chapter 5

Spending time on the Helicarrier could be both exciting and dreadfully boring - Natasha concluded with some exasperation that today could be classified in the latter category. After being reassigned to assist in operations on board the base, she'd quickly found out that there wasn't terribly much for her to do right then; with a majority of agents present, the only things that were free turned out to be insanely boring data entry tasks and, perhaps even worse than that, patrolling the server rooms.

She had some idea of why Fury had set this up; he had to be well aware she'd essentially be spinning her wheels here. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a reprimand, but she did believe it had to do with her time in Afghanistan – about her unsuccessful attempt to ferret information out of a person of interest that, even now, S.H.I.E.L.D. knew only as Harry.

It was remarkable how little she'd ultimately figured out in the weeks she'd spent near him, Natasha mused; even though Harry had frequently mentioned events from his past, he had always ended up being incredibly vague on the details, and there was no way of telling if he'd just been making things up or if they really happened. The only solid information she's learned in all that time could easily be listed on a single page, and scarcely anything was actually useful. (For example, she wasn't sure if the fact that he had a dog named 'Snuffles' in the past was really something to keep on record.)

Natasha supposed she should've realized things would be strange from the beginning, though; Harry hadn't even known what country he was in when he arrived (or at least claimed not to), nor did he speak the local language, yet he'd stuck around for far longer than what seemed reasonable, seemingly completely without care about the state of the nation he was in. Harry had come across as carefree and laid-back, definitely not something she'd expected in what Fury had described as a rogue element. She didn't think he'd been playing it up, either.

Fury was right about one thing: there was more to the man than the veneer of being a tourist suggested, that much was clear. Sometimes when he'd been telling her one of his vague stories about the past there had been real pain in his eyes, or he'd stop talking mid-way through, gathering his thoughts with some apparent difficulty. When he'd mentioned his boarding school and the many hours he'd spent there he'd gone positively nostalgic, even. Besides all that, of course, there was his uncanny ability to disappear; she was somewhat gratified to know that every other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who'd attempted to shadow Harry after her had a similar lack of success. She wondered how long it'd take Harry to piss Fury off with that – knowing the latter, probably about two days.

It hadn't been until she'd been recalled that the official priority of finding out details about Harry had gone through the roof, Natasha had realized; she'd left Afghanistan with some reluctance as she'd hoped to keep chipping away at the mysteries of the alleged superhuman, but it seemed it wouldn't have much of a difference anyway if her successors were any indication. Even with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s considerable resources, the man remained an enigma who effortlessly evaded their eye whenever he wanted to – he had to have the eyes of a hawk to catch on so easily. After the incident with Tony Stark, she wasn't the only one who noticed that Fury was practically fuming. Now, with Harry's arrival on American soil, it was only a matter of time before S.H.I.E.L.D. would be tasked to interfere, and she had a sneaking suspicion that was precisely the reason she'd been kept close.

Sighing, she took a quick break from the monotony of transferring data from the global positioning system to the Helicarrier's database, scrolling idly through her e-mails; a handful of messages had arrived from various technical staff members which she promptly ignored. Instead she clicked on an old message she's already read – it'd been sent by Agent Clint Barton, currently the one appointed to keep an eye on Harry.

She and Barton had a long history together – they'd been colleagues for years, two of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest, and they'd been sent on a number of missions together. Though they both specialized in combat, they really had different views on that from all the way back when they first got to training together; she'd always been interested in close-range combat; he'd preferred to avoid it. In a way she was sad she'd missed out on sharing her early training with him, as she'd been in Russia at the time.

Natasha ended up the spy on top of an assassin; training her acting, physical skills and mental manipulation of the enemy had been her focus far more than any particular weapons, though she wasn't half-bad with a couple of them. Barton was a singularly impressive expert with the bow, though – the best she'd ever seen. That he was assigned to Harry probably meant that things were going to get pretty interesting around here.

She turned back to her screen, getting ready for yet another lengthy sift through endless lists of boring data, and she barely stifled a yawn; mostly the data consisted of last known coordinates for a great number of people kept under surveillance, though she'd yet to see a familiar name pop up. It wasn't thirty seconds after she started that her computer suddenly protested, throwing up a bright yellow warning.

"Missing file? What…?" She quickly shoved the error to the side, scrolling down the log that'd been kept of every action so far; half-way through the latest list of addresses – hundreds of them – she found the culprit; only his name and title remained. Natasha quickly sent a video uplink to the bridge.

