Updates: Archive of Our Own -AppoApples

Title: Natasha Romanoff and the Secrets of Death

Category: Books » Harry Potter

Author: AppoApples

Language: English, Rating: Rated: T

Genre: General

Published: 05-30-19, Updated: 06-17-19

Chapters: 7, Words: 34,834

Chapter 1: The Secrets of Death

Dyslexia: Language disability, here be spelling mistakes, missing words, and grammar issues.

Summary: Parallel universe time travel? Natasha Romanoff has done it. Killed lots and lots of people? Done it. Been killed herself? Done it. But meeting Death himself and being introduced to a universe where it isn't alien invasions but baby's who stop dark lords? Now that's a new one. And who is she to refuse when Death hands her an orphan whose being hunted by terrorists? Simply put, she might need little Harry as much as he needs her.

Crossover Disclaimer: Marvel's Black Widow into the Potterverse. Natasha mother figure. The Wizarding World has never met anyone quite like this genetically modified assassin. I own neither.

AN: I know, I know, I have a lot of fics to finish, but until I finish grad school, a month from now, I'm just trying to keep my head above water. So please enjoy the product of my over-stressed muses.

Prologue - When Two Deaths Meet

It started as any cross-dimensional meeting started, with a death. Or in this case the eve of three deaths, and one who thought the destination of souls was more guideline than a rule.

"I can see it all," the Death with knobbly fingers and a contempt for wizards.

"Why did they have to discover time travel?" the Death with a scythe and a contempt for Avengers asked. She put a skeletal hand to her hooded temple. "They're giving me a headache."

"Rewriting the future," he growled, "Escaping death." He made a rude sound.

"As if anyone can just play with fate," she agreed.

They each drank from a goblet whose liquid was known as the Kiss of Death that could kill any mortal, semi or otherwise.

"So, what's your latest?"

The Death with the penchant for reaping the souls of aliens sighed, "Nothing much, just people dying Before they are supposed to. How about you?"

"These kids keep trying to save their grandparents, but that's only recently. For years I've had a mad man who proclaims himself to be the 'Flight of Death' as if he could ever outrun me."

Death laughed, her voice sultry, "Silly name, sounds more like what I would call a killing spree."

The other Death sighed, "That's what he does mainly. He also got it into his head to kill a baby, which of course, enabled the prophecy he was trying to prevent."

She made a gagging noise, "Why do they believe in those damn prophets? It isn't as if they provide any useful information. No matter what they do, it fulfils the prophecy or it wasn't a 'true' prophecy."

"Humans, always thinking the can play God."

They both drank.

Then Death got an idea, that is the Death who has the most experience with perpetually dying mutants. "What if we tried?"

"Excuse me?"

"What if we meddled? We have the power to do so."

The other Death who dealt primarily with mortals and the odd dragon said, "Because there are rules."

"Rules are made to be broken."

He took another swallow from his drink, "This could go badly."

Death smiled, "Tell me more about this baby?"

Chapter 1 - The Secrets of Death

Some part of Natasha had believed death wouldn't hurt, but of course, it did hurt, because why should death be any different than life?

She landed on her back, on a carpeted floor. She turned her head to see a woman with long red hair, lying beside her.

Her emerald eyes stared right through Natasha, unseeing were the eyes of the dead.

Sitting up, Natasha found that none of the injuries that had killed her remained. All her equipment remained with her but for her technology, such as her coms and her guns. She found that she was in a room on the second floor, where a bomb had apparently gone off.

"Mama?" a small plaintive voice called.

She spun to find a baby in a crib. He must have been a year or so old because he was standing, his green eyes told her that the 'Mama' he was calling to was beyond helping.

"I'm sorry, little one," she said softly, to the child with a fresh lightning bolt scar.

"Take him," a voice said from behind her.

She pivoted to face that voice, blade drawn, "Who the hell are you?"

The figure floated above the hole, seeming to blend into the blackened wood. "I am Death."

"Great, how did I get here?"

"You were brought here for him."

"Why?"

"He has no one, and because you messed with the time stream. Did you think that wouldn't have consequences?"

"This child doesn't need an assassin."

"On the contrary, a Dark Lord seeks his death."

She felt the child reach for her braid, and call again, "Mama?"

Natasha looked down at the woman on the floor, "What if I say no?"

"Then the child will be given to people who will lock him in a closet, near starve him, and work him as a servant. He will be murdered before he graduates from school."

"And you think I can prevent this?" she asked.

Death said nothing.

Natasha turned to the child, who reached both arms upward to be picked up.

Someone downstairs ran into the house shouting, "James! James! Oh, Merlin, no, James… Lily! Lily are you here!? Harry! Harry?"

Natasha jolted when she felt the wraith whispered in her ear, "I would run if I were you."

Death's breath smelled like the wintry winds on the top of mountain peaks.

The child, who she assumed must be 'Harry' wrapped his arms around her neck as she reached for him. In that moment, that little boy laid claim to Natasha's heart.

She was out the window with the baby and escaping down the street before the man reached the top step.

Death and Death floated shoulder to shoulder watching the spec that was Natasha Romanoff with baby Harry Potter disappear into the night.

They chatted idly, invisible to mortal gaze, as Sirius Black barged into the room, falling to his knees beside the body of Lily Potter.

"No, Lily," he murmured, staggering to his feet, he pulled himself up to look into the crib, the empty crib.

"Harry!?" He shouted, panic clear in his voice, "Harry!"

"Perhaps, we changed too much," Death said out of mortal hearing.

"Or not enough," the other Death said, shouldering her scythe, then brought her hands together in one resounding clap.

Lily Potter took in a gasping breath, sitting up and coughing.

Sirius Black nearly jumped out of his skin. "Lily!?" he exclaimed, "Lily? You're alive, but you…"

Death turned to his alternate universe counterpart, "That wasn't a part of the plan!"

The woman shook her head, her orange flame hair spilling over her shoulders, "Harry…" she said thickly, "Where's Harry?"

Sirius shook his head, "He's not here, Lils." He held out his hand to help her to feet.

Heavy footfalls thundered up the steps.

"James!?" Sirius cried out in disbelief.

Death turned to his scythed friend, "What do you think you're doing?"

James Potter embraced his wife, and asked, "Where's Harry?"

Death smiled. "Playing God," she said wickedly.

Natasha found this world was not hers, beyond going back in time to the eighties, no one she knew existed. Months had passed and she hadn't found anything of the people she had once known. The major event seemed to hold, like the great wars, but it was all slightly off, slightly different.

Steve Rodger and the Starks, did not exist.

So she had decided that the name Natalia belonged to her birth world, belonged to Clint and his children who called her Auntie Nat. Natasha Alianovna Romanoff, and since she didn't know Harry's middle name or surname, she gave him hers, Harry Nathaniel Romanoff.

"Mama!" Harry demanded from his highchair.

Natasha shook off her thoughts, and opened the applesauce, "Say please," she chided.

"Peasseeeeeeee," the toddler dragged out.

She sat in the chair beside him, placing the cup down on the table. He reached for the spoon with his small hand, and she gave him an expected look.

"Tank you," he said, and she handed him the soft-edged spoon.

"You're welcome," she said, kissing his temple.

She had never thought she would be good at this but… Harry was pretty good at telling her what he wanted, when he was hungry he asked for food, when he was sleepy he slept, when he wanted to play he would tug on her hand and ask, "Magi?"

She was still trying to figure out what 'Magi' meant, so far she had interpreted it as sock puppets, toy cars, and blocks. This seemed to appease him, though she always had this suspicion that she was disappointing him.

"Mama?" Harry asked, "Why you sad?"

She smiled at him, "I'm not sad, Harry, I have you."

He smiled at her and repeated, "I have you."

A part of her sighed at his cuteness, with his dark raven hair and big green eyes he would be a knock out when he was older.

Which worked in her favour because though they looked nothing alike but for the paleness of their skin and their green eyes, people still tended to believe that beautiful people were related to one another.

She sighed, they had lived in this apartment for awhile now and she was growing restless. This wasn't a home, this was a disguise. Perhaps she should save up and go find a country home, maybe move back to the United States. But a large part of her wanted to return to Russia. She wouldn't risk it, of course, but as none of the people she had known existed in this world, perhaps she hadn't either. Perhaps the KGB didn't have her on their radar.

What would it be like to be just another citizen? Even a tourist? To walk the city streets talking in her mother tongue in full view of cameras and not worry?

Harry finished his applesauce and asked, "More?" pause. "Pease?"

Just then she heard people approaching their apartment door.

She had Harry out of his height chair before he could say another word, "Can you be quiet for me, Harry?" she asked, holding a finger to her lips.

He held his finger to his lips and said, "Shhhhhh."

Yeah, babies weren't the best at secret agent work.

The door banged open with a flash of light.

What the hell?

She put Harry in the bathtub, knowing there wasn't enough time to run. Making one last sign to be quiet, she shut the door, and re-entered the main room to greet their 'guests.'

Three cloaked figures stood in the room, the two men wore masks, the crazy-eyed woman did not.

"Where's lil-Potty?" the woman crooned.

Natasha cocked her hip, "Black cloaks and masks," she taunted, ignoring the woman's question, "Are you terrorists or going to a Halloween rave?"

The woman smiled, "Oh, my dear putrid muggle, you will beg for death."

Natasha smiled back, "You think so?"

"Enough of this," one of the others said, and pointed a stick at her, "Avada Kedavra."

Natasha rolled out of the way of a green streak that missed her, and yet, did no damage to the floor.

Looks like I've found the aliens.

Grabbing a chair, Natasha wielded it like a baseball bat, running at the intruders. She hit the woman first, who went down with a shriek, then Natasha jerked the chair up and hit the man who had attacked with the stick. He grunted falling to the ground with an oomph.

They went down easy, she thought. Human it is then.

Standing on the chair whose legs rested on the woman's abdomen, she kicked the second masked man in the head with a roundhouse. There was that sharp crack of bone breaking, and he dropped like a rock.

"Don't you people have any training?" she asked, almost certain she had broken the man's neck, she hadn't felt any resistance from the muscle that protected most thugs from dropping from a single blow.

"Avada Ka-"

Natasha kicked the stick out of the shorter man's hand.

He pulled up his mask, revealing himself to just be a young kid, "Please, lady, I don't want to die."

She jabbed him in the face with the heel of her palm, and this time he stayed down.

Knocking the chair off the woman, Natasha grabbed her by her collar, "Who are you? And what do you want with my son?"

The woman looked at her like a bird of prey and said in a sing-song voice, "You killed my husband, you killed my husband."

Natasha slammed the crazy woman against the wall, "Who are you?"

She smiled, even as blood coloured her mouth, "Bellatrix Lestrange," then paused and whispered in a low voice, "Bellatrix Black."

In a swift motion, Natasha caught the woman's rising hand and snapped her wrist. She caught the stick before it fell and put it in her back pocket. The woman screamed but it pittered off into a laugh.

God, she needed to get a gun.

The woman laughed again.

"What are you?" Natasha asked.

The woman's laughter continued, high and cackling, then said in a foreboding tone, "A witch."

Natasha caught the look she shot behind her, and without thinking, pulled the stick from her back pocket and said the magic words.

"Avada Kedavra."

A cloaked form that had been coming up the stairs fell backwards when the streak of green light hit him, his lifeless body tumbling down the stairs.

A tingling sensation went through Natasha's body.

When she turned back to 'Bellatrix Black' her brown hooded eyes had gone wide.

Natasha jabbed the stick against her throat, "Tell me what you want from Harry."

"His death," Bellatrix said absently.

"Why?" Natasha ground out, twisting Bellatrix's arm until it was at the verge of popping out of its socket. "Why do you want him dead?" she repeated.

She shook her head, her dark hair tumbling around her, "I serve the Dark Lord, and he will return. I will not betray my Master."

Inpatient, Natasha used the side of her hand to drop the woman.

Repocketing the magical gun that could kill people without damaging objects or making sound, just creating a charge of green light, she went back to the bathroom to get Harry.

Their bags were already packed, and she thanked herself for that particular habit. Resting Harry on the bed, she pulled on her backpack, and shouldered Harry's bag. Grabbing his stroller on her way out the door, Harry asked as Natasha stepped over the downed bodies, "Who dat?"

"Witches, apparently," Natasha answered, "Now how would you like to go to Gothenburg for a few weeks? I hear it's lovely this time of year."

The toddler nodded seriously and spent the next ten minutes trying to pronounce the word 'lovely' correctly.

Natasha admitted to herself that not only could she not have a normal life, neither could Harry. She would teach Harry all she knew so he could protect himself, and she would keep them moving, never in the same place for too long.

No one would be able to find them again. No one.

AN: And that is my latest concerned bunny. Comments, thoughts, reactions, and hopes, please?

Chapter 2: Is this a Joke?

AN: Thank you to the reviewers! Ha, crossovers are popular.

Keynote: Thank you to the people who let me know about the Russian name, I hadn't realized that Alianovna wasn't a static name so I switched it to Harry Nathaniel Romanoff.

Also, in the first sequence, baby-Harry is asking Natasha for Lily not mistaking her for his mother, he doesn't understand that she died. Later on, well female caregiver, Mama, makes baby-sense.

Chapter 2 - Is this a Joke?

Lily Potter, the Auror, slammed a stack of files done on her husband's desk. "Nothing," she growled.

James Potter, an Auror as well, held in a sigh. Sitting forward, he caught his wife's hand, "Lily-Flower, it's been thirteen years, if he-"

"Someone opened his letter!" she snapped ripping back her hand, "He's out there, he has to be."

"Lily, that was three years ago. Three years ago after nothing. No one has seen-"

"If you had just let us go to India-"

"And what could they have possibly told us?" James said slowly, "The Indian Aurors did their investigation, and they said-"

"I don't care what they said, James, they aren't us!"

"Not everyone in Indian speaks English, and not everyone would want to have helped us, besides, like the Indian Aurors said, no one could pick out Caucasian tourists from Caucasian tourists."

"Maybe there were pictures-"

"Lily!" he exclaimed, "His Hogwarts letter was addressed, Harry J. Potter, 109 Bus, Mumbai to Pune."

"Records, tickets," she argued.

He sighed, "We've been over this, over and over this. Everyone who bought tickets for that bus used cash, no one needed to show their IDs, and it was an entire bus of tourists. The driver couldn't distinguish anyone-"

"Except for one beautiful redhead," she finished for him, "but if he noticed that then maybe-"

Sirius Black, also an Auror, choose that moment to save him, opening his office door with a jubilant smile, "Hey Mr. and Mrs. we need to get going or we will be late for dinner with the Longbottoms, and they, unlike you both, are sane enough to clock out at the end of their work day."

"That's because they have someone to go home to," Lily snapped at him.

Sirius winced, his blue-grey eyes instantly shadowing with sorrow and guilt.

James hated when Lily got like this, yes, she was almost always obsessed with finding Harry, if not in the front her head, say when they were given a difficult assignment, then in the back of her head. She never forgot and never let herself give up on the chance that he might be out there in the world. But Lily didn't always let her grief and anger spill out onto other people. Not always, but today was one of the bad ones.

"We could have had more kids," James ventured softly.

She spun on him, and the look in her emerald eyes could only be described as fury, "I have a son, I just need to find him."

And with that she stormed out of the room, Sirius stepped out of her way, and she slammed the door behind her.

Sirius gave James a miserable look, "I'm so sor-"

"Don't," James said, holding up a hand, "Just don't." He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, "It doesn't even matter whose fault it is anymore, I just want… I just want to-" He couldn't complete the thought, because it was a betrayal of sorts, betrayal to his son and his wife.

But what James wanted was to move on. He wanted to live, and he wanted to see his wife happy again. Yes, of course, he wanted to find Harry, but James was almost certain he was dead. The letter from Hogwarts to India, even Dumbledore admitted, must have been a fluke.

"Come on," Sirius said, "Neville's at school, so Frank and Alice won't-"

"Won't make Lily insanely jealous and ever more determined to find Harry?" James offered. Neville and Harry had been born within a week of each other. He stood, straightening the papers he had been working on and ignoring the fruitless research Lily had put on his desk.

They must have tried every tracking spell that had ever existed, and every compass led them in every direction. The United States, Sweden, Russia, France, the Netherlands, Morocco, Tunisia, China, Greece, Brazil, and so on. Lily had even gotten Snape to use a Dark Arts tracking spell, that one had led them to Dublin then to Norway then to Japan, at which point Snivellus apologized, saying that it must not be functioning.

James was starting to believe his son's magic had taken up residence with the wind, and that's why none of their spells worked.

Because with all the magic that lit up to track him, it should have been more than hope that he was alive.

But thirteen years was a long time.

It was enough that James sometimes wished they had just stayed dead. This uncertainty… well, he couldn't really call what he, Lily, and even Sirius had was much of a life.

They were all good Aurors at least, it was the one thing they all had to fall back on, even if their personal lives were a disaster, at least they could do some good for the community.

"Hey Granger!" Draco called over the heads of students, "Do you ever brush your hair? Or are you trying to be Ravenclaws' new mascot, so you need to look the part, like some wild animal."

"Hey Malfoy!" Padma Patil, Hermione Granger's best friend, shouted back, "Does your mommy still brush yours? Or haven't you moved passed your father needing to wipe your butt?"

Draco flushed, and would have made a comeback, but the dinner crowd bottlenecked into the Great Hall.

Hermione, head of her year, and the ultimate pride of her house, laughed as she and Padma sat at the Ravenclaw table.

There was a ring of excitement in the air tonight, for tonight the Triwizard Tournament Champions would be picked.

Fleur Delacour sat down across from them, she didn't have many friends from her own school. But she liked Hermione and Padma, even if they were younger, they were mature for their age, and rather intelligent.

"So, you think it's going to be you?" Padma asked.

Fleur raised her chin, "Oui, of course, it shall be me."

Her schoolmates gave her dark looks, they would support when and if she was picked, until then, Half-Breeds weren't anyone's first pick.

Well, not for the girls anyway, the boys for her school were all rooting for her.

"How about from your school?"

Padma and Hermione exchanged a look, then Hermione shrugged.

Padma nodded her head slightly, "People have been saying Cedric Diggory."

"That would be kind of cool," Hermione said, "A Hufflepuff Champion, that would be funny watching the Slytherins cheering for Hufflepuff."

"I thought it was the Gryffindors the Slytherins didn't like?" Fleur asked.

"It is," Hermione said, "but the Slytherins think Hufflepuffs are inherently weak."

"Speaking of Slytherins," Padma said, "What do you think they're up to?"

There was a group of seventh and sixth years at the end of the table farthest from the head table, whispering to one another.

"Padma," a familiar voice called.

She turned in her seat to face her identical twin.

"Twenty on Johnson," Parvati challenged.

"Fifty on Diggory," Padma said back.

They grinned and turned back to their respective tables.

"So you're that sure of him?" Fleur asked.

Padma shrugged, "He's top of their year and the Quidditch star. No one can outfly him."

"But Viktor Krum could," Hermione said, "He does Quidditch professionally."

Padma rolled her eyes, "In Hogwarts, sometimes you take things too literally."

Fleur poked at her food, "I'm too nervous to eat, this could change everything for me and my sister. We aren't just pretty faces."

Hermione grinned at her, "If I were a betting witch, I would put all my bets on you, Delacour."

Fleur smiled, but she wouldn't be at ease until her name was called from the Goblet of fire.

oOo

The Goblet of Fire had blazed to life in blue fire twice, Victor Krum, the Durmstrang champion, and Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion.

Everyone waited with bated breath, and once more the Goblet flared blue, a scrap of paper floating to Dumbledore's hand.

"And the Hogwarts champion is H-" uncharacteristically the Headmaster seemed to stumble over his words. He coughed and all grandeur left his voice as he asked the room at large, "Harry Potter?"

There was a deathly hush that fell over the room.

And it was Fred Weasley who broke it, calling out, "Is that a joke?"

"If it is, it isn't funny," George added.

"Harry Potter's dead," Lee Jordan said to the stunned room.

At that moment, the fire from the Goblet retreated completely, all signs of light and magic going dark.

