. His arms wheeled around and he emitted something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. His eyes narrowed. "Harry, that was amazing! The first time you use your energy and it was phenomenal! You need to put on a show like that more often. That whip, oh that whip. When we gave you one a month ago, we knew you liked it. But to make it out of fucking fire...one more month and you will be unstoppable. Then we'll use the Enhancer and things will be even better!"

"That they will be, sir," said Harry. His tone was sharp, like every time he spoke around Cobcroft. He found it helped him trick Cobcroft into thinking that he was lethal.

"Can you do it again?" Cobcroft was like a child at Christmas. Harry shrugged and pulled up his magic, directing it to his fingertips. This time, instead of fire, a crackling whip made of lightning appeared in his hand. Harry's face betrayed his surprise. That hadn't happened before. Usually it was fire. He must have an affinity for hot, crackling things. That, or accidentally killing someone had changed his magic again. Harry gulped and tried to put the terror filled face of the man out of his head.

Cobcroft's jaw dropped. His eyes were shining. "Can you whip something?" It was a mere whisper.

"Sure." Harry turned around and took in the equipment that he used daily, that he was forced to use daily. A boxing bag was hung from the ceiling. The perfect target. Harry swung the crackling whip of his head and snapped his arm towards the punching bag. It whipped through the air and cut clean through the bag. Harry then moved his left hand and repaired it, something that Cobcroft hadn't seen before.

"Astounding," Cobcroft said, as the punching bag leapt back together. "How come you've never done that repairing trick before?"

"There's a lot I can do that you don't know, sir." Harry shook his hand and with a few sparks the whip disappeared again. When Harry got out, he was definitely going to find a way to fine tune it so he could use it more often. He was too good at using it to not utilise his skill. Another weapon he was decent at using was a rifle, though he could do with his magic everything a firearm could do and more.

"Show me." Cobcroft looked like he wanted to sit down. Harry imagined a chair, and one seemed to paint itself into the air. Soon, a plush armchair was sitting there. Cobcroft flopped into it, a content smile on his face. "You're going to get me this job, son. You know that. Though you actually don't know what you're getting me, you'll get it for me. I just know it."

"That's excellent, sir."

"Indeed it is. Also, I have noticed that your healing has improved drastically, so I've decided that we're going to do some more tests on your regeneration." Harry couldn't stop himself from blanching. The tests. They were what he truly loathed. Where he was chained up and stabbed, shot, bashed and beaten, just to test how fast he could come back to life.

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Harry asked. This time he couldn't stop the fear from clouding his voice. Cobcroft chuckled, knowing that these were what Harry truly feared, what he was really scared of.

It was necessary.

Within five minutes, Harry was chained up in a steely room, in metal that he still couldn't break out of. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't snap the cuffs, melt them, break them. Nothing. If he had his wand, he would be able to Disapparate away from the place entirely. That was what he needed now.

A woman in black leveled a gun at his head. It was always the same. They started with a pistol, then a knife. Then another gun. Then a bat. It never stopped. Fists were slammed into his face until he looked like the Starry Night painting. Her finger squeezed the trigger and a fiery pain rippled through Harry's head, before disappearing. The clock above her head, measuring how long it took for him to fully regenerate, stopped at five seconds.

Ignoring that, Harry's thoughts turned to the tattoo on his palm. If it represented the Hallows, he may be able to call the Elder wand to his hand, whole again, even though he snapped it. Over the past few months, Harry learned that Death always had a way. It was going to take more than snapping the Deathstick to get rid of the Hallows.

Suddenly, a thin stick of wood slid into his hand, out of nowhere. It felt familiar. Harry instantly knew that it was the Elder wand. Somehow, he was holding it in his hand. Without a second's hesitation, he Disapparated.

Or tried to.

Pain wracked his body and he shrieked as the cuffs around his wrists and ankles lit up a burning red, sending heat up and down his body. The Elder Wand disappeared from his hand. The cuffs cooled and Harry could feel the flesh under them bubbling and cracking, just like the skin of the dead man's face. He panted, still moaning in anguish.

How? How had the cuffs been able to stop him from Disapparating? It was impossible. Unfortunately, his answer came that very second.

Cobcroft's distorted voice echoed around the chamber. "We have met people who can teleport before, Harry. Don't think we haven't safeguarded against it. This is all for your own good, you know. So just bite your tongue. This should be the second to last test, so you can be comfortable with that knowledge. But because you tried to escape, we are going to need to put temporary teleportation cuffs around your ankles and wrists, to teach you a lesson. Alas, you were going so well as well. It's expected that regressions will happen, though. At least this is your first one. Things will still go according to plan though." The staticky voice cut out, leaving a panicking Harry with a pistol pointed at his chest.

He was going to have to be more careful.

Ginny stirred her soup slowly and somberly. She couldn't get Harry off her mind. He was always there, with his charming smile, his enchanting laugh and infuriatingly stubborn bird's nest of hair. But now, she was beginning to realise she would have to get over him. There was no point trying to hang on to her relationship with him any more. She tried to salvage the threads of it, but when there was no one on the other end trying to do the same, it all fell apart again.

Her colourful tapestry had been severed and turned to grey.

She stood up from the table without a word, grabbing a coat off the back of her chair. She strode towards the door of her house and, with her wand in her hand, disapparated to the town with a crack.

She appeared in an alleyway, behind a dumpster. Her usual spot. She knew that there weren't any cameras here. It was thanks to Hermione that her knowledge of the Muggle world was at an all time high, and to be honest, she found comfort in the people without any magic. Their lives were so different. They had cars, and planes, electricity even. That fascinated her incredibly.

But she wasn't here to marvel over what the Muggle's could do. No, she was here for the warm, sometimes sleazy, building down the street, with the friendly bartender. She could always rely on her for a good talk, an excellent drink and the latests news. The bartender was quite attractive in Ginny's eyes, with a midnight black pixie cut, a septum piercing and two arms full of tattoos. And that was only what she could see.

Ginny made her way down the street, pulling her coat tighter around her when a cold gust of wind blew down the street. She looked up and saw smoke puffing out of chimneys, rising into the sky. Was it really nearly winter already? Time had flown too fast for her liking, with her search for Harry. For eight months, it dominated her life, before she took a step back and realised that she wasn't taking care of herself. One look in the mirror, seeing her protruding ribs and pelvic bones, was enough to realise that. Her hair had been greasy and overgrown. She really put herself in a state.

So now she was getting out, trying to put a spark into her life. And it was beginning to work. Piece by piece, happiness began to creep back into her life. She could ride her broom without longing Harry was there. Sure, she still yearned for him, still searched for him, but what could she do? The Potterwatch team were out there, doing everything they could do find Harry. She would do exactly the same, except for the fact that her tears wouldn't do anything to help the team.

The bell above the door jingled as she pushed it open. Warm air wafted into her face, along with the smell of a good, hearty meal. A small smile graced her face as she walked over to the bar. Sure enough, there was the bartender, currently serving a sleazy looking man. Ginny felt something twist inside her stomach and it took her second to realise that it was nervousness. Now that she looked at her, Ginny had to admit that the bartender was cute. She wouldn't hesitate to say that she was a looker, either.

Seated on a stool, Ginny watched as the cute bartender handed a drink to the man, who suddenly lurched forward and put his greasy hand on the bartender's tattooed forearm. Ginny's eyes narrowed at the scene, then she felt her anger kick up a notch when she realised the bartender was trying to pull away. The man wasn't letting her.

"You know, if you weren't tattooed, I might let you sleep with me," he leered. Ginny slid over, ready to intervene.

"Like I would ever want to do that, you creep!" Spat the bartender, blond fringe swinging around in anger. She tried to pry the fingers off her arm, to no avail. Ginny was beginning to feel real anger now. She stepped over and raised her hand to give the man a good smack. He saw her first though. His arm flew up and grabbed onto Ginny's wrist.

"Now, what do we have here?" He leaned forward, putting his bulbous nose right up in Ginny's face. "You're a gorgeous little thing, aren't you? How about coming home with me?" Ginny wriggled, managing to slip her hand out of his grasp. She lunged forward and came down hard on his face. He recoiled, falling off the stool with a mighty crash. The bar fell silent.

"We are not pieces of meat, understand me?" She hissed. If she wasn't in a bar, surrounded by muggles, she would have whipped out her wand and given him a piece of her mind. But not how. "Leave this place."