"Yes, Agent Romanoff?" Fury inquired, one-eyed gaze turning to her. "I trust this is urgent?"

"Sir – I just found an erased entry from the locator database; it's probably been blanked before we ever copied it to local servers." She frowned as Fury raised an eyebrow, urging her to go on. "It's about someone called Dr. Pym."

"Well, I would apologize – but I think we've covered that," Tony said dryly, closing the door of the little 'Smoker's room' behind him firmly. Two employees of Stark Industries waited patiently outside; they'd been sent to pick him up but were now staring bemusedly at the bickering. "I didn't figure you'd blow up on me."

Harry cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he paced. He'd managed to edge his way to the side when dozens of reporters descended on Tony, but plenty of them had taken note of Harry as well, much to his chagrin. It didn't help that Tony was cavalier about it. "Next time you have any bright ideas like this, spring them on me before I run straight into a dozen reporters," Harry spat, scowling. "What on Earth gave you the idea that I'd want this sort of attention?"

Tony shrugged helplessly. "What can I say – I am flabbergasted that they took pictures of you too – I mean, I was there, after all – that should've been enough of a decoy." He shook his head as he noted Harry's unchangingly grim look. "You did give me permission to mention your involvement."

"By mention I did not mean spread my name across a dozen newspapers and television stations," Harry responded sharply. "I thought I'd made it clear that I don't appreciate this kind of thing. You're glad I didn't go on a rant to those paparazzi of yours."

Tony sighed. "You're not a fugitive, are you?"

Harry stopped, blinking at Tony in confusion. "No – what on Earth makes you think that?"

Tony raised an eyebrow, shrugging. "It would explain the stick up your ass when it comes to this media thing." He shrugged carelessly at Harry's scowl. "You must know this works – the papers will write about you a few days, you undergo the terrible burden of compliments by people who like heroics, and then it's all over again. There's a reason they call it fifteen minutes of fame, you know – well, unless you're me. They'll still be talking about me."

Harry dropped into one of the cramped seats and shoving aside a full ash tray which spread a vaguely disgusting smell. "You do understand what anonymity means, right? I didn't come here to be gawked at – I'd rather avoid that if at all possible, to be frank. I finally have what I wanted – and here you come and splash my face on the bloody paper, ruining that! Of course I'm upset about it, wouldn't you be?"

"I don't have your fear of fame, clearly." Tony responded. "Usually people want to get on the air, not off it…"

"It's not fame that I fear," Harry answered, thinking back uncomfortably to his Boggart – it wasn't always the same over the last few years, but it still commonly took on the Dementor's form. More recently, though, it had occasionally taken on a shape he'd found very hard to laugh at: himself, seemingly normal - except in the eyes. They were red and vicious, dancing with madness and rage. He shivered as he even thought about that image. "I appreciate the flight over here and your hospitality – the papers you've given me will come in handy too, I'm sure – but I'm not going to spend my time tagging along everywhere and going along with your every whim. Certainly not when you attract this much attention to me!" He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "This time, the press might forget I exist - but if we keep showing up together… I might end up a bloody celebrity again."

Tony looked away, seeming vaguely remorseful for a moment or two, though it was overtaken by curiosity as Harry cursed himself for saying that much. He knew Tony wasn't being malicious – just rude – and unlike back home, the papers would not keep harping on the same things, probably.

Still – the damage was done. If they had not followed him here already, his photo in the morning paper would doubtlessly put Natasha and her people right back on his trail. Given that Natasha had met him at the Afghan airport, it was possible that someone had simply noticed his illegal travel - but he seriously doubted it. The unusual degree of scrutiny he received could only have one easy explanation: they knew about his magic. Somewhere, somehow, he'd been too careless, and the Muggles had taken notice.

He had a sudden uncomfortable realization why the Statute of Secrecy existed back home. It wasn't just for the protection of Muggles, nor to guard the Wizarding community itself: it was to avoid precisely this kind of thing, where Muggles would get mighty interested in what they didn't have, and probably not in a good way. Hopefully the ones keeping an eye on him weren't interested in dissection – or more traditionally, burning at the stake.

"Well – the damage is done, now. Thanks for making me feel like an ungrateful prick, by the way," Tony said, slouching. "Pepper does always warn me I'm too impulsive…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, really?"

