WARNINGS: There will be an Alpha/Beta/Submissive relationship in this story. There will be creature instincts, swearing, torture, war, death, sexual themes, slash (love of the same-sex variety), a threesome relationship, and MPREG! I REPEAT; MPREG WILL BE PRESENT IN THIS STORY. If any of this bothers you, please don't read, because you should read something you love and enjoy, not something you hate.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I have any rights to Harry Potter, the Marvel universe, the Avengers movies, or any of the movies related to Avengers. I do not own Dead Horse Bay either, as it is a real place in the USA. I only own the plot to this story and any OC's that may pop up (like our villain, for instance). I think that covers everything.

AN: Right. I feel like a total jerk, because I just started revising this story, and now I'm doing it all over again. I want to apologize to anybody who is reading this—what will be the third try at this story—and thank you all for sticking with me so far. I got a constructive review from an anonymous guest that pointed out how unstable Harry's emotions were in the previous edition of this story, and that it seemed he was just flipping a switch, going from one emotion to the next. I then tried to come up with an excuse as to why Harry was acting in such a way, to keep with the story line I had been working on, and I couldn't come up with anything, so I scrapped it.

This is the first chapter of the third revision of Damaged Goods, and if you guys like it, then I think I can really make it work. Again I want to apologize for being so unreliable with this story. I want to make it perfect for you guys, and I think this chapter is the best chapter I've written so far.

If you have questions as to changes that may be made to the storyline, or are confused, let me know and I'll try to get back to your reviews and such. I'm recovering from surgery right now so I have some free time :)

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and thank you for sticking this out with me!

DramaQueen50

Damaged Goods: Chapter One

Harry's lips were peeled back from his teeth in a fearsome snarl as he glared at the bound wizard before him. The man was held to a steel chair through ropes Harry had conjured himself. They were wrapped securely around the man's wrists, ankles, torso and neck, thoroughly prohibiting nearly all movement from his captive. Looming over the pale, sweaty man, Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I want an answer Shang!" He hissed, his voice reverberating in the still silence of the warehouse he was currently occupying. The Chinese wizard visibly paled as sweat began to bead on his forehead, but the man refused to speak. Harry gave a rather put upon sigh as he spun away from his captive and walked towards a sturdy table about twenty feet away. With his back to the wizard, Harry whistled a cheerful tune as he examined the table's contents.

Weapons; the table was positively covered in them. Rusty weapons, brown with dried blood. Shiny weapons, glistening with the sheen of polished, unused metal. Weapons with tips dipped in painful, lethal poison. A rather dark, sadistic grin settled on Harry's face as he fingered the metallic objects, his mind conjuring a multitude of scenarios in which he could use each contraption. Grasping the rubber handle of a particularly gruesome tool, Harry smirked as he turned back towards the terrified wizard.

"Did you hear of Lao's disappearance Shang?" Harry queried, his eyes alight with malicious glee as the wizard began to shake. "It was quite a tragedy wasn't it? Rather gruesome too, his body I mean. The Jinchga were nearly unable to identify him, weren't they?" Harry's eyes took on a dazed look as he seemed to lose himself in memories, his voice taking on a hollow, distant tone.

"His screams were so beautiful." The British native whispered reverently. His fingers were stroking the twisted contraption in his hand as though it were a content kitten. "He died here you know." The man murmured, his eyes darting up to a series of hooks above Shang, before settling on the man's face once more. Harry licked his lips.

"He was delicious, I must admit. My aunt used to scold me for playing with my food, but…well, what can a man do when his meal is strung up like a piñata, begging to be abused, to be bloodied…" Harry gave a shudder as his eyes zoned in on the tears flowing down Shang's cheeks. "Oh come now, we haven't even reached the fun part yet." If possible, Shang's tears fell faster. "Care to share anything with me Shang? You need only tell me, it's very simple. Just tell me what I want to hear." Harry's voice was smooth as the silk created in the very country he was currently hunting in, flowing over Shang's ear in a mockery of a tender caress. The gag firmly pressed between his chapped, stretched lips vanished as his sobs rang in the warehouse.

"H-he'll kill m-me." The wizard sobbed hoarsely, his eyes darting about the shadows as though expecting monsters to jump from their dark depths. Harry snarled as his palm snapped out to deliver a harsh slap to Shang's cheek.

"I can promise you my punishment will be far worse." He hissed, his eyes glinting in the candlelight of the warehouse.

Shang's screams played a symphony to Harry's lonely ears.

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Harry's eyes were dull as he stared at the bloody pile of mangled flesh that had once been Shang. Mechanically pulling out his wand, Harry went through his usual procedure. Casting a silent scourgify, he watched with apathy as the knife in his hands slowly morphed from a bloodied blade to a shining masterpiece.

Harry sighed.

He hadn't always been like this.

There had been a time when he had been as innocent as the next person, when he had seen the world through a veil of sparkles and sunshine, through a curtain of childish naivety. That childish innocence was gone now, burned by the very venom that had stopped his heart and frozen his soul.

Harry shivered as he spun away from the gore, fighting the damn burn in the back of his throat, the burn that never left.

Eat you idiotic human! A voice hissed in his head, a voice his and yet not his. Stubbornly clenching his jaw, Harry continued moving away from the corpse, sluggishly packing away his tools. They slipped into an endless pouch made of impenetrable hide from the Basilisk in Hogwarts, tinkling musically