"I thought you said this party was formal," Harry hissed at Luna.

Harry eyed the group of young scientists in the entrance hall who were wearing jeans and collared, button-up shirts – they looked far more comfortable than she felt.

"It is a formal party," Luna countered, her golden, non-radish earrings clinking as she turned to look at Harry.

"Then what about them?" Harry asked, nodding over to the casually-dressed group.

"That's formal for them," she replied with a shrug.

Harry stopped in her tracks, fuming. Luna continued on into the ballroom where the party was being held, following Rolf and the twins who had already found their way inside.

"Wait!" Harry called out, storming over to Luna with furrowed eyebrows. "Are you telling me I didn't need to wear a dress?"

"No, you did need to wear a dress," Luna replied, looking at Harry from over her shoulder.

"Why?" Harry asked, quickly taking in the ballroom's layout.

It was a large hall, almost as big as the Great Hall back at Hogwarts. There were round tables spaced around the perimeter of the room and a large dance floor in the center that was being used as a place for people to mingle and talk. She could see a buffet table at the other end of the hall, though she couldn't see what they were serving. In the mix of all the scientists and guests, Harry could see the undercover security mingling in with the rest of the crowd.

"Because you work for me, Harry, and I refuse to have anyone who works for me dress like a poor university student at a formal party. Besides, I may have told a few of my single male colleagues about you and they may or may not be interested in meeting you, so you very well couldn't wear what you normally wear –"

"Wait, what? Luna! You're not trying to set me up on a date, are you?!"

Harry stopped in the entryway to the ballroom, blocking the way for the guests coming in. Those who were able to pass her sent her dirty looks which were completely lost on Harry.

"I really would wish you would take off that terrible coat," Luna commented instead, eyeing Harry's cloak.

Harry looked down at her attire; her cloak was opened, framing her green dress.

"The coat stays," Harry seethed, holding her cloak closed over her dress out of protest.

Luna gave her a stern look before sighing.

"Fine, keep it. I did tell them you were odd, so I guess this is to be expected," she said as she continued towards her husband and children.

Harry looked after Luna with frown. There had been a time in her life where she would have found it hilarious for Luna to call anyone 'odd,' however now she found it easy to believe.

This wasn't her Luna, after all.

Harry let her cloak fall back into place, her hand returning to her side as she gave a sigh. Taking in the hall one more time, Harry followed Luna to the table Rolf and the twins had claimed as their own.

"Ah Harry, nice of you to finally join us," Rolf joked as Harry sat down at the table.

"Yeah, sorry, I just heard Luna's insane plan and I'm deciding how long I should give her the silent treatment," Harry replied, glaring at Luna as she did so.

"Are you talking about Operation Hook-Up?" Rolf asked, looking curiously at Luna. "I thought we agreed to keep that a secret."

"You were in on it too?" Harry exclaimed. She looked aghast at Rolf, feeling betrayed.

"Well, I was the one who picked out the dress," Rolf admitted, much to Harry's horror.

"That settles it then. I'm not talking to either of you for the rest of the night," Harry declared, pointing at Rolf and Luna in turn. Luna rolled her eyes.

"We just thought you were lonely," she explained with a shrug.

"So you thought that setting me up with a date would cure my loneliness?" Harry questioned as though it was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

"Well, it couldn't hurt," Rolf replied with a smile.

Harry contained an angry growl.

"What goes through someone's head to automatically think that the cure to loneliness is a fuck-buddy?" Harry asked with a sneer.

"Language," Luna chastised, nodding towards the children as if to make her point clear. The boys looked at Harry with wide-eyes, though it wasn't out of horror like Luna believed it to be.

It was out of contained humor.

"And we aren't trying to hook you up with someone just so they can be a sex partner," Rolf explained, waving off her question. "We just wanted to introduce you to a few interesting people your age. Whether you find a romantic spark with them or not is of no consequence."

"So if finding me a boyfriend wasn't your end-game then why did you call your secret mission 'Operation Hook-up'?" Harry asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"Because we're pretty sure you'll like at least one of our colleagues enough that you'll go on a date with them. They're all nice men, and we don't want you sulking around the house anymore," Luna explained.

"You know, you could have just asked me to get out of the house if you wanted me to; no need to force a series of romantic interactions on me," Harry countered.

"We're not forcing you to do anything; we're simply suggesting that you should meet a few friends of ours – they're eager to meet you," Luna said, her tone highly suggestive at the end.

"Right, well, I'm not going to," Harry declared.

"Aw, lighten up Harry; it's all in good fun. Talk with a few of them and if you don't click with any of them by the end of the night then we'll leave you alone. We're just upset to see you so lonely is all; especially after earlier today, what with your self-induced depression," Rolf said with a sad smile.

"I am not lonely. I have friends. Friends who, for your information, are currently in danger and I have no means to contact them. That, Rolf, was the reason why I was 'depressed' today. So if you'll excuse me, not only am I not going to talk to any of the men you want me to meet, I am also going to go find the nearest source of alcohol so I can get absolutely plastered. It is a party, after all."

Harry got up from her seat and made her way to the buffet table, messing up Lorcan's and Lysander's hair as she walked past them.

She weaved through the crowed with a glare on her face. She couldn't believe that she had been tricked into wearing a dress so Luna and Rolf could try to introduce her to a few of their single friends. She didn't understand why she felt so betrayed by their actions – it was just another example of how Luna wasn't her Luna.

The first source of alcohol she could find was in the form of champagne. Champagne flutes filled with the translucent golden liquid were spread out at one end of the buffet table, a server standing guard over the flutes to ensure that there were plenty of glasses available and that no underage drinking would occur.

She grabbed two glasses, nodding at the server as she did so. He made no move to question her, simply nodding back in reply. Harry gulped the first glass down as she walked away from table, the bubbly, dry-tasting liquid not meant to be consumed so fast.

What she wouldn't give to have a whiskey at the moment.

She took her time on the second glass, walking around the edge of the room to avoid the crowd. She was supposed to be watching Lorcan and Lysander but she was too mad at the Scamander parents to return to the table at the present time.