"Oh, surely you're mistaken?" His voice was no less sleazy now. "I'll give you one more chance to get in bed with me, little firecracker." Ginny had to resist the urge to stomp down hard on his nose. She didn't say anything, just fixed him with a fiery glare. He struggled to his feet. "Your loss, I guess."

And with that, he sauntered out of the bar, leaving the place in silence. Soon, the babbling chatter returned. Exhausted and wringing her stinging hand, Ginny sat down on a stool after righting the one that had fallen down with the disgusting man. Sighing, she looked up and saw the bartender looking at her with those gorgeous dark eyes. Where did that come from?

"I just want to say thank you for that. He's been bothering me for weeks."

Ginny shrugged. "It's the least I could do." She was trying desperately to stay cool in front of a woman, who she was very quickly realising she was attracted to. It seemed to be working.

"No, I mean it. Look, if there is every anything that I can do for you, just tell me. I owe you now." Ginny felt a sly snake of a thought slither into her head. There was one thing, but surely she wasn't going to say it. She couldn't.

She did.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" The words were blurted out before she could stop herself. Brown eyes widening, Ginny buried her face in her hands. This couldn't be happening. She still had Harry to think about. But, he was missing. It was time to get over that. There wasn't a better way to do that than going on a date with a stunning woman. Or asking her out. Not that she would say yes.

"Oh." She sounded surprised. "I'm unsure how to respond."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that."

"No, don't apologise. It's not like I want to say no. In fact, I want to say yes. I'm just not sure how to go about it." The woman was gabbling now. "Yes. I would like to. I'm sorry for this, It's always been me asking people out on dates, so this is a first for me. And now, look, I'm gabbling, this happens when I'm nervous. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. How about we meet outside after you shift is over? We could go out to dinner or something like that." Ginny looked up and saw a small smile on her lips. "What's your name by the way?"

"My name is Meenakshi Kumar. And you?"

"Ginny Weasley."

"Well, Ginny, I look forward to seeing you outside. For now, here's a drink. Your usual. On the house." Meenakshi delivered the glass of wine with a wink, before sashaying down the bar to a customer who was flailing her hand, leaving Ginny sipping white wine is disbelief.

Harry marched along the corridor, slightly behind a striding Cobcroft. Today was the day. The Enhancer, whatever that was, was going to be pumped into his bloodstream. The cuffs were finally off his ankles, and since the second to last test, he hasn't dared show the Elder Wand. He knew that there were cameras everywhere, watching his every move. He wasn't about to get one of his only tools taken away from him.

"So, this is an easy procedure, Harry. You know that, we've gone over it so many times. It will take a mere twenty seconds for it to get into your bloodstream. Not that you'll be conscious during that time, it's too dangerous, even for you."

"Understood." But inside, Harry was going over his own plan. He knew that when he woke up, it would be exactly five months later, the time it took for the Enhancer to process and change him. When he woke up, everything would be enhanced, skills, intellect and magic included. Then, he would make his break for it, though he would need a way to go through the facility without raising suspicion. He wasn't going to kill anyone anymore. Not after the first man and the multiple people he was forced to dispatch by Cobcroft after. He would need a way to hide.

If only he had the Invisibility cloak, then it would be an easy walk out. Well, more of a very quiet jog. If the situation seriously devolved, he would use his combat skills to disable the enemy. That was a key element. No one was going to die.

As if in response, he felt a searing pain on his palm. He didn't need to look. Harry knew that the invisibility cloak, the triangle, was now tattooed on his palm. That was going to be how he walked out of here. His plan was adapting to the new change, not that it was going to be hard. He knew where the exit was, thanks to Cobcroft's pride in his facility, insisting that Harry got a first hand tour.

"And after this, we are going to give you your first assignment. I know that you won't fail. And when it is complete, then I'll finally get the job. It's been so long in the making, it's about time I finally got recognition for my amazing abilities." Crazy cuckoo ideas, Harry thought. Well, things weren't going to work out for Cobcroft. Not in the slightest.

They reached a room with no door. Cobcroft walked in first, Harry following. In the middle of the room was a metallic table, covered in scratches. There were no cushions. Not that Harry expected them. Comfort was something he learned to go without. He looked around and saw two monitors standing sentinel next to the the table.

Silently, Harry padded over to the table and hopped up onto it. He swiveled around so he was vertical and lay down, facing the ceiling. A needle pricked his neck, and everything vanished quicker than someone snapping their fingers.

The day and night state surrounded him completely this time. He was peacefully floating in nothingness, thinking. Just thinking. He was Harry, and that was all he knew. Everything was cold, though, something that he would like to change. He gently spiraled through the limbo, reaching out and batting stars out of the blue sky. It amused him slightly.

He closed his eyes, and for some reason he saw a bald, black pirate in front of him. That was strange. The image faded as soon as he opened his eyes completely forgotten, leaving him to float through the stars in a daytime sky for a long time and no time at all.

"Why don't we defrost him now, sir?"

"If we do that now, he is sure to die. Cobcroft really did a number on him. We shall wait until the five months are up, then we can defrost him and see what the hell has been done to him."

The imposing man turned to look out the window, his one eye surveying everything that was going on outside. "I hope to hell that he survives."

Everything in front of him was blurry, a kind of haze that confused him. His body was cold, colder than it had ever been before, the kind of cold that wormed its way into your head and messed with your mind, making you think that things were not as they should be. Of course, in this situation, things were not as they should be. When he tried to move, he couldn't. Everything was frozen in place, as if he was encased in some cold, cruel prison.

His heart began to pick up pace, beating an unfamiliar rhythm inside of his chest. This couldn't be happening, something was very, very wrong. The last thing Harry remembered was the wrinkled, grinning face of Cobcroft as he was put under, to have the Enhancer put in him. Then nothing, just black.

Flashes of unfamiliar faces suddenly penetrated his mind, leaving him wondering what the Hell was going on. Who were these people walking around in his head, dressed in black? Were these the people that Cobcroft had been trying to get a job off? If so he was in a deep pile of shit, deeper than he had ever been before. He would find his way out of it, though, he knew he would. It was just a matter of time and patience, as it had been with escaping the facility with Cobcroft.

With the cold wracking his body, Harry began to concentrate on the fire that ran through his veins. Surely, he could melt this prison and be gone from wherever he was, back to England, back to the people he loved, even though it was over a year since he had seen them. The thought made his pounding heart hurt and ache. He missed them so much. He thought of Ron and Hermione, and of Ginny's freckled face and fiery personality. Hopefully things would be able to go back to normal when he was out of this place.

Slowly, Harry heated himself up to a degree that his prison began to melt. Water began to trickle over him, running in rivulets down his limbs. It was then that Harry realized that he was encased in ice. This must be how Cobcroft managed to keep him asleep for months at a time, waiting to be woken up by the mad scientist. Luckily, the ice was melting faster now as he intensified the heat. Harry tried not to notice that he was glowing slightly, but it was impossible. His limbs were glowing not a fiery red like he was used to, but an eerie blue.

The ice around his face finally melted and he greedily gulped in air, coughing and sputtering. Somehow, he was able to survive without air while awake. He wasn't going to question it now. Harry modified his plan as he continued to get rid of the prison. Now that he was in a new place, it would be a matter of shrouding himself in the invisibility cloak, if he could figure out how to get it out of his hand, putting a silencing charm on his feet and sneaking out of the new place. He wasn't going to risk apparition, not with his magic in such a sorry state.

It would be a matter of minutes before he was free, though in those minutes anything could happen.

The security guard's eyes widened as he watched what was happening on the camera. It couldn't be possible. There were still another four months to go before the 'Mystery Man', as he had been dubbed, was meant to wake up. Yet here he was, melting his own block of ice and escaping.

He slammed his hand down on the red button sitting on his desk. Immediately, alarms began blaring throughout the complex, red lights flashing alongside them. It was an emergency, of the largest scale. In hindsight, he probably overreacted, but now was no time for regrets. No one knew how dangerous the man was, nor what had been done to him. If it turned out to be overkill, then so be it. There was the slim possibility that it was the right thing to do.

He just prayed that it wasn't.

Harry cursed as a blood curdling alarm, similar to the caterwauling charm, suddenly sprang to life. Crimson lights descended from the ceiling, wheeling around in a circular motion. Odd shadows were being cast. Clomping footsteps could be heard running down the hallway. Whoever was running was clearly wearing heavy boots. Prepared for combat.