A unanimous thought went out through all of them, what now?

The professors looked at one another for a clue as to what to do next. Albus Dumbledore looked at a complete loss.

One of the Hufflepuff students who had believed absolutely that Cedric would be chosen protested loudly, "Harry Potter doesn't even go to this school. Even if he's alive, he can't represent our school."

Several other students cheered their agreement to this.

Then Karkaroff announced, "If the Potter boy doesn't show up, then Hogwarts forfeits."

The din that followed was nothing short of pandemonium.

It took McGonagall putting her wand to her throat to settle things, "We will recheck with the rules, and inform you all of our findings as soon as a decision has been made. Whoever put Mr. Potter's name in the Goblet should be deeply ashamed of their actions. Now off to bed, all of you."

Minerva watched the students depart, deeply disturbed.

"What are we going to do?" Pomona asked.

Minerva sighed, "We are going to have to contact Lily and James."

Everyone who heard this flinched.

Severus snarled, "Haven't they suffered enough?"

Minerva turned on him, lips thin, "You think they won't hear of this? We have to be the ones to tell them, I'd imagine they'll be here tomorrow morning wanting to see the Goblet."

"Perhaps we should address letters out to Harry Potter, explain things, maybe he'll show, stranger things have happened," Filius said.

"If the boy hasn't shown in thirteen years, why would he show now?" Severus asked.

"Have you ever met a wizard or witch who would want to give up their powers?"

Severus expression was hostile when he said, "Yes, I have."

Albus rejoined them, "It is worth a shot."

Late that night, each professor wrote a letter out to Mr. Harry J. Potter, making several copies of the letters, before owling them out.

It had been decided, and according to the rule book and their inability to restart the Goblet, that either Mr. Potter acted as their champion or Hogwarts forfeited.

Which was not going to sit well, and would basically destroy the point of the Triwizard Tournament bringing different schools together.

But the rules stated that if the chosen champion died before the tasks, a new one could not be chosen.

Filius decided to address his letter, not to Harry Potter, but simply Harry, and gave it to the meanest and most clever owl in the owlery.

She was a pretty thing, so white she seemed to glow in the dimness of the night. The snowy owl had been donated to them after any person the shop seller had sold her to had returned her in a week for her habit of biting and refusing to take mail.

"Come on, girl, we have need of you, you have to find Harry, you have to bring him home."

The owl looked at him narrowly, but held out her leg.

When she flew off, Filius felt the oddest feeling of hope. All the professors had loved James and Lily, watching them suffer, become closed off, and obsessed with their son's disappearance… it had been heartbreaking.

"Do you really think it's safe to go back to London?" Harry Romanoff asked his mother.

She shrugged, "At this point, son, I'm more worried about your assassins."

He grinned, because he knew she didn't mean that, well at least not completely.

His mother, Natasha Romanoff, was the most paranoid person on the planet, and despite all the travelling they did, the places they explored, and all the training she put him through, she never risked his safety unnecessarily.

She had trained him in every martial art she knew, with every weapon she had mastered, but she hadn't raised him to be an assassin like she had been brought up to be.

Sure, Harry knew how to kill someone, but he had been trained only to act in self defense or the defense of others. His mother had shared most of her own history, her alternative universe, where she was used indiscriminately as a weapon for profit and politics. Where morals, had been nothing to her until she met her family, the Avengers.

"Don't give me that face, I want to do some digging."

"I thought you said the Wizarding Worlds were too small to snoop in?"

She huffed, "Yes, but I want to find out more about your family history. It's been thirteen years, I'm sure they have forgotten about you now."

"Gee, thanks," he laughed, letting his hand play in the breeze outside the car window.

"But just to be careful, you should wear the wig," Natasha said with a straight face.

"The blonde one?" he asked.

She nodded seriously.

He stuck his tongue out at her, and her lips twitched.

Harry grinned and turned his attention back to the window. He loved watching the world whirl past. Every landscape had its own flavour, its own personality, and he had watched those landscapes move past, whether city, desert, rainforest, or ocean, through windows of cars, trains, planes, or hiked across them. They had even ridden camels a few times.

Harry loved it all, he loved his life, he loved his mother.

It was like being on vacation or on an abroad trip all the time. No one place was their home, because they were each other's home, and the world was theirs.

Did it sometimes suck that if they found a place they really liked they had to move on because magical people would hunt them down? Yeah, but Harry wouldn't trade this life for anything.

He acknowledged how privileged they were, his mother being from a pseudo-feature had been able to buy stock of companies, such as investing in the internet or computer companies, that made them absurdly rich. It helped that they didn't own anything but their backpacks and the food in their bellies.

"So do we greet people by saying, Cheery-O Governor?" Harry joked.

She rolled her eyes, "I taught you several British accents."

He nodded, "Which one are you going with?" His own accent depended on the language he speaking and sometimes the place.

Amusingly, his favourite language turned out to be magical, he could speak to snakes, which he used to freak out a lot of tourist guides. For a long time, it was the only language he knew that his mother hadn't picked up, until she did.

She couldn't speak to snakes well, but apparently, she could understand them now.

Natasha parked the rental car, then said in her chosen British accent, "Put on the wig, and let's go-"

Just then a beautiful snow owl glided down to them, landing on Harry's shoulder.

Natasha looked at the bird warily, but she nodded at Harry to take the letter addressed to him.

Harry read the letter quickly, "Whelp, looks like Hogwarts is contacting us again."

A flash of guilt shown in his mother's eyes, "Do you regret-"

"No, Mom, I don't regret choosing to stay with you."

She bit her lip, "Yes, but you love your books, I bet they have a big library, and even if it was just for a year. Maybe you could make some friends, you don't-"

"I don't have friends because I don't want them."

"You don't have friends because we are never in one place long enough for you to be comfortable opening up to people."

"No, I just don't like opening up to people."

"Repeating what I say doesn't change its meaning," she smirked.

He huffed, "I like my books, I like travelling, I can interact with people when I need to but I don't really enjoy it."

She put a hand to her heart, "And am I not a person? You wound me."

"Nope," Harry agreed, "you're not, you're my mother."

She ruffled his hair which really made no difference to his non-conforming curls, "So no school for you?"

He pushed back his bangs, "They aren't asking me to return to school, they're saying if I don't compete in this tournament, my magic is going to be stripped away."

"What?" she asked, snatching the letter from him and reading it for herself.

Harry petted the owl, who hooted pleasantly, rubbing her head against his fingers and cheek in a claiming fashion. If Mom let him keep her he was going to name her Hedwig from one of the history books he had read from the magical world.

"You think I could win a Tournament like that?" he asked.

She looked up at him, "My son? Of course he can. Put on that damn wig and let's go to-"

"The library?" Harry asked hopefully.

She shook her head, scowling at him.

He mock pouted.

"No," she said, tone dark, "the bookstore."

His smile could have shined through the cloud cover. Then he asked, "How do we get to Hogwarts?"

In answer, the snowy owl, who he was calling Hedwig, hooted, and ruffled her feathers as if to say, Naturally, humans, I shall guide you.

Natasha snorted, "Magical birds." But despite the resentment in her voice, she found herself oddly fond of their new feathery friend.

AN: Thoughts, comments, questions, or owls with pointers? Please?

Chapter 3: Simple, Really

Chapter 3 - Simple, Really.

Harry hated wearing wigs, his real hair was thick and itchy underneath it, and he thought he looked sickly as a blonde.

Of course, his Mom was beautiful in her blonde wig, and she never looked uncomfortable, no matter what she wore.

The books at the bookstore were amazing. One of the things he liked the most about the Wizarding World, no matter the country, were the moving pictures, not just photographs but drawings and paintings.

He was pretty sure the Louvre would lose its crap if they saw an old masterpiece start moving, or worse, start talking to them.

Harry was immediately drawn to the Charms books, which was by far his best subject, not having a wand -the one Mom had didn't work for him at all, Charms was the easiest to do wandlessly. Well, he supposed potions would be too, but they never had the ingredients necessary for the potion recipes they had picked up, nor did either of them particularly want to drag around a cauldron around.

Besides, both of them were lousy cooks, he couldn't imagine what would happen if they tried cooking with magic.

"Harry," Mom called softly.

He turned and found the book she was holding out, Transfigurations and Disguise.

Harry liked the idea of Transfiguration, but he had limited success with it. In turn, he showed her the book he couldn't leave on the shelf, Charms and the Art of Defense.

She dumped another pile on him. "What are these?" he asked, trying to balance them and succeeding.

"Fourth year books," she said in the quiet voice people use in libraries, "I told the man at the desk you were a transferring."

"Transferring from where, may I ask?" an aristocratic voice drawled, coming around the stack.

Neither Harry nor Natasha were surprised by his appearance, they had both spotted his shadow, heard his footfalls.

Unlike their golden blonde wigs, this man's hair was straight white blonde. They both took note of his snake designed cane.

"We're moving from Russia to London," Mom said, her accent a brilliant mix between media American, media British, and ever so softly Russian.

Harry's accent didn't sound as smooth, but it was similar enough that they sounded like they were from the same place, "And you are, sir?"

Then the man smirked, looking down his nose at them, and drawled, "Lucius Malfoy."

"Pleasure, Mr. Malfoy, I am Natasha Romanoff, and this is my son, Nathaniel Romanoff."

Harry shot her a look, but he knew why she had switched to his middle name instead, the name 'Harry Potter' was on every newspaper they passed. Apparently, the whole Goblet of Fire thing was a big deal.

"Hogwarts bound then. My son, Draco Malfoy, is also a fourth year," he said eyeing the books in Harry's arms.

Harry immediately disliked this nosy man.

"Is it a good school?" Mom asked him.

"The best," the man said immediately, "If one is sorted into the right house."

"House?" Harry asked.

Mr. Malfoy, pulled a book of from one of the isle tables, "Hogwarts A History, and Slytherin, is the superior house out of the four."

Harry stiffened at that, but his mom, of course, gave no sign of recognition. There had been one group of assassins when he was nine that Mom had interrogated before disposing of their bodies. They had claimed to have been Slytherins, well Slytherins and Death Eaters. Which was a stupid name, how does one eat death? Unless they meant they were meat eaters, or maybe cannibals?

"Thank you for the recommendation," Mom said, batting her eyes at him, and swaying her hips.

Harry saw the man notice, and really wanted to punch him in the solar plexus.

Mr. Malfoy nodded, "Have a good day, Ms. Romanoff. And I hope, Mr. Romanoff you make suitable friends at school." He turned on his heal with his purchase and disappeared.

"Whoever his son is," Mom said, "trip him."

Harry nodded, and they went to the register.

After the book store, they went to get a trunk for him and ended up getting two, both spelled with 'Feather Weight' charms.

"Magic is so awesome," Harry enthused as they made their way next to the cloak shop.

Natasha could only smile at her son's childlike glee. Of course, he was like this about most things, whether they had come across a bird he had never seen before or heard a new story that got his imagination going.

Sometimes she missed her old life, and she certainly wished she could have introduced Clint and his family to her son, but Natasha wouldn't have changed her fate.

Harry was the very best thing to ever happen to her.

She only ever felt guilty for keeping him to herself, he had a type of kindness to him that she seldom encountered. And she was proud of him, so proud.

Proud of this child she had raised, that she brought up to be strong, noble, and sensible.

"Alright, owl," she said, "You lead the way."

"Hedwig," Harry corrected.

The snowy owl, Hedwig, led them out of the Wizarding sectioned off area, and led them to the train station before circling back to her perch on Harry's shoulder.

They entered the train station, walking slowly, both she and Harry trying to both look and not look at the owl who they were waiting for a signal from.

When they reached a piller after platform nine, she again departed from Harry's shoulder and flew through the third pillar between nine and ten.

Harry gave her a look, then they both shrugged and casually walked through the wall.

Harry laughed when they didn't go whack against the bricks. Hedwig flew North over the tracks before looping back. She hooted, and shook off her feathers, Natasha saw the shimmer of magic spark off those white wings that told her the owl had some type of Charm placed on her.

How smart was this bird? Had she been instructed to lead them this way?

"I don't think a train is coming," Harry said.

She turned to him, raising a brow, "Since, when do you mind waiting at the station?" It was one of his favourite times to read, as he prefered to watch the landscape and escape into his own thoughts when the trains were moving.

Harry held up a Hogwarts A History, "The Hogwarts Express only comes and goes during the start and end of term and winter break."

She put her hands on her hips, "When did you have time to read that far?"

He grinned sheepishly, "When you were changing into your new robes."

She sighed, he read books like others breathed, and she had a feeling that with his new featherweight, expanded trunk, he would have a true library with him by the end of the year.

"So we walk," she said, hopping down onto the tracks, he followed easily behind her. The trunks they got had their backpacks in them, and they had straps that they slung over their shoulder. It wasn't a comfortable fit, but it wasn't difficult, it felt like carrying empty boxes.

"Do you think we will make it in time for the First Task?"

She nodded, "We have twenty days or so, we will make it there before then."

"Hiking?" he asked with an edge of excitement to his voice.

She nodded, "Well, hiking on tracks. I think we have time to wander if we see a town near enough."

He grinned, "I hope we get all the way to the Highlands."

"You say that now, but it will get colder."

His grin didn't falter, "Sorry, Mom, but you had us spend every Christmas in St. Petersburg. Unless there's an arctic storm, I think I can handle it."

She grinned back, "That's my boy."

Unsurprisingly, no sign of their son showed up.

"Lily, Lily look at me," James said, catching his pacing wife, holding her by the shoulders. Their apartment was nothing impressive, nothing like the home they had in Godric's Hollow.

"We aren't going to find him," he said.

"You're giving up!?" she spluttered. "We finally have a lead!"

"Lily!" he yelled, "Enough, it's enough. His name was put in the Goblet as lark."

"But the magic recognized him, choose him, it-"

"How many 'Harry Potters' have we found in the last thirteen years, Lils. There are hundreds, it's a common name. 'Not just another Tom, Dick, or Harry' is a saying for a reason. Who knows who the Goblet was referring to, for all we know we've been tracking some distant relative of mine."

"He's out there, I know it-"

"We don't know it. Lily, you just want it so badly you have let yourself believe that he's-"

"We died," she said in a low voice.

James froze, it was the first time she had talked about that in twelve years. Sirius had told them they had been gone for either five minutes or hours, but on the other side it had been lifetimes.

He couldn't remember it, not really, not truly, but he felt it. Perhaps they hadn't stayed dead, but death had changed them.

"I remember, James, I remember."

"What do you remember?" he asked carefully.

She swallowed hard, her eyes were wet, but she didn't cry, Lily hadn't cried, not a single damn tear in all these years. As if crying was admitting defeat.

James had made up for that with all tears he had shed over the years.

"He died too, Harry… he was in my arms, and I told him to live, I begged for it not to be so, not Harry, and then he shown with white light, and I know he came back. He's alive. I know it."

"But he's gone," James pleaded, and damn him if he didn't have fresh tears rolling down his face.

"We haven't found Peter either."

It couldn't have hurt more if she stabbed him through with a dull knife.

She cupped his cheeks, pulling him down into a kiss, "We'll find our son, I believe it. I truly believe it. We're so close."

James wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her flaming hair, breathing her in as if she were life itself, "I don't know if I can survive another disappointment, Lily."

She held him, but had no more words of comfort to give him. Even she didn't know where next to look.

They arrived in Hogsmeade the day of the First Task, and checked in to a little rustic place called the Three Broomsticks Inn as Natasha and Nathaniel Romanoff.

"I can't believe they really ride broomsticks," Natasha muttered under her breath as she unpacked her weapons on her bed.

She didn't have any guns, as she had discovered that apparently one of the downsides of being a witch or wizard in this world meant that some technology and electronics would break down, or in the case of guns, have a more than fifty percent chance of jamming or misfiring.

So she had purchased more throwing knives and even invested in a crossbow, whose simpler mechanisms didn't seem to give a shit about her magical powers.

Harry had jumped into the shower, clearly not wanting to have his first day of school looking like he had been sleeping in the woods for the last few weeks.

"They are going to know we are connected," she said, he had left the door cracked open so he could hear her.

"I think you should play it low, we can use Hedwig to pass messages, Hindi-Russian?" he asked.

Hindi-Russian was their code, they used Russian words, French grammar, and Sanskrit script to pass private messages along, so far no one had been able to crack that particular code. Mostly, because you had to be fluent in all three languages and understand all their inside jokes.

"So you want me to scout and keep my distance?"

"If this really is my 'first day of school' as you keep teasing me with, then do you really want to be the mom who had to chaperone?"

"Brat."

"Taught and raised," he shot back, turning off the water.

"Harry, these people, they all have magic, you could-"

"I can defend myself," he huffed, and she could hear the scowl in his voice, "Besides, my magical shield charms are better than yours, and you're the one with the stick."

"Wand," she corrected, even though she was usually the one to call it her stick.

More often than not, in public, around men who looked at her hungrily, which caused Harry to sink into his chair and fight off a blush.

Less than a minute later he came out in trousers, his hair dripping wet. He slung the towel over his head, showing off the tonality of his muscles.

Natasha knew body fitness, and she had him eating the right foods and working out on the right schedule that his body was at its best, though not its most extreme.

He was no match for her, and likely if he went to an American football line up, he wouldn't be a match with kids his own age, he would not be the biggest nor the strongest. But chances were good he would be the most agile, one of the fastest, and certainly one of the most enduring.

"Whatever this competition is, you'll win," she said, almost but not quite keeping the smugness out of her voice. He was her prodigy after all, and no son of Black Widow would come in second place in a real fight.

He snorted, "Yeah, unless, you know, it's some formal test of any of the magicks that I have no formal training in. Learning magic from books isn't really the same."

"You're the one who didn't want to attend Hogwarts when you were eleven."

"Yeah, well, three years ago I didn't have my magic on the line for being stripped away."

Natasha understood that, though her magic hadn't been something she had been born with, it was very much was a part of her now, an intrinsic part of her that even when she wasn't using it, she could feel it like a second sense.

She tossed him a shirt, "If you don't hurry, you will be late."

"You'll be in the crowd?" he asked, slipping on the long sleeve green sweater shirt that brought out his eyes.

"Yes, and I won't follow you into the castle, but I will be checking out the perimeter. You have a week before I start scaling the walls."

A week for him to tell her any secret entrances and the security system.

"Right," he said, tying up his boots. He grabbed his luggage, "See you around, Mum." He kissed her cheek, and she pulled him into a hug, kissing both his cheeks.

"Wow them."

He grinned, pushing up his rimless glasses on his nose, "Considered them wowed."

He all but sprinted out of the inn, heading to the field where Professor Filius Flitwick had said the First Task would be.

It was easy enough to find, the roar of the crowd and the large tent visible at a distance.

Harry entered that tent, dropping his bag to the side. He heard what the announcer outside said, "Now, according to the rules, the Hogwarts champion has twenty minutes to show up to the First Task before being officially disqualified."

Booing and outrage greeted this announcement and Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. He wasn't too late.

Only one other person stood in the tent. He was a large man, with blonde hair, and was peeking out of a tent flap.

Harry was glad he didn't have to wear that damn wig, and that he would be going by his real name Harry Nathaniel Romanoff. No sense hiding when he was about to partake in a very public game.

His stomach twisted at that thought, he knew he would do what was needed, but he didn't relish the idea of being the centre of attention, and if the sound of the crowd was anything to go by, it was a large crowd.

And then Harry heard something that stilled the blood in his veins, a roar sounded, thunderous enough to shake the very ground.

It sounded like a dinosaur, and that thought gave him a sinking suspension as to what the First Task was.

He just hoped no one asked him to kill anything.

Approaching the man, he coughed.

The man jumped, and whirled, "Who-" his blue eyes went so wide Harry worried they might fall out of his skull. "James- no, Harry Potter? Is that, by Scott, you're alive!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed calmly, "And my name is Harry Romanoff, and I'm here to keep my magic, so if you could explain the rules?"

The man flushed, "Um, oh, well, gosh, you-urm."

"There's a time limit," Harry prompted him.

"Right," the man said, taking a deep breath, "Dragons, the First Task is dragons, and you have to get the golden egg away from the mother dragon."

