10 Chapter 9

Harry had made his way up to his rooms. A subtle couple of spells on the front door later and he went to the bedroom. He scanned for more 'bugs' as Coulson had called them and found only one this time. It seemed like they were getting tired of losing their devices. Harry chucked, pulled up a chair and removed the offending bit of technology from on top of the light fixture.

He walked back to the living room and put it down on the coffee table. He supposed he could clear the rest of the rooms as well, but felt the game he had been playing with his watchers, was probably just frustrating them at this point. It would do him no good to spoil all their fun. He hoped he'd meet them sometime. It would be fun to find out how they had reacted. Too bad he had vanished most of the bugs he had found the first night.

He walked to his bedroom and locked the door. He then cast a couple of security wards he had not needed in a while, that would turn the room he was currently in into a fortress if impenetrability. If they were scanning for his magic somehow, as he suspected they could, then they might decide to enter and question what was going on. He couldn't have them finding him while he was busy.

Harry retrieved his trunk again and climbed down into it. It was a specially modified version he and Hermione had worked on for a whole year. It had its own self-contained and maintained dimensional pocket. Usually expanded trunks were just that, in that it took the current space available and extended it magically. Some even shrunk items to make the room in the trunk seem more.

Harry's trunk, however, existed in its own pocket dimension. This allowed for other magically expanded items to be used in it without fear of the magics involved affecting each other. Hermione had called it the bag-of-holding in a bag-of-holding problem. Effectively making the space he was currently in capable of having more such spaces inside of it. He even knew how to expand his personal pocket dimension himself. Hermione wouldn't let him use her rune schemes without understanding them, saying that one mistake could separate the pocket from the outside world and lock him in forever. He probably paid more attention to her in those days than ever before.

He walked to the end of the room and opened a door, which was protected by a Fidelius charm. Beyond this door were all his treasures, research and resources. He couldn't not protect them. His paranoia had run too deep by the time he had set all this up. Through the door seemed to be what looked like a hallway with doors on both ends. They were not spaced out as conventional spacing issues were not a consideration in a dimension where he could, quite literally, make space.

The first door on the left was his bedroom. It held a four-poster bed, a bathroom with a large tub, a comfy couch and coffee table and a small kitchenette with magically preserved items in a cupboard. It's most prominent feature was a large window which covered most of one wall that looked out on an illusion of the Hogwarts grounds with the lake, the forest and the castle prominently in the middle.

He could set it to any scene he wanted, but he'd never had the heart to change it. Not after Hogwarts had fallen. It was so lifelike you could see the wind blowing in the grass, birds flying in the sky, creatures of all sorts could be seen moving in the forest and every now and then, the lake would ripple and you could see, what looked like, a large tentacle break the surface of the water. The curtain had been drawn over the scene for many years now, but Harry suspected he'd finally be able to look at it again. Now that there was hope.

The first door on the right held his library. Any book he thought he might need was in there. When he had arrived at Hogwarts after its destruction, he had expanded his own library with as much as he could selvage.

The next door on his left was his vegetable garden. It was one of the only sources of food he had had by the time he had been closing in on Riddle. The ceiling was enchanted to look like a mild summer day, the magically produced sunlight enough to allow the garden to flourish. It was a large plot of ground with many vegetables and fruit baring trees around the perimeter.

If one looked they'd see a couple of chickens walking around through the growth. They were allowed to walk around as they pleased and magically fed on a schedule, near where their nests were. The eggs they produced were magically removed and preserved. The unfertilized ones to his kitchen, for him to eat. The fertilized ones would be returned as necessary to maintain the population.

The next door on the right contained one of his magical greenhouses. Those needed upkeep, but he had fortunately remembered to supply all the rooms with a suspension matrix. He could basically stop time for the rooms once he left them. That would make things stop growing though, so he was loath to use it. In it were his more commonly used potions ingredients. He was glad the instructor at auror academy had known how to fix his horrible potions education, though he doubted he'd ever be a master. Nutrient potions gave him everything his garden couldn't.