"Hey – a little gratitude if you please! I did let you hitch a ride on my plane – without knowing your name, at that! Who does that?" He pointed at himself and smiled. "Tell you what – we'll discuss all your personality issues over a nice chianti and a stripper or two, back at my place. Sound okay?"

Shaking his head in amused exasperation, Harry wondered what he'd done in this world to lead to this; it was all well and good to save someone's life, but the rest of it he really hadn't expected, and frankly it was a bit too familiar, being the hero in the news once more. Hermione would doubtlessly be quite amused that he'd managed to get himself into trouble again so very quickly, but Harry felt a shiver run down his back at the same. Was he just going to get right back to what he left behind?

"I'll be leaving," Harry announced and Tony suddenly sat up straight and stared at him. "Oh, don't worry – I'll come over to gape at your cars and such later," Harry added, narrowing his eyes. "… I just have to do something. I suppose you can call it unfinished business."

"You told me you've never been here before." Tony noted dryly. "Everything's unfinished business for you here."

Harry rolled his eyes, getting up. "I should probably get to it, then. Leave a light on for me." He turned to leave, hesitating briefly as he slipped his wand to his palm. "I'd appreciate only having to rescue you once, so don't do anything crazy."

"I'll try," Tony said with a smile. The man finally sighed, looking more serious than Harry had seen him since they met. "When you're done with whatever 'business' you have, come find me – I'm sure you can get an address from any half-decent map." He hesitated for a moment. "Whatever you're up to - avoid getting into trouble with the law, alright? I'm incredibly awesome, but not omnipotent, and with all this attention – that sort of thing would probably ruin my image too."

"Wow, you almost managed to make a statement that didn't end up self-serving," Harry said, opening the door. "See you later, Tony."

"Harry."

Slipping his wand back into his pocket, Harry smirked – with that tracking charm in place, he wouldn't need a map.

Los Angeles was amazing – Harry couldn't find any other way to describe it. He'd spent the last half hour just walking the streets, staring up at the gargantuan skyscrapers that were a dime a dozen in the heart of the city; even the smallest of the buildings was probably taller than Hogwarts' Astronomy tower, and there were so very many of them. He made his way from street to street, just taking in the bustle and thought with some amusement that it reminded him of a particularly busy night in Diagon Alley; there were almost as many strange people around, too.

Strolling away from the heart of the city towards the less ridiculously busy parts took him a lot longer than he'd anticipated, but he didn't really care too much – after months of living essentially in isolation, it was refreshing to get the complete opposite: strangely it didn't feel all that different, as none in the crowd even spared him a second glance; not quite yet. Harry mused that perhaps he'd need a disguise the next time he set a foot out here – a hood, perhaps, though he couldn't help but remember the Death Eaters who'd covered their faces.

Going up in the crowds reminded him of a few operations he'd done back in his own world; working as an Auror he'd occasionally be sent out to the International Confederacy of Wizards. The organization had a far reach, as the name suggested, so it had inevitably been in some other country he'd never been before. Though the stays were always short, he'd gotten to see magical communities throughout Europe, and even one or two in Africa; aside from Germany – which had been a bit of a disaster, really – France and Spain had been his most frequent destinations. As for the Americas – well, Wizards have long lives and longer memories, so relations between the U.S. and British Wizarding governments were not very friendly.

Strolling through this huge city, practically swamped by vast numbers of Muggles, Harry felt quite small and insignificant; he'd never really thought about the way Wizards were far outnumbered, given that he lived in a community that was all-magic. Here, though, he was alone: perhaps the only wizard on the entire planet. Numerous intersections were far too crowded to cross and one time he was actually rebuffed by a rotund police officer, after which he'd simply elected to head in another direction, uninteresting in making trouble; he didn't have a particular place to be, anyway.

Moving away to the less extravagant parts of the city, he passed a shop filled to the brim with electronics – lots of televisions, though they were a lot flatter than he remembered, alongside a great variety of various black boxes with functions he wouldn't dare try to identify. He realized with some dismay that he'd not really kept up with things, despite Hermione's urging. It was a bit ironic, Harry figured, that he'd grown up thinking Mr. Weasley was a bit mad for having no clue how Muggle things worked – but here he was, in that same position – just with technology a few decades (or centuries) more recent.

He perked up in surprise as he realized that one of the televisions behind the window was showing a picture of him and Tony - he quickly stepped into the store. There was only one person there at the moment, a bored-looking woman in a shirt with the store's logo on it. "Can I help you?"