Harry blinked at him, he wanted to say well, that sounds stupid. Then he thought about what his mother would say, and so he grinned and said, "Okay."

His mother had a will of steel, and in the last few years had him doing obstacle courses that had made him wish for a dragon. But he somehow doubted she would be able to keep completely cool watching him face off with a real fire breathing drake.

Taking in a steadying breath, Harry pushed out into the sunlight, past the stuttering man.

He was as ready as he was ever going to be.

A complete hush fell over the crowd when a figure emerged from the tent.

"It can't be," Mad-Eye Moody breathed, his magical eye zooming in on the figure.

Minerva was standing, and Filius hanging onto the rail at her side, said, "Bless that snowy owl."

The figure certainly looked like he could have been Harry Potter, he was the spitting image of his father. He was tallish for a fourteen year old, and he walked with a grace that spoke of some intense sport.

While the crowd was memorized by him, the mother Hungarian Horntail was enraged. When she spotted him and sucked a breath in before unleashing an inferno at him.

People in the crowd gasped and screamed.

When the flames cleared, the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Someone pointed him out, crouched behind a pile of rocks, and creeping closer to the dragon in a bent kneed gate.

Albus, who was sitting at the judges' table, was bent forward nearly in half to see, he whispered, "It can't be him."

Tears spilled down Minerva's cheeks, "After all these years..."

The dragon found him, again shooting fire like water from a fire hydrant, and Minerva clapped a hand to her mouth.

The crowd held its collective breath, and when an unharmed Harry Potter began another slow creep toward the dragon's other side, the crowd broke out into cheers and applause.

Which seemed to aggravate the Horntail, who began spewing fire at random, but always seemed to miss the boy who always vanished from the dragon's sideline behind a pile of rocks.

When the Horntail finally paused in spewing fire, flicking her deadly tail, something happened that no one expected -well aside from the one uninvited person in the crowd who had expected it.

The boy ran straight at the dragon, quick as racing greyhound.

The dragon saw him, and lowered her head, opening her maw directly into the boy's path.

He jumped.

And every single wizard and witch in that stadium, but for one, believed he was about to get eaten.

But his jump turned into a roll, and as the dragon released her wrath, Harry Potter, rolled up her snout, grabbing ahold of one of her spikes on her head, he held on like a piece of stubborn tinsel.

The Horntail began to shake her head back and forth, back and forth.

"Does he have a wand!?" Filius exclaimed.

Horror flooded all the professors and judges, as it finally registered what it would mean for Lily and James Potter's fourteen year old son to compete in the Triwizard Tournament.

Their fourteen year old son who wasn't magically educated who had just walked into a pit with one of the most dangerous dragons in the magical realm: a mother Hungarian Horntail guarding her eggs.

"Lily is going to kill us all," Severus muttered helpfully as they all watched Harry Potter hold onto the dragon's head.

Surprisingly, for those who could make out Harry's expression, it looked as if he were smiling.

In fury, the Horntail let out a blaze of flame that obscured the audience's version of the boy valiantly holding on.

When the flames disappeared, so had the boy.

The dragon tilted its head, shook it, then settled over her clutch of eggs. Raising the spines on her tail, she waited, her eyes searching the stadium for movement.

In the stands, Padma Patil said, "Well, there goes the Boy Who Lived."

Hermione smacked her shoulder.

Meanwhile, Albus was sweating in his robes as he and everyone else searched for any sign of a boy, a splattered body, or a charred ash heap.

Natasha Romanoff was grinning to herself in the uppermost corner of one of the stands, having gone completely unnoticed by any, she saw what the others missed.

Karkaroff leaned back in his chair, "He should have forfeited, losing his magic would be perhaps not as bad as losing his life."

Maxime glared at him and opened her mouth to say something, one a golden egg appeared on the ledge before the judges' table.

Moments later, Harry Potter climbed up on the ledge. Standing, and dusting himself off, he placed the Golden Egg in front of Albus Dumbledore. He raised one dark brow.

The crowd spotted him, and again, everyone fell completely silent as they all took in what had just happened.

"So," Harry said, "I get to keep my magic, right?"

Albus opened his mouth, but no sound came out, when he tried again, he asked, "How?"

Harry took of his glasses and washed them with the edge of his sweater, in the process avoiding everyone's direct gaze as he said, "I let go while she was distracted, slid down her neck, slipped underneath her with the eggs, she wasn't lying directly on them, of course, so there was enough space to crawl on my stomach, grab the fake egg, escape from her blind side, her left hind-leg to be precise, and then I climbed up this banner." He put his glasses back on, "Simple, really."

Madame Maxime held up a wand and a ten appeared above her.

A deafening roar, louder than the dragon sounded around the stadium.

And as if not to be outdone, the actual dragon roared at them all shooting fire at everything and anything, but everyone was out of reach.

Mr. Crouch, shot up a ten as well.

Albus, a bit numbly, shot up a ten.

Kakuroff sneered at Harry, shooting up a four. "No magic," he said.

Harry smiled at him, clearly not giving a flying shit.

Bagman, who had run up to the stands throw up a ten with his wand, then pointed his wand throat, "Harry Romanoff, forty-four points!"

The crowd again exploded, which again, pissed off the Horntail.

Harry turned to the crowd, and caught his mother disappearing from view.

"Romanoff?" Minerva asked.

Harry smiled at her, "Yep, that's me, Harry Nathaniel Romanoff."

"You're Russian?" Pomona squeaked, startled by the name and his accent, and generally, the whole watching him run at an angry mother dragon without drawing a wand.

Harry shrugged, "More Russian than British, I guess, I certainly spent more time there than here."

"But you are Harry Potter?" Minerva pressed, though she didn't need to, "You have your mother's eyes, but you look like James's clone."

Those emerald eyes narrowed on her, "My birth parents are dead, my name is Harry Romanoff."

The Hogwarts staff stared at him, and none of them knew quite where to begin.

AN: Theories, dreams, thoughts, or mother dragon fire? Please, pretty, pretty please?

Chapter 4: Dead Men Tell Tales

KEYNOTE: The guns jamming and misfiring (after the trigger has been pulled) is my own spin not canon or fanon. Why? Because it adds fun problems. My reasoning is that JKR magic doesn't abide the laws of science, so with most guns their magic seeps in and tries to 'help' which stops crap from working. Not all the time mind, hell sometimes it gives you perfect aim, but 50% to 90% of problems isn't something Natasha would put up with. I will stay consistent with this and it will affect other things in the future ;)

Chapter 4 - Dead Men Tell Tales

Harry knew wizards and witches were culturally weird people. Despite the fact that he hadn't spent much time with them, it wasn't hard to tell their cultures were stuck in the past. Natasha and he only occasionally entered the magical sectioned off places when they stumbled open them. Always stopping by the bookstore or library if there was one, but they didn't linger, and it was the only time they ever wore disguises.

Mom prided her ability to go where she wanted when she wanted with a single passport, seeing as in this world no one was out to get her or knew anything about the illegal actions in her past.

No, it was only in the magical worlds they had to be careful, and so far, the Hogwarts staff wasn't exactly making him regret his decision not to attend when he was younger.

They walked in awkward silence to the Headmaster's office, well awkward for them, Harry was taking stalk of the castle's layout and all of the magical paintings and ghosts.

Mom might have a harder time sneaking in than they originally thought.

The gargoyles moved when Mr. Dumbledore said a nonsense word that sounded like the name of some candy.

Up and up they climbed the steps and Harry was blown away, not by the room with all its trinkets, but the firebird, the phoenix.

Spotting him, the phoenix let out happy, beautiful trill, and flew to him, passing its master and settling on his shoulder.

The Headmaster looked startled but not displeased, "That is a phoenix, his name is Fawkes."

"He's beautiful," Harry said, rubbing a knuckle under his beak.

Fawkes, let out a warbling purr, and rubbed back like a cat.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter,"

"My name is Romanoff," Harry said again, as they all sat down. Fawkes hopped into Harry's lap and sunk into Harry petting his feathers. Apparently magical birds liked him.

The headmaster and professors did a hot-potato exchange of glances. Of the professors here there was the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Snape, Head of Hufflepuff, Professor Sprout, and Head of Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick. The fourth, Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, said she would be joining them shortly.

Harry didn't trust them as far as the old man could throw them.

The Headmaster cleared his throat, "You did very well today."

"Thank you," Harry said, keeping his expression neutral, he didn't care about this man's approval, and he didn't like how charming he was trying to be. They were hiding something from him, something big.

"Had you ever met a dragon before?"

"No."

"Do you have a wand?" Professor Flitwick asked.

Harry shook his head, "No, they don't work well for me." Maybe if they had gone into a shop for wands and not just picked from the slim selections of his assassins, but they had deduced that wands were registered and that underaged wizards had tracking spells put on those registered wands. That tidbit had been in an outed book they had read in America, but it was enough that they decided he would be better off going without.

The small but kind professor smiled at him, "Wands can be tricky, have you tried Mr. Ollivander's shop?"

Harry shook his head.

"Have you ever been to Diagon Alley?" Professor Snape asked.

He nodded, "For the first time this month, we walked here from London."

The man's onyx eyes went a bit wide, "Walked?"

"Along the tracks, we would have gotten here sooner but we stopped to sight see and visit a few of the towns. Scotland has some incredible places."

They all stared at him, looking mistified.

Hadn't these people ever heard of backpacking?

"Who is 'we'?" The Headmaster asked.

"My mother and I."

"Is she a witch?"

Harry nodded again, "Yes, she is, not that it's really any of your business."

"So she trained you? And despite never seeing a dragon before, you knew enough to handle one? You know enough about the Wizarding World not to be surprised by any of the magic around you, yet you've only recently been to magical London." the last was more of a statement.

Harry was done with this line of questioning. They weren't asking about his life and his mother for his education. This wasn't an enrollment discussion, they were trying to figure out where he'd been for the last thirteen years and if his mother was a criminal. He could see it on their faces.

So Harry took control of the discussion, "What I want to know is why was I entered into a competition like this without my consent?"

Silence greeted him.

"We don't know," the Headmaster said finally.

Harry leaned back in his seat, "So was this a ploy to find me, or another assassination attempt? Because whoever this 'Dark Lord' is trying to kill me, he's going to have to do better than a dragon."

Harry watched the professors involuntary jerks, the widening of their eyes, and the thoughts flying over their expressions. Harry kept his own expression relaxed, careful not to let his body language give him away.

But he realized he was finally going to get some answers. He knew the Dark Lord wanted to kill him, he knew that his followers thought that their 'Lost Lord' might return if they killed him, but what he didn't know was why.

And Harry could tell that at least two people in this room knew exactly why, it was written on the brief glimpse of guilt on Professor Snape's face and the sharpening of focus in Mr. Dumbledore's anything but innocent baby-blues.

Minerva landed on her feet in James Potter's office in the Ministry.

He looked up, surprised as she brushed the ash off.

"Professor?" he asked.

"Where's Lily?" Minerva asked.

James stood, and walked to the wall, he pounded a fist to it and yelled, "Lils!"

A loud bang sounded on the other side of the wall like she had thrown something heavy at her side of the wall, maybe a book. Lily always seemed to have large tomes at hand.

A moment later she stormed into the room, "How many times do I have to tell you? I have my own office door, you d- Minerva?"

"We found him," Minerva said.

"What!?" James and Lily exclaimed.

Sirius popped his head in then, "Yo, what's all the noise about, and why wasn't I invited? Oh, hi, McGonagall."

Minerva ignored him, "Harry appeared for the First Task. Your son is at Hogwarts now."

They all gaped at her.

Minerva reached over the fireplace and grabbed a handful of powder, throwing it into the fire and saying, "McGonagall's Office."

James, Lily, and Sirius were hot on her heels.

Harry officially disliked both the Headmaster and Snape. Instead of answering any of his questions, 'that were adult problems,' they kept asking about his mother.

Having enough, he stood, Fawkes flying back to his own perch in the room, "Why can't you answer any of my questions?"

"Mr. Potter-"

"My name is Harry Romanoff," he said through gritted teeth. Why couldn't they get that through their heads? "Plenty of adoptive kids had their last names changed. I thought the British prided themselves on polite talk, you are being uncommonly rude."

Hot potato.

"Stop that," he demanded, "What is wrong with you people?"

"Your parents," Professor Flitwick said softly, "aren't dead."

Harry looked down at the man, about to tell him just how much 'rubbish' that was when the office door opened. He turned expecting to see Professor McGonagall, but in front of her were two strangers and one behind her.

A woman, whose face and hair tugged at an old nightmare, and a man, who looked like an older version of his own reflection.

Your parents aren't dead.

Harry's entire world spun on its axis, and he felt as lost as they looked.

This was impossible.

They were dead.

Mom would-

Mom.

Harry's heart broke. How was he supposed to explain this to her? She would never willingly have kept him away from his birth parents. And if she found out that they had been alive this whole time… God. She would never forgive herself.

Shaking himself, determined not to make this a bigger mess than it already was, Harry stuck out his hand, "Hi, I'm Harry Romanoff, it's nice to meet you." He made sure to let the mix of Russian and American accents dominate his English. He could mimic every person in this room, but he wanted it clear that he wasn't one of them.

James's heart plummeted.

Harry Romanoff, not Harry Potter. Though this was unmistakably his son, Lily's eyes stared out at him from his own younger reflection.

Was he Russian? They had gone to search for him in Russia more than once, as well as America. Though an American accent could mean he just watched American Media, like the movies Lily brought him and Sirius to, perhaps it's how he learned English.

The thought that English might not have been his son's first language bothered him, a lot.

He recovered before Lily did, extending his right hand, he clasped hands with his son, "James Potter," he said, then couldn't help but add, "Your dad."

Harry's handshake was strong and he let go too soon, and repeated pleasantly, "It's nice to meet you."

Lily, unsurprisingly, didn't settle for a handshake, she rushed him, wrapping Harry in a hug.

Harry stiffened, and James held his breath, not knowing what Lily would do, if she could even handle being pushed away and rejected by him.

But Harry, wrapped his arms around her, perhaps without quite as much enthusiasm, but not without feeling.

James heard him say to her ever so softly, "I'm so sorry."

After a minute though, Harry pulled back, and James put a hand to Lily's shoulder. Thankfully, she didn't fight him, retreating back to his side giving their long lost son breathing space.

James said, "And this is your mother, Lily Potter."

Harry's smile looked forced, and not as coolly as he had greeted James, he said in a tight voice, "Hi."

The moment was awkward, but James let himself just absorb the fact that his son was alive, alive and healthy.

Lily broke that silence, "You have to know, Harry, we never stopped looking for you. We never gave up on you, not ever."

Harry opened his mouth then closed it, then seemed to make a decision and asked so bluntly to put Sirius to shame, "Right, but why aren't you dead?"

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall chided.

Harry glared at her then at him and Lily, "I saw you die. The only memory I have of you, dim as it is, is you begging for my life, that madman's laughter, presumably," he made air quotes, "'the Dark Lord,' followed by a green light and then you dropped. I even, very, very dimly," he pointed a James, "remember before that, you telling her," pointing at Lily, "To take me and run. You both died. And no one gets up from an A.K."

"A.K.?" Sirius asked, finally speaking up.

"Avada Kedavra," Harry said brazenly, and everyone in the room flinched.

Lily answered softly, "And you were hit with it too, but you came back."

Harry looked at her, then said slowly, "the green light at the end…" he shook his head. "So Death brought us all back… Why?"

"Death isn't a person," McGonagall said.

Harry met her gaze and said with complete seriousness, "Just because you haven't met someone doesn't mean they don't exist."

In any other circumstance, James would have laughed at the expression on his old Head of House's face. She looked like she had bitten into a lemon.

"But you were dead, right?" Harry asked them, "When Mom saved me, you were still dead." He said it more like a statement, as if it were fact that he had been told.

"I'm your mother," Lily said, the jealousy in her voice thinly veiled.

"No," Harry said firmly, "You're my birth mother. My Mom, Natasha Romanoff, raised me. I'm her son."

James shut his eyes and took in deep breaths, his hand tightening on Lily's shoulder, her hand covered his. They had lost their son, missed out on his entire life. This person, their little boy, had grown up without them. He was a stranger to them. Lily leaned back against him, as if her legs couldn't quite hold her up.

There were no words for this pain.

Sirius, good old Sirius, stepped up, "Yes, Lily and James died that night, and they came back that same night. We looked for you. We all did. Whoever this Natasha is, she kidnapped you."

Harry's expression darkened, and he seemed to close down, he took a step back and to the side so that the Headmaster was no longer behind him. "And who the hell are you?"

And James blamed Lily's penchant for action movies, because with the Russian accent, James felt a flash of fear of Harry at that moment. He sounded, well not evil, but like the proverbial bad guy, even if he was just a kid.

"I, Mr. Harry Potter, am your godfather, or maybe," Sirius who had no sense of self-preservation, grinned cheekily, "dogfather, Sirius Black, and if your parents had stayed dead, you should have come to live with me, as opposed to being kidnapped and brainwashed by some Russian chick."

Harry's response was succinct, "Fuck you."

Clearly, the boy's patience for this screwed up circumstance had a limit.

Unsurprisingly, Sirius seemed to be the end of that limit.

Still, McGonagall and Lily both chided, "Language."

Harry glared at them all, "Listen, I didn't come here to find a family I didn't know existed. I came here to compete in the stupid tournament, that no one seems willing to tell me anything about, and possibly attend school here for a year, maybe two." And he looked as if he was having real doubts about the latter.

James felt like things were moving too fast, he couldn't lose him again. He couldn't survive it. But before he could decide on the perfect words, on the one thing to say that would get him to say, Lily asked a question that was more level headed.

"Did you compete?"

He nodded, "I did. And before we talk about the stupidity of throwing students in a pen with dragons for sport. Can someone explain to me why the Dark Lord wants me dead? And who is he? None of my assassins ever gave him a name."

"Assassins," Lily murmured in horror.

"Voldemort," Sirius answered, "And his followers want you dead because you're the Boy Who Lived, the night he hit you with the killing curse, was the night Voldemort was destroyed."

"Is Voldemort dead?"

Several voices answered yes and several answered no.

"Glad we cleared that up," Harry said dryly.

"How many assassins were there?" Lily asked.

Harry shrugged, "Maybe a dozen or so. My mom would know exactly, I don't remember them all."

Lily didn't correct him this time, though James knew she wanted to.

"If you had stayed with us, you would have been safe," Sirius said.

Harry crossed his arms, and asked with enough sarcasm to make James's teeth hurt, "Really?"

Sirius puffed out his chest, "Of course, we're the good guys."

James spoke before Sirius could say something else insufferable, "Harry, where have you been all these years? All the spells we used… they led us all over the world."

"Well, that would be because I was all over the world. I mean aside from no long stretches of time spent in the UK, we've been nearly everywhere. I was homeschooled, so we just kept moving."

"And you never thought that people who loved you might be looking for you?" Sirius asked.

"No," Harry said firmly, "Because the 'good guys' would have gone to the police. We haven't been hiding. We used the same names, the same passports for the last thirteen years. If you were able to track even a portion of all the places we've been and gone to any, what is that word you people use? 'Muggle' police force in almost any nation, the name 'Harry' would have come up in correlation with the places I've been. Typically, it is only bad guys who don't go to the police."

James felt gut punched. They were Aurors, they were the police, and they could have gone to the muggles. And they did originally, but after a year… well, the description of a baby named Harry didn't have any leads. It never occurred to them to ask the muggles once enough years had passed, without a description, without proof that Harry was somehow alive, muggle law would have pronounced him dead.

They never thought that all the tracking spells they used had worked, that a list of countries with approximated dates over the years would have been enough evidence for the muggles to find their son.

"So our spells did work," Snape said, "A few years back, you were in Ireland, then Norway, then Japan?"

Harry nodded, and gave Snape an unfriendly look, "Yes, and that confirms our suspicion that we were being followed. What type of spell did you use? It is pretty rare people get that close."

The way he said people James was pretty sure he had Snape's past figured out.

"How did we never see you?" Lily asked, "You look just like James?"