The next door on his left was where he stored his dry goods. Chicken feed and seeds for plants he needed that he had found. Flour and grains. He even had some cuttings in stasis from rare plants that he hoped, one day, he could find a place for.

He had a potions lab and a magical artefacts room, where he stored and studied his more magical items. If any of them were lost, he'd not be able to replace them. Not unless he could find out how they worked. He'd already studied some of them enough to duplicate their effects, to a degree.

And so it went on. A miniature bio-dome of self-contained life with crops, tanks and necessities he had scavenged during his travels. What he didn't know he needed, he learned about and added. He had thought, at one point, that he might have a chance to seed life again. That if he found any survivors, he could help support them and save his race.

The most valuable commodity he had was his magic and by the time his version of an arc was complete, he had had to start feeding magic into the trunk to support the life contained therein. Once every couple of days he'd feel a pull and realize that the magic running his little safe haven was running low and he'd go and replenish it. He had, at least, put a fail-safe in place. Should he ever be unable to supply it with magic in time, all the rooms that required it would enter suspension to preserve what he has saved.

There was even a room for all Hermione's research. He had stored it in its own room. Boxes upon boxes of items, most of which he had no idea what they contained, but Hermione had made him swear to keep her research going one day, if she should fall. And she did. He had not been to that room in years, but thought he might find the time, now that Riddle was dead. He always kept his promises. Until then, he'd keep it in stasis as well, as it had been for many years.

But now, he was headed for his vault. He opened the door and walked into a room filled with gold and jewellery, precious gemstones and rare and precious non-magical artefacts. Portraits and art. Things he thought were beautiful and knew were priceless. Magically restored paintings and items cut from pure jade. The treasure contained in his vault could buy a medium sized country, he knew, but he just wanted to pick up some gold. Hopefully he could sell it somewhere for its value in weight.

Harry filled a small pouch with galleons and pocketed it before closing the door and leaving his trunk. When he put the trunk away and left his room, he was surprised that no-one was banging on his door. Maybe Coulson had them stand down? Whatever the reason he was just glad he could go for a shower in peace.

Once he was cleaned and dressed in a casual outfit of baggy jeans with an emerald green button-up shirt he had once been told looks good on him, he exited and went down to the lobby, where he saw Natalie waiting for him. "I'm sorry I kept you. Am I late?" he asked.

"No, you're just in time." she replied. He was actually early, but it would not do to tell her target that she had been waiting for him for twenty minutes already.

"Shall we go?" Harry asked indicating the front door with his off hand.

"Let's." Natalie replied, preceding him out the door.

"Follow me, I'm right behind you," he joked.

She turned to him with an upturned eyebrow. "That doesn't make any sense."

"A good friend once told me that making sense only matters to those who want to think of themselves as normal. And normality is overrated. Almost anyone can do that." he replied. "Being yourself however, that is a worthy goal."

She considered this for a moment as they walked. At first it sounded like a strange statement, until she realized that it was actually sound advice. People who strive for mediocrity, seldom reach their full potential. "Your friend sounds very wise." she finally responded.

"She was a strange one, but she had the best way of looking at the world. Very few people ever saw the wisdom in her words. She could make an innocuous statement and only hours later would you realize what she had meant. That tended to alienate her from her peers. She had very few friends, but those of us who called her ours, appreciated her greatly." Harry replied with a small sad smile.

"I'm sorry." she said,

"For what?" he asked, coming back to himself.

"You speak of her like she isn't with us anymore." she stated.

"She isn't," he replied solemnly "but she would think mourning her as a disservice to her memory. She'd rather those of us that remained carry her in our memories and remember her as the eccentric, adventurous person she was." He smiled at this. "She'd probably tell me to spend more time talking to you about mythical creatures and government conspiracies." and she would probably be happy that Harry was befriending a seemingly lonely young lady, who had jumped at the opportunity for good conversation.

"Government conspiracies? Was she into tabloids and the strange and unusual?" She asked with an upward quirk in the corner of her lips.

"Like you have no idea. She once had this theory that there was a conspiracy to overthrow the government with gum-disease. I never thought she was serious, but for all I know it was a metaphor for taking the power from those in charge by infiltrating the highest offices and reducing the positions to ineffectual nuisances. She was strange like that." Harry shrugged.