Instead, Harry decided she would try to find out whether Steve and Tony were still alive or not.

Finishing her second glass, she left both of the empty flutes on a vacant table near the entrance of the hall. She looked over towards the table where the Scamander family sat to make sure Lorcan and Lysander were still with their parents before she left the ballroom.

The party was being held at one of SHIELD's regional bases. Located in the City of London, the base was used primarily by SHIELD scientists and lower level agents, the building filled with labs and office spaces. Harry was hoping to find an unoccupied room with a computer she could use to find any news pertaining to her friends.

She made her way over to the elevator, looking around to make sure no one was following her. She knew that she was being watched – the cameras were a bit hard to miss – but she was used to it by now.

The elevators required key-cards for access, causing Harry to frown. She looked around and found the emergency stairs next to the lifts. The door leading to the stairs also required a key-card, which caused Harry to pause in annoyance.

She wondered if people also needed a key-card to get into specific floors as well. She shouldn't have been as surprised if that was the case – she was dealing with a spy agency for Merlin's sake.

Harry pondered if it was worth it to use magic to access the other floors of the building. On the one hand, she could easily find an empty room just a single floor up or down that had what she needed. On the other hand, she wasn't sure if she wanted to risk getting on SHIELD's shit-list in addition to everything else going on in her life at the current moment.

Her decision was decided, though, when she noticed a man exit from a previously unnoticed hallway from across the room. With her interest peeked, Harry made her way to the hallway, watching discretely as the man entered the ballroom. The man looked familiar; he had black hair and was wearing a black suit – he looked ready for a fight.

So he obliviously wasn't a scientist.

Harry entered the hallway and was greeted to a whole hall filled with closed doors. She began to walk down the hall, checking each door to see if one would miraculously open. They were all locked, some requiring key-cards, others locked through security-code, one that could only be opened through an eye-scan.

She continued down the hallway of locked doors, following it as it turned to the left, revealing more closed doors.

She followed the hall as it turned left a few more times, making Harry realize that the hallway was following the perimeter of the building. Her irritation over not finding what she was looking for was growing, though that meant her anger was waning.

Finally she reached the end of the hall, and her heart quickened in pace as she noticed that the final door was just a door – no fancy locks or anything.

With her hopes high, Harry opened the unlocked door –

Only to discover the janitor's closet.

Harry's hopes sank faster than her frown as she took in the mops and brooms and cleaning supplies. Growling in annoyance, she slammed the door shut, the bang of the door echoing in the empty hallway.

A few seconds went by before Harry began to wonder if the janitor's closet was really just a front and maybe there was a secret room hidden between the bleach and the mops.

"Peverell?"

Harry spun around towards the speaker, instinctively dropping into a defensive stance. She was greeted to another familiar face – a young woman a year or two older than Harry herself, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a trusting face.

Harry looked at the woman, trying to remember why she looked so familiar when it finally hit her.

"Skye?" Harry asked, still not sure if that was the woman's name or not.

"Yeah, that's right. And you're Harriet Peverell, right?" Skye asked, sounding just as unsure as Harry had been.

"Harry, actually – I mean, it's Harriet but I prefer Harry," she explained awkwardly.

The last time Harry had seen Skye had been six months ago after the incident with that Peterson guy who had wanted to recruit her for the Clairvoyant – whoever the hell that was.

"What are you doing here?" Skye asked, eyeing Harry suspiciously and doing remarkably well for someone so clearly new to it.

"Uh," Harry began, looking over her shoulder at the closed janitor's closet. "I'm babysitting."

Skye looked up and down the hall.

"Are you babysitting yourself?" she asked, eyebrow quirked as she looked at Harry.

"I'm not responsible enough to babysit myself," Harry replied with a half-smile.

"And you're responsible enough to babysit children?" Skye asked skeptically.

"It's really just me making sure they don't die, which is easy enough. It's making sure not to curse in front of them that I have problems with," Harry answered nonchalantly.

"So who are you babysitting?" Skye asked, folding her arms over her chest. It was meant to be menacing, however her smile ruined the effect.

"Oh, uh, I babysit a couple of five year olds – they're twins – but they're back at the party with their parents," Harry explained.

"So why are you here?" Skye asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Because the twins are with their parents so I technically don't need to babysit them at the present moment," Harry replied.

Skye nodded her head once at Harry's answer, as if agreeing to the fact that she did have a point, before she walked closer to Harry.

"I'll ask again, why are you here?"

The two looked each other and Harry could see no signs of malice or deception within her brown eyes.

"For two reasons," Harry began with a sigh. "One, the parents of the children I watch want to set me up with one of their colleagues and I'd rather slit my own throat than go out on a blind date with some man I don't even know. And two –"

Harry paused, not sure if she wanted to admit her real reason for sneaking around a deserted hallway to a stranger. But Skye did seem like the type of person who would be willing to help Harry with minimal pain.

"– I need to find a computer or a TV or something that can tell me whether or not my friends are dead or alive," Harry finished.

She stared imploringly at Skye, and she really didn't want to think about how pitiful she must have looked as a result.

To her credit, Skye looked at Harry with concern rather than pity; her eyes widened, her mouth opened, she looked taken-aback.

"What? Why? What happened?" she asked quickly.

"It's a long story that I don't want to get into right now," Harry confessed. She hoped that Skye wouldn't continue to question her about the specifics of the situation.

"If you don't tell me what happened then how can I help?" Skye insisted with a very good question.

"I just need to know if there were reports of an explosion in Manhattan or around Mexico City and if there were any deaths from those explosions," Harry explained, hoping that it would be enough information for Skye.

Tony had been in his tower when she talked to him, so he was obviously in Manhattan, and Steve had told her that he was going to Mexico City for his next mission and she highly doubted he had changed location between now and the last time they had talked.

Skye looked at Harry incredulously.

"If there was an explosion in Manhattan it would have made world-wide news."