Harry uncrossed his arms, and threaded a hand through his hair that looked as wild as James's. Poor kid.

"My mom used to be on a task force, a military unit of sorts. The real question is how we never saw you?"

The answer was because they had always gone undercover, they had assumed a Death Eater had Harry, because why else would they be running?

The extent of the misunderstanding that had happened, the pain that it had brought them all…

"We were wearing disguises to hide from your kidnapper," Sirius said, "But you're home now, you're safe now."

Harry actually snorted, which was the least controlled reaction they had gotten out of him, "This isn't my home, and the dragon sort of dispelled any notion of safety, if you know, a school full of underaged magic users was ever really safe."

"Hogwarts is the safest place on the planet," Sirius retorted.

Harry smiled, though the expression was not kind, and he said something in Russian that sounded oddly beautiful, completely fluent, and not in any way flattering.

Out of anyone in the room, it was only and oddly, Phineas Nigellus Black who reacted to Harry's words, the portrait laughed.

Apparently, Lily and James were going to need to learn Russian. Even Dumbledore looked blank.

"Right," James said, "Sirius is a moron, but he's right, you are safe now. We can keep you safe. We promise."

Harry looked at him with eyes that were older than they should have been, "I doubt it. The people who want me dead will stop at nothing. This one guy snuck into our train compartment as a rat. A freaking rat."

They all went still, and James asked in a voice that wasn't his own, "What happened to him?"

"I stumped it out. I hate rats. Nasty vermin that carry diseases around, poop everywhere, and eat everything. They will eat people if they can get away with it, they have ticks, and just, -they are gross. The stupid thing tried crawling up my leg. So I kicked it and crushed it repeatedly beneath my boot. It wasn't until it was dead that it turned out to be a wizard. You should have seen my mom's expression. She isn't afraid of anything, but for months afterward, she was suspicious of every animal, small or large."

They gaped at him.

Wormtail was dead.

Their son had killed Peter Pettigrew. It was a fitting end but…

"You killed him?" Dumbledore asked, accusation in his voice. Dumbledore, ever the man of second chances, looked appalled.

"Yeah," Harry said, "I did. It was a hassle rolling that fat creep off the train. And no, I don't feel bad about it, it was self-defence. We checked his arms." He tapped his left forearm, "he was another Death Eater, another freaking assassin. I'm not going to apologize for killing him, nor would I apologize for killing a rat. The only thing rats are good for is snake food."

"Very Slytherin of you," Snape said, a little smugly.

But Harry seemed to know the relation between Death Eaters and that house because he said, "Death Eaters are Slytherins." And he gave Snape a look that said he had guessed, correctly, what Snape had once been.

Snape, however, smirked and the bastard said, "Peter Pettigrew, the rat you put out of its misery, was a Gryffindor, like your parents."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the bite in his voice, and he looked at James and Lily for confirmation, reluctantly they both nodded. Harry frowned, "You knew him personally."

They nodded again and Lily spat, "Peter betrayed us."

His green eyes went wide, "You were friends with him?"

"I didn't say that," she said.

"But it's the truth," he challenged. "You have poor taste in friends." His gaze slipped ever so briefly to Sirius.

This, James decided, wasn't going well.

"Harry, your mother and I have made mistakes, but we're your parents, we love you. We want you back in our lives, whatever that means."

A tension seemed to go out of Harry, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

What James wanted to hear was something along the lines of, 'I've wanted to meet you my entire life. I don't know you yet but I love you too.'

What they got was a look of pity.

Whoever this Natasha Romanoff was, either she had truly brainwashed him, or she had given him such a good life that he wanted for nothing, not materially or emotionally.

That someone had filled the void where James and Lily were supposed to be was agony, but James could admit, however reluctantly, that he would be grateful that his son had led a happy, loved filled life.

He was safe, alive and well, and if James kept telling himself that maybe it could ease the fears he had lived with over the last decade and more.

Harry said, "I would like to get to know you better, but you have to understand, I have a home, a family."

Lily reached out a hand, stepping forward, and James caught her around the waist, sensing that if she crowded Harry he might step back, might bolt. "We're your family."

"You are my biological family. And you might be good people, but biology doesn't dictate that I would have been better off with you."

Even Sirius didn't argue this time.

James tried again, "Please, Harry, all that we ask is that you give us a chance." And don't run away from us. Don't disappear.

Harry looked suddenly exhausted, and James remembered that the boy had faced a dragon today, Lily seemed to be on the same wavelength because she asked, "Are you okay? Were you hurt at all today?"

"No, I'm fine, it wasn't that hard really."

James blinked, in whose definition was dragon not hard?

"You could have been really hurt," Lily said, glaring at Dumbledore.

Harry shrugged, "Only if I messed up, which I didn't."

James had the distinct feeling that he had a lot to learn about his son.

"Perhaps," Flitwick ventured, "We should give it a rest for this evening. Dinner will start soon, and I'm sure," he gave James and Lily an apologetic look, "Mr. Romanoff needs to refuel and get a good night of sleep."

James swallowed the panic that even the thought of parting with Harry caused, but it was only sense. If they pushed much further tonight he might run again. That much was plain.

It had to be enough that he was safe and that they knew where he was.

Harry couldn't keep the relief off his face, he hadn't been prepared for this. He was completely blindsided by this series of events. And frankly, he had shared more than he wanted to. He didn't trust these people, and he wasn't comfortable with this interrogation.

He couldn't think what he wanted from his biological parents. He had never fantasized about them being alive. They were dead. It was him and Natasha against the world, that was the way it had always been. The idea that he had more family out there…

And suddenly he did have a question, "Do I have siblings?"

"No," James, his father said, and he looked defeated, as if he thought he didn't deserve more children.

Harry was done with this, these people were too emotional, wanted too much from him. He needed to get away from them, "My mom bought me the fourth year books. Can I attend classes here for the year? The letter said the tournament lasts the entire year."

Lily nodded, "Of course you can. Your tuition is already paid for."

Harry felt uneasy accepting anything from these people, "My mom can affor-"

"No," James cut him off, "we are your parents, whether you accept us or not, we can and have paid for your education."

Harry wanted away from them and could tell from the look on their faces that they wouldn't budge on this, "Thanks, so can I start classes with the others?"

"You will need a wand," Dumbledore said, "And we'll need to know what your magical education has been like before this, you said you're guardian was a witch, no?"

Harry stiffened, not liking the condescension in the Headmaster's voice. Harry twisted his hand, and all the little twirling trinkets on the old man's desk shattered, he opened his palm, the shiny shards stayed suspended like pieces of snowflakes caught in an upward draft, then he closed his fist, and all those objects remade themselves.

Everyone in the room gaped at him, apparently, that little parlour trick was impressive, wait until they saw what he could do with a shield charm. "I'm pretty good with wandless magic," he said, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.

"You'll need to be sorted," Professor Sprout spoke up.

Professor McGonagall asked, "It involves putting on the Sorting Hat, would you rather be sorted here, or in front of the other students?"

"Here," he answered, not wanting to be any more of a spectacle. He would be happy to get some time to himself to digest all that had happened.

He had one week to figure out how to explain this to Mom.

McGonagall walked over to a shelf and pulled down a beat up hat. "Have a seat," she instructed.

"I can stand and wear a hat at the same time," Harry said dryly, letting his Russian accent thicken, making the words mocking even though his tone didn't change.

The muscles around her eyes tightened, and his parents' postures shifted.

No, they didn't like that he was a foreigner, not at all. He hadn't lied when he said he was more Russian than British, and though he had never lived long enough in any one country to claim kinship with, he was what his mother was, and Natasha Romanoff, at her core was Russian, and perhaps a bit Russian-American, which is how Harry saw himself.

The hat was lowered over his head, and it slipped over his eyes. He didn't jump when a voice exclaimed in his head, though it was a near thing.

Oh my! My dear, dear Romanoff, the worlds you've seen.

Harry didn't try to speak back though he worried what the hat might share to these people. He didn't want his private life known to them.

I want to say a word to them, my job is to sort, nothing more, the Headmaster won't get a word from me. I swear it, Mr. Romanoff.

Harry relaxed, and stood still, letting himself retreat into his own thoughts while no one was trying to question him.

About ten minutes passed before the hat growled, I can't decide, I can't decide! You are such an even mix of Slytherin and Gryffindor. I think, from your memories, I would place your mother in Slytherin, but you are somewhat like your biological parents too, and you would do well in Gryffindor. But you might truly shine in Slytherin. You can talk to snakes, you would get on well there. They aren't as bad as their reputation.

Harry shrugged, and thought at the hat, I'm fine with whatever. Do you think I will do well here?

My boy! You will do fantastic here. So much power… you might flounder a bit in the beginning, but I know you will surpass all expectations. The question is, do you want glory or acceptance more?

Neither, Harry thought, I came here to keep my magic and learn. I don't care what anyone else thinks of me. I would be happy if they didn't notice me at all.

The hat laughed aloud, Well then, I guess my first estimation was mistaken, it must be - "RAVENCLAW."

Professor McGonagall lifted that hat off, and she was smiling at him as was Professor Flitwick, who was, Harry realized, his head of house.

"You were a Hatstall," the Headmaster said, and Harry couldn't tell if he was pleased or not.

"It was undecided between Slytherin or Gryffindor, said I was a perfect split, then decided on Ravenclaw as the tiebreaker," he answered.

They looked surprised at that.

"Well," Professor Flitwick said, standing to his feet, he was shorter on his own two feet then in the chair, "I'll take you down to dinner."

Lily was beside herself, she wanted to cling to her son and never let him go. But the rational part of her brain told her that she would lose him again if she tried anything of the sort.

They had been so close to finding him, so many times, the magic had worked, but still, he had slipped past them.

Herself, James, and Sirius were three of the best Aurors in the country. It rankled that this Natasha Romanoff might be better. Though, if they killed the Death Eaters they met, not that Lily mourned that skum, then it meant that Natasha Romanoff maybe wasn't the most moral person.

Filius gave them sympathetic looks, but went for the exit, Harry followed without preamble.

Her heart got stuck in her throat, "Good night, Harry." I love you.

"Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," he said, hardly pausing before following Flitwick out of the room.

She couldn't breathe.

James hugged her from behind and she didn't know what she would have done without her husband's arms, his support, knowing that he was feeling everything she felt.

"Well," Sirius said, "at least he's alive."

Lily jerked away from James and smacked the fleabag over the back of the head, James smacked him too.

"You idiot! You didn't use a lick of tack!" Lily exclaimed.

"You should have kept your mouth shut," James backed her up.

Lily turned on Severus, "And you were not much better," she pointed at Dumbledore next, "Or you. Did none of you think we deserved a private moment with our son?"

Minerva shook her head, "It probably would have been best if you hadn't met him today at all. He thought you were dead."

"And he didn't seem thrilled to see us alive," James said darkly.

"He must be exhausted," Pomona defended.

"How did his First Task go?" James asked, "He looked a little dusty, did he need to see Poppy at all?"

"No, he was completely unharmed. He was phenomenal," Minerva said, "He didn't use any magic, he just ran at it."

Lily's heart stopped, "Hey ran at a dragon?"

"Without a wand," Sev offered helpfully.

She was going to kill them all. "How could you let him compete!?"

"He jumped on the Horntail's head," Minerva continued, not answering her question.

"A Horntail?" James asked, his voice sounding breathy.

Minerva went on, "He held onto one of its head spikes, then slipped under her belly, snagged an egg, crawled out behind it, then scaled one of the stands. Not a scratch, not the tiniest bit singed. He was the quickest out of any of the champions and he did all without magic."

With magic, what was their son capable of?

James noted, "He was able to wield his magic without a wand or a spoken spell."

What else was Harry capable of? Aloud, she asked, "Does anyone know of or even heard of Natasha Romanoff?"

They all shook their heads, but Dumbledore said, "I'll contact the Russian school."

James took her hand, "Lils, we should go home."

She did not want to leave. She wanted to go down to the Great Hall and be with her son. She wanted to hold him, Merlin help her, she would be happy just to stare at him.

But she knew that wouldn't help matters, knew that they couldn't stay here. They had to prove themselves to Harry, and giving him space was a part of that.

Seeming to think that she was going to argue, James said, "We can regain custody, Lils, but we need to go home for tonight."

"No," she said, her throat so tight it hurt to speak, "he'll be an adult in less than three years. If we force anything on him, he'll run." If she had learned anything about Harry tonight, it was that.

James wrapped her in another hug, and she felt the weight of the world began to crash around her.

What in the world were they supposed to do next?

AN: Comments, reactions, thoughts, or wishes meant for shooting stars that are really shrapnel from space trash collisions? Please?

Chapter 5: Sticks and Spiders

KEYNOTE: I will be bringing in more Marvel at some point, this plot gets trippy ;)

AN: Thank you to all of my reviewers! I received top marks, one might say an Outstanding, on my thesis. So thank you to all my reviewers who have been making this hobby fun and helping me manage stress and depression by not feeling quite so alone. Also Darkw01fie: the answer is yes. ;)

Chapter 5 - Sticks and Spiders

Harry was so tired he just wanted to eat and collapse. No part of him wanted to socialize, but he was hungry enough that it was worth it.

"You ready?" Professor Flitwick asked.

No, he wasn't, but he was hungry, so he nodded.

He was a stress eater, or as his mom liked to say, a black hole disguised as a teenager.

He always blamed her for his fast metabolism, he trained harder than most professional athletes. Not that he minded, Harry enjoyed working out, loved being outdoors, and like an average boy, he did like sports. He also enjoyed being one of the best no matter what ring he jumped into.

The professor opened the doors to the Great Hall, and the noisy room fell silent.

Harry stared at the students, divided by four tables, a head table was adjacent to those tables at the back of the hall. The other professors and staff sat there, staring at him like the rest. The ceiling… the ceiling was nothing short of incredible, enchanted to reveal the starry sky with hundreds of candles suspended in the air.

Professor Flitwick sighed, then said in a projected volume, "Mr. Romanoff was sorted into Ravenclaw."

The room broke out in cheers and applause. Two redheads bellowed, "Dragon Jumper!"

Following the professor, Harry had no trouble locating the Ravenclaw table, as they were by far the loudest.

He heard one of student grouch from the far left table, "At least it wasn't Gryffindor. I can get behind a Ravenclaw champion."

Harry paused by a group of blue tied students that looked about his age, two pretty girls, one bushy-haired and the other with lush dark hair, parted to make a seat for him.

Professor Flitwick paused to give him a smile over his shoulder before continuing to the head table.

Sitting down, Harry tried to take in everything around him at once, it was difficult, he had been in crowds before, but he had never had the attention of so many people before while sitting down with them.

He noted that the line of students on the other side of this table weren't wearing black robes, but pale blue ones. The girl immidately across from him gave him a shrewd look and said, almost hostility, "Bonjour, my name is Fleur Delacour. I am the champion from the French School, Beauxbatons."

Her Parisian accent told him she was likely from a suburb in Paris, so he answered back in Parisian French, flavouring his words with a Russian lilt. It was kind of fun, and both languages were meant to be smooth, well as compared to English and German, "Je m'appelle Harry Romanoff. Enchantée." He held out her hand to her.

She blinked at him, then smiled beautifully, and shook his hand in a firm grip, "Enchanté, Monsieur Romanoff."

"You're French?" the girl to his right asked.

"Non," Fleur answered, "He's Russian."

He nodded, "And you are?"

The girl flushed, "Hermione Granger, it's nice to meet you."

The girl on the other side of him said, "And I'm her best friend, Padma Patil."

Harry smiled at them both, "You wouldn't happen to be fourth years would you?"

Padma smirked, "We are, though Fleur isn't, she is a legal adult, seventeen year old in her final year."

Seventeen? Harry wondered.

"You weren't supposed to be able to compete unless you were of legal age," Hermione informed him, "Of course, your name showing up at all was odd. You're a legend."

"A dead legend," Padma muttered, "No one, well, except for the Potters, thought you were alive."

People around them starting to eat even as the twisted in the seats to stare at him and eavesdrop. He started pulling food on his own plate. He sipped from a glass of some orange liquid, it turned out to be pumpkin juice.

Interesting. But not bad, not bad at all.

"Why am I a legend?" he asked, then took a bit of a forkful of something warm and steamy. He tried very hard not scarf it down. Small, slow bites.

"You're the Boy Who Lived," Hermione said, sounding surprised he didn't know, "You survived the killing curse. No one survives the killing curse. Not ever. You're the only one, thus you became a legend."

Harry paused to stare at her, trying to picture the two people he met today spreading that rumour around.

He couldn't. Especially, since they had apparently survived it too.

"Is the scar really shaped like a lightning bolt?" a boy asked a few seats down.

Harry felt suddenly subconscious, "How do you know about the scar?"

The boy, who was leaning so far forward, he had only to turn his head to kiss the roasted chicken, said, "Well, it's on your forehead, isn't it?"

Harry frowned, and his expression must have been darker than he meant it to be because the boy apologized and sat back.

Fleur asked, "Ça va?"

He shook his head and turned back to Hermione, "So according to you, I'm a legend because I am the only person to survive the killing curse, and somehow, this legend includes that I have a scar on my face?" Despite the fact that the only person to know that should be my Mom, well my real mom, Natasha. His birth parents never saw him again after Voldemort cursed him. Well, his assains clearly knew he existed and had quite possibly seen his scar, but it hardly seemed likely that Voldemort's supporters would make Harry out to be some kind of hero. Which led him to another question, "Is Voldemort dead?"

He knew the Death Eaters didn't believe he was, but then they were all bat-shit.

Everyone around him gasped, a few people even looked as if they would faint. Hermione's face was the picture of shock, while Padma and Fleur watched him carefully.

"What?" he asked.

"You aren't supposed to say his name," Hermione entoned, as if it were some law he had just spat at.

"Why?" he asked, then teased, "Is it magic?"

"No, but he did such horrible things, that people still fear his name to this day," Padma explained.

He turned to her, "So what do you call him?"

"He Who Must Not Be Named, or You Know Who."

Harry kept his face neutral, but he thought that was next level stupid. Bad things happened in the world, not talking about them, not naming them, meant that they were never understood. Historically speaking, political campaigns, bloody and ugly, that were not understood, tended to repeat themselves.

"Right," he said, "but he is dead?

"Oui, that's why you are a legend," Fleur explained, "because you not only survived the killing curse, but you destroyed him."

"I destroyed the Dark Lord?" Harry repeated, his lips twitching.

"Yes, you did," Hermione told him, as if she were telling him some undeniable truth. "You saved the United Kingdoms, he would have destroyed the Wizarding World as well as the mug-"

Harry laughed aloud, he couldn't help it, maybe if he wasn't so tired... but jeez that was just too much. He knew the Wizarding World was weird but this was cracked.

Hermione crossed her arms, "What's so funny?"

Everyone was staring at him now, and the other Heads of House and Dumbledore were entering the room, his birth parents must have left.

He hoped they had, he didn't need another over-protective guardian.

The thought of having to tell his Mom about the Potters sobered him, but he still said, "It's not funny, it's hilarious that people believe a babydefeated a Dark Lord."

Hermione glared him, and he decided that she really didn't like to be told she was mistaken.

Tough shit, lady.

"That's why it's legendary. No one can explain it, but the facts remain that a baby survived a killing curse and You Know Who was vanquished, that's magic, magic in its rawest form," she said.

Harry shook his head, and took another bite of food, chewed, swallowed, and then said, "Or maybe, and this is a super far fetched, illogical thought, but maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the two adult magic users in the house. But I'm sure that can't possibly be it. It was definitely the baby."

Some kid behind him who had been eavesdropping chimed in, "But it had to be you! You're Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. You proved that today, facing a dragon without using magic, how else would you prove that?"

Harry felt like he had just landed on some alien planet from his mother's stories. Did that boy even hear himself? Harry wasn't even sure how to reason with that kind of dumb.

Fleur spoke up, clearly having read some of his thoughts on his expression, "I saw your trial, you did very well."

He smiled, "Thanks. It was kind of fun."

"Fun?" Padma asked.