"Sounds fun, though. I can see why you liked her. The world can do with a few more unusual people in it." she said.

They walked for half an hour chatting amiably until Harry spotted a store that he thought was exactly what he needed. It looked like a pawn shop, with the words 'We Buy Gold' displayed in the front window. He walked into the shop followed by his companion. Immediately on entering he got the feeling he was being watched. There was a certain tension in the air. There were three other men in the shop seemingly looking at various items. But their body language was off. Like they were ready for anything.

Slowing down and looking at an item on sale, he whispered to her, "Something is about to happen. Duck behind the display until I tell you to come out. Don't worry, I should be able to handle this."

Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, SHIELD asset, had had a long life of intrigue and as such had also noted the strange behaviour of the men standing around the small store. When her target gave her a quiet warning, she made the decision to act her part and observe. That was her mission after all. From what she had been told, her target was well trained, a possible threat or asset like herself. She'd use this opportunity to find out if those claims were true. She casually moved behind the display they were currently looking at, while Harry started browsing closer to one of the men who was furthest from his friends.

One of them, having spotted the woman duck behind the display and the movement of the man, caught on and yelled to his friend, "Watch out!"

But it was too late. As soon as the man started to turn, pulling a gun from inside his jacket, Harry was on him. Harry twisted his arm and he let go of the weapon. As it fell to the floor, Harry twisted the arm the other way, behind his back and held the man in front of him between himself and the other two men who had also drawn weapons.

"Let him go! You can't take us all!" he screamed shaking his weapon to indicate that Harry didn't have one.

Harry smiled at him. "I think you'll find that your gun works best with the safety off." As he said this he sent a bit of magic at both of their weapons, activating the safety and locking it in place.

He saw the confusion on their faces as they tried to get the safeties disengaged. "What the hell!?" one of them screamed. After a moment of struggling he dropped the gun and pulled out a large knife.

Harry in the meanwhile had not been idle. He punched the man he was holding in the back of the head and stunned him. Letting him drop to the ground, he stepped toward the man still looking at his gun in confusion. When he looked up and saw Harry approaching, he tried to us the pommel of his gun to hit Harry, but Harry intercepted it with a raised hand and grabbed the man by the throat with his other hand.

As this was happening, the last of the men had approached the woman hiding behind the display and dragged her out putting the knife to her throat. "Let him go, or I'll make the bitch smile from ear to ear!" at this he mimed pulling the knife just as he had described under her chin.

"Okay," Harry said, stunning the man before letting go, casually stepping over his body while slowly approaching the man with his hands raised. As he did so he applied a charm to the knife, usually used to prevent a person from cutting their fingers while preparing ingredients for potions, with a small flick of a finger. "That knife won't stop me from taking you out, but if you try to kill her, I'll have to respond in kind." As Harry said this he never stopped moving towards the man, slowly, deliberately, like a predator on the prowl.

"Stay where you are, man! I swear, I'll kill her!" the last man started moving towards the door while circling away from Harry, feeling like prey. Needing to run away.

"If you let her go, we can end this without any further violence. The choice is yours." Harry's eyes flashed, completing the look of the predator about to strike and the man, feeling the urgency to leave becoming several degrees more urgent, threw his hostage at him, turned on the spot and tried to make it to the door.

Harry caught Natalie easily, picked up a bauble from a nearby table and threw it at the man's head with a stunning spell on it. It hit the intended target and the man fell to the floor unconscious. He looked down at the woman and asked, "Are you okay?" he lifted her head as if to inspect her for any damage and smiled. "It seems we were lucky. You don't have a mark on you. It would be a shame to blemish your pretty face… Agent."

Natasha froze for only a split second before pasting a confused look on her face and asking, "Agent? I don't know what you are talking about."

"If you want to continue lying to me, you are welcome, but I'll have you know that I don't react well to dishonesty." Harry said this with none of his previous humour as he took a step back from her.