His magic doubled in strength. Instead of melting, the ice began to groan, before splitting in half. The two sides crashed to the floor, shattering into thousands of pieces. Water pooled on the floor, leaving the room in a sorry, slippery state. Harry sat up and glanced around, surveying his surroundings. He was in a small room with no windows. The walls were painted a dull grey and a security camera perched in the highest corner, beeping quietly. That must be how they knew he was escaping. As much as technology fascinated him, it was really pissing him off right now.

Soaking wet, Harry slowly walked around the metal table he had been put on. He really was beginning to hate stainless steel, the surgical environment it represented. He really didn't need to see it. Harry brought his hand up and looked at the tattoo on his palm, desperately concentrating on the triangle. If he could get the cloak to come out, he would be able to sneak out. That would be great.

But no matter how hard he concentrated on it, the Cloak wouldn't come out, deciding to remain a tattoo on his palm. Harry instead turned to the Elder Wand. the results were frustratingly the same. Harry sighed. It looked like he was going to have to fight his way out of here.

The troops waited outside the door with baited breath. A woman, the leader of the crew, with cropped brown hair and a stocky build, peered through the crack in the door. A puzzled expression took over her face as she observed what the strange man with long black hair was doing.

"What's he doing?" whispered a soldier beside her. She turned to the young man.

"Just standing there, staring at his hand. Maybe he isn't as dangerous as we thought."

As she said that, his head snapped over and his poisonous green eyes stared directly at her.

Whispers filtered through the crack in the door. Harry's head snapped around and the lightning whip flashed into his hand, hissing and spitting, coiling on the floor. So there were people waiting outside, ready to intercept him. Well, they were going to be in for a ride when they did. He wasn't going to kill anyone, but it wouldn't be wrong to hurt them.

His eyes widened. Those weren't his thoughts. Something was going on in his head, something was obviously the work of Cobcroft. But there wasn't time to think about that now. He needed to focus on the people who were waiting outside the room. They were silent, not even their breathing could be heard. It seemed that they weren't going to intervene unless he did something dangerous.

Well, he wasn't going to prolong the inevitable. He was getting out of here and if it meant he needed to start the fight, then so be it. Calmly, Harry walked through the puddles on the floor, whip dragging along the ground after him. Little ripples ran through the pools of water. His hand reached out to the door handle, closing around his. It rattled as he tried to turn it. That was a shame. It didn't mean it was a problem, though.

The door handle sparked and Harry yanked down on it, opening the door slowly. On the other side were around ten people, clothed in what looked like armour, ready for a war. Large rifled were held in their arms, though some toted pistols. They all were bulletproof jackets.

"May I ask where I am?" Harry asked. There was no harm in being polite. Or he could jump in and dispatch them, said an evil, niggling voice in the back of his head. Harry shook it. That wasn't him. Something had been done to him. Yeah, no shit. "See, I just woke up and don't seem to know where I am."

The people in front of him looked on in fear, eyes wide, weapons raised. A short, stocky woman stepped forward.

"Put the whip down." She roughly gestured with her rifle. Harry cocked his head. These people were different from Cobcroft. He took a step forward. Amusingly, they all stumbled backwards a step, fear etched onto their faces. Was he really that scary? "I said put it down, or we will shoot."

"That won't do much now, will it?" chided Harry. "See, I'm kind of impervious to weapon fire. You can try but it won't work." No one shot him, though he could see their fingers itching to pull the trigger. He smirked, taking another step forward.

"You must be under some delusions. Put the whip down." Her voice was stern. "Now." Unfortunately for her, Harry didn't feel like complying with her instructions. It was like a switch had been flipped, making anger rage through his veins. Though he could still see clearly, an outside force seemed to be waging war in his brain. His movements turned jerky, a strange sight for the people in front of him. In fascination, with a peppering of fear, they watched as he jerked around, then stopped.

A dead calm was in Harry's head. He was different. Whatever Cobcroft had done to him, whatever the Enhancer did, was working, though not as it was supposed to. It had only been running through his veins for a month. There were four more to go. That didn't matter now. All that Harry knew was that he needed to find a way past these people and get out.

And he didn't mind if he killed them.

"I'm sorry, I've been incredibly rude. My name is Harry Potter. Nice to meet you." Without warning, Harry lashed forward. The whip cracked through the air, wrapping itself around a man's throat. He was instantly dead as volts of electricity fizzled through his body. He fell to the floor, singed and hissing. Harry drew the whip back. "Who's next?"

The guns started roaring and blazing. The bullets went straight through him, not stopping his progress in the slightest. They barely hurt, another property of the Enhancer. Harry heard footsteps rushing up behind him. He whipped around and saw another ten people sprinting towards the fight, rifles at the ready. He wouldn't be able to take that many people on, not without being severely disadvantaged.

He jumped up in the air, spinning around and landing hard on the ground. A golden shockwave sped along the floor, knocking everyone off their feet. Rifles flew into the air. With another surge of magic, Harry destroyed them, ash slowly floating to the ground. Without hesitation, Harry ran through the maze of unconscious bodies, whip still coiled in his hand. He needed to get out of here.

It really was handy that he no longer needed a wand to do magic. That was one thing he would take away from his time in Hell with Cobcroft. Wait. Cobcroft. He could be here somewhere. If he was, then Harry was going to give him what was coming to him. And it wasn't going to be pretty. A small voice at the back of his head was yelling that killing him wasn't the way to go, that he wasn't himself. He shrugged it off and continued sprinting through the halls, eyes narrowed.

Magic fizzling through him, Harry desperately tried to find Cobcroft. He wasn't having much luck until he ran into a young man with shaking knees. Perfect. This would be how he would find the location of Cobcroft. The location would soon be blazened into his mind, and then the man would be sorry he ever laid a hand on Harry.

The quivering man pulled a pistol out of a holster and pointed it at Harry. Cute.

"I'm sorry, I seem to be lost. Could you please direct me to the cell of Logan Cobcroft?" His words came out surprisingly gentle, though that didn't put the man at ease. If anything, it made him quiver more. "Come now, I'm nothing to be scared of. Just tell me and then I'll leave."

"I'm not authorised to tell you, sorry." The gun in his hand shook. "Put the whip down." All Harry did was twitch it.

"Ah, this is where our opinions differ. See, I don't care whether you're authorised to give me the location or not. You will give to to me, understand." Again, the whip in his hand twitched threateningly, sending sparks onto the floor. The man whimpered.

"I-I can't do that. Put the weapon down and I won't shoot."

"That was a mistake." Harry rushed forward and pinned the man against the wall. This would not go well for him. Viciously smirking, Harry said, "I will ask you one more time. If you don't tell me, I will pin you to the wall by your throat. Understand?" The man nodded, blue eyes filled with pure terror. "Good. Now, where is Cobcroft being kept?"

"A few corridors over, in the cell with a glass front. You can't miss him. Please, let me go now!" Harry did. The man crumpled to the floor, shaking from fear. His pistol clattered to the ground next to him. Harry bent down and picked it up. It may come of use in the future. You never knew what was going to happen.

It was only when he was walking away when something inside of his head snapped. His eyes widened, the little voice at the back of his head coming back to the forefront. Once again, the pistol clattered to the ground, Harry rushing back to the poor man who was still shaking on the ground. He glanced up and recoiled, scrambling away on the floor. Harry felt anger beginning to cloud his judgement. Not against the terrorised man, though. Against Cobcroft, who thought he could just change him into an evil no better than Voldemort.

Harry bent down and offered the man a hand. "I'm sorry about that." His voice was gentle, reassuring. "I've been experimented upon by Cobcroft, this apparently being the result. Something happened inside my head and I wasn't in control. Can you forgive me?" Drawing in a ragged breath, the man took Harry's hand and stood up.

"I guess. I am still going to have to report you, though." Harry bit his lip.

"There's no use in doing that. These sirens are for me. I'll be out of here soon, though, so if you could just keep quiet, that would be nice." The man seemed to be contemplating something, before nodding.

"There isn't much I can do, I suppose. By the way, I'm Charlie."

"Harry."

Then he sprinted away, following Charlie's directions to Cobcroft's cell. Even though he wasn't going to hurt the evil man, didn't mean he wasn't going to yell at him and give him a good scare. The corridors blended into one another, though Harry eventually reached the one that Charlie had been talking about. Down the end of it, sitting on a metallic bench, was Cobcroft.

He looked dreadful. His hair was bedraggled and knotted, a scruffy beard sprouting from his chin, not in the good way. His clothes were torn, he was visibly dirty. But his eyes were as sharp and cruel as ever, boring into Harry as he marched towards him. He smiled slightly.