"My mom and I do extreme hiking, trust me, magma can kill you just a surely as dragon fire."

"Your mom had you hiking on volcanoes?" Hermione asked.

He shrugged, "You never know when the earth will crack beneath your feet, it's a useful thing to know how to handle yourself around that kind of heat. Besides some of the most beautiful islands on the planet were created by volcanoes."

People were starting to get up and Harry made it point to finish his plate and get some dessert before curfew.

An older Ravenclaw boy came around to him, introducing himself as a. prefect, and began to explain to Harry some of the basic rules.

He tried paying attention, he really did, but when he was introduced to his new bed, he hardly had the energy to change into pyjamas before slipping between the sheets.

Tomorrow would be a rough day, the prospect of his first day of magical school not half so daunting as telling his mom his other mom was still alive.

He couldn't wait a week, he would have to tell her tomorrow night.

Remus was rather irked to receive the morning paper.

The NEWS was that not only was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, truly alive but he had competed in the Triwizard tournament, receiving the highest mark against a dragon. And apparently, he hadn't used magic either.

Nothing in the article speculated about Lily or James, they were probably saving that for the next issue of Family Reunited.

Remus apparated first to Sirius' place pounding on the door, then he crossed the hall to pound on James and Lily's flat door.

Sirius opened the door, looking tired.

"You couldn't have sent an owl? Anything?" Remus demanded.

Sirius shook his head, and said in a low voice, "They haven't slept, they haven't said a word. They just pace or stare off into space."

Remus pushed past him, it always surprised him how bad Sirius could be at handling emotional crises. He was actually pretty good in the moment, though there were those who would argue that, but afterwards? Afterwards, he was like a lost puppy looking for approval.

Lily was staring out the window, James standing in the kitchen, both looked like robots, disconnected from life.

"Harry's alive," Remus stated.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "You don't think I tried that. Also, while we're on the topic, I should mention, Pettigrew is dead."

Remus turned on him, "What did you say?"

"Pettigrew," Sirius repeated, locking the door behind him, "Is. Dead."

"How?"

"Harry killed him. Said the worm tried crawling up his leg and he killed that rat like a rat."

Remus gaped at him, poor Harry… "He must have been traumatized when he turned back into a human."

Sirius shrugged, "He seemed more pissed about it, to be honest with yo- Would you two wake up!?"

Neither Lily nor James so much as twitched a pinkie finger.

Sirius sighed, "I guess I should be grateful they didn't try going into work."

"Have they ever taken a day off?" Remus asked.

"Nope," he answered, popping the p, "Well, yes, but tracking Harry isn't exactly time off from work."

"So where was he?"

Sirius sighed again, disapparated, and when he returned he had a large bottle of alcohol with him and four glasses. "Now that he's safe, we can drink at the Potters," he said it triumphantly.

Remus frowned at him, "It is too early to drink."

"Speak for yourself," Sirius said, pouring himself a healthy measure, or an unhealthy measure, depending on how you looked at it, "I haven't slept a wink yet, neither have they. Lily-Flower!" He yelled suddenly, "James! Come have a drink or go the fuck to bed."

James seemed to partially come alive at this, and walked into the living room stiffly. Neither he nor Lily drank, fearing becoming alcoholics with the shit hand they had been dealt.

But now James took the glass Sirius offered him, and tipped it back in one gulp. He made a sour expression.

Remus thought it was from the taste and strength until, James said with such loathing in his voice it scared Remus, "Vodka."

"Do you not like Vodka?" Remus asked.

"It's Russian," James said, expression dark and distant.

"What's wrong with Russia?"

"Harry's Russian," Lily said, drifting over, and sitting down on the floor beside Sirius. She put her head on his shoulder and he put an arm around her.

"It's okay Lils, we'll convert him to our empire."

She shut her eyes, then said to Remus, "He wasn't just in Russia, he was everywhere, and all our tracking spells worked, we just missed him."

"Who took him?" Remus asked.

"A Russian," James spat.

Okay, Remus thought, "And have you met this Russian?"

Lily shook her head against Sirius's shoulder, "Natasha Romanoff. And he loves her."

"He took her name," James said angrily. "He says he's not a Potter, he's a Russian."

"You going to have to let the Russian thing go," Remus said jokingly, "It makes you sound like a nationalist."

James met his gaze, and Remus flinched, the look in those hazel eyes... "Our Harry said he is Harry Romanoff, he doesn't want anything to do with us."

"He didn't care that we were alive," Lily said so softly, Remus almost didn't hear her.

Sirius gave him a desperate look.

Remus stood up, "Alright, that's enough." He pulled his wand and disappeared the offending vodka.

"Hey!" Sirius protested.

Remus shook his head, "No, enough pity party. You three have been stuck in 1981 for the last thirteen years. Harry's alive, and despite being 'Russian,' he sounds like he's doing just fine."

Lily looked at him sadly, "He doesn't need us. He doesn't want us."

"Bullshit," Remus snapped.

James turned on him, "Don't you swear at her. You have no idea-"

"Did he know?"

"Did he know what?"

"Did he know you were alive and looking for him, or did you both drop down all this information on him without warning, claiming to be his real parents?"

James glared at him.

Remus sighed, "If his adoptive family loved him, then of course, he would be wary of you both. He isn't a little kid anymore, you both probably freaked him out. But no matter how happy his childhood was, every kid wants to know who their birth parents were or are."

Lily just shook her head.

"Stand up," Remus demanded, "Lily, stand up."

"Why?" she asked listlessly.

"We need to get this place cleaned up, and maybe go furniture shopping."

"Why?" Lily repeated.

"Because I have been in storage rooms with more personality than this flat. Do you really want to bring your son over here for dinner with the choice of a love seat sofa or an office chair to sit in? He's going to think your both dull workaholics."

"They are dull workaholics," Sirius said cheerfully.

James frowned at him, "No, we're not."

"Really?" Remus challenged, "Then find three objects in this apartment that aren't grey, black, or white."

Lily sat up, looking around, then pointed at the medium sized bookshelf.

"Lily dear," Remus said gently, "The books on that shelf that aren't spell books for tracking or potions, are handbooks for Aurors."

She frowned, then seemed to see where she had been living for the first time since leaving Godric's Hollow.

Her mouth seemed to open in a small 'O' of surprise.

It was a one bedroom apartment, with one couch, one bookshelf, two office desk with two lamps, and two office chairs. They were all some shade of grey, black, or white.

And they all knew that their clothes selection did not improve the matter. Their kitchen was clean but characterless. No decorations were hung on the walls, and the only pictures sat on their desks. One of baby Harry, one of the Dursely's, and the other two of their deceased parents.

"James?" Lily said, sounding lost, "I think we should move."

James sighed, "Whatever you say Lils."

Sirius and Remus exchanged a long look. This was going to be a long road. Even if Harry wanted to be with his birth parents, Lily and James weren't in any condition to take care of another person.

Remus didn't know if it would make things worse or better when they realized that for themselves.

Harry was somewhat of a deep sleeper, unless someone yelled or something touched him. His mom usually woke him, either by touching his hair or his ankle.

What he was not in any way used to was a stranger, grabbing his arm, shaking him, and yelling, "Wake up, Potter!"

The boy, whose name he learned later that morning was Michael Corner, ended up with a broken nose and bruised tailbone. Harry had dressed quickly in his new robes, then half helped, half carried, Corner to the medical wing.

Madam Pomfrey had greeted with, "Great, you're another James, just what this school didn't need. You stay away from the Weasley twins, you hear me?"

Harry didn't know what this meant, but having missed breakfast, he ran to his first class, taking two wrong turns, and just making it inside before the bell rang.

Professor McGonagall didn't acknowledge him as he slid into a seat beside Padma.

"Did you really attack Corner?" Hermione asked him after McGonagall gave her instructions.

Instructions, that to Harry's mind made no sense.

"I was deeply asleep," he muttered, pulling out his textbook and flipping to the right page. Hedgehog to Pincushion.

Harry frowned, the Latin made sense, the process of the magic did not. Harry had always imagined magic to be like an energy, a force to be wielded, but turning one living creature into an inanimate object?

Would the hedgehog die? What if he messed up? How did he even begin?

Harry didn't do transfiguration. He'd read about it, of course, but it seemed to be a magic, or at least the spells -this one included, that required a wand.

His mom had managed a few of these kinds of spells, but she did have a wand.

"Mr. Po-" Professor McGonagall stopped herself, "My apologies, you are the spitting image of your father. Mr. Romanoff, go ahead and try, there is no shame for mistakes here."

By the expressions on his classmates' faces, he very much doubted that. Taking one last look at the spell, he focused on his hedgehog, waved his hand over it.

The hedgehog sneezed.

Hermione and Padma giggled.

Harry gave the professor a sheepish smile, and batted his green eyes at her, hoping she would console his ego and leave him to his own devices.

But Professor McGonagall was not so easily charmed, "You're Latin is flawless, but without a wand you don't have the focus to manage the transition." She pulled out her own wand and demonstrated the spell and the correct wand movements. Harry memorized it, but still didn't quite understand the logistics of the magic.

She offered him her wand, "Try it, I'll speak with the Headmaster about getting you to Ollivander's shop soon."

Knowing it would be an insult to refuse such an offer, he gingerly took the wand, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on him. That was going to get old fast.

The wand felt dangerous and unfriendly, he had been more comfortable holding poisonous snakes than this wand.

He felt its power, and he feared touching it with his own. Squaring his shoulders and bringing his breathing under control, he focused on the poor little hedgehog.

It was rather cute.

Harry said the words, following the demonstrated wand movements, but he felt it the moment his magic met the wand's magic.

And then he was being blown backward, only years of training had him rolling over the desk rather than crashing into it. The bang from the backlash of power rang in the room and the clatter of the wand, sounded like a pencil, a harmless stick settling on the floor.

Harry hated wands.

Professor McGonagall twisted her wrist, her wand coming to her hand like a puppy. "Are you alright, Mr. Romanoff?"

He stood, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein looking almost as worried as Hermione, but Padma, the witch, was holding a hand to her mouth trying not to laugh at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Maybe for today," she said, accepting he was okay only after carefully watching him reclaim his seat without any signs of pain, "you should just watch, and perhaps read some older material. I have some spare first, second, and third year books."

Harry kept his expression controlled, and he said, "Thank you." The words almost came out in Russian, and he wondered to himself if maybe Russian was his default accent. He had never been in one place long enough to 'imprint' on a place and he was always aware of the accent he used.

But this was one of the first times he was making an effort to not sound like the people around him.

When Professor McGonagall moved on, Padma asked, "So Romanoff, do you think you you're going to keep Madam Pomfrey busy this term?"

He smiled at her, "Why would I need Madam Pomfrey when I have you, Ms. Patil?"

Harry didn't let his smile grow when she turned quickly back to her hedgehug, and she muttered, "Dunderhead."

People, Mother had taught him, were always easier to manipulate if they've never been flirted with before.

"Wow," Hermione noted at lunch, "you eat so politely I almost didn't notice how much food you put down."

"I missed breakfast," he said after swallowing a bite.

Corner glared at him from down the table.

"First day not going well?" Fleur asked too sweetly, batting her lashes at him.

He smiled back, "It's just peachy keen."

"Peachy keen?" she asked confused.

"American saying," he said.

"I thought you were Russian?" Hermione asked.

Padma answered before he could, "I don't think what our Romanoff is can be summed up in a word."

Harry couldn't tell if she meant it as a compliment or an insult, so he ignored it.

Potions was his next class and he was… completely lost.

Mom and he ate out, all the time. They had the money and food culture was a very real thing. They didn't often go out to fancy places, they found the local places, and when they were hiking they ate food packaged for carbs and vitamins.

Sure they bought fruit, vegetables, and bread, but Harry would hardly call a sandwich and an orange 'knowing how to cook.'

Thus, Harry read the textbook while Hermione did all the work.

"Aren't you going to help?" she asked.

"Do you want to fail?" he shot back.

This class they shared with the Hufflepuffs and in addition to doing all the work for their potion, Hermione was also helping out the group beside them.

A round faced boy with a sweet smile, after finishing up the various types of cutting and skinning, turned to Harry as his partner finished the final steps.

"Hi, I'm Neville Longbottom."

Harry shook his hand, "Harry Romanoff."

"My parents are friends with your parents," Neville informed him, "They come over for dinner a lot. They work in the same office."

Harry wasn't jealous that this boy knew his parents better than him, he told himself. His parents who were emotional wrecking balls that were going to rain all over his life.

His stomach tightened, he had been thinking about it all day, and he still didn't know how to break the news to Mom. He also needed to sneak out of the castle tonight, this wasn't exactly something he could put in a letter.

"You know," Neville said kindly, "It's not everyone who has two Auror parents like us."

Harry tilted his head, "What's an Auror?"

Neville's partner sneered, "You don't know what an Auror is? Guess you really were raised by a muggle."

"Shut up, Ernie," Neville said, "Don't mind him. Aurors are the wizard police."

Harry thought back to what he had said to his parents last night. Damn. He must have really hit some nerves. But still, why hadn't they gone to the magical police? It wasn't like a Death Eater would have raised him as their own, they all wanted him dead.

And he still didn't understand why people wanted him dead.

Speaking of Death Eaters, Professor Snape came around their tables, "Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Romanoff, your partners shall fail for the day if you do not participate."

Neville shot Harry a smile before rejoining Ernie. Harry went to Hermione's side, waiting for instruction, he wasn't even sure where she was in the cooking -brewing process.

Without looking up she said, "Add three leaves of dittany."

What the hell was dittany?

Picking up one of the green things on the table, he asked, "This?"

She glanced up before going back to her text, she nodded.

Tearing off three leaves Harry plopped them into the pinkish liquid, he watched them sink in, and his heart rate skyrocketed when the potion turned sickly orange and began to bubble like an overflowing washer in the laundromat.

Harry grabbed Hermione around the waist, yelled, "Everybody down!"

He turned, shielding Hermione with his body as the potion exploded with a loud metal bang.

The professor rushed over, wand raised, the potion disappeared, students raised up from under the tables warily.

Hermione pushed away from him, and asked angrily, "What did you do!?"

"What you told me to do," Harry said back, calmer but non-too happy himself. He held up the plant still in his hands, "Three leaves."

"Of dittany!" she exclaimed, "That's mallowsweet!"

He gritted his teeth, "I ask-"

"Mr. Potter," the professor called.

Harry spun on the man, "Romanoff, my name is Romanoff."

The man sneered, "Yet you're as arrogant as your father, Potter. Twenty points from Ravenclaw." He turned to look at the wide eyed Hufflepuffs, "it would appear, Mr. Longbottom, we have found a student whose sunk to a new level of abysmal, not even you have melted a cauldron before."

Neville didn't move, he looked like he was holding his breath.

Harry glared at the professor, wondering if he was an ex-Death Eater or spy. Harry didn't know much about the wizarding world, for instance, that 'Auror' was their word for police, but Harry knew what their skum looked like.

"Mr. Potter, if you do not improve by next class, then I will move you down to the first year class."

"Whatever you think is best," Harry said, knowing in this instance his accent likely made him sound stupid to their ears. A thought that confirmed by the pitying looks his classmates gave him and the mirthful light in those onyx eyes, "But my name is Romanoff."

"Ms. Granger, pack up your things, you're done for the day." He waved his wand at the cauldron which repaired itself.

Hermione glared at Harry and he was at a loss as to what to do. The bell rang not long after and he had to run to catch up to her.

"Hermione, wait," he said, "I'm sorry, that-"

"Was an embarrassing disaster, I have never messed up a potion until you."

And with that she stormed off.

Padma patted his shoulder, "Come on, Romanoff, she won't stay mad forever. It's only your first day, she will understand."

Yeah, and it wasn't going well.

After dinner, Professor Flitwick came to him, "Professor McGonagall set up a meeting with Mr. Ollivander for tonight, I think it is safe to say you need a wand?"

Harry nodded, though he thought maybe what he needed was to be with the first years. And he said as much.

Flitwick shook his head, "Your magic is too far developed, it will just be a learning curve I'm afraid."

"Wait?" Harry asked, "Are we going to London?"

Flitwick nodded, as they exited the castle.

"Yes," he answered, "We will apparate once we reach the border to Hogsmeade."

"Can my Mom come with us? She's staying at the Three Broomsticks."

"Of course," he said, smiling.

Filius was worried about Harry, from all accounts, his first day had not gone well. He wondered what his mother, who was supposedly a witch as well had taught him.

They found the witch in question at the bar, and she was not at all what Filius had expected. She was uncommonly beautiful, her hair a dark red, her eyes a cat green, not the emerald of Harry's and Lily's but still remarkable.

"Mom," Harry greeted, sounding relieved to see her and hugging her tightly. She hugged him back, kissing the top of his head.

The look she gave him when they parted, both loving and looking for injuries, told Filius better than any words could that she cared for him. That they cared for each other.

Any plans his birth parents or and Dumbledore had about separating them was a fool's game.

"Mom, this is my Charms professor Flitwick, he's also my Head of House, Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick, this is my mom, Natasha Romanoff."

She shook her hand, and somehow, was able to make the gesture natural and respectful, despite the height difference.

Filius liked her already.

"We need to go to London, to get your son a wand."

She smiled, "Those, historically, have not worked well for him."

"Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor, had me borrow hers for a spell," Harry said.

"Did it work?" she asked.

He grinned, "Nope, it sent me flying backwards."

She smiled but shook her head, then asked, "How do we get to London? Harry said the train only runs four times a year."

Filius frowned, "We apparate."

"Apparate?" they asked together.

He was beginning to have doubts that she was a witch after all, "Teleportation."

They blinked at him and then a look of dawning comprehension came over their faces. "The popping!" they exclaimed.

"How do you do it?" Natasha asked.

"Well, they do offer classes in London at the Aurors office, you need a license."

"Can you apparate anywhere? And is there a way to get rid of the noise?" she asked.

Filius wasn't sure he liked her less, however, he was somewhat concerned about this line of questioning, "No, not anywhere, and I'm not sure about the noise. I've never thought about it."

"I would like directions to the Aurors office," she said.

"Aurors are the police," Harry informed her.

Filius had to ask, "Ms. Romanoff, I was under the impression you were a witch. Did you never attend school?"

She shook her head, "I didn't have magic until I found Harry."

That answer was deeply concerning. And it was odd, Filius could feel her energy, he wouldn't think she was so weak that she wouldn't know she was magical until taking in a child. And what did she mean exactly that she 'found' Harry.

"Well, tonight we have a meeting with Mr. Ollivanders." He wouldn't be giving her directions to the Aurors' office, he couldn't imagine what would happen if she walked into Lily or James's office.

Likely something explosive.

"How do we apparate?" Harry asked.

Filius held his hands out to each of them, "Merely take my hand, it will be side along apparition for you both."

They shared a look that seemed to say a lot with a little, and they took his hands.

Moments later they were standing outside of Ollivander's Wand shop, neither Harry nor Natasha looked ruffled by the trip.

Strong stomachs.

Mr. Ollivander greeted them with his usual invasiveness, though Harry corrected him, just as he corrected everyone else who tried to call him Mr. Potter.

"And this," Mr. Ollivander said, "is a friend of mine from Nigeria, he is also a wand maker of sorts, Mr. Bankole."

The big man nodded to them, and seemed to lean back to watch the show.

And show it was, because not only did wands seem not to work for Harry, but they seemed to actively dislike him.

His mother started spotting him to keep him from slamming into the walls.

"Alright, alright this wand, Holly, phoenix feather," Ollivander said, sounding peeved.

This wand was different than the others.

Instead of throwing Harry around the room or laying inert, it cracked up the centre.

With a yelp of pain, Harry dropped it and it burst into flame when it hit the ground.

Mr. Bankole began laughing and Natasha was glaring at Mr. Ollivander, who had the sense to stand well away from mother and son.

"I don't understand," the wandmaker muttered to himself.

Harry rubbed his hand that had red slashes across his palm and fingers. It hadn't broken the skin, but it didn't look pleasant.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Natasha asked harshly.

"No," Ollivander snapped, "No, it was not supposed to happen, I have never seen that before."