Harry nodded in concurrence to Skye's point, though that didn't stop her from frowning.

"Can you help me or not?" Harry asked, her voice borderline pleading.

Skye bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as she thought over Harry's question.

"Yeah, I can help you," she answered, surprising Harry.

"Really?" Harry asked, astounded.

"Yeah, follow me," Skye replied, already turning around and heading back down the hall.

Harry followed quickly, her heart swelling once more with newfound hope.

"Thank you so much," Harry told Skye, who smiled at the gratitude.

They stopped at a door in what Harry guessed was the center of the hallway, and Skye quickly typed in the code on the keypad, the green light signaling that the door was now open.

Skye opened the door and entered first, keeping the door open so Harry could follow her in. The room they entered was a small computer lab, no more than a dozen computers spread out in three short rows.

Harry immediately spotted two familiar faces – the not-dead Coulson and May, the woman Harry did not want to mess with. Harry felt apprehension wash over her at the appearance of the two SHIELD agents, though it quickly turned to paranoia when she spotted another man in the room.

He was unfamiliar to Harry. His brown hair was cut close to his head. He looked ready for combat, and had a deadly air about him that reminded Harry of a few people she knew – Malfoy and Yaxley and Snape – people who were cunning and ambitious enough to hide their true nature to get what they wanted.

Harry wondered if it was too late to leave the room.

"Hey look, Skye's back," the man said, his voice causing Harry to clench her teeth. He had a faded southern-American accent, his voice coming out as a drawl.

The three looked at Harry and Skye causing Harry to frown at the sudden attention. Coulson looked surprised to see Harry with his youngest teammate, though he was able to school his face back to his neutral expression pretty quickly; May looked as stern as ever while the unknown man looked confused.

"Miss Peverell, what a surprise. I didn't expect to see you here," Coulson greeted as he made his way to Skye and Harry.

"Hey Coulson," Harry greeted back, "have you gotten your trading cards back yet?"

Coulson frowned at Harry's question, signaling that no, he had not.

"What are you doing here?" Coulson asked instead, his voice stern as he looked at Harry and then at Skye.

"She needs help finding information, I said I could help," Skye explained, looking at Coulson with puppy-dog eyes.

"Skye, we're on a mission! You can't just bring a civilian in while we're undercover," Coulson chastised, causing Skye to smile sheepishly.

"I just need to look something up on the internet really quick and I don't own a smart phone so I actually need a computer. Two minutes on Google is all I need. Then you four can go back to your top-secret mission and I can go back to trying to avoid getting set up on a blind date from my employers. Sound alright?"

Harry looked at Coulson and then at May, both of whom had the same stern expression on their faces. She could feel the other man eyeing her critically and she tried to ignore him but he was putting her on-edge, which caused her to shuffle on her feet, making Coulson and May glare at her even more.

"Two minutes," Coulson declared, staring directly at Harry. "After that you're out."

"Thanks," Harry said, deflating out of relief.

Harry sat down at the closest computer she could find, but before she even touched it Skye was sitting down next to her with her laptop out.

"I can look it up for you – I have a feeling I'm a faster typer than you are," she stated to Harry.

Harry looked at the laptop's screen to see she already had Google up, 'explosions around Mexico City' being typed into the search bar.

"Yeah, you definitely are," Harry commented, watching as her fingers pounded the keys faster than Harry thought possible. "Granted, anyone can type faster than me."

Harry held out her hands and mimed her typing skills – her pointer fingers moving up and down while her other fingers were closed in a fist.

"Ah, you're a two-finger typer?" Skye asked, her patronizing understanding coming out in her voice.

"Well, no one taught me how to type properly," Harry replied with a shrug.

Typing was not taught at Hogwarts.

"So, who's the girl?"

Harry could hear the man ask Coulson the question, and Harry clenched her teeth out of sudden anger.

"She's a civilian SHIELD has under-watch," Coulson answered, keeping it to the bare minimum.

"Here you go," Skye said interrupting Harry's eavesdropping.

She looked over to Skye, who had moved her laptop so Harry could see the results.

The top results had nothing to do with what Harry was looking for.

"No good?" Skye asked, disappointed.

Harry was just about to answer when she felt something come up behind her. Turning around in her chair, she saw the man looking down at her and Skye.

He gave Harry a grin, which put Harry on-edge once more.

"Hi, I'm Agent John Garrett," the man said, holding out his hand for Harry to shake.

"Hi," Harry replied, ignoring his hand.

"You aren't going to introduce yourself?" Garrett asked, his smile still on his face even though his eyes narrowed.

"I have about thirty seconds before I have to leave – I don't have time for introductions," Harry replied, standing up and walking around Garrett in an attempt to get away from him.

"Well then, why did you want to look up explosions in Mexico City?" he asked, nodding towards Skye's laptop that was still displaying the results to the Mexico search.

Harry paused in her get-away, looking at the man with a sour expression on her face.

"She's trying to find out if her friends are okay or not," Skye answered for Harry, much to Harry's annoyance.

"I can't get in touch with them," Harry explained before the others could ask.

"Why would your friends not be okay?" Coulson asked, his eyes narrowing as he thought about Harry's problem.

Harry knew that Coulson was aware of her friendship with Steve – she had told him as much the first time they met – so maybe he knew about her friendship with Tony as well?

"This one friend I have made something for me and my other friend. This morning the thing turned into a deadly weapon and almost killed me. Now I'm worried that the same thing happened to the both of them but I haven't heard anything from them so I'm assuming that they're dead."

Harry had been looking at Coulson throughout her entire explanation in the hopes that she could convey the entire story to him through her face alone.

"And this one friend you have, the one who made you the weapon, does he live in New York by any chance?" Coulson asked with an amused tone.

"Yeah, he's the one who lives in the tower that's shaped like a llama," Harry replied, relief flooding through her body at Coulson's understanding.

She was met with four confused looks, and it took her a few seconds to realize it was because of the llama comment.

"From a certain perspective the tower looks like a llama," Harry explained, her hands waving about as she tried to mime what the tower looked like.