Before Harry could get to Cobcroft, two armed guards stepped out of nowhere, aiming their weapons at Harry. Before they could do the obligatory, 'Drop the weapon or we will be forced to shoot' speech, Harry stomped his foot down on the ground, sending out a blue shockwave. They collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Harry reached the glass and just stood there, staring at Cobcroft.

"Nice to see you again, Harry," chuckled Cobcroft. "You're a bit underbaked though. Somehow you woke up four months early and have gone a bit mad." Harry felt his heart pick up pace. Four months early? How had that happened? He would find that out later. Now, he was focusing on interrogating Cobcroft.

"I don't care for pleasantries. What have you done to me? What exactly did you pump into my bloodstream?" His anger began to surface again, along with an urge to wrap his crackling whip around Cobcroft's throat and watch him sizzle. He shot it down, knowing that he couldn't lose control again. He might not be able to gain control of his common sense and he wasn't about to go back to a crazed killer.

"Well, you see, it's something I was developing for years before you turned up. I was just waiting for someone to use it on. Of course, then we found you and needed to modify it, that's why I kept you frozen for several months. We took samples of your blood and managed to come up with a new version that would modify itself to your energy, therefore making you the most powerful weapon the world has ever seen."

Harry slammed his hand down on the glass. It cracked slightly under the impact. "Spare me the backstory. What did you put in me and what will happen if I don't get frozen again?"

"Fine, if you don't want to hear the backstory. It's a modified version of the Super Soldier Serum, the one that was used on Captain America. It was a lot of guesswork, but I was finally able to replicate it, tweaking it to my own liking, until I came up with something truly magnificent.

"And you ask what will happen if you don't get frozen for the next four months? It's already started. You will go mad, until you're nothing more than a shell who wants to maim and kill anyone who is in your way. I'm sure that you don't want that, do you?" Harry took a step back in shock. He needed to be frozen again. He wasn't going to turn into a monster.

His eyes narrowed as he glared at Cobcroft. In a sudden fit of anger, he ran forward, smashing through the glass. He collided with Cobcroft, tackling the older man to the floor. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?" Suddenly, all the anger he held, all the sadness and need to avenge was coming out, with Cobcroft being the obvious target. Over and over, his fists pummelled into Cobcroft's wheezing body. "DON'T YOU REALISE I HAVE FAMILY? I HAVE PEOPLE THAT I LOVE!"

Cobcroft spat up blood. "Of course I do. Everyone does. Doesn't mean that you aren't the most magnificent specimen I've ever laid eyes on. I just couldn't resist." Harry snarled animalistically, magic speeding through his body and coming to his finger tips. Lightning crackled between his fingertips and he was about to land one last punch on Cobcroft.

He was stopped by a gunshot embedding itself in his shoulder. Harry's head whipped around. Standing in the hallway was a black man, wearing a trench coat and sporting a black eyepatch. He seemed familiar.

"That is enough, Mr. Potter. Stand away from Cobcroft or I won't hesitate to shoot again." Harry slowly stood, glowing hands by his side. "I understand that you're upset. That doesn't give you a right to bludgeon him to death. Understand?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D and the person currently looking over your wellbeing. Step away from the prisoner. Now." Harry did, his anger slowly fading.

"Coward," spat Cobcroft. Harry whirled around and kicked him in the torso. He deserved what he got. Slowly he spun back around to face Fury. His hands stopped crackling, though the dangerous blue light flickered on and off.

"Leave him alone. Walk with me, Mr Potter." There was no room in his tone for negotiation. This Nick Fury was already one of the most imposing people Harry had ever met, though in a good way. He seemed to be helping him, so for the moment, Harry would play along. He needed to be frozen again, he wasn't going to go mad.

"How exactly did you manage to fish me out of wherever I was being kept?" asked Harry. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure how he was here, or whether these people were on his side.

"We received intel from a local that there was something strange going on in an abandoned warehouse. We decided to take a look and found out that it was far from abandoned. Mr. Potter, you had the unfortunate luck to fall into the hands of Logan Cobcroft, who is actually distantly related to Arnim Zola. The gene for experimentation runs in the family, it seems. We rescued you, interrogated Cobcroft and found out that you needed to be frozen for four more months, so you wouldn't go mad. It seems we are too late for that, but you still need to go back under."

"Of course," replied Harry. "Who exactly is Arnim Zola?"

"Those are things that you will be told later. For now, we need to get you under again, least you go completely nuts." They walked in silence for a while, two pairs of footsteps echoing around the halls. Harry calmly picked the bullet that Fury shot into him out of his shoulder and flicked it onto the ground. Fury watched in amazement, though still stayed silent.

Harry's thoughts turned towards his family and friends in England. Merlin, how he missed them. "Do you think before I go under it is possible to send a letter to my family back home to let them know that I am alive?" Fury stopped in his tracks, turning to face Harry.

"Of course, though you have to be quick. Soon you will go mad again, this time without being able to revert back. To protect my own agency, that it not something that I want happening, and if it does, I won't hesitate to kill you."

Harry nodded, deciding to stay silent on the fact that he couldn't die, that he could recover from a bullet to the head in three seconds. It didn't even hinder him anymore.

"Thank you."

Fury pulled out a pen and paper from his pocket, handing it to Harry. "Be quick about it. There is no need to be sentimental about it, just let them know that you're alive. Write the address on the back. We will get it to them, I assure you. There's a table in this room here."

Fury gestured to a small room with a table in the centre. Harry quickly walked over, sitting himself down and beginning to write the letter. It was hard not to spill everything out onto the page, tell them what had happened. No, he just needed to let them know he was alright. Even now, he could feel a strange haze pressing at the edge of his mind. He knew it was the Enhancer working against him. He needed to be frozen, let it finish its course. There was no way he was going to turn into a mindless monster.

He hastily scrawled the address on the back and stood. Letter handed to Fury, he was escorted back to the room he came out of. The troops outside it were still unconscious, though some were beginning to stir. Fury gave him a questioning look.

"I went a bit mad." All he received was a deadpan look. Harry groaned. Fury already knew that, everyone did. A lot of people had seen his little rampage, judging by the cameras perched in the corner. It was then Harry noticed that the alarm was off. Strange. It must have happened while he was raging at Cobcroft. That was the only logical explanation.

"If you will lie down on that table, we will give you a sedative to put you under, then we will freeze you. It will be like no time has passed. When you wake up, there will no longer be the threat of you rampaging and killing all of my men."

"Promise me you will send the letter?"

"Of course."

Then all he knew was darkness.

"Hermione," bellowed Ron, "what colours are the flowers supposed to be?" He was the most nervous he had ever been. The exasperated sigh of his fiance reached his ears. He chuckled slightly. Hermione could always make him happy.

"For the last time Ron, they are red and gold, the Gryffindor colours. Just like you insisted on last week. Sometimes I worry about your memory," Hermione yelled back. She appeared in the doorframe with an eyebrow raised. Ron's breath was taken away. Even wearing house clothes, she was astonishingly beautiful. He didn't know how he managed to get her. If Harry were here, we would likely be cracking some stupid joke about fate.

Ron gulped and turned his thoughts away from Harry. Now was not the time to be thinking of his lost friend. He was getting married tomorrow, to the most beautiful woman in the world. He needed to concentrate on her. Hermione knew what he was thinking. She reached an arm out and embraced Ron, burying her head in his shoulder.

"I know how much it hurts," she whispered. "After we are married, we will continue looking, I promise."

"I'm going to hold you to that." Ron was cut off by the clattering of the letter slot in the door. Hermione turned her head around.

"It's probably from some of my relatives. I'll go get it." She walked away, down the hallway of their house. A few seconds later, she returned with an official looking envelope. On the front was a typed address, their address, and a picture of what looked like an geometric eagle in a circle. It certainly wasn't from one of Hermione's relatives. This one had an international postage stamp on it.

"Well go on," said Ron. "Open it."

"Right ahead of you."

Hermione walked over to the kitchen counter where the letter opener was sitting. They were receiving so much mail leading up to the wedding that it was better to just keep it out, rather than taking the trip up two sets of stairs to the office to retrieve it every half an hour. Hermione slit the letter open and pulled out a piece of paper with very familiar writing on it. Her heart stopped for a second.

"No. It can't be." Tears were beginning to prick in her eyes. "Ron, get over here!" He ran over and looked at the letter. His eyes widened.

"Read it!"