"I have," Mr. Bankole said in a deep sing song voice, "Mr. Romanoff, you wouldn't happen to be skilled with wandless magic would you?"

Harry nodded in affirmation.

"I brought some examples of my own work. I might not have your perfect fit with me, but if you find something that is more to your tastes, I can bring back more."

"They'll be pricey," Mr. Ollivander warned, "I'm guessing you brought your best work?"

The big man smiled, his white teeth a shock on his dark complexion, "Perhaps I did."

"I can afford it," Natasha said, "but if another one of these magical sticks throws my son across the room, I will throw you into the wall."

It sounded like she meant that literally, but Filius doubted that she could, what with her patchy magical training and her much smaller stature.

But Mr. Bankole seemed to take the threat seriously, nodding he said, "This won't toss him around. In most places on the African continent, we use raw magic and hand gestures, so our 'wands' are more focusing objects. They have less power of their own, though they are crafted to hold up against physical abuse as well as magical."

The first thing he gave Harry looked like a baton, and as Mr. Bankole had promised, it didn't throw him into a wall.

"Use it," Mr. Bankole commanded.

And Harry raised some of the objects on Mr. Ollivanders desk, a little shakily.

"Hmm," Mr. Bankole said, "I think you definitely need one of my creations, do you have any weapons you are skilled in?"

Weapons? Filius thought nervously.

"A bo staff," Natasha answered for him.

Mr. Bankole's smile was brilliant, "Those of have, let's see, you said money was no object, yes?"

She nodded.

He pulled out a wooden circle, with a swirling pattern inlaid with black metal, placing it in Harry's palm, it grew into a staff taller than Harry.

Harry clearly knew how to use the thing as a muggle weapon, because he spun in around himself, and snapped it against the floor in an impressive sequence of motions.

Then he tried using a spell, the staff came alive, and everything in the room but for the people floated.

Then at Harry's motion, set down just as they had been, he said only, "Oh yes."

"May I?" Natasha asked.

Mr. Bankole nodded, and though there was no magic when Natasha held the staff, she too, used it like the weapon it might have been.

Filius guessed that the training Harry had was more muggle than magical.

"It has no power for me," she said, handing it back to Harry who twisted his wrist and the staff became a just a pretty wooden bracelet around his wrist. "But it is a fine staff," and she sounded more pleased about that, as if she rated her muggle defence above the magical.

She pulled out a wallet, "How much?"

Mr. Bankole smiled smugly, and Mr. Ollivander looked irked.

In fact, Filius had never seen the wand maker look so annoyed.

Filius kept it to himself that the staff wouldn't be much help for his classes at Hogwarts, the boy looked like he just found a new friend.

Harry asked professor Flitwick for a private moment, who went on ahead to the school, Harry promising he could find his way back in dark.

"Mom," Harry began.

She sighed, "Just tell me. I know something has been upsetting you, and it has nothing to do with your first day of school, that you still haven't told me anything about."

"Mom," he tried again, then said it fast, "My birth parents are alive."

She blinked at him, "Harry, you're parents are dead, Death himself told me. I saw your mother's dead body, you saw her die."

"She didn't stay dead, neither did my father. Apparently, they've been looking for me. But as Aurors, they only used magical means."

"You're serious?" she asked, "But why- why then would Death give you to me? He said if I didn't take you, you would be dead before you graduated from school."

"I don't know," he said, "But I met them last night."

Her face shut down, "Harry… oh my God, Harry, I'm so, so sorr-"

"Don't, Mom," he took her hands in his, "you are always going to be my mother. You and me against the world. Nothing will ever change that."

"Harry I would never have separated you from your parents-"

"I know that, and there's nothing to ask forgiveness for, I don't regret anything about my life. If I could change the past, I wouldn't."

"Harry," she cupped his face, her eyes were wet, "I love you."

He hugged her, "I love you, too."

After a while they parted, and she rubbed at her eyes, looking hurt.

"Don't blame yourself for this, this isn't your fault," he said.

Her smile was wane and he knew no matter what he said, that would be how she felt.

"I love you," she said again, "you better get back in there, remember, one week, then I scale the walls."

He wanted to comfort her, but he knew this was something she would need to sort out on her own before anything he said would matter.

"I love you," he repeated before turning back to the castle, his heart heavy.

Natasha watched Harry disappear and wanted nothing more than to scream, to rage.

My birth parents are alive.

She was going to kill Death.

What kind of sick joke was this? Perhaps they were awful people unfit to be guardians? But Harry had met them last night and he would have mentioned if they were hateful people.

Natasha pulled on her hair, this couldn't be happening.

Unable to think she went for a run. She didn't know where her feet took her, but she did not pause. Keeping to the shadows, she circled that castle.

His parents were alive.

What did that make her? A kidnapper?

She entered the forest, her feet dancing over the fallen branches and leaves. She wasn't quiet, but she didn't trip.

How must his parents have felt? Waking up from a terrorist attack and finding their son, not dead, but missing? Too young to have left on his own, to fend in any way for himself, they must have been-

Suddenly, something with many legs, ran at her.

"Oh," it exclaimed, "dinner!"

Natasha's eyes had adjusted enough to see by the filtered moonlight. A giant talking spider approached her, wanting to eat her.

She smiled, and launched herself at it. It screamed when she ripped off one its legs and stabbed at its eyes with that limb.

More spiders came from the darkness, bigger spiders.

The monster inside her stretched like a cat, she pulled a blade. "Come and get it," she beckoned them.

Harry woke on his own in the morning, and finished his stretching routine before the other boys woke up.

He was determined that today would be a better one.

Hermione was still pissed at him during breakfast, but Fleur and Padma talked with him interestedly about his new 'wand.'

Their first class of the day was Care of Magical Creatures.

The professor of this class, a half-giant named Hagrid, was in tears when they showed up with the Hufflepuffs.

"What's wrong, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

He blew into a tissue, "My spiders, my friends in the forest. Someone's killed them all, and the centaurs won't tell me whose murdered them."

"Spiders?" Harry asked.

"Acromantula," Hagrid said tearfully, "But that's not what class is on, we are starting off with-"

Padma shifted on her feet, she whispered to Harry, "Those eat humans."

"When were they killed?" Harry asked, interrupting the professor explaining what a blast-ended screwt was.

"Someone sliced them up last night. I don't know what kind of monster could have done such a thing. We won't have class in the forest this year until I know what it was."

"Oh, no," Padma said under her breath sarcastically, "I'm so disappointed."

Harry wasn't really concerned about the spiders, but he had a feeling he knew how his mother had taken the news.

At least he knew she wasn't keeping her feelings bottled up.

AN: Thoughts, reactions, ideas, or legless spiders? Please?

Chapter 6: Lost in the Crowd

IMPORTANT: I personally like spiders, with their legs intact as they eat other bugs, but invasive species are something we all need to be more mindful of. Do not release your pets, especially fish, in the wild. Also, if you like eating fish and you live in the Americas, eat lionfish they are killing our reefs and numerous native species.

KEYNOTE: I love Hermione, but yeah she is a bit more annoying, she flourished in Ravenclaw and didn't have to deal with life threatening things or ever have to break the rules. And no, Flitwick didn't give her a time turner, he has a wee bit more sense than Minerva.

Beta: Ahrnberg, my friend and family.

Chapter 6 - Lost in the Crowd

Harry was not the biggest fan of the blast ended skrewts, but at least it was a subject he was not woefully behind in, or at least he was no less prepared than the rest of his classmates.

"Send anyone flying today, Harry?" Fleur asked.

He shook his head as Padma said, "Nope, and he won't for our next class either: Arithmancy."

"What classes do we have tomorrow?" Harry asked, knowing his schedule by heart now but hoping they would explain it to him. He had yet to explore the castle or find the library.

"Runes, which honestly might be the hardest class for you to catch up in, it's just a language, not really a magick. Also for tonight, we have Astronomy."

"Why do you learn Runes if it isn't a type of magic?" he asked.

Fleur answered, "Because a lot of old magic books are written in runes."

Harry nodded, and he, unlike Padma, was pretty confident he would do well in Runes. Even he wasn't sure anymore how many languages he knew.

As they were getting up, Hermione tugged on his sleeve, he turned, and saw something like shame on her face, "I'm sorry about yesterday, Harry. I just- I was an idiot. I should have paid better attention and helped you."

Harry looped his arm in hers, "Forgiven as long as you never leave me to my own devices in that class." He didn't know if he liked Hermione or not, but it was easy to forgive someone with social skills that made him look like an extrovert.

Hermione wasn't exactly quiet but she could be hyper focused, and while he could pretend to be as outgoing of the best of them, Harry prefered his books too.

Walking arm and arm out of the Great Hall they were stopped by a boy with an impressive shoulder span and a stern face.

Fleur came up beside him, "This is Viktor Krum, the champion for Durmstrang."

Before Harry or Viktor could say anything, Michael Corner, for some reason, still didn't like Harry, "Can you speak Bulgarian too, Potter?"

Harry took another look at Viktor and said in Turkish, "No, but I do speak Turkish."

Something like relief flashed over the other champion's face, and he answered, also in Turkish, "My Turkish is better than my English, and at Durmstrang they teach classes in Swedish." He held out his hand, "Viktor Krum, please call me Viktor."

Harry shook his hand, "Harry Romanoff, you can call me Harry. It is nice to meet you."

"What language was that?" Corner asked, sounding outraged.

"Turkish," Viktor answered in English, "the second most used language in Bulgaria." He switched back to Turkish, "I'm on my country's Quidditch team, almost half of my teammates speak Turkish or Romani."

Corner pushed passed them, and Harry made sure when the other boy tried jostling past, he got an elbow to his ribs for his trouble.

Boot caught his friend before he tripped over his own feet and said to them, "We're going to be late for class."

Viktor stepped out of their way, "Good day, Harry, Ms. Delacour, Ms. Granger."

Padma caught up to them as they headed up the stairs, she asked Hermione, "He knew your name."

Hermione flushed, "So what?"

Harry had seen the way Viktor looked at Hermione, and he shared a smirk with Padma who started to rave about how handsome the Quidditch star was.

Harry, having enough of being the dumb one in the room, didn't ask what Quidditch was.

oOo

Athiramancy confused Harry, he turned to Hermione and Padma after Professor Vector introduced the class and asked, "So it's math?"

"This isn't muggle nonsense," the younger vision of the blonde man they had met in the library sneered at him.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and nodded, "It's math, like algebra and statics had baby that you have to translate into a word problem consisting of current events."

"It can't be like muggle math," Padma said, pulling off one of the advanced books off of one of the shelves in the room, "look."

Harry flipped through the seventh year book and said, "Calculus and geometry with astronomy. Cool."

Padma looked down at the book, "No way, what about this?" she flipped to another page.

Harry smiled, "Geology, very cool." He flipped to the next page, "Environmental science. Why isn't this class mandatory?"

"It isn't environmental science," the blonde snarled, "It's the future."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, based on the rotation of the earth, tectonic plates, and ocean currents."

The boy gave him a blank look, then seemed to gain some self awareness, he held out his hand, "Draco Malfoy."

Not liking him but not wanting to make any outright enemies, Harry shook his hand, "Harry Romanoff."

Malfoy grinned as if he had just won some bet.

Harry was still planning to trip him.

By the end of class, he was on par with Hermione and Malfoy in the subject, his mom's homeschooling was more than enough to have him proficiency in muggle math and science, which for all Hogwarts professed, was Arithmancy, predicting the movements of the climate and geography of the earth.

oOo

As they were all on their way down to dinner, Harry noticed the twins who had called him 'Dragon Jumper' immerged from behind a tapestry.

"Who are they?" Harry asked Padma.

"The Weasley twins, Fred and George," she said, "They give twins everywhere a bad name. I'm so happy I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor with my sister. I love her, but I don't want to be the same person, not like those two."

He nodded but he was watching the two closely, Madam Pomfrey had warned him away from them, why? And where had they come from?

He guessed there was a secret passage behind that tapestry. He wondered if he befriended them if they would tell him. He watched one tap a piece of parchment and slip it into his bag.

Being told to stay away from someone, well being told by anyone but his mother, made him want to get to know them.

It was probably a character flaw, but his curiosity had served him well in the past.

oOo

Runes was the easiest out of his classes, seeing as the professor let them use the book and Harry was good with different grammars. It would probably take him a month or two to get it down to memory and then he was wondering what secrets he could discover in old wizard texts or if it would just be old people babbling.

Harry spent his free time reading his textbooks and trying to get caught up on his classes, Hermione lent him her old textbooks and class notes. Her class notes seemed to be a word for word what the teachers had said with further explanation from the text. It really was no wonder she was top of her year.

Astronomy, well, he quickly became one of Professor Sinistra's favourite students. Harry knew the stars, they had always caught his attention, and he loved how they changed depending on where he was on the planet, loved them more for stories his mother told him, for the galaxies far far away.

oOo

The next day, Herbology turned out to be more like Magical Creatures, he wasn't all that great at it, and he would probably fail a test, but he was no worse than anyone else at digging a hole and lowering a hostile plant into the ground.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, did not at all go the way Harry had predicted.

"Today," the weird eyed professor snarled, "we shall be reviewing the Imperious curse."

Everyone shuddered but Harry who had no idea what the 'Imperious curse' was. It was, of course, called a curse, so he assumed it was bad.

Professor Moody growled, "Potter, didn't your parents ever tell you the damage the Imperio can do? They are Aurors, they more than most would know the trouble it caused for the Ministry during after the war, nearly untrackable, turning friends against their every belief."

Harry glared at the bastard, "My name is Romanoff, and no, my birth parents didn't tell me about it, seeing I've only met them once."

The rest of the class shifted uneasily and Neville gave him a pitying look.

An odd expression crossed the professor decidedly odd facial features, "Your father is pureblood who married a muggleborn, and you're telling me you know nothing?"

Were these people stupid? Or just so set on their own reality that everything else was fiction? Harry repeated, "I don't know anything about my parents other than they aren't dead. I repeat, I only met them once."

The professor stared at him, and Harry wondered if the man had lost his brain along with his eye, "And your stepmother, is she a pure blooded witch?"

Hermione snapped, "What does that even matter?"

"It matters because his 'mother' kidnapped a child and for some reason has yet to be arrested by the Ministry."

Harry stood, fists clenched at his side, "Shut up, you know nothing, nothing about my mother and I."

The man looked at him, and for a moment he thought he might argue, might know something after all, but instead the man continued his lecture, "The Imperius can make a person your slave, make them do anything from making you walk into an open fire without protection to making you kill your loved ones. However, it is the only Unforgivable that can be fought against if you have the will for it."

Faster than a man of his age should be able to move, he pointed his wand at Harry and shouted, "Constant Vigilance! Imperio!"

He should have dodged but he threw out his own hand, a bright blue shimmering shield appearing between them.

The class gasped and Harry's eyes widened as the professors spell sparked right through his shield that could have fended off a ten ton elephant.

An invasive sense of calm fell over Harry, like jumping into a lukewarm lake on a hot day.

Jump onto the desk and squawk.

Harry raised his gaze to the man, and dipped his fingers, twisting his wrist, and flung his palm out. His shield charm condensed and blew outward. The professor barely had time to register what had happened before he was being thrown backwards, he crashed into all the silly devices on and behind his desk. The false sense of peace broke like a bubble.

"Potter!" the man yelled.

But Harry had already grabbed his things, and was out the door before he had pulled himself to his foot and peg leg.

Harry was shaking, he was so… so angry. How dare he? How dare he!?

He went down to Professor Flitwick's class and waited to the side of the wall. Maybe coming to Hogwarts was a mistake. Sure, it was important to learn magic, but these people were crazy. God, how was he going to keep this from his mother? Should he even keep it from Mom?

She would freaking murder the professor.

He wondered what his birth mother's reaction would be? Maybe he should test the water with her.

Harry had gotten himself under control by the time the bell rang.

"Oi," said one of the emerging students, "It's Dragon Jumper."

Harry dipped his head, "Weasley Twin."

His brother jostled behind him a moment later, and exclaimed, "Romanoff!" He took Harry hand shook it wildly and gushed, "It's the Boy Who Lived, our Champion! I'm such -suuuuch a big fan!"

Harry took his hand back, "And you are?"

He smirked, "The other Weasley Twin."

Harry raised a brow, "George or Fred?"

They both grinned at him, and the first said, "You think you can tell us apart? Not even our mother can do that."

Harry crossed his arms, "Tell me the truth now and I will be."

The second grinned wickedly, "Fred," pointed to the first, "George."

"You're blocking the way idiots!" someone behind him shouted.

The twins bowed to Harry in unison then skipped off down the hall.

Yeah, Harry thought, those two are definitely trouble.

None of the other students stopped to chat with him, and when the last had exited Harry entered the room.

"Mr. Romanoff," Professor Flitwick greeted warmly, "How are you?"

Harry shrugged and the professor asked, "Or perhaps the question I should be asking is why you are here? Our first class together is tomorrow."

Harry didn't waste any time, "I attacked Professor Moody, I came here before he pulled himself off the floor."

Flitwick gaped at him and asked in shock, "Er... why would you do that, Mr. Romanoff?"

"Because he threw an Imperius Curse at me after telling us it could be used to enslave people to the point of killing loved ones or suicide. He told me to jump on the table, but no one attacks me out of a ring. I don't care if it was a lesson, no one has the right to attack me without my consent."

Flitwick's expression changed from shock to anger, he asked softly in a dangerous tone, "He used the Imperius Curse, Imperio, on a student?"

"Yes," Harry said.

Flitwick was quiet for a moment, death still, the same type of still his mom got when she was planning something.

"Professor," Harry said casually, "I threw up a shield charm in time, do you know why his curse went through it?"

Flitwick's dark eyes focused on Harry and his face softened, "Shield charms don't work on the Unforgivables, Imperio, Crucio and, as you say, the A.K. Either someone or something must physical block it, but clothing and even army are not enough. It must be something or some animal outside the person it hits."

"I felt calm when he hit me, but I didn't feel compelled to do what he said."

Flitwick's gave him an appraising look, "A strong will, Mr. Romanoff, a strong will indeed if you felt no compulsion. Most people are so overcome with the feeling of calmness that any order is felt as their own will. Some people can be kept under the curse for days, weeks, long after the curse had been cast. They carry on orders, acting as spies, acting against their own best interests, even being used to kill others."

Harry felt sick, and thought back to the story Mom had told about some of the magicks from her universe. As fun as magic could be, it had its dark side.

"Why don't you return to the Ravenclaw common room, be late for dinner. I'm going to talk to the Headmaster, and you shall receive no punishment for what Mad-Eye has done. Avoid him if at all possible."

"What about the next class?"

Flitwick sighed, "Knowing Dumbledore, you will be expected to return. It is rather hard to find DADA professors."

Harry frowned, "I won't allow myself to be attacked."

"Nor should you," the professor agreed, "again, I will ensure that no punishment befalls you and I will do my best to make sure this does not happen to you or any other. If he crosses the line again I will make sure he never teaches another day again."

Harry saw in his eyes that if it had just been up to him that Moody would be gone today. So, Harry nodded and went back to the commons.

Padma and Hermione were there. Hermione's face was flushed, "He was out of line."

Padma nodded, "He deserved to be knocked on his ass."

A curly blonde haired girl wandered over, almost floated, "Who deserved it?"

Hermione frowned at the girl, but Harry answered, "Professor Moody, he tried using the Imperius Curse on me."

The girl blinked owlish eyes at him, then whispered conspiratorially, "I think something is very wrong with him, even the nargles stay away from him."

Padma and Hermione rolled their eyes, but Harry, who had no idea what a nargle was, asked, "Do the nargles avoid anyone else?"

The girl sighed, "Only Professor Flitwick and Fleur Delacour, but that's because nargles prefer to torment pure humans."

"But they fear Moody?"

She nodded stoically.

Hermione made a harsh sound, "Harry, nargles aren't real."

He turned to look at her, "Why not?"

"Because every book says they aren't real."

Harry grinned, "Books were written by people and people have been unitedly wrong on plenty of topics before."