Natasha looked at him for a moment and considered trying to maintain her cover, but when his eyes hardened, as she adopted a confused expression, she knew he wouldn't buy it. Suddenly her posture changed, as she removed the mantle of helpless victim and became the Black Widow again. Her face blank she asked, "How did you figure it out?"

"Your eyes. You are quite the actress, and had it not been for my experience I might have believed your act. But when that man put the knife against your throat, you were looking at me, not it. You don't usually play the victim or, at least, you don't like to have people see you as one. I knew a few people who would have acted the same way in this situation." Harry explained.

At this time the teller came out from the back room. With a shaking voice she said, "I've called the cops. When those men came in I saw one of them had a gun, so I stayed in the back room. I was so worried, they were talking about taking only the gold and didn't know I heard them. If it wasn't for you, they might have killed me!" She finished with tears in her eyes.

"Don't worry. Everything will be fine. They aren't going anywhere until the police arrive, I promise. In the meanwhile, how about you help me with a sale?" Harry asked.

"Oh, you're English! I love your accent. Are you sure they won't wake up?" She gushed and then worried again.

"I'm sure. They are out cold. Now, how about we forget all about this nasty business and you tell me what you can give me for these?" Harry said with a charming smile as he withdrew the pouch and took out one of the coins.

"Is this pure?" the young lady asked as she took the coin to be weighed.

"As far as I know. I don't know where my family got them, but they are useless to me in their current form." Harry lied easily. He knew that they were pure gold and wanted to avoid having to try and explain what the images and words on them meant. Fortunately he had remembered to remove the protections on the coins. Pure gold is quite malleable after all and without them the coins would deform quite quickly.

While the flirty, mid-twenty year old woman was helping Harry, Natasha was checking the assailants. All of them seemed to be out cold and their heart rates seemed to indicate that they were simply unconscious. How, was an entirely different matter. She had been watching carefully and didn't know how he had stopped first their guns and then them.

She had felt the knife drag against her throat, when the assailant threw her at Harry, probably hoping to keep him busy long enough to escape, but she wasn't even nicked. She had picked up the knife and tested it against her nail. It wasn't a razor, but it should still have killed her. She suspected that she knew now why she had been sent.

Harry continued chatting amiably with the teller and soon found that one of his coins was worth more than he expected. When he gave her the rest of the coins, her eyes bulged. But she went to work testing all of them, muttering about how it's a miracle they are still in such good condition. Most collectors keep coins in separate containers to keep them in mint condition. Harry didn't care what they looked like. He wanted spending money. He never liked relying on the kindness of others or feeling indebted to them.

He was soon handed a wad of cash, which he put in the pouch and dropped into his pocket. As he went to go stand by the door, Natasha following him, the door slammed open and four armed police officers rushed in weapons raised.

"Get on the ground! Hands behind your heads!" one officer commanded.

Harry took a step back and raised his arms, but said nothing.

Natasha, however, looked at them with a calm expression and said, "The situation has already been handled. I'm going to reach into my handbag and show you my ID, okay?"

The officer in charge looked dubious, but seeing the three men on the floor and that nobody was making any sudden movements, he nodded quickly. Natasha reached into her purse and extracted her SHIELD badge, which she handed to the officer. He looked at it and frowned, but allowed her to tell them what happened.

An hour later and what felt like 5000 questions later, Coulson walked in the door. "I hear you've been busy," he stated as he looked at Harry.

"It's like I told you. I just tend to find myself in these situations. It's a new record though. I've actually had four days without problems!" Harry responded with a grin.

Coulson just smiled his usual smile and placed a file in the officer's hands. "I'll take it from here." he said.

"I'm not finished with him yet," the officer started.

"Yes you are. You were informed that he was with one of our agents and that he acted in self-defence and in the defence of an innocent bystander, which said bystander confirmed as I understand it. He's free to go. If you want to argue speak to your commanding officer."

"Now, wait just one …" the officer started again.

"No, we're leaving. If you need any further information from me or my people, call this number," he said handing the belligerent officer a card and leading Harry and Natasha from the premises.

"So am I supposed to go back to the hotel now?" Harry asked sadly.

"Why would you think that?" Coulson returned.