Hermione and Ron

I don't have much time to write this. I am alive, not exactly well, but I am alive. Don't trace this letter, you won't be able to do anything. I am coming home in four months. Four months and we will be back together. It has been too long. I look forward to seeing you again.

Harry.

"The wedding is postponed again," said Ron. Hermione nodded in agreement, unable to say anything from her happiness. Harry was alive. This letter was proof that their best friend, their brother in all but blood, was alive. "I don't care what he said in that letter. We are tracing it and are going to find him. Right?"

"Are you even thicker than I thought you were?" said Hermione. "Of course we are tracing it. We finally have a lead on Harry."

"Well, before we go to the Ministry to get it traced, we are going to the Burrow to visit mum and Dad. They need to know this." He was trying so hard to keep the tears from spilling down his face, to keep from breaking down into a sobbing mess. Harry was alive. He was alive. Harry was alive.

"Well grab your, coat, we're going right now."

"Accio coat," called Ron. It came zooming into his hand as they rushed out the door.

Molly Weasley bustled around the kitchen, spelling to potatoes to peel themselves and the frying pan to wash itself again. It kept her busy, kept her thoughts from turning to Harry, to the lackluster effort that the Ministry was making to find him. It infuriated her, though there wasn't much she could do other than fret and cook, while putting on a strong front for those around her. They needed someone strong to be the rock in their lives, and she was that person. She always had been.

The crack of an apparating person reached her ears. She turned around and saw Ron and Hermione, flustered and with tear stained faces, sprinting through the lounge. Clutched and crumpled in Hermione's hand was a letter. She wasn't sure what that was about. Maybe it was something about their wedding.

"I wasn't expecting you two here," she said. Ron cut her off.

"No time, Mum." Molly was about to berate her son for the incredibly rude way she was speaking to him. Ron recognised the signs and quickly cut her off before she could turn into a yelling machine. "We got a letter from Harry!" Molly's wand dropped from her hand.

"What?" She rushed over and snatched the letter out of Hermione's hand. Her eyes ran over the words, reading and rereading, making sure it was real. It was. The handwriting was enough to prove it. The style of writing was Harry's as well. "When did this come?"

"Five minutes ago. It's an international letter, so he must be somewhere overseas. We are about to go to the Ministry to get it traced." Hermione was itching to get going.

"Why did you come here then?"

"We wanted to tell you, so you can tell the others."

"Well now I know. Go get it traced. GO! I want to see Harry again." Molly handed the letter back to Hermione. "Thank you so much for telling me." She smiled a watery smile as they turned on their heels and disapparated with a sharp crack. Tears spilled down her face. She was going to get one of her children back, after almost a year. They were going to find him and bring Harry home.

Numb with disbelief, Molly staggered over to the lounge and flopped into a well worn armchair. Harry, the 'Missing Man', as the public had dubbed him, finally sent news. She was mad at him for not doing it sooner, but news was news.

"Mum? Are you alright?" Molly jumped, putting a hand over her hearts. Standing in the dining room was Ginny, with an unknown woman beside her. "Calm down, everything is fine. Everyone is fine. There's someone I would like you to meet, as well."

Molly nodded, unable to form the words that Harry was back. They got stuck in her throat, not able to break through the barrier of relief and sadness and worry. What if they weren't able to find him? What if the letter turned out to be a dead end, nothing more than a tantalising tease meant to lead them on? A cruel puzzle, maybe. No, her thoughts were getting the best of her.

Sniffling, Molly took a tissue and wiped the tears from under her eyes. Ginny took the mystery woman forward and plonked her down on the couch. Molly noticed that she looked very uncomfortable and was glancing around the haphazard house in wonder. She was wearing a leather jacket, covering her arms, but Molly could see tattoos peeking out, spreading onto her hands slightly. Her eyes narrowed and lips puckered. Who was this woman and what was she doing with Ginny?

"Mum, don't go into shock when I tell you this. Promise?" Molly nodded. "Right. Well, this is Meenakshi. She's also my girlfriend." Molly's eyes widened. That certainly wasn't what she was expecting, though it wasn't like she was adverse to it. She had known for a long time that Ginny was attracted to women as well as men, from the way she glanced at them.

"I have my own news as well, Gin."

"Oh, what is it?"

"We got a letter. A letter from Harry."

To Molly and Meenakshi's surprise, Ginny fainted. Meenakshi immediately moved, tenderly picking the unconsciously girl up from the ground and propping her up on the couch. Molly watched and suddenly realised that she had been judging her too harshly. Just from her movements, she could see how much this new woman in her life cared for her daughter. It was the same look that Bill gave Fleur, and that George gave Angelina.

Ginny gasped in a loud breath, jerking upwards. "You've heard from Harry?" She almost didn't dare to believe it. "When? Where is the letter?"

"With Ron and Hermione at the Ministry, getting tracked. We're going to find out where it came from. Hopefully Harry is there." Molly was barely holding it together. She needed too. For her daughter. For...Minikshi? Was that her name?

"Well, we're going to follow them, then." Ginny stood, gestured for Meenakshi to take her hand. The tattooed girl did, reluctantly. "Thank you, Mum. We'll see you soon."

Ginny turned on her heel and the two disappeared, leaving a frazzled Molly sitting in an armchair.

Hermione and Ron appeared in the atrium, running as soon as their feet hit the tiled floor. All around them, people stared in confusion as the two startled adults ran through the maze of people, ducking left and right, constantly apologising to the people they crashed into. It wasn't like they needed to, though. There was such a sense of urgency in their running that most Ministry workers moved aside to let them through.

"Which way is the office?" Ron panted, not stopping his sprinting.

"One level down!" Their feet slapped on the floor, lungs burned in their chests. They were so close to finding Harry, to having the letter traced. So close, yet so far. Hermione lunged forward and yanked open the closing grate door of an elevator. They slipped into the crowded capsule, slamming the door shut. It rattled loudly, though they couldn't care less.

Ron reached over and pounded the button for the level down. It was agonisingly slow, but soon the elevator came to life, smoothly sliding down the tracks. It seemed a mile between floors. Ron's foot tapped on the ground, a past pace to match his galloping heart. The only thought running through his head was that they were going to find Harry. Or at least where he was last, which would be a huge lead.

At last, the door crept open. They popped out, Hermione leading the way. They weaved through witches and wizards. Ron knocked into a middle aged witch with a frumpy hairdo carrying a stack of parchment. They flew through the air like doves, slowly coming to the ground.

"Sorry, so sorry." Ron ploughed through them and carried on.

He found Hermione pounding on a door. It was opened by a tall wizard with deep brown eyes and a frown.

"Not you again. Haven't I told you to go away, Miss Granger?" His voice was snide, laced with annoyance.

"I have a letter from Harry! Trace it, please!" The man snatched it out of Hermione's hand and immediately performed a non-verbal spell that made the paper glow a blinding white. They all shielded their eyes, then the snide man spoke up.

"What the hell is Harry Potter doing in New York?"

Charlie quietly surveyed the wide, concrete bridge leading up towards the Triskelion through a the large glass wall of the elevator. No one ever drove up it, except those who worked there. Or the crazy souls who decided to try and infiltrate the mysterious building on a dare, ending up in a pile of deep shit. Those stories were always interesting. They never failed to pull a laugh out of the young, lean man.

As his eyes swept over the bridge, his thoughts turned to the strange encounter of two weeks ago. Harry Potter. That was his name, he was told. He was also told that he wasn't to go near the mysterious man, nor help him ever again, least he lose his job. He wasn't willing to sacrifice his job, he'd worked to hard to get to where he was. If this Harry Potter figure thought he could just waltz up to him again and demand unauthorised detail out of him, he was sorely mistaken. He wasn't going to make the near fatal mistake of letting information slip again.

He couldn't afford to.

There was something strange in the way Harry Potter acted as well. One minute, he was a raving madman, threatening to strangle him to death. The next a perfect gentleman, actually taking his opinions into consideration. He really must have been through a lot for a switch to flip the suddenly. Not the he was privy to any of the details concerning Harry Potter. He now sat at a low rank agent again, due to his loose lips. Though it was better than being cast out of the agency altogether.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, two figures materialised on the bridge, swirling into existence. They seemed to come out of nowhere. From what he could see, they were around twenty, one male and one female. One short, one gangly. They obviously had supernatural abilities, from the way they appeared out of nowhere, short sticks of wood clasped in their hands. He watched as they curiously took in their surroundings, before simultaneously locking their eyes on the entrance to the S.H.I.E.L.D building.