The blonde hugged him, and he hugged her back, he'd been in places whose cultures that were a lot more touchy-feely than Britain or America, she looked up at him grinning, "I'm Luna Lovegood."

He grinned back, "I'm Harry Romanoff."

She released him spinning in a circle so her skirts spun out under her robes and galloped up the stairs to the dorm rooms.

Padma said, "She's a little crazy."

Harry smiled, "I like her."

Filius caught Minerva as she was stacking her graded papers, "We need to talk."

She looked up, surprised, "Yes?"

"Mad-Eye attacked our new student with the Imperius Curse."

"He did what!?"

He repeated himself.

Minerva put her hand to her forehead, "We have to talk Albus. What did he make Mr. Romanoff do?"

"Mr. Romanoff said he knocked the professor off his foot after shrugging of the curse."

Her eyes widened, "Surely he isn't that…"

"Powerful?" Filius finished for her, "Minerva, that boy is going to be the greatest wizard of his age, I haven't seen such raw power since-"

"Riddle."

Filius sighed, "I don't believe he is headed in that direction, but he is dangerous. If he doesn't learn control…"

"He needs formal training," Minerva said, "but does he need more training than just our classes? He didn't do well in my class, nor Severus's for that matter."

"Lily and James could help him," Filius said, "I'm sure they would be more than happy to visit on the weekends, and it hardly something the other parents could object to given the circumstances."

"I would almost say they should homeschool him," she said, "But the last thirteen years have been…"

"I think Harry needs his peers."

"He needs his parents."

Filius shook his head, "I met Natasha Romanoff. She loves him, and he loves her as much as any son has ever loved their mother. He does notneed his parents. But Ms. Romanoff doesn't appear to have any more training than Harry does in magic."

Her eyes went wide, "When did you meet her?"

"When I took Harry to go get his wand, she is staying at the Three Broomsticks, she had a wand, she knew about magic, but-"

"But what?"

"She didn't know what apparating was, she didn't even know she was a witch until she 'found' Harry. But the thing is, she is no weaker than Harry. Something very odd happened that night."

"You mean besides all three of the Potters apparently surviving You Know Who's Killing Curses?"

Filius was quiet for a long moment, "Yes, besides that."

"Did you see Albus's expression?"

Filius nodded.

"He knew."

Filius nodded again.

"Perhaps James and Lily confided in him."

He shook his head, "If Lily and James trusted Albus, Peter Pettigrew wouldn't have been their secret keeper."

Minerva sighed, "Albus is a good man, despite his shortcomings."

He glared, "Yes, well let's go discuss his latest shortcoming, I swear if I have to deal with one more inept DADA professor I'm going to teach all those spells in duelling class. Who knows, maybe only the title DADA is cursed in this school."

oOo

When they got to the Headmaster's office he was standing and frowning out the window, without turning around, he said, "I heard Mr. Potter had some trouble today."

Minerva and Filius exchanged a look.

"Alastor wants the boy expelled."

Minerva's lips thinned, "Albus, it's the professor who should be terminated. The Imperius Curse! On a student in front of a room full of students!"

Albus sighed, turning to them, "It was a learning-"

Filius snorted, "Either you can fight off the Imperius or you can't, and sometimes it depends on the caster's strength. You can't prepare anyone for that. The best you can tell anyone is that it is possible and to fight it."

"I'll admit that Alastor may have taken it too-"

"You told him he wasn't allowed to continue didn't you?" Minerva interjected.

"Of course," Albus said amicably.

Neither Head of House bought it.

"Albus," Minerva growled.

"I have no one else to teach the class, it is an important class."

"Well then perhaps it is time we call in the curse breakers, it's been over a decade, we know it's real."

"That would be dangerous," the old man told them.

"Dangerous!" Minerva exclaimed, "More dangerous than Nigel slipping off the moving staircase when we have spells to prevent that? Albus, how many of our past DADA professors have gotten hurt over the years? Or, considering the children, how many charlatans have we had, Remus was wonderful last year but the year before? Lockhart was a disgrace to all of us."

"Minerva-"

"Don't you Minerva me, Albus. Filius is correct, we know this is a curse, a curse laid by Riddle when he came to apply for the position. I will personally call the curse breakers."

"Alastor will teach through the year, that will not change."

Minerva smiled, "If I hear so much as a rumour that he has put any of the students in undue danger, I will see him in prison."

"It was a learning-"

"It was an Unforgivable!"

"Albus," Filius added in a calmer voice, "Harry Romanoff will leave this school if we give him enough cause. He knows he only needs to be here for the tournament."

"Harry will stay."

Filius frowned, "No, he won't."

Albus sat in his seat and smiled at them both, eyes twinkling, "Harry Potter was meant to be here."

Minerva and Filius exchanged another look, maybe Moody wasn't the only mad one at Hogwarts.

The Three Broomsticks.

Somehow whenever James fantasized about finding his son and his kidnappers, the Three Merlin-Damned Broomsticks wasn't it.

Natasha Romanoff was a guest, a guest that somehow had all of magical London talking.

The Witty Russian, the Beautiful Russian, the Sexiest Witch to ever grace the United Kingdoms. They were a pretty small community, but still, James thought it was a pretty far jump to call any one witch the most beautiful or sexy.

And James Potter thought that right up until Lily banged on her door.

And the sexiest witch he had ever seen opened the door wide, cocking her hip, and greeting them with a smile that rendered even Lily speechless.

Even if it was for all of five seconds, "You're the bitch that stole my son."

James almost smiled, he liked Lily's fury, he didn't care how physically attractive this other woman was, Lily would always be the only for him.

And he realized with a jolt, that it had been a long time since he thought of his wife as, well, a woman.

They shared a bed, but it wasn't until this week that real life had been brought back into their lives.

His goal was very simple today, to keep Lily from killing Natasha Romanoff. James was so happy to know his son was alive, that the rest, no matter how much the rest hurt, the rest didn't matter as long as he didn't disappear again.

"I suppose I am," the woman said in a purring Russian accent.

James felt as if he had just waltzed into a movie as she beckoned them inside. And foolishly, at least given how his wife was vibrating with rage, turning her back on them to retreat to the little kitchenette in the corner of the room. This was certainly one of the better suits in the inn.

He put a hand on Lily's shoulder, and shut the door behind them.

"So you aren't going to deny you kidnapped our son."

Natasha came back into the room with three martini glasses, it looked milk based but was definitely alcoholic, thank Merlin.

"Sit, drink," she instructed, following her own advice, and crossing her legs so that muggle skirt revealed her long toned legs.

James directed Lily to the love seat across from the woman who had raised their child. He took a glass off the table and held it out to Lily, she scowled at him, so he drank from it.

"James!" she exclaimed, "It could be poisoned."

Natasha laughed, a full throated contralto. "If I were going to kill you, Mrs. Potter, you would already be dead."

James had been threatened by a lot of people in his day, Lily included, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell if Natasha was serious or pulling their leg.

"Answer my damned question," Lily snarled at her.

Natasha sipped her drink, laying on arm back against the line of the chair, in the process pressing out the curve of her breasts.

James would have been uncomfortable, but her eyes had never strayed to him. It was almost like he wasn't in the room, the Russian had eyes only for his wife.

"Which question would that be?" she asked casually.

James took another sip, he was surprised Lily hadn't lunged at her yet.

"You stole our son."

Natasha sat forward, uncrossing her legs, and resting her glass down on the table, "The last time I saw you, my darling Mrs. Potter, you didn't have a pulse."

James could almost feel Lily grinding her teeth, "Harry has a godfather."

"Death told me something different," Natasha said gently.

James frowned, Harry had mentioned that.

Death.

Not the thing, but the being, as if Death was a person to be spoken to.

Not that they had a better explanation of why they were alive other than a death god brought them back to life. But James would hold to his doubts.

"And what did Death say?" Lily asked, a tad less hostilely.

Natasha pulled back, her arms curling around herself. James was pretty sure it was an act, but even pissed, Lily leaned toward the other woman, and he watched in awe when her features softened.

James sipped his drink again, Natasha Romanoff was good, and his wife, under all the pain and hurt, still had the kindest heart he had ever known.

"Death said that Harry needed me, that if I left him that he would be given to people who would lock him up, near starve him, work him like a servant, and that he would be murdered before he graduated from school."

James hearted gave a sharp tug, she had said it with such candour, he had a hard time believing that was an act.

Lily stood, "We would never do that to our son!"

But James had a sudden thought, "Lily sit," he tugged on her hand, "what would have happened if we had stayed dead?"

"Sirius would have raised him," Lily snapped.

"Sirius would have gone after Peter," James argued, "He wanted to that night, even when we were searching for Harry, he was so grief and rage filled… what if something had happened to Sirius."

She sat, but she glared at Natasha, "Why didn't you investigate whether or not Harry had family looking for him?"

Natasha shrugged, making the gesture somehow graceful, "When the assassins started showing up in numbers I put as much distance between Britain and Harry as I could manage. We kept moving and I never stayed in the magical worlds long. I took every precaution with Harry's safety. But I swear to you both, that I would not have separated Harry from his birth parents had I known you were alive."

James didn't know why he believed this stranger, but he did.

Lily did not, "We aren't just his birth parents, we are his parents."

Natasha leaned across the table and took Lily's hand.

Lily started at the touch and did not speak when Natasha said, "He's our son. And he is beautiful. I can never say how sorry I am for you both, no more than I can ever thank you enough for bringing him into this world. He's… he's everything. He's perfect."

James had never known jealousy as he knew it in that moment.

Lily put her other hand on Natasha's, her knuckles going white. "You bitch. You fucking bitch."

Tears spilled down Lily's cheeks and Natasha put one gentle hand to her cheek, "I died too, that night. When I was brought back I woke on the floor next to you, Lily," the way Natasha said his wife's name was like a caress, "Harry was alone, and I -my life matters very little, but I thought if I could keep this one boy alive, be there to ensure he has a good life, to know he is loved and not be forced into some Dark Lord's schemes, that I could make a difference."

"He is my son," Lily said, her heart in her voice, "he's James's son, and he never knew us."

Natasha stood in a fluid motion, keeping Lily's hand in hers, "Come I have something to show you."

Lily followed the other woman numbly, James followed silently wondering if this Russian was hitting on his wife.

Other men and wizards had hit on Lily in front of him before, and typically Lily herself scared them off. But with Natasha…

James thoughts were immediately derailed when he saw what lay on the counter.

Pictures.

Pictures of Harry, pictures of Harry with Natasha, his mother. Because even James couldn't deny the love he saw in those family photos. Photos that looked like they truly had been all over the world.

Lily clung to Natasha's hand, and reached out her other hand for him. He took her elbow, and she gave him nearly all of her weight, her emerald eyes scanned the photos hungrily.

James's eyes swept over them as well, and it hurt, he felt like crying. While they had been in hell, their son had been happy.

And this, this was the best case scenario, that their son hadn't lived a life grieving the parents who were searching for him. That he had been protected from all threats, that no Death Eater or Dark Lord had ever gotten their hands on him. Their son had grown up strong and had been loved. Had done sports… he reached out to his son holding up to other children's arms, all three were dirt covered and smiling, he was maybe nine years old, wearing a medal somehow bigger than his smile.

"Wrestling in Haryana, India, those kids were tough," Natasha supplied, "But we stayed long enough that he was able to get a medal in his age group. He was so pleased with himself. And he got dirt everywhere, but he likes being outdoors more than in the fancy indoor rinks with synthetic mats."

He touched another photograph of Harry sitting in an airport, he was younger, maybe eight or seven, messy haired head bent over a book fully that eclipsed his lap.

"We were on a trip to Manitoba, Canada, to a fossil dig site, he was very into dinosaurs and geology. He still loves geology and geography. Show him old maps and lights up like it's Christmas."

James touched photograph after photograph, and Natasha told them story after with as much pride and love as every mother should feel for their child.

Lily had let go of Natasha's hand to reach a shaking hand out to one of Harry in tears, red faced and snot nosed.

He looked like he was on a boat, blue, blue water behind him, he was six or seven years old James guessed.

"California," Natasha said with a laugh, "he loves seals, but his favourite animals were orcas. He learned on that whale watching adventure why they are called killer whales, it ate a seal looking for protection near our boat."

Lily spoke, her voice tight, "Are they still his favourite animal?"

"No, but he claims if he ever comes back in another life that he wants to be an orca. He likes the water and orca's according to him, are the Kings of the ocean. He proved this to me last year when he showed me a documentary about an orca hunting a great white." Natasha her head. "Honestly, I know I fed his questions and curiosity, but Harry has such a wide span of interests, I don't think he'll ever lose his passion for the world."

James scanned over the pictures, and they reflected what she said, a boy who loved where he was and in train stations or bus terminals or airports always had his face in a book. There were very few pictures of him with other kids outside of sports events, but he looked happy.

James's heart skipped a beat when he spotted one particular photograph of Harry, smiling joyously at the camera, his nose pink, his glasses partially fogged, and his messy curls framing his face from under a fur-lined hat. He couldn't have been older than five years old.

Natasha noticed his attention and as he picked up the snapshot, he stared at the hoard of tourists behind his son, in what James's recognized as Palace Square in St. Petersburg on Christmas Eve.

"I started taking Harry to Russia every Christmas," Natasha said, her voice softening with the warm glow of a thousand happy memories. "You can join this year, if Harry wants you to come."

If Harry wants you. James couldn't breathe.

Lily slapped her.

Natasha took it and went on as if nothing had happened, "Russia never had any good memories for me until Harry."

Lily raised her hand again, but Natasha caught her wrist and stepped into her, she said in a velvety voice, "I let you hit me the first time, but do it again," and her voice dropped a bit lower, "and I will hit you back."

Lily tore away from the other woman and disapparated without another word.

"We'll be in touch," James said thickly, before disapparating as well.

When he popped into their apartment, Lily had sunk to the floor, leaning against the sofa. James sat on the sofa, and Lily wrapped her arms around his legs, resting her head on his knee.

James felt hollow, the picture still in his hand. "He looks happy," he said, his voice sounding as if he were speaking down a tunnel.

He couldn't stop staring at the photograph, at their son, and two familiar disguised figures not ten yards behind him.

Eventually, he lowered his hand, unable to accept what his eyes told him, what he already knew to be true.

James had convinced himself it was Lily who was the obsessed one, but she hadn't been alone, he had obsessed right along with her until he had finally lost hope.

Lily placed a shaking hand on his, turning his wrist so she could see the photograph again, see the still image of their own blindness.

"In the end," she said brokenly, "we had no idea what we were looking for."

For the first time in thirteen years, Lily let herself cry, truly cry.

James dropped to his knees beside her. She curled into him, sobbing and clutching the front of his robes.

He rubbed her back, but he never let go of the photograph. The photograph of a father, mother, and son; lost in the crowd.

Natasha leaned against the counter.

They hadn't asked for custody of Harry.

They hadn't asked for custody.

Her fingertips felt tingly, only now did she realize how afraid she had been, feared what a fight between them would do to Harry.

She truly wanted him to know his birth parents, they seemed like decent people. But she couldn't lose him. She couldn't be given a smaller part of his life.

It would destroy her.

Her plan to flirt with Lily Potter had worked well enough, it had been a careful dance between playful enough to not have them calling harassment on her and heavy enough to confuse them, put them off their guard.

Considering all she had received was a slap, Natasha considered it a win. Had she been in Lily's position, the other woman would have had a knife in her heart and be food for the fishes.

AN: Thoughts, reactions, ideas, or orcas?

Chapter 7: Mischief Manged

AN: And I have my Masters! Mwahahahahahaha! I am joyously happy and also feel like I have been beaten with a stick. Thank you again to the reviewers who have been indulging me with this hobby, your words have helped me through.

Chapter 7 - Mischief Managed

James and Lily went into work with Sirius the next morning.

"What was she like?" Sirius asked.

"She was a bitch," Lily sniped.

James coughed, "She was, interesting. She didn't give an inch though, she's like Harry."

"Did you ask how she got Harry before I got there?"

Lily sighed, "She said she saw me dead, and she…"

"She said Death told her that if she didn't take Harry he would have a miserable life and be murdered before graduating," James supplied.

"He wouldn't have been miserable with me," Sirius protested.

Lily frowned, "He would have been with my sister."

James made a harsh noise, "He wouldn't have ended up with the Dursleys, we have a million other people who would have taken him in. The Longbottoms for starters."

Lily scowled down at her feet as they walked into the elevator.

"What?" James asked, "You aren't really going to defend your horrid sister and her beastly husband, are you? You saw their son, that boy is the size of a small whale, at least with Natasha our son is healthy."

She looked at him, emerald eyes blazing at the mere mention of the other woman, but what she said was, "Why did Hagrid show up at Godric Hollow that night?"

James blinked at her, and the elevator binged open to their floor.

They stepped out and before James could dredge up an answer, their office burst into applause. People came up to them smile, congratulations on their lips. Alice and Frank hugged all three of them.

Harry Potter was found, Harry Potter was alive.

Kingsley grinned at James, "Going to get serious about your work now, Potter?"

It was a joke, because aside from the hand full of Sirius's bad days, they were known as the three most serious Aurors ever employed. Even Mad-Eye Moody couldn't hold a candle to them. It was one reason why Nymphadora Tonks was training under Sirius and not the ex-Auror.

Amelia Bones shouted at them all, "Get back to work, if you don't have something to do, I will give you something to do."

Lily gave their boss a grateful look as the room dispersed into 'busyness.' She led them to her office, Nymphadora, or Tonks, looked up like a happy puppy when they all approached. Once they were all inside Lily's office James reached to take down their son's wall.

"James, wait."

He sighed, "It's done, Lils, we know where he is. It's over."

"Why was Hagrid there that night?" Lily repeated.

He sighed again, "I don't know, Lils, Albus sent him once he knew the wards were down."

"But why would Dumbledore send him? I'm not questioning that Hagrid's a good man, but why him? Why not the Aurors? For that matter, why didn't Aurors appear before Sirius got there? Why was it just Hagrid?"

"Hagrid is a half giant," Sirius offered, "He has resilience to spells."

"But not against the killing curse," Lily said.

James mind was spinning, and suddenly, issues that he had pushed out of his mind for years were pushing back at him, but he didn't want to acknowledge them. Wasn't it enough that Harry was back and in one piece?

"What are you getting at?" he asked.

Lily sat back against her desk and waved her wand at the board, that flipped back to the one she had been using in the early days of their search. "How did Albus know the Dark Lord had been defeated? How did he know Harry was alive enough to send Hagrid? Where was Hagrid going to take Harry? Why didn't Albus show up himself?"

James stared at the pictures of their ruined home, looked past the pain of years and war and loss and simply looked at the facts.

"Albus thought Sirius was the Secret Keeper," he said softly.

Sirius took the paper from Tonks who was standing big eyed in the corner, and it was he asked the most revealing question, "Why is Harry the Boy Who Lived? We didn't tell anyone he survived the Killing Curse, no one knows you two survived it either."

"You what!?" Tonks exclaimed looking at the Potters with new awe.

James frowned, "We didn't tell anyone, you were the only one who knew and…"

"They were calling Harry the Boy Who Lived that first night," Lily said. "No one should have known, no one should have known Voldemort was dead either. And yet-"

"And yet," James finished darkly, "Albus sent Hagrid to rehome Harry, somehow knowing that we would be dead, Harry would have survived, and that Voldemort would be dead as well."

Tonks was looking at the board too, and she added, "We know Harry had the scar from Bellatrix's account."

Lily growled, actually growled. Neither Bellatrix Black -once Lestrange, nor Barty Crouch Jr.'s accounts had been much good. They had shared only that Harry was alive, had a scar on his forehead and that he was being raised by 'one of them.' They hadn't even gotten a description, which in hindsight would have helped a lot considering that not many people looked like Natasha Romanoff.

Hell, had James had half his wits around him, he would have noticed her if…

"So how did Albus Dumbledore know?" Lily interrupted his train of thought, "How did he know our wards had fallen, that we had all been struck with the killing curse, and that Harry was alive?"

"And how did he not know that you and James were alive?" Sirius added.

"We missed something," James muttered, "How did we not stop to ask this before?"