"Could you turn the volume up on that one, please?" Harry asked, glancing back at the television – A tall grey-haired man was shown speaking while sitting behind a large desk, but no sound came out. The woman shrugged and retrieved a remote, and Harry quickly sat down to watch.

"Multi-billionaire Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, has returned to American soil after several gruelling months in captivity; he was held in an undisclosed location by what sources indicate was a terrorist cell. It is believed the kidnappers were intent on stealing Stark Industries weapons technology." A video started playing, showing Stark and himself that afternoon, at the airport. "Mr. Stark was accompanied by an unidentified man who is believed to be the mysterious rescuer that saved Stark from certain death in the Afghan desert; details are forthcoming."

"That's… you."

Harry sighed, turning to the store clerk who was looking over his shoulder with wide eyes. It figured this would start immediately. "Mind not making a fuss? I'd hoped it would take a few hours yet before they started reporting this, honestly." More footage was shown – helicopter footage from moments after they were picked up, a brief shot of him and Tony talking animatedly in Germany – when he'd finally been vouched safe – as well as Tony arriving at his home, being embraced why an older man. "Huh, that must be 'Obi'."

"Is it true, what they're saying? Did you really save that Stark guy from the desert?" The clerk asked nodding towards the screen and Harry turned to her with an embarrassed nod.

"It was a coincidence that I found him, and I couldn't just leave him – anyone would've done the same. At the time, I didn't think it would get all this attention, though I suppose that's what you get when dealing with the ridiculously rich."

"It was very noble of you to do that, for anyone," She said, smiling. "Wait a moment – I'll get you a cup of tea. I think you deserve one." Moving quickly out towards the back, Harry focused back on the television; the same few shots were being repeated now.

"Mr. Stark has reportedly called a press conference for later this afternoon, addressing the future direction of the company; speculation is rampant, but some believe…"

"Here you are," The clerk approached with a steaming cup that smelled rather delicious.

Harry nodded in thanks and sipped the drink, wondering idly what Tony would be talking about that afternoon; he had vaguely mentioned a press conference but not what it was about. It stood to reason he might want to put everyone's mind at ease after his long absence, though. The news show finally moved onto another topic – but not before showing his picture once more and questioning his identity.

"So, do I get a sneak peek into who you are?" The clerk asked, smiling widely.

Harry finished his drink and smiled in return, reaching into his jacket, where he'd put the papers Tony had smuggled him at the airport. The news show would certainly have this information as well, before the night was through. He sighed miserably. "Well, my passport says Harry… Callahan."

The clerk smiled widely. "That's nice! Are you feeling lucky? Well are ya, punk?" She mimed shooting a pistol and Harry blinked in confusion. "You know, Dirty Harry? The movies?"

Harry shrugged, putting down his cup. The clerk actually seemed disappointed that he didn't know what she was trying to say and he forced a smile. "Well, I'll be off. I still have a few things I have to do this afternoon. I appreciate the tea."

"No problem, no problem – you do what you have to do, and come here for some more tea when you have the chance - there's always room for heroes where I work." She smiled, turning down the volume on the television. "If you ever need anything fancy like you see around you – do come here!"

"I will," Harry affirmed as he stepped outside, though he knew that he'd probably never actually do so – he'd been living without such stuff for years, he wasn't about to change it now. He quickly scanned the street ahead of him; he'd checked when he went in and there had been a man across the road, dressed in a brown coat – and he was still there.

"Oh, you're good…"

"Director Fury."

"Agent Jezebel – you have an update for me?"

"Indeed." A smiling face appeared on Fury's screen as he enlarged the window. "The lure worked – the target came in right after the footage played. He gave his name as 'Harry Callahan' – the same one that was set up by the hacker's activities. He also had his papers handy - I think we can safely conclude that the target's aware of and is already using his new identity."

Fury nodded, frowning. His target was quick – mere hours after arriving in the States he'd managed to not only arrange for false paperwork but retrieve it as well – without S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence having any information on how and when. "Did you achieve your objective?"

"Affirmative – it's confirmed that the Nano-drones are active and transmitting, and the first data should be arriving at the Helicarrier as we speak. He drank all of it."

Smiling deviously, Nick Fury turned to Triers for a moment. "Good, good. Agent Barton will take things from here – I'll see you when you return to the Helicarrier. Fury out."