He shivered, having seen that look before. It was the look of revenge, their eyes cold chips of ice. He fumbled around his belt for his radio, not taking his eyes off the strange figures for a second. There was something about them that drew his eyes in, though he couldn't describe it. Something about the way they held themselves, proud and tall, chins held high. Somewhere, that stance had been pressed into his mind, though he couldn't remember where.

Charlie cautiously brought the radio up to his lips, hesitating for a second. He shook his head slightly. Now was not the time to be hesitating. For all he knew, these two mysterious figures could be dangerous. It certainly seemed so, with the menacing way they were striding towards the buildings. They were also wearing strange clothes that looked suspiciously like robes from the 1700s. They billowed out behind them they were walking so fast.

He jammed his fingers down on the button. For a second, all he could hear was fuzz. Then he began speaking.

"Unknown persons spotted on the Bridge. They are coming towards us and look to be armed. They also teleported in." He took a huge breath of air. He really did get nervous too easy. There was no reply for a few seconds, until,

"Confirmed."

That single word was all that needed to be said. Instantly, the Bridge's defenses sprang into action. Gates rose up out of the ground, blocky and menacing. Spikes appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, sharp enough to skewer through any tire. If that didn't stop them he didn't know what would. If the two people became too much of a threat, then a fighter jet would likely be sent out, though for that to happen, they would need to be very dangerous.

That being said, he watched as the humongous, thick gate was torn with a flash of dark green light, creating a jagged rip. He gulped. If these people could break through the gate that easily, he didn't know how hard it would be to stop them if they managed to get inside the Triskelion. But that wasn't his place. He was on surveillance, not running down to the Bridge to confront possibly crazy, supernaturally powered people.

Everything was strange, a state of day and night that made him wonder where exactly he was. Though he wasn't concentrating on that at the moment. Strangely familiar faces were flashing in front of him, a man with a long nose and burning red hair, and a woman with clever eyes and bushy brown hair. He didn't understand why, but the pictures made him feel warm, a welcome change to the cold that constantly enveloped him, never letting him free of it's chilling embrace.

"They're smashing through every defense we have, sir," barked a smartly dressed woman, her hair secured back into a painfully tight bun. "What shall we do to stop them?" The man she was speaking to, a surprisingly soft looking man with a large nose and balding hair, seemed to be deliberating. She could almost hear the cogs in his head turning. Finally, he spoke.

"Send out a jet, MacIsaac. If that doesn't stop them, then we will consult Director Fury about what to do. He should be getting down here any second with the files we need. He seems to know something about these people and anything we can get will aid us in stopping them from getting in here."

The woman, MacIsaac, turned to the technicians waiting anxiously at the control boards. All eyes were locked on her, though several pairs of hands trembled over the controls.

"Well, you heard the man. Send out a jet, pronto. The day they break into the Triskelion isn't going to be today, understand. I want this place locked up. Go!" There was a flurry of movement as the technicians set to work.

"Good to see you finally stepping into your shoes, MacIsaac," said a loud voice from behind them. She turned around and saw none other than Nick Fury.

"Only doing my job, sir."

"Well if you value it, you will lower those defenses and call off the jet. I need to talk to these people."

'But sir-"

No buts, MacIsaac. I am in charge here and you will do well to follow my commands."

"They are incredibly dangerous-"

And you're in incredible danger of losing your position, MacIsaac. Stand. Down." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Reluctantly, she turned to the eavesdropping technicians, signalling for them to recall all the commands that they had sent out.

"Diffindo!" cried Ron. A rippling jet of light shot out of his wand, tearing through the gate with ease. Hermione cast the spell again, it taking several tries to sever a hole big enough for them to climb through. Whoever these people were, they weren't playing around. They knew what they were doing, not that that was going to stop them in any way. Unless a minigun somehow began firing at them, their path into the strange looking building would be an effortless sashay up the Bridge. A bone was going to be picked, both of them resisting the insane craving to hurt the people who were holding Harry captive.

"So who do you think these people are?" asked Hermione as she casually blew up the incredible sharp spikes, creating a path for them to walk. "They are obviously prepared for out arrival. Either that or facing threats is a common enough occurrence that they feel the need to booby trap their bridge to the maximum."

"Yeah, I think it is a common thing. Come on, Hermione what other places have stuff like this? It's bloody bonkers, that's what it is." Ron waved his wand in a circular motion and blew out the last obstacle, another set of spikes. When the smoke cleared, it was a straight walk towards the modern looking glass entrance.

"I just can't believe that we're so close to finding him. Nine months he's been gone and for some reason he's in America. It drives you nuts thinking about it. Once we've got him we're going to have to ask him what the heck happened to him and how he got here."

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Hermione."

"Where did you hear that?"

"I heard a Muggle saying it and thought that it sounded good, so I've now adopted it into my vocabulary." He raised his nose high into the air, sniffing pretentiously. Hermione stifled a laugh, clapping her hand over her mouth.

"That was the best impression of Malfoy I've ever heard."

"I don't know how you came to that conclusion, but I'll let you believe that."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Nevermind, it's a secret now."

"Tell me, you nitwit. Who were you doing an impression of," Hermione said sniffily. She stopped in her tracks for a second, mulling things over. Her eyes snapped up and locked on Ron, playfully glaring. "That's enough of that, Ronald. Now isn't the time for teasing."

He sniffed. "If you say so, Miss."

"Oh, stuff it."

"If you say so."

"Sometimes I can't stand you, you know that."

"I don't know how you came to that conclusion, but I'll let you believe that." He repeated the line from before, smirking as Hermione growled in frustration. She was about to reply, but a strange noise caught their attention. It sounded like whirring, impossibly fast whirring coming from under the bridge. Instinctively, they both back away from the left side of the bridge, where the sound was the strongest. The railing began rattling.

A giant grey fighter jet rose through the air, with a minigun at the front of it. A minigun that was aimed at Ron and Hermione. Their mouths fell open, quivering wands raised. These people really did take their security seriously.

"You know, if this was in a different place and time, I would have a fantastic story to tell Dad." Ron began rambling. "How are we supposed to take this bloody thing down? We don't have a chance."

"PROTEGO!" called Hermione. A shield burst forth from her wand, enveloping the two of them. Just in time, as well. A spray of bullets flew from the gun, impacting upon the shield with tiny gold dots, before falling uselessly to the ground. The shield was a temporary solution, though. It already began to crack as the hail of bullets wore down Hermione's magic.

Ron felt his heart beating faster and knew that if they didn't think quickly, they would both be dead within seconds of the shield cracking and falling to the ground in wispy shards. He grabbed Hermione's hand, clutching his wand in the other.

"Hold still." Awkwardly, he spun on his heels, being sucked into a tube that compressed him, made him feel like he was going to vomit. They appeared on the opposite end of the bridge, at the entrance to the building. The pilot of the fighter jet seemed confused, before turning the nose of the giant plane towards the building. The pair backed into the door as it sped towards them, minigun ripping up the concrete of the bridge. If the pilot wasn't careful he was going to destroy his own building as well as the witch and wizard.

The nose of the jet turned upwards slightly, minigun fire reaching their feet. Ron gripped Hermione's hand. He was sure they were going to die. Suddenly, the bullets came to a halt, so quickly that the only evidence of them was the crumbling concrete. They held their breath as it turned around and shot off under the bridge again, like it had never been there.

Ron and Hermione exhaled in relief. That was a close one. They definitely underestimated what these Muggle's were willing to do. It was a fatal mistake that they would be sure never to make again. After the war, they relaxed just a bit too much. Now, after almost being impaled by a wave of bullets, they saw it differently.

"Well, now that's over. Shall we continue?" asked Ron. He breath was still ragged, tearing through his throat. "The only way to go is in and we've come this far."

"Give me a minute to catch my breath. I need it. I dare say that you do as well."

"Alright."

So, the pair stood there for five minutes, calming themselves down. They were painfully aware of the curious stares and questioning glances coming their way through the glass doors, of the people stopping and talking into radios. All of them were wearing smart suits, a cluster of official officers. They found themselves digging themselves into an even deeper hole.

"Right, I suppose now is the time. Ready?" Hermione was calm now, having composed herself. Try as she might, a minigun was one of the few things that could rattle her.

"As I'll ever be." Together, they turned around and pulled open the double doors, taking one each. As soon as they proudly marched through, the murmurs ceased. A chilling silence enveloped them, surrounding them, making them shiver. The environment in here was hostile, so hostile it made the hairs on the back of their necks stand up. This was not the place it seemed. That was the thought running through Hermione's head.