"Because," Lily mocked, "it's easy to trust the Great Albus Dumbledore."

"Lily," James warned. It wasn't that he now disagreed that Albus really was as untrustworthy as Lily always believed. But.

But Lily hated him. Hated him with a depth and a fury that James simply couldn't understand. He knew it had something to do with her renewed friendship with Snape, but he didn't understand it.

"Lily-Flower," Sirius said, "Why didn't you want Albus to be the Secret Keeper? Why did you always insist it had to be one of us?"

"Because," she snapped, snatching the newspaper from him, "I could always see it in his eyes, whenever someone died in the Order. The means always justified the ends for him. A man like that," she pinned the newspaper on the board, THE BOY WHO LIVED RAISED BY A DEATH EATER? "can't be trusted."

"Lily," James repeated in that same warning tone, "you know you can be the same way."

She shook her head, "If that bastard used our family for bait, you're right in that. I will do everything I have to take that man down. Even if I have to go to Lucius Malfoy to do it."

Tonks sucked in a breath, "My mother isn't going to like that."

Everyone ignored her, and Sirius said, "We can just go ask the old goat."

"And get what? A thousand misdirections?" Lily asked, already in work mode, her mind spinning.

"He's the one who is always saying Voldemort is still alive somewhere, somehow," James said almost desperately, "He wouldn't use us for bait."

She turned on him, hands on hips, "Are you going to help me or not?"

And for the first time ever, James saw only fury and determination, not anguish and desperation in her emerald eyes at the start of a new case. He sighed, "If we are going to the Malfoys, Sirius and Tonks are coming with us."

Tonks looked a little afraid, and James didn't know if she was afraid of her aunt Narcissa or her mother Andromeda.

Sirius on the other had a look of pure evil cross his face, he rubbed his hands together and said, "Hehe, family reunion time."

Yep, James was decided, this was a terrible idea. But then, trading information with Death Eaters might not be as bad as finding out that the head of the Order of the Pheonix was as diabolical as his wife seemed to believe he was.

James thought he had about as much truth as he could handle for a while.

Harry was actually excited about the next day of school. For one, out of all the staff, he felt he knew Professor Flitwick best, and he was one of the only people to get his name right a hundred percent of the time.

"You look happy today," Fleur said.

Harry grinned, "Today, I have Charms."

Padma grinned at him, then said in a sugary-sweet voice, "Oh, and you think you're good at that, do you, Romanoff?"

"I don't think," Harry said, "I know."

Hermione made a face, "You were good with shield Charms but that isn't the same as being in a formal class."

"Want to take bets?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head, but on their way to class, the Slytherins were calling out bets that Harry would get blasted somehow.

Draco Malfoy didn't say anything, but his goons shouted out numbers that Harry thought were higher than they probably knew how to count.

Everyone settled into Flickwick's class, "Today," he began, "We will be learning Growing Charms. Now, this charm works only on mundane plants, so that's why Professor Sprout doesn't teach you this one. Before you, is a cup of dirt and in it, a seed. The seed belongs to a common rose plant. Add too much force into the spell and nothing will happen as the seed is tiny and will be turned to dust, not enough power, and the seedling will be small, and miscast, thorns will grow and nothing else. The Latin is Crescerio." And he waved his wand upward, and out his cup grew a beautiful plant, that budded, then bloomed into a beautiful white rose.

Everyone looked at their cup, and when the professor said to begin, several cups went up in smoke.

Hermione's plant was the first to look like a plant, and Padma's was the first to get blossoms.

"What's the matter, Romanoff?" Malfoy asked, "Can't manage without a wand?"

Harry had yet to use his bo staff, and he wouldn't need to for this. His magic had just settled into the seed. Palm facing downward, he gently brought his hand up as if he were tracing up a piece of cloth, the magic and the plant followed the motion, and when he brought his hand up, the red rose bloomed like a flower straight out of the movies. He saw Padma's expression and decided that, yes, Professor Flitwick was his favourite professor.

"Well done," the man himself enthused, he placed another cup down his desk, "Now let's see if you can do it with your staff."

"Staff?" Malfoy asked affronted.

Harry pulled off the wooden bracelet that with a thought and the faintest pulse of magic turned into a staff. He was careful not to hit either Hermione or Padma.

All the students stopped what they were doing to watch.

"You can't use a staff like a wand," someone Harry didn't know said from behind him.

"My dad can use his cane when he wants to," Malfoy said, "it acts like an extension of his wand, but it isn't good for most spells he said."

"Just do what feels natural, Mr. Romanoff," Flitwick instructed.

Harry, not knowing what to do, brought it up of the floor, gathering his energy in it, and like Gandalf the Grey had in the books, brought it down on the floor saying, "Crescerio."

And every cup that had not grown yet grew, every plant that had not bloomed yet bloomed, and every plant that had already bloomed turned into a bush with multiple flowers.

The entire class was rendered silent.

Harry Romanoff, the boy who couldn't perform a single spell without getting blasted off his feet, was good at charms.

Harry smiled, this was his favourite class.

"How was he?" Minerva asked, she sounded concerned, as he came into the Friday teacher's meeting.

Filius grinned, "Quite marvellous, that boy has power."

Severus huffed, "Did he show off like his father?"

Filius smiled fondly, "A bit, that staff of his is quite powerful. I think it would be best if we stick to teaching him spells wandlessly. He has the control to focus and direct his magic, the staff only magnifies that."

Minerva looked annoyed, "I don't know how to teach him the spells wandlessly."

"Did he understand the theory?" Filius asked.

She thought about it, "No, not that I could tell."

"He didn't understand a thing about Potions," Severus said.

"He's a hard worker," Pomona threw in.

"Then it looks like we have much to teach him," Filius said, "but I do believe tutoring will be needed in order for him to succeed. He certainly doesn't lack intelligence or strength."

Professors Vector, Bethshada, and Sinetra nodded at this, but Sinetra said, "From what you have all said, I believe it is only Potions, Herbology, and Transfiguration."

Hagrid nodded, "He kept up just fine in my class."

"Lily and James would be happy to help," Albus said, walking in, "Excuse me for my tardiness."

Filius argued, "I think it would be good for them, but we should also give Mr. Romanoff other options. At the very least wait until next weekend."

"The boy needs help now," Severus said.

"Let him set the pace," Filius advised, "he knows his limits."

"James and Lily-" Albus began.

"Are no longer our students," Filius cut him off, "Mr. Romanoff is."

Albus smiled genially but Filius could see that he wasn't happy.

That was fine, there was a reason Filius never joined his order, the reason why a number the staff hadn't even as they fought in the war.

Harry was going to pester the twins for the secrets, but when they didn't notice him following them, he took on a new tack.

Spying.

Harry was very good at spying, assassinating, no, but spying, he had been doing that since he knew how to walk. Mom called it training, Harry considered it more like unbridled curiosity.

The twins, as it turned out, did there own fair share of sneaking. They seemed to be pulling a prank on their older and younger brothers from what he could understand from their whispered snickering.

It was a pretty straight forward prank, jump out here, they step back here, but what caught his interest was the piece of parchment Fred pulled from his pocket. The same parchment he had spotted before.

George pointed his wand at it and said, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

Harry ducked behind a suit of armour, careful not to brush against the metal.

"They're coming this way," Fred whispered, "Mischief managed."

Harry waited, three minutes later, three boys came down the hall, one a redhead that had to be a relative to the twins, all three boys screamed when something splashed on them.

"Peeves!" the boy shouted and the second boy bemoaned, "These were my good robes!"

They ran off, chasing a poltergeist that had never been there. Harry listened to the twins snicker, his mind turning over like the tumblers of a lock.

Somehow, that parchment had told them who was coming down that hall.

Harry needed that oversized, old piece of parchment. He had only till tomorrow night till his mom scaled the walls.

The castle was huge, he hadn't seen half of it yet. Though he had found a spot they could meet in relative privacy, he needed to know more.

Natasha was pretty sure wizards were cracked in the head. Filius Flitwick hadn't told her how to apparate or where the Aurors office was, but it didn't take long for her batting her eyes at a poor wizard at the bar for the information to be revealed.

The wizard who helped her had leered and told her that a little girl shouldn't try it on her own or might get spliced.

Splicing turned out to be a real thing and the reason why no one would teach her. So, she asked for another way to get to London. A handful of green powder and a step into the flames later, and she was back in London, in a hall massive enough to make even Tony envious.

She imagined this must be what Asgard had looked like, only darker, underground, and well, British. The British sometimes made the Russians seem cheery.

Manoeuvring her way through the crowd, she came to a desk, the man hardly looked at her, and asked blandly, "Wand."

Natasha put her wand on the scale, and the moment she did, she regretted it.

She knew it before the little slip of paper came out and the man rolled his eyes up at her, slowly and fearfully.

"I'll wait," she said drily.

The man gulped and sent- a paper aeroplane out behind him.

They waited together in awkward silence, as he sweated and she chastised herself for the mistake.

"I don't suppose," she said, "I can get that wand back."

He squeaked, and held the wand to his chest, shaking his head.

She frowned, he shouldn't be this afraid of her, she hadn't given him a reason, not yet.

Another minute later a man popped into existence, and asked, "What is it, Munch? Is the paper jammed again?"

'Munch' pointed a shaky finger at her.

The man turned to her, his eyebrows going up at her appearance, he held out his hand, "Well, hello, I'm Auror Frank Longbottom, what brings you to the ministry today?"

Natasha shook his hand, "Natasha Romanoff, and I was looking for the Aurors office."

The man's smile froze on his face when he heard her name. He took his hand back and looked as if he would have wiped it on his robes and taken back the smile.

Munch handed Frank the strip of paper, Frank's eyes snapped up at her, "You have Bellatrix Black's wand?"

He said it in low voice and still, the people around them went quiet. They all looked at her as if she were…

Well, like she was who she really was, it was unnerving.

She had enjoyed the last few years not being the assassin Romanoff, but just Natasha, Harry's mother, Romanoff.

She nodded, hoping like hell she hadn't killed that woman. She killed two of them, but the woman and the boy she had let go, with some minor injuries. But it would be just her luck that the woman had died on her way to the hospital.

"And why did you say you were here?" Frank asked.

"Aurors office."

"Perfect," he said. "Follow me."

Natasha twisted her wrist in the way Harry had taught her and her wand returned to her hand.

Frank, like the police officer that he was, saw it, his shoulder stiffening, but he didn't protest.

He led her into an elevator and asked, "You stole Bellatrix Black's wand?"

"She tried to kill my son," she replied coolly.

"Your son," he repeated under his breath.

When they arrived at the correct floor she was directed to an interrogation room.

Good to know that the wizarding world wasn't that different.

"I'll be back in a minute," Frank lied.

They would make her wait because wizard or 'muggle' they were all human.

Forty-three minutes later, a tall black man came into the room to intimate her, followed by a stone-faced woman, and then a sweet faced woman.

Hours passed.

The only things they got of her that was that yes, indeed, she had stolen Bellatrix Black's wand during an attack, and yes, she was absolutely, Harry Romanoff's mother, and that she 'escaped' with Harry in the attack.

Alice came out of the interrogation room, her sweet smile falling instantly. "She doesn't give an inch."

"We have to let her go," James said.

"James!" Lily exclaimed.

Bones shook her head, "We can get her on the murder of the Lestrangers."

James glared at his boss, "No we can't, it was self defense."

"Why are you defending her?" Lily asked, getting in his face.

James loved his wife, he really did, but to say the last decade or so had taken a toll on their relationship would be like say Bellatrix Black was only slightly crazy.

So James did what any man in his position would do, he taunted, "Why weren't you the first person in that interrogation room?"

"You wouldn't let me," she hissed back.

He shook his head and said tiredly, "Lily, I've never been able to stop you from anything you've wanted to do."

Sirius asked, "Are we missing something?"

James kept his eyes on his wife, and watched her face flush. He hadn't been all that impressed with Natasha's seduction skills, but then, it hadn't been meant for him.

"What's the matter, Lils," he continued in a low voice, "Scared?"

Her eyes seemed to glow for a moment and she stormed into the interrogation room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Bones, Frank, Alice, Kingsley, and Sirius all looked at him. Sirius asked, "What the hell was that?"

James turned to the window to watch, wondering just how far Natasha Romanoff was willing to get the upper hand.

Kingsley said, "We can't let her kill our suspect."

Bones shrugged, "The paperwork wouldn't be that bad."

James sighed, it really didn't help things that the entire wizarding world hated Natasha Romanoff on principle, because he knew, just as well as Lily knew, that the only way to Harry was through her.

And unfortunately, going over her dead body would either have Harry running away or out for their blood.

Lily felt rage, life sustaining, energy providing rage.

Its what kept her going, what got her out of bed in the morning. The idea that some monster had stolen her baby…

She turned to face that monster, and the monster smiled at her warmly, "Hello, Lily."

Lily marched to stand in front of the table, and leaned over it, she spat out the monster's name, "Romanoff."

Natasha's eyes lingered over her face, as if she were looking over a beautiful painting, then her gaze fell lower.

When was the last time James had looked at her like that? Better question, when was the last time she had noticed?

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Lily growled, not meaning to swear.

Natasha stretched her body out like a cat, and Lily noticed the swell of the other woman's breasts, her flat stomach, and-

Lily glared, she wasn't attracted to the other woman, but it was weirdly distracting. She had seen women do this to her husband, but directed at her, it was just, well, odd. "What are you doing here?" Her voice had eased and she cursed herself when she saw the uptilt of Natasha's lips.

They were playing a game, and currently, Natasha held all the damned cards. And the bitch fucking knew it.

"Won't you have a seat?" Natasha asked, "I like my eye contact to be," she bit her lower lip, then released it, "less strained."

"Drop the shite," Lily snapped, "what are you doing here?"

Natasha batted her eyes, which was a stupid thing Lily hated when other girls did, but she noticed the colour of the other woman's eyes, and again, it was distracting, and confusing. How did you make someone stop flirting with you?

Simple, you got angry or distant. But Lily was angry and Natasha didn't seem to care, and Lily couldn't afford to be distant.

So she changed the interrogation, "How's Harry?"

Natasha's face lit up, and Lily wanted nothing more to carve out the woman's eyes with a dull, rusted spoon.

"He's having a difficult time adjusting, his first day didn't go well. Wands don't like him much, but his professor, Filius Flitwick, took us to London to see Mr. Olivander."

Finally, a breakthrough. Pleasantly, and through gritted teeth, Lily asked, "And what wand did he get?"

Natasha laughed, the sound was... why the hell wasn't this woman married? "No, the wands hated him. One wand burst into flame. I nearly decked the old man."

Lily hated her stupid accent, "And why would you want to hurt Mr. Olivander?"

"Because the wand he gave Harry striped his hand with lashes."

Anger coursed through her veins, but not for Natasha, "What did you do?"

"There was another wandmaker there, but he was from Nigeria, were apparently wandless magic is far more common. Harry found a bo staff that works nicely for him. He loves it, I doubt he'll ever let it off his person willingly."

Lily blinked, no lies, no apparent half truths, just a straight answer. "Did you steal Bellatrix Black's wand?"

"I won it from her, yes, after hitting her with a chair."

"Did you kill the Lestrange brothers?"

Natasha met her gaze for a long moment, then said clearly, "Yes, I did, they were trying to kill my son."

Lily's voice was tight when she asked, "And why did you come here today?"

"I want to learn how to apparate, I was never a part of the wizarding world, I know as much or less than what Harry knows now."

"Now she talks," Alice grumbled.

"Is she flirting with Lily-Flower?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, she most certainly is," James answered.

Sirius gave him a look, "Do you think it's working?"

Bones answered, "Considering the other red head isn't dead, I think it's safe to say its working."

"James," Sirius said, "are you okay with that?"

He glared at his best friend, his brother, "What do you want me to say?"

Sirius shrugged, "I don't know, if that was a man in their flirting with your wife would you be upset?"

James didn't answer and even Sirius, for once in his shaggy life, didn't push.

Harry 'stumbled' into the twins Saturday morning, and got the parchment through sleight of hand, which turned out to be, after saying the magic words, a complete map with little names of where people were.

Mom was going to love this.

They met where Harry told her to be through a coded message delivered by the snowy owl, Hedwig.

She was an amazing owl.

Mom beat him to the roof, a place on a tower where none of the other windows could see and that wasn't difficult for either of them to climb through.

When mom hugged him, she nearly took the air away from him.

"How was your week?" she asked, pulling back and looking him over for injuries.

"Great! Well, sort of, I mean yesterday was great, Charms class with Professor Flitwick. Astronomy, Runes, and Arithmancy aren't bad, but the rest? I don't know, and I don't like the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Why?" she asked sharply.

He didn't want to tell her, but it would be worse when she found out, and she always found out, "He used a curse on me in class."

"He did what?" she asked darkly.

"It didn't hurt me, it didn't do anything really, but if my will had been weaker the spell would have allowed him to do anything to me, make me do anything."

"What is the spell called?"

"The Imperius curse, Imperio."

"What did you do to him?"

Harry grinned, "I sent him crashing on his butt."

She smiled back, "That's my boy."

"What about your week?" he asked in turn.

"I met you're birth parents."

Harry went very still, "How did that go?"

"Everyone's breathing," she joked.

"Mom."

She waved his concern away, "They're fine, no custody battle."

"There wouldn't be a battle," Harry said firmly, "I would just leave with you."

She patted his leg, "Give them a chance. I went to the Aurors office today."

He raised his brows, "Did you see them there too?"

She laughed, "Don't look so nervous. Lily Potter taught me how to apparate. I think we are going to be good friends."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her, "If she was nice to you, it's because she wants to get closer to me."

She sighed, "Harry, she's your mother, of course, she wants to get closer to you. Both your parents do, and I can prove it because the let me off the hook for murder charges."

"You are my mothe- wait, did you just say you admitted to murder?"

Mom took his hand in hers, "The Potters aren't the only ones trying to play nice."

"You don't have to play nice with them," he argued.

"Harry, I know you don't think you need them, hell, there are times I don't think you need me anymore, but you are going to have to start letting other people in. Friends, family-"

He opened his mouth to protest.

She shushed him, "Yes, family, maybe your parents will never fill that role, maybe you never see them as your mom and dad, but Harry, they do love you."

"They don't know me," he shot back.

"They don't need to," Natasha said, "that's what makes them family. They want to know you, and you will be better for having known your birth family."

"How do you know that? Would you have wanted to know yours?"

"In a heartbeat."

He looked away, out at the dark ground spread out below them. "What if they are secretly awful people?" he asked.

"What if they're incredible human beings who you wished you had known sooner?" she countered.

"You're my mom-"

"Harry," Natasha stopped him, squeezing his hand, she said, "I will always be your mother, that is non-negotiable. But you can't keep everyone at arm's length and expect to live a full life."

"I like my life," he said.

"You will be attending Hogwarts for the next three years," she stated.

"What!?" he exclaimed, "No, no, you said one or two."

"I changed my mind, unless it proves to be so dangerous I can't protect you, you're staying."

"No."

"Yes," she said with a smile, "I'm your mother, I get to make choices like this. And I think you need to grow some roots. I also believe the Potters are good people."

"Oh, please," Harry said, "those two are hardly a couple and their friends suck."

"You think marital problems mean they're bad people? Bad parents? Son, I've been single for the majority of my life, and you're going to criticize a couple who were murdered, resurrected, and have believed for the last thirteen years that their son was kidnapped by terrorists for having some marital tensions."

He threw up his hands, "I don't know how to do this! I don't know how to let those people in and I don't know that I want to even if a could."

"Well, then, you have three years to figure it out."

"Mom."

She flicked her finger across his nose, "Did you find any secret ways in for me?"

He sighed, knowing he had lost the argument, though the chances that Hogwarts was too dangerous to remain in wasn't gone yet. Pulling out the map, he said, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

"A map!" she exclaimed in delight.

"You have to use magic when you say the words, I guess, you should use your wand. In order to hide the map, you say, mischief managed."

Natasha smiled, and they both knew, that the mischief had only begun.

AN: Reactions, comments, thoughts, ideas, or mischief, please?