"Well, since I know she's one of yours," he pointed at Natasha, "I assume you guys are still baby-sitting me. Am I now classified as a threat?" Harry asked seriously.

"I told you there were protocols to follow and that I couldn't tell you everything. One of them was to ensure my own safety. Natasha was sent in case I had been compromised. After my debriefing, and stating your case, you have been cleared. I have been told to warn you that our agents are off limits," at this he pointed at his head. "We know that realistically we cannot compel you to comply with our demands, nor can we know when you are, shall we say, invading people's privacy, but it would help build trust." Coulson replied.

"Natasha?" Harry said looking at the read-head.

"Romanoff," she nodded. "Do you use your real name when you go under-cover?" she asked sarcastically.

"Fair enough. Why aren't you wearing your sunglasses agent Coulson?" Harry asked.

"Merely doing my part to show trust. That is our main objective at this point, right?" Coulson asked.

"Put them on, it's bright out here and just so you know, I dislike using that particular skillset and will likely never use it if I can help it. You should probably get your agency to set up a list of priorities when they will need me to do so, with many good reasons, since I will not be used as an interrogator." Harry stated honestly.

"That might be a problem. The director probably already plans for you to use your skills in that regard. I wasn't aware of your aversion to the skill." Coulson replied.

"Try having your, um, privacy invaded every day for months by a man who hates your guts who used to work for the other side and who caused your parent' death and tell me how willing you are to use the skill." Harry said angrily. "Sorry, I never liked when the government thought to use me for those skills. Sorry I snapped at you." he apologised. "I may have an alternative for you, though."

Harry bent over and picked up a leaf from the ground. He showed it to them covered it with his other hand and performed a switching spell. When he moved his hand away the leaf had been replaced with a quarter full dropper vial with a clear liquid in it. "TADA!" he said with a flourish, giving the vial to Coulson.

Natasha scoffed, "Slight-of-hand? Really?"

"No, Natasha, Magic." He said with a smile. Sometimes the truth is the best lie.

Coulson smirked, knowing what Harry had done. It was going to be fun seeing her reaction when she found out. If she found out, he supposed. "What is this?"

"Is her clearance high enough to hear what Fury did?" Harry asked.

"She'll be among the first to know." Coulson replied.

"Okay, then. What you have in your hand is the most potent truth serum known to man, where I am from. Nothing can even come close. Three drops ingested orally and you cannot but tell the truth for an hour. Be careful with that stuff. Too many drops is lethal. I don't have much more but I can make more. It takes a couple of days though, so make sure you prioritize its use correctly. That should make your boss smile." Harry said.

"I've never seen Fury smile." Natasha interjected, her face still blank.

"I have. Not quite the same since he lost the eye though." Coulson stated with a small smile of his own.

"He lost an eye?" Harry asked.

"It was a couple of years back. He doesn't speak of it." Coulson said.

"Wow. So your paranoid spymaster of a boss has one eye and a lives up to his namesake?" Harry asked, not being able to help but draw parallels.

"Pretty much," Coulson said, "why?"

"The war vet I told you about, was our spy-catcher, who had one eye and a propensity to live up to his name." Harry said with humour.

"What was his name?" Coulson asked.

"Moody." Harry said, not able to help but let out a laugh. "But he had a replacement for his eye, of sorts. It was always looking in all directions, not following his other eye. So he was nick-named 'Mad-Eye' Moody."

Natasha snorted. Drawing her own parallels, but said nothing.

They reached the car and Coulson got in. "See you tomorrow, Harry." With that, he pulled away and drove off.

Harry started walking back to the market he had spotted earlier and was surprised when Natasha walked with him. "Are you still on baby-sitting duty?" he asked.

"You heard Coulson. You're in the clear." she replied

"Then why are you going with me?" he asked again.

"Are you saying you'd drop your date just because her name changed?" she asked with big eyes, tears forming in them, which had him wanting to instantly apologize.

He stopped himself just in time and looked at her with a smirk. "You are dangerous!" he said with delight. "Come on then, you can tell me all about what it's like working for a super-secret spy agency."

She smiled back and started, "Well, I would tell you…