Coulson smiled slightly at her antics before his face fell back into his neutral expression.

"I'll check on your friends for you and get back to you with what I find out. Does that sound good to you?" Coulson asked.

"Yeah, that sounds great," Harry replied with gratitude in her voice.

Coulson nodded once before he pointed towards the door, his silent command all too clear to Harry.

She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, Garrett interrupted.

"You know, I heard a couple agents talking earlier about a HYDRA base outside of Mexico City that had been infiltrated by a SHIELD team," he said out loud, his eyes once more focused on Skye's laptop.

"Did you hear about this, Coulson?" he asked, turning to look at the man in question.

"No, I didn't," Coulson replied, his interest piqued.

"Really? I thought you would have heard about it, what with it involving your hero and all," Garrett continued with a playful grin on his face.

All of Harry's attention was on the man, her heart racing out of anxiety.

"Apparently Captain America infiltrated the base with only a small team of SHIELD agents. Word is that they blew up a tank before getting out of there," Garrett said, his voice full of amusement, as if it was outrageous that Steve and his team could blow up a tank.

Harry's eyes widened in realization. Did Steve throw the phone away before it could detonate? Did he accidently blow up a tank?

"Do you know how the team is?" Harry asked without meaning to, causing the others to look at her with varying ranges of surprise and suspicion.

"Yeah, they all got out okay. Can't say much for the HYDRA agents, but it takes more than a tank and a platoon of soldiers to kill Captain America," Garrett said, a small hint of jealously hiding underneath his amusement.

It took all of Harry's effort to contain her absolute joy over the news. Steve was fine. Steve was alive. Steve probably blew up a HYDRA tank with his phone on accident and it was probably one of the funniest things Harry had ever thought about in her life.

Granted, this news came from a man Harry did not trust, but it was still news and it was the only news she had gotten all day about her friend.

She visibly relaxed, not realizing how tense she had been until just then.

"Well, that's great to hear," Harry declared, feeling silly over having doubted Steve's survival.

After all, Steve was like a cockroach: you could beat the shit out of him in an attempt to kill him but he's still going to end up raiding your kitchen in the middle of the night like nothing had happened.

If a cockroach could survive a bomb, then so could Steve.

"Yes, it is, Miss Peverell," Garrett said, eyeing Harry with a shark-like smile.

Harry was too happy to feel creeped out by the way Garrett said her name.

"Peverell should probably go now, we're behind schedule as it is," May spoke up for the first, surprising Harry since she had never heard her talk before.

"Uh, right, I should go. I've already taken up more time than needed. If the world falls into chaos and despair because I made you guys miss your target then you can just blame it on me," Harry said as she made her way to the exit.

"Thanks again for all your help," she said right as the door closed, separating her from the agents.

Harry made her way back to the ballroom with a smile on her face and relief running through her body. Hearing about Steve's mission in Mexico and the lack of news about Tony was enough for Harry to come to the conclusion that the two of them were safe –for now.

It wasn't until she finally entered the ballroom that she started to think about Garrett's story. How did a couple of SHIELD agents know about Steve's mission when it was supposed to be top secret? The mission had only happened six hours ago as well, not nearly enough time for the details of a top secret mission to be spread to the lower level agents – she was assuming lower level seeing as how higher level agents would know to keep their mouths shut about a top secret mission.

Her unease started to grow the more she thought about Garrett and his story. She didn't trust him. He put her on-edge. She could easily see him as a Death Eater had he been a wizard. And Death Eaters were not SHIELD material, they were more HY –

"Fuck!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, turning around on the spot so she could face the exit.

She had to warn Coulson.

"Whoa, you okay?"

Harry looked up at the voice, only to recoil, as if the ground in front of her had suddenly been struck by lightning.

She looked up at a young man, a few years younger than Harry herself, with black, styled-messy hair, hazel eyes, knobby knees, and Harry's face.

A subtly different version of Harry's face.

Same face shape, same nose, same mouth, same ears.

Rounder cheek bones, stronger jaw line, different eye shape.

It was as if Harry was looking at a brother she never had.

Or herself if she had been a boy.

"What?" Harry asked, still reeling in shock over the boy's appearance.

"Sorry, you just looked lost in space and I was coming over to see if you were alright. Didn't realize you were going to spin around so suddenly though," he said, looking at her with a curious expression on his face.

"Do I know you?" he asked, taking in Harry's appearance with confusion.

"No," Harry replied, a little too quickly, a little too earnestly.

The man leaned back, looking down at Harry with an expression that showed that he didn't believe her.

"Are you sure?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as if looking at her from a different angle would help answer his question.

"I'm pretty sure we haven't met," Harry replied, wondering if it was too late to leave.

"Oh, well, alright then," the man said with a nod. "I'm Jamie."

He held out his hand for Harry to shake; she looked at his hand with hesitation, like it was a growling dog.

"I'm Harry," she said, deciding to shake the man's hand anyway.

What's the worst that could happen?

His hands were softer than hers, and Harry wasn't sure if it was because she had lived a harder life than he had, or if it was because he liked using lotion on his hands.

"Really? You're Harry too?" Jamie asked, a surprised grin on his face.

Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I thought you said your name was Jamie," she accused.

"Oh, that's just a nickname I go by because I hate my first name," he replied with a shrug.

Harry could relate – she hated her first name as well.

"No, my full name is Harry James Potter, but I prefer to go by Jamie, so that's what everyone calls me," he explained with a jovial smile on his face.

Harry felt like she had just been knocked off her broom by a bludger to the head.

He had her name – Harry James Potter.

That was supposed to have been her name if she had been born a boy.

Was this her counterpart?

"So, is your name actually Harry or is it short for something?" Jamie asked in an attempt to keep the conversation going. He asked the question awkwardly after noting Harry's wide-eyed expression.

"Uh, it's short for Harriet," she explained, shaking her head in an attempt to focus.

"But I prefer Harry," she continued, finally looking back up at Jamie.