A click was heard behind them. Hermione whipped around, groaning as she came face to face with a disgruntled man holding a pistol up to her forehead. This really wasn't what she needed.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he growled. "Tell me or I will shoot."

"Don't be like that, mate," said Ron. "We are just here for our friend and then we'll be out of your hair."

"I can't do that, I'm afraid." His voice was dark. They both knew that tone. Ron threw up a shield at a slight upwards angle. The gun snapped and recoiled, the singular bullet bouncing off it in a flurry of gold and ricocheting into the ceiling. The man's eyes widened. His adam apple moved up and down and he swallowed nervously.

"Now what is going on here?" The booming voice came from behind them. Everyone, including Ron and Hermione, swiveled around. Nick Fury strode into the room, footsteps large, face set into a menacing scowl. "Did I not give explicit orders not to shoot, Hopkins? Don't reply. Take yourself home. Don't come back."

"They were just going to walk in, sir," he protested.

"And I was going to talk to them. Leave." The man gave a strangled noise, reluctantly turning around and skulking out of the door. "Now that that's out of the way, you two, follow me. We have to talk."

"Why should we follow you?" retorted Ron, clutching his wand so tight he could feel his knuckles whitening. "You only just came in. We can handle ourselves." He winced and Hermione sharply jabbed him in the ribs, gritting his teeth.

"Now is not the time, Ron," she hissed, before turning to Fury. "I believe we do need to talk. Seriously." Fury raised an eyebrow.

"I like you. You don't pull any punches. Yes, we follow me. The rest of you, back to work. We have an agency to run." Nobody moved, while Hermione felt a spark at the back of her mind. Not even a shuffle. "I said move it!" Suddenly everyone was bustling around, minding their own business, keenly avoiding even glancing at Hermione, Ron or Fury.

"I understand that you have a grudge with me, correct? I'm Nick Fury by the way."

"Damn right we have a grudge with you," growled Ron. "You're the one keeping Harry captive and not letting him go." Fury again raised an eyebrow. Surprise was etched on his face.

"You came to your conclusions far to fast, Ron."

"How do you know my name?"

"I was the one who sent the letter. Now be quiet and follow me."

"Why should I be quiet? You're keeping him here against his will!"

"Maybe you should hear the whole story before you go off making serious accusations like that, young man. I've seen far more than you and believe me, that lands you nowhere but down with the dregs." Fury ground the words out.

"I'm sorry for his behaviour. We haven't seen Harry in nine months and tracked the letter to here, therefore leading us to the conclusion that Harry was being kept here."

"So you did track the letter, exactly what Harry said not to do. Interesting." The passed through a metal doorframe. Fury pressed a button, the rim of it lighting up. "I'll be asking you how later, and you will answer me. No, don't look at me like that." He pointedly looked at Ron. "You will tell me, whether you like it or not."

"I'm afraid we won't be able to, though we can talk about that later. Now, we are talking about Harry. Is he being kept here?"

"Yes, he is. But not against his will." Fury whipped his arm out, snatching Ron's wand out of his hand the second before he was going to fire a spell. "Put your weapons down. I mean no harm to you."

"But Harry is here, correct?" Hermione clapped her hand over Ron's mouth, muffling his speech. At Fury's nod, she continued. "We expect a story. And it better be good, otherwise you are going to find yourself in a sticky situation."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Fury in an amused tone. The elevator dinged, the doors hissing open. It was a stark contrast to the Ministry of Magic, where everything rattled and clattered, being very old fashioned. The piled into it. Hermione gasped in wonder at the glass wall. It gave her a perfect view of the sprawling city, though it was soon replaced with dull, smooth concrete as they moved down into the ground.

"I'm taking you to a place where we can talk about Harry. No one is allowed in to see him, least he wake up again."

"What do you mean, 'wake up'?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Hermione."

The three stood in silence, anxiety swirling through Ron and Hermione. They were definitely at the right place, that was certain. Fury was a strange man, the only person remotely close to him that they knew being the paranoid Auror, Mad-Eye Moody.

"We're here. Follow me." It was a command. No room for argument, though Ron really looked like he wanted to sock Fury a new one. Not that he could do much without his wand. It made him realise just who helpless he was without it, though he wasn't going to lose it to another person again. Never again.

They walked out of the elevator, into a corridor with identical doors on each side. It gave Ron the creeps, while Hermione had a sudden revelation that she kept to herself.

"So where are you keeping him?" asked Hermione. "And don't pull that crap that you will tell us when we're ready. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime."

"We're keeping him frozen in a tank." Immediately, Ron lashed out, lunging for Fury's throat. He was easily taken down by a singular jab from Fury. He landed hard on the ground, the air being knocked out of him. The world was blurry. "If you let me finish, you might find out why. If you try that again, I won't be so nice next time." He continued walking, footsteps echoing off the walls.

"Why did you feel the need to do that?"

"My anger got the best of me," wheezed Ron as Hermione helped him up. He moaned in pain, then ran after Hermione up to where Fury was speedily walking along the corridor.

"Your answer lies in here." Fury opened a door, holding it until Ron and Hermione filed through. Ron avoided looking Fury in the eyes. He was far too ashamed. "Now, I'm going to show you a video and I want you to watch it, taking in what is happening. I will answer your questions afterwards."

He flicked a switch on a monitor. The screen lit up, making a strange clicking noise. A grainy video took up the screen. Fury pressed play and silence filled the room.

"Why would Harry do such a thing?" Hermione choked out. Tears were flooding down her face as she ran over the video in her head. She couldn't get the sound of the whip shooting through the air and latching onto the poor man's throat out of her head.

"He woke up. He was meant to be frozen for another four months. For unknown reasons, he got up and went on a rampage through our facility."

"But why is he like this? He's never like this. He's kind and wouldn't kill a flobberworm." Ron's voice was shaky. Never had he seen such a thing and he wasn't going to see it again. It was already stamped into his mind, burned onto the inside of his eyelids, the image of Harry ruthlessly killing a man and then walking through a hailstorm of assault rifle fire.

"That's what I'm hesitant to tell you. Judging from the way you've reacting thus far, I think it would be unwise to give you all the details." Hermione rushed forward, jabbing her wand into Furys' throat. Her eyes were narrowed, venom leaking into her voice.

"You try that. I dare you. Tell us everything." Her voice was low, dangerous, promising danger.

"If you say so. You want the long version or the short version?" Hermione withdrew her wand and sat back down on the metal seat.

"Give it to us quick."

"Alright. Here goes. Harry was captured and experimented upon by a crazed, evil man. We rescued him before he could be forced to do anything against anyone, as the man who experimented upon him wanted a weapon. He needed to be frozen for five months for the Enhancer to work his way through his bloodstream. If he wakes up early, that," he gestured to the screen, "is the result."

There was silence, before, "Oh, Merlin, no." Hermione's face contorted and then the most terrible, tortured cry that Fury had ever heard came out of her. Anguish coated her terrible scream as she bent over. She heaved, body shaking. This was not what she had expected coming from Fury. Her heart seemed to be tearing in two, an agonising pain that spread throughout all of her body, stabbing her everywhere. She actually hurt. She thought things were over for Harry, that he could live the normal life that he craved.

Gentle circles were rubbed onto her back, though Ron was shell shocked too. How had this happened to Harry? That was the only thought running through his head. He was no longer mad at Fury, how could he be when he was the one who rescued Harry from an even worse fate. Hermione's cry was torture for him, though there wasn't much he could do other than gently comfort her.

"Who did this to him?" The question was simple. Silence hung, before Fury uttered the two words.

"Logan Cobcroft."

"Where is he."

"A few corridors over, at the end. In a glass cell." Ron abruptly stood. He needed to have a little talk with this man. Hermione was still shaking, bent over, though he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was telling him to go give the man a piece of his mind. On his way out, Ron snatched his wand out of Fury's hand.

Suddenly, there was only darkness surrounding him. He was still floating, though there was a strange feeling creeping over him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. Goosebumps formed all over his body and somehow he knew that somewhere near him something bad was happening, something dangerous and something that he felt he was going to be involved in when he escaped this hellish limbo he was trapped in.

"You have given this Cobcroft man what he deserves, right?" Hermione sniffled, wiping her nose. "If you haven't I am going to go and join Ron, you understand that, right?"

"We have….interrogated him, so to speak." Fury took awhile to find the right words. Hermione knew exactly what he meant, though. "Now, I have some questions to ask you. How exactly did you track the letter? Don't try to hide the fact that you have a strange energy from me, I've already seen what Harry can do. Your impressive skills on the Bridge also showed me that you know what you're doing."