"Understood. Jezebel out."

"It actually worked?" Triers asked as Fury turned to leave. "I figured he'd stick with Stark – how did you know he'd go there?"

Fury smirked. "I didn't – the contingency that Harry would go out on his own was based on his actions in Afghanistan as our agents reported them – he had a tendency there to wander and explore, usually alone and it's no different here." He tapped the screen, and a map popped into view. "As for the lure – well, almost everyone wants to see themselves on television, and all the other networks have yet to air their story – it was inevitable that he should take interest."

"If you say so."

Fury didn't answer, but he smiled smugly at the overhead map of Los Angeles – with a little green dot moving down one of the streets.

Harry walked quickly – he'd palmed his wand again, keeping a close eye on the windows in hopes of spotting his watcher. He'd been anticipating that Natasha's people found him again, and now he pondered what to do about it: tracking him around the globe was getting a bit too much like stalking, especially since he didn't know what their goal was in doing so.

He moved through a convenience store and quickly slipped out the back entrance – that would buy him a few seconds, at least. Before he could pull out his invisibility cloak though, he felt eyes on him again and turned around nervously – knowing when you're being watched was one of the first skills that Aurors picked up on, and one of the reasons that Mad-Eye had been so damn paranoid; there was always someone watching.

It took him a moment to find his pursuer (knowing there was one made finding them a hell of a lot easier) and found him – on a roof. He blinked incredulously for a few moments; less than two minutes ago the man had been standing on the street, now he was twenty feet up on a roof and peering down from the building directly across the street. Thankfully the man hadn't noticed he'd been spotted yet, but Harry worriedly noticed that there were no ladders. That had to be one hell of a climber.

"Repello Muggletum." Harry intoned softly, smiling slightly as he noticed the man suddenly turn away – after a few seconds however he turned back again, shaking his head; the spell hadn't taken properly. Probably he was simply too far away for the spell to work for any appreciable duration. "Well, that didn't work…"

Quickly he slipped back into the convenience store, keeping an eye out to see if the man would move – when he remained stationary he made his way to the back; he was glad to note that his spell did work here: several Muggles wandered off the moment he came near them, and he made his way to the stairs in the employee-only stairs in the back without getting stopped. Making his way up he dared a look out the window – the man following was holding something in his hands and for a moment Harry thought it was a gun – then he turned slightly. It was a bow. Were they actually going to try and shoot him with an arrow?

"Well, let's get creative," Harry muttered, making his way to the top of the next set of stairs: with a simple Alohomorahe made it through the heavy locked door and stepped into sunlight. He was on the roof directly opposite the one that his quarry was still perched on, looking down the sight of his bow towards the store like a hawk hunting mice.

Harry vanished, appearing with a pop on the roof adjacent to Barton; though the man looked up momentarily he immediately turned away again - the muggle repelling spell was working after all, then. Good. Harry sneaked a little closer, casting a Supersensory Charm that would amplify sound - at once the rumble of cars in the streets and the distant roar of busier roads forced themselves into his head, as well as a pair of loud heartbeats; his own and the one of the man he was looking at.

"Agent Barton - keep us posted on the target's movements - we are having some trouble getting a proper signal."

A chill ran down his back as Harry considered that wording - 'target'. Between the military clothes the man was wearing and the high-tech bow in his hands, he wasn't sure if he was looking at the government or some private army - either option was pretty disturbing. He couldn't just let these people go - not when they'd send people with actual weapons after him - but how to approach it without causing a fuss?

With a start, he realized that he was dealing with a Muggle here: a lot of the spells considered frivolous to use on dark wizards such as most tracking spells, befuddlement charms, and so forth would actually work - unless he was severely mistaken, there was nobody even checking for them let alone able to remove their effects. A smile worked its way onto his face. This could be interesting...

The radio suddenly crackled to life again, and the voice sounded somewhat panicked, this time: "Agent Barton - our computer is reading target's position on your roof - I repeat, he's on your roof!"

Harry stifled a curse, quickly snapping the first listening charm he could remember and apparating back to the roof he'd first been on. He quickly looked over to the other roof - Barton was walking to where he'd just been with a confused expression.

"The target's signal has returned to where it was and is fluctuating once more. Querying the techies on that, now."

"I didn't see anything on this end - has to be on your end."

Harry smirked victoriously - his spell was performing flawlessly. Now all he'd have to do was wait.