"Nice," Jamie replied, nodding his head in emphasis. "Does that come with a full name or are you just Harry?"

She wished she was 'Just Harry.'

"Peverell – Harriet Rose Peverell. But I don't like Harriet and I don't like Rose, so call me Harry," she explained, still thrown by the appearance of her –

– Whatever Jamie was in relation to her.

"You're shitting me!" Jamie exclaimed with a huff of laughter.

"No, why would I do that?" Harry asked perplexed.

"My sister's name is Rose – Rose Lillian Potter. I just find it funny that you have both of our first names as your own," he explained, his eyes bright with the joy that comes from finding odd coincidences amongst strangers.

Harry stared at Jamie. She remembered Steve talking about a Rose Potter and she had assumed that she was her counterpart; but Harry's middle name wasn't Lillian.

Harry's heart sped up in her chest – she wanted to get out of there, to get away from this uncanny man in front of her. But she was rooted to the spot, too intrigued to leave.

"That is funny," Harry commented, though there was no mirth in her tone.

"Next you're going to tell me that your birthday is July 31 or something," he laughed.

Harry stayed silent, watching as Jamie continued to laugh at his own lame joke.

"Why, is that your birthday?" Harry asked, her tone bland. Her question caused Jamie to stop laughing; instead he looked back at her with a confused expression on his face.

"No, my birthday is February 1, but that's my sister's birthday. Your birthday isn't really July 31, is it?" he asked. He had sobered up as he asked the question and was now watching Harry suspiciously.

"It is," she answered.

Jamie looked at her like she had just sprouted another head.

"Bloody hell I think I found Rosie's fraternal twin," Jamie stated matter-of-factly.

Harry was about to respond, when –

"Oi, Jamie, there you are!"

Harry turned to the voice and saw a woman her own age with auburn hair and hazel eyes walking towards Jamie.

"Hey Rosie, I was just talking about you. Guess who I found!"

Harry stared slack-jawed at Rose Potter. The two girls were the same height, the same age, and looked similar enough at first glance to be mistaken as non-identical twins.

Rose had Harry's facial structure, and her nose, and her smile, and her eye-shape. But her ears were different, her skin was flawless, and she had the physique of someone who was healthy, athletic, and had never suffered from bouts of starvation.

"Who's this?" Rose asked, looking at Harry with less intensity than Harry was looking at her.

"Rosie, meet Harry. Harry, meet my sister, Rose," Jamie introduced.

"Harry? Really?" Rose asked, looking at Jamie like he had just made that up.

"Yes," Harry replied, now looking between the Potter siblings.

She had an odd feeling that she might not have just one counterpart.

"Well, it looks like we finally know what you'd look like as a girl, Jamie," Rose remarked sarcastically to her brother.

"No offense," Rose said to Harry, who motioned that no offense was taken.

"Are you kidding me? She's obviously your long lost twin," Jamie replied, looking between his sister and Harry.

Harry ran a hand through her hair – yeah, that odd feeling was growing the longer the two siblings talked.

"Right, well, it's nice to meet you, Harry," Rose said, nodding politely at Harry, who reciprocated the action.

"You as well," Harry said automatically, still lost in thought over who was supposed to be her counterpart – if either.

"Have you seen dad anywhere? Mom wants to make sure he isn't doing anything he shouldn't," Rose said, ignoring Harry in favor of her brother.

"Last I saw him he was over by the punch bowl spiking it with vodka," Jamie said matter-of-factly.

"And you didn't stop him," Rose accused with a defeated sigh.

"Don't sell me short! I stopped him – told him I saw a couple of kids in the crowd and that stopped him pretty quick," Jamie explained with an indignant expression on his face.

"Well, thank God for that," Rose said, scanning the crowd for someone. Harry assumed she was looking for her father, who seemed to like pulling pranks in this universe just as much as her father did in her own.

"Yeah, now he's just trying to prank Uncle Sev – said something about a mousetrap but I could have misheard him," Jamie said, mumbling the last part as he tried to recall the conversation.

"Mousetrap?! Jesus Fucking Christ, if that's true than mom is going to go mental! Look for dad, will you? I need to find Uncle Sev before he decides to poison us all out of retaliation."

Rose stormed off into the crowd, disappearing as fast as she had appeared. Harry watched her leave, her eyebrows furrowing in thought.

"Who's Uncle Sev?" Harry asked as she looked back at Jamie.

Harry didn't have an Uncle Sev so she was curious to learn who it could possibly be. Her father was an only child and the only uncle she had ever known had been Uncle Vernon, who had been a giant arsehole.

"Oh, he's my mom's best friend; they've known each other since they were little kids and now they work together as lab partners, so they're as close as siblings. Dad likes taking the Mickey out of him, which pisses him off to no end. Many Christmases have been ruined because dad and Uncle Sev have gotten into fights," Jamie explained. He stood up on his toes to look over the crowd, trying to spot his father or his uncle somewhere in the mass of people.

Harry's eyes widened at the sudden realization.

"Wait, are you talking about Snape?" Harry asked, horrified.

"Wow, you sound like my dad when you say his name like that," Jamie remarked, looking down at Harry with a weird look on his face.

Harry stared at Jamie. Her relationship with her own Snape had been rocky at best. For the first five and a half years of interaction, Snape had been a complete bastard to Harry and her friends. He became less of a bastard, though, after Harry was accidentally given his old potions book for her sixth year potions class; not only did his old book teach her some really useful spells, but it also held a discarded love letter Snape had written to Harry's mother that he never had the courage to send.

After reading the letter several times only to feel overwhelming disgust, Harry had stormed into Snape's office in order to yell at him – mainly about how much of a terrible friend he was to withhold stories of Harry's own mother just because he was still jealous of her deceased father.

Her verbal assault on her teacher had resulted in weekly detentions with Snape for the rest of her sixth year, effectively canceling her quidditch season prematurely. The only good things that came out of the detention were: one, Harry learned definitively that Snape was on Dumbledore's side and two, apparently Harry had inherited more from her mother than just her eyes.