"Are you sure I can trust you?" asked Hermione. She was going to pull out something she'd realised now. "This is a secret government agency. For all I know you could be preparing to leak the information about us to the world." Fury's eyebrow raised in mild surprise.

"And how did you figure out that this is an agency, Hermione?"

"Miss Granger, please. It was really quite simple. All the security you have, the fact that you outright said, 'I have an agency to run,' and the fact that you have ridiculously advanced technology that hasn't even been invented yet."

"Impressive. With skills like that, you could be a great asset to one of our teams, you know."

"I'm afraid the answers no. I'm supposed to be getting married tomorrow, and I already have a job within our own government."

"So there are more people who have this energy of yours?"

"It's actually magic, if you don't mind me saying. And yes, there are more of us. Magic is how we tracked the letter, though we needed to go to the Ministry to get it done officially, as otherwise it's illegal."

Fury didn't seem to believe a word she was saying. "And if this...magic is real, why have you not used it further?"

"I try not to use it as a way out for everything. If you learnt to rely on it, then you will become sloppy in other areas. It's quite simple, really. And yes, it is real."

"Would you be willing to show me some?"

"Only if you say please," she teased. Fury gave her a deadpan look. Hermione sighed. "Alright, yes I am happy to do that. What do you want to see?"

"Do you have any offensive spells?" He seemed almost reluctant to say the word spells, as if it was a curse. Then again, he was a muggle, seeing these two people roll into his agency claiming that they possessed an otherworldly force they called magic would be terribly hard to believe it, even harder to accept it.

"Of course, do you take me for an idiot?"

"Not in the slightest. I take you for someone who could be a great addition to our team."

"Drop it, understand. I'll show you some basic spells if you aren't opposed to some of this room being partially destroyed. Of course, I will repair it afterwards, so you really have nothing to worry about." Fury inched closer. "Unless you want me to perform these spells on you, I recommend you stand back unless you want your innards spilled over the floor." She was joking, of course, though Fury didn't need to know that.

He stepped back. "I'm not going to wait any longer, Granger. Start now, then we need to go and see what is happening with Cobcroft and…" he trailed off, looking for Ron's surname.

"Weasley."

"Well, we need to go and see what is happening with him and Cobcroft. Then you can have a tiny glance at Harry, before you need to be on your way."

"Understood." She leveled her wand at the walls and cried, "Bombarda!" In an instant, the wall was lying in shreds, concrete crumbling off it and falling to the ground. Dust filled the room. Fury looked on, impressed.

"Is that all?"

"No, there are several more, though I need someone to demonstrate them on. They're harmless, though in battle they really do prevent the other side from gaining the advantage."

"You speak like you know war, Granger."

"I do."

"Tell me about it."

"Not now. Unless you call someone in, I am going to have to perform these jinxes on you."

"That would be a negative."

"You would get to know what they feel like first hand, which, trust me, is a great advantage if you ever find yourself in the unfortunate position of having to fight the magical community." Fury sighed, before giving a stout nod.

Hermione leveled her wand at Fury. "Petrificus Totalus!" His arms and legs snapped to his side incredibly fast. Like a log of wood, he fell to the ground, wedging himself between two seats. Hermione looked down at him and saw his mind whirring. A devious look flooded into his one eye. "Finite Incantatem." He clambered to his feet, brushing the debris off his trench coat.

"I can see how that would be useful. I've had an idea though."

"Shoot."

"Would you be opposed to demonstrating those spells on Cobcroft?" He didn't even need a verbal confirmation. From the mischievous grin that spread over Hermione's face, he knew he had an answer. This woman really would be great in S.H.I.E.L.D. He would find a way to get her to join them, even if it involved using Harry as a bargaining chip.

"Reparo." The wall jumped back together, like time was being reversed in front of their eyes. It was at that moment that Fury knew he needed to get this woman as an agent, possibly even a field agent. The wonders that she could do for his agency and the country of America would be unparalleled. He reached into his coat and received something miniscule out of a pocket while Hermione's back was turned.

"I just want to say thank you for demonstrating those spells here," he said, coming up with a reason to get the small thing on her on the spot. Hermione looked at his strangely, though didn't question the strange behaviour. Fury reached his arms out and embraced Hermione in an incredibly awkward hug. He patted the back of her neck, then let go.

Hermione felt a twinge in her neck a sharp jab of pain. It very similar to getting a crick, though, so she put it in the back of her mind. Right now, she needed to get to Cobcroft and give him a piece of her mind, after Ron was done chewing him out, of course.

Ron stormed down the hallway, feeling anger that he had never felt before. It was all consuming, a red haze that descended over him. People tried to stop him in his tracks, though he just stormed past them, heading towards Cobcroft's cell. He reached the corridor it was at the end of and saw the man, calmly sitting on a hard chair, seemingly studying his hands.

Now that Ron had the man in sight, he turned on the spot and appeared with a crack in the cell. Cobcroft leapt out of his seat in fright, falling to the ground with a muffled thump. Ron surged forward and pressed his wand to Cobcroft's head.

"How dare you," he spat. "How dare you lay a hand on Harry."

"Who are you?" Surprisingly, his voice was calm, though his quivering arms suggested otherwise.

"At the moment, the last person that you want to see."

Hermione came upon a strange scene. Ron was sitting down, a smug look on his face, while a strange creature was propped against the wall behind him. This creature had blindingly bright pink skin, antlers sprouting out of it's head and polka dots spread across its skin in a lurid green. It took a second for her to realise that this must be Cobcroft. She couldn't help a snicker. This was just like Ron. Embarrass the man instead of actually hurting, not that she ever thought he would.

Next to her, even Fury was smirking slightly. It was a stark contrast to his perpetual frown.

"Somehow I don't think that my demonstration of spells will be needed," laughed Hermione. "Ron seems to have done a fine job."

"No, I would still like you to demonstrate them."

"Alright, Mr. Secret. How about a game, of sorts."

"What does it involve?" His interest was peaked.

"If you can find us after we leave, then I will come in and show you all the spells you desire and more. I'll even let you plead your case for getting to me join your agency. How does that sound?" Of course, it was an unfair game, as Fury would never be able to find them, not with the wards and total magical saturation in their area. Surprisingly, Fury didn't hesitate to agree.

"You've got yourself a deal, Granger. I'll also add that if I find you, you will come in once a week as a consultant."

"Sure, whatever you say." She walked forward, Disapparating through the glass and appearing on the other side. Fury smirked. Even though he knew that there was a lot she wasn't telling him, such as the fact that she could teleport, he would find her within minutes. Soon he would be on a jet, heading to wherever she lived. She would be surprised and he would be triumphant. It was a simple 'game' as Granger put it.

A game that he was going to win.

Hermione waved goodbye, before the two of them disappeared in a swirl of colour and with a violent crack. Cobcroft was left leaning against the wall. Fury opened the door to the cell and took a minute to appreciate the thing that Cobcroft had become. He knew the spells would wear off soon, so he was going to enjoy looking at the terrified man while it lasted.

The pair tumbled violently out of the emerald flames and in the living room of the burrow. Ash flew through the air, drifting down to coat everything in a layer of grey. Instantly, hurried footsteps rushed over to them. Hands grabbed them and hauled them up. Soon they were facing the anxious faces of Arthur, Molly, Ginny, George and a strange woman with tattoos.

"Please tell me there is good news," whimpered Molly. "There has to be. The letter was from him."

"We did find him, Molly," began Hermione. She was cut off by Arthur.

"Well, if you found him, why isn't he with you?"

Ron cringed. "That's kind of a long story."

"We have time."

So, they sat down and told the story of their crazy journey to America and what exactly had been done to Harry.

Safe to say that when they were done, everyone in the room was livid, livid enough to want to go over to America and give the fucker a piece of their minds.

Fury was close to punching a wall out of pure exasperation. The signal from the tracker he put on Hermione Granger wasn't showing up on the screen in front of him, no matter how hard he tried to get it to work. He was about to call it quits, when a small dot appeared in the countryside of England. He zoomed in, frowning. How had she managed to get to England in half an hour?

It didn't matter. He knew where she was now. Soon he was going to have himself some answers and a very reluctant consultant, but a consultant nonetheless.

Just one of my old stories that I found and decided to post. Hope you enjoyed. I may continue it, I may not.

Sincerely,
Mariadoria