Like her lung capacity – Harry had inherited that from her mother, according to Snape.

Speaking of –

"Jamie! Have you seen your father anywhere?"

The words jolted Harry out of her thoughts, and when she finally set her eyes upon the speaker her heart just about stopped.

"I'm looking for him now," Jamie replied, still standing on the tips of his toes in order to see over the crowd.

Harry continued to stare at the woman before her.

"Honestly, that man; I can't leave him alone for ten minutes before he wanders off! Oh, hello, I didn't see you there."

Green eyes met their pair – like when Harry had looked into the Mirror of Erised for the first time. Harry was an inch-and-a-half taller than her, but somehow she felt smaller, like when one realizes just how insignificant they were when compared to the sun.

"Oh, right, mom, this is Harry. Harry, meet my mother, Doctor Lily Potter."

Lily Potter – flaming red hair, green eyes, and a smile like the one Harry had memorized from her photo album.

Her mother.

Living.

Breathing.

In front of her.

Harry felt her heart constrict and expand simultaneously in her chest – painful yet comforting. Her hands shook at her side, and she was surprised she was still standing despite the fact that all her bones had vanished from her legs.

Or at least, that's how it felt.

"Harry? What a lovely name, dear. See Jamie, there is nothing wrong with the name Harry!"

Lovely name.

Harry – lovely name.

Never before had Harry heard such an honest, meaningful compliment.

Never before had Harry heard such a fantastic, wonderful voice. Such a melodic tone, such a warm delivery, it easily enveloped Harry's entire being in a loving embrace.

Lily Potter's voice was like a phoenix's song.

Harry – what a lovely name.

"Yes, there is – Harry is a homophone! Harry – hairy. Seriously, mother, I had to endure years of bullying as a child because of that name!"

Harry watched as her mother's face scrunched in disbelief: her nose crinkling at the bridge just like Harry's did; her eyes narrowing in hidden amusement just like Harry's did.

She watched her mother with rapt attention, her eyes moving quickly to take in everything about her mother as if to make up for the twenty-two years of absence.

An elegant cream-colored dress, golden earrings and necklaces, a diamond wedding ring, and expressive, gesturing hands.

Compared to her mother, Harry looked homeless.

"Nonsense, you've been going by Jamie since you could talk. You suffered no bullying because of your name."

Her mother was staring at Jamie with such love and Harry could feel something stirring in her chest – it felt as if a growling, green dragon had woken and wanted to scorch the younger man into nonexistence.

Harry wanted her mother to look at her the way she was looking at Jamie. She wanted to push the boy away, to stand in front of her mother who would then lovingly embrace Harry in a hug.

Just one hug – one hug that's all Harry wanted.

Harry felt her eyes start to sting, and she clenched her hands out of protest.

"Back me up Harry; have your classmates ever bullied you because you go by Harry? Harry?"

Jamie looked at Harry in concern, his last question coming out more uncertain than his previous one.

Harry's fingernails dug into the palms of her hands, the pain giving her something to focus on besides the pain coming from her eyes.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?"

Harry shut her eyes at her mother's words; she had heard the same question be asked dozens of times before, but never had the words sounded so genuine than they had right now.

"I –"

Harry's voice was weak, mainly due to the fact that her heart had made its way up into her throat and was doing that painful expanding/contracting simultaneously thing.

"Y – yeah."

Harry's voice was pathetic when compared to her mother's, and Harry would gladly be mute for the rest of her life if it meant she could hear her mother's voice whenever she wanted.

"Alright then," her mother said, unconvinced by Harry's answer. "I must say, you have beautiful eyes. They remind me of my own, except they have a glow about them – they're absolutely beautiful."

Never mind before, the compliment about her name was nothing when compared to the compliment about her eyes; Harry always did like her eyes, but hearing her mother call them beautiful made Harry believe that maybe, one day, she could be as gorgeous as her mother.

Only those with real magic have a certain glow to their eyes that most others do not have.

Thor's words came back to Harry as she stared into her mother's eyes. They were Harry's eyes, filled with compassion and laughter and life. But they lacked something. Something that Harry's eyes had always had.

The glow, as Thor had called it, was missing from her mother's eyes.

But that can't be true – Harry's mother was a witch, after all, so there should be a glow.

Maybe Harry couldn't see it, not when surrounded by all these people.

"Th – th – thanks."

Still the stuttering mess. She couldn't do anything right.

"Not as beautiful as your eyes, mom."

"Oh hush, Jamie, no one likes a kiss-arse."

"I'm not being a kiss-arse, mom! Harry, back me up on this: my mother doesn't look a day over twenty, does she?"

Harry wanted to agree with Jamie's sentiments – her mother never did reach her twenty-first birthday, after all.

But before she could respond, a streak of gray caught her eye.

There, amongst her mother's red hair, was a gray hair.

And that grey hair lead to others – to clumps of gray hair, leading up to graying roots.

Harry felt as though she had taken several steps back despite the fact that she had remained rooted to the same spot throughout the conversation. She was no longer staring at a painting close-up, no longer staring at each individual brush stroke and constructing the image from a few chosen lines.

No, now she was looking at the big picture.

Gray hair with streaks of red, skin that was wrinkling and turning flabby with age and crow's feet around her eyes from years of laughter and joy.

Lily Potter was past twenty years of age; by at least three decades if Harry had to guess.

Harry's heart, which had lodged itself in her throat, had decided to plummet down, down, down past her stomach, past her feet, and out of her body.

She was a fool.

Her mother was dead.

Her mother had died the day Harry had been born.

Harry would never hear her voice, would never know what her mother thought of her, would never receive a hug from her mother.

Because her mother was dead.

Had been Harry's entire life.

Harry had lived without her mother for longer than her mother had been alive.

And the woman in front of her – Lily Potter – was so much older than Harry.

So much older than Harry's mother.

She was her mother, but not her mother.

Like Luna, but not Luna.

Harry was a fucking idiot.

She felt a 'pins-and-needles' sensation spread over her legs, as if she had just consumed an entire bottle of Skele-Gro on her own. But the pain in her legs reminded her that she had legs in the first place.

And if she had legs then she could run.

They tried to call her back but she was sprinting too fast to want to stop now. She had to leave: before she made another mistake, before the shame could fully descend, before her tears started to flow.

She was running as fast as she could, not knowing where she wanted to go, only knowing that anywhere was better than where she was now.

Tears clouded her vision, and when she finally found a door that was open she launched herself into the room, only to come to the realization that it was the janitor's closet she had found earlier that evening.

She collapsed in the middle of the small closet, bringing her knees up to her chest so she could bury her face in them. The closet reminded her of the cupboard under the stairs back at the Dursley's, and latent feelings and fears from her early childhood crept back into her consciousness as she sat on the ground, weeping.

She was such a fucking idiot to have believed that this world's Lily Potter was her own mother. She was stupid to think that just because the woman was her mother's counterpart then that meant that she was equal to her mother.

She was a fool to think that any compliment that this world's Lily Potter bestowed on her would be the same opinions as her own mother's.

After all, Harry was the reason her mother was dead; to think if she saw the person Harry had become then no doubt she would have her regrets. According to everyone who knew her, Harry's mother had been perfect, amazing, talented, loving, the best person who could ever exist.

And she had died so Harry could live.

But was that sacrifice worth it? Did her mother make a mistake by choosing Harry over herself?

Harry, who was a murderous, arrogant, no-good, meddlesome, freak?

Snape had been right in his hatred towards Harry – she was the product of the worst choices Lily Potter had ever made in her life.

Harry cried, the tears dampening her cheeks and her cloak-covered knees. She tried muffling her sobs, her shoulders shaking as she tried to keep from hyperventilating, but in the end it was no use.

She was embarrassingly loud, and she couldn't help the irrational fear that descended upon her – the fear that she had woken her uncle with her blubbering racket.

She tried to control herself, but the more she tried the more she lost it. In her frenzy, Harry pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, thinking that if she was completely covered by her black cloak then maybe it would allow her to slip into the dark silence of the janitor's closet.

Maybe if she chugged a bottle of bleach then maybe she would stop crying.

Maybe if she chugged a bottle of bleach then maybe she would actually see her own mother, the one from her own universe, not the one at the party who was trying to find her husband.

Maybe then Harry could finally hear her mother's voice, could finally feel her mother's embrace, could finally hear from her mother that maybe she wasn't a mistake.

That maybe Harry actually deserved the chance to live.

Or maybe her mother would tell her what she had suspected all along: that she regretted her choice, that she was disappointed over what Harry had become, that she wished she had chosen herself over Harry.

Harry punched the ground with her left hand, the pain from the punch spreading up from her knuckles, through her hand, and up her arm.

No, Harry's mother would not say that.

Harry had thought she had moved past this insecurity. After everything she had been through, after every friend she made, there was no way her mother would regret giving Harry the chance to live.

Sirius had told her as much, as had Remus and Dumbledore and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Lily Potter was not the kind of person who could ever live comfortably after choosing herself over her own child.

It had taken time, but Harry had learned through the help of her friends, the Weasleys, Sirius, Remus, hell, even Dumbledore, that she was not a mistake, not a burden, not a monster, not a freak.

She was a fucking human being, for Merlin's sake.

Finally, Harry was able to get her crying under control, and, although tears were still falling from her eyes, at least she was no longer hyperventilating.

She felt light-headed, though, and so stayed seated until she felt safe to stand up.

Harry sat up straight, her cloak completely wet from where she had been crying into it, the hood of her cloak still falling over her head and into her face. The hood of a wizard's cloak was big, often used as a replacement for the wizard's hat. Harry's hood, when she pulled it down all the way, came down to the tip of her nose; now, though, Harry had it draped low enough to cover her forehead – any further and she would no longer be able to see.

Finally, Harry felt it was safe enough to attempt to get up. She stood on her aching feet, a tad too wobbly and still a bit too sniffle-ly for her liking.

But at least she felt resolved. No longer was shame running red throughout her body, no longer did she feel the sense of childish fear at waking a monster of a man from his sleep.

"Come on, Potter, get it together," Harry chided herself as she wiped her eyes of her remaining tears.

She would go back to the party and watch Lorcan and Lysander like she was supposed to. She had left them alone for far longer than she had anticipated and she wanted to make sure they hadn't done anything rash out of boredom.

Harry cleaned her glasses with her breath and her cloak, rubbing away the dried remains of her tears that had fallen onto her lenses.

She would avoid the men Luna and Rolf wanted to introduce her to. She would avoid this world's Potter family like they were the bubonic plague. She would stay clear of this world's Snape as well; no need to punch a man she didn't know just because he reminded her of her old professor.

Harry left the confines of the janitor's closet, waiting for the door to close before moving forward. She was no longer a child, no need to hide out in the dark and berate herself for being alive.

She walked down the hallway at a leisurely pace still hesitant to return to the party. She wasn't sure if she would be able to hold it together if she ran into Lily Potter again, but she refused to stay in the supply closet for the rest of the night.

She was a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake! Just because she ran away at first doesn't mean she can't go back in and try again.

Courage wasn't about blind recklessness, it was about doing something good despite the fear and worry and pain.

And what would it take to send Harry off into another break down? Would it be the thought that someone she didn't even know would confirm what Harry had thought all along? That she was a no-good, rotten mistake?

Harry let out a laugh.

Merlin was she being a fucking idiot.

She continued to walk down the hall with a smirk on her face. She was worth it, despite her mistakes and the blood on her hands, she was worthy enough to live.

Her mother had thought the same when she had died.

And that was enough for Harry to think the same.

A low rumbling sound started to permeate the hallway, causing Harry to stop walking, her body tensing as if ready for a fight.

She looked up and down the hallway on high alert. The sound seemed to be coming from the walls, and Harry approached one, placing her ear against the wall to hear better.

The low thrum sounded, like a voice talking, through the wall, and Harry tried to determine where the sound was coming from. She started to walk along the wall, the sound becoming clearer as she approached a door.

She clenched the handle and tried to open the door, but it was locked. The sound was deep, like the bass line in dance songs, which made it difficult for Harry to hear what was going on. Curious, Harry moved onto the next door from across the hall, unsurprised when she heard the same deep thrum that had been coming from the other room.

Harry continued to check the next few doors, realizing quickly that each room was playing the same message. She tried each door, wanting to get in to see what was going on, but each door was locked, refusing her access.

By the time Harry had reached the seventh locked door, she was seriously contemplating using magic to open it. She could easily feign ignorance if she was somehow caught – that the door had been open and wasn't that a strange thing considering all the other doors were locked?

But she knew that there was a camera on her, just as there had been cameras on her the entire night – a building owned by a spy company was bound to be filled with security cameras, after all – and she really didn't want to chance the cameras picking up on her magic.

Plus Harry was already wearing her cloak and hood, she looked more suspicious than a novice shoplifter.

"HARRY!"

Harry turned away from the door and towards the shout, and she was surprised to see Skye run down the hall towards her. There were other shouts as well, probably Skye's team trying to call her back, but they were drowned out by the deep noise, which gained in volume at Skye's yell.

"Skye?" Harry asked, her face descending into confusion at the look of Skye's panicking face.

"Wha –"

Harry's question was cut short by the sound of gunshots – six to be exact. The sound assaulted Harry's ears, and Harry dropped into a defensive position out of habit.

She heard Skye scream in the distance, shouts accompanying the sound. Harry was expecting to hear bullets ricocheting off the walls at any point, but it never came.

Instead, Harry was greeted with the sight of six robots surrounding her in a semi-circle, their arms outstretched so as to point their blasters at her head.

Harry's heart started to beat wildly in her chest as adrenaline started to make its way through her body.

It wasn't gunshots she had heard.

It had been apparition.

Harry stared at the half-dozen robots, noticing how much they looked like one of Tony's Iron Man suits, except without the paint job. Their bodies were silvery-metallic, a yellow glow coming from their chests, the glow reminiscent of the yellow light Harry had seen earlier that day before her phone had turned into a bomb.

Harry started to breathe through her mouth, her heart beating loudly in her ears in anticipation.

Robots apparating shouldn't have been possible.

"Rose Harriet Potter," the six robots intoned, causing a shiver of fear to wash over Harry.

Her eyes widened before they narrowed into slits – they had no right to use her real name.

"You are deemed unworthy, and so must die."

Harry couldn't help herself at the robot's declaration: she started to laugh hysterically.

They were a bit too late with that declaration. Had they arrived earlier, Harry might have agreed with them.

Bent over, doubled in laughter, Harry watched as the robots continued to train their palm repulsor beams at her, their palms growing bright yellow as they charged up their attack.

Harry continued to laugh as the charges blasted towards her, and Harry waved her right hand in the air in front of her without thought.

A magical shield sprouted around Harry, causing the deadly beams from the robots to be absorbed into the shield.

The robots stood still, watching as Harry straightened after their failed attack, her shield still erected around her like a caterpillar's cocoon.

"Who gave you the right to use my name?" Harry asked in a threatening tone.

"Ultron has deemed you unworthy. You, like your friends, shall die by our hands," the robot directly in front of her declared as the six robots charged up their beams once more.

Fear was replaced by worry, which was quickly replaced by anger.

How fucking dare they.

"Well, then I guess I should do something about your hands," Harry retorted.

Adrenaline, anger, and magic flowed through Harry all at once. It was a very comforting feeling, and Harry smirked at her foes.

Without warning, Harry waved her left hand causing the robot to her immediate left to explode. The explosion toppled the robot next to it, which fell to the floor with a metallic crash.

Wasting no time, Harry waved her right hand, repeating the same move as she had done with her left, an explosion and a metallic crash accompanying her movement.

Now down to four robots, Harry pushed both of her hands outward, causing the two robots still standing in front of her to be sent flying into the opposite wall. They crashed against the wall and fell into a heap onto the floor, sounding like a pile of dropped pots and pans as they did so.

The two robots on the ground were getting up, but with a quick wave of Harry's hands the two exploded like their fellows before them.

That left the two against the wall that were trying to get back up from the ground.

Feeling particularly vindictive, Harry waved her hands back and forth, causing deep cuts to appear upon the robots' bodies. One particular gash on one of the robots cut into its power supply, and Harry watched as the robot powered down in front of her, the yellow from the power source evaporating out of the robot's chest and into the air, where it dissipated out of existence.

The air took on a different quality after that, one that reminded Harry of Hogwarts, as if the air around her had been soaked with magic.

The last robot still alive looked as though it had lost a fight with a can-opener. The robot kept falling down as it tried to get up, mainly due to its mangled legs from Harry's cutting spell. Taking pity on the robot, Harry waved her hand once more, causing the robot to explode in a blast of magic and metal.

Harry stared at the dead robot in front of her, the only one of the six that hadn't been blasted into a million little pieces.

It's death had made Harry realize that as long as the power source was destroyed, the robot could not function.

Harry turned her back on the shell of a robot and looked over at Skye.

She almost forgot that she had a witness to her magic. What she wasn't counting on, though, was an audience.

Harry was met with the sight of Skye, Coulson, the rest of their team, Garrett, and a young black man, all with varying looks of shock on their faces. She narrowed her eyes at Garrett, who looked far too pleased for Harry's liking.

"Right," Harry declared, turning her gaze off the traitor and onto Coulson, "does anyone want to tell me what the fuck that was about?"

Author's Note:

Terribly sorry about the lack of updates for the month - I feel terrible about it but life happens sometimes. Hopefully now that school is out I can get back into regular updates but don't hold me accountable to that if it doesn't pan out.

Anyway, thank you for your continued support of this story. It means a lot to me and I'm glad that you are enjoying it as well.

Sorry again for the month hiatus. Hope you all have a great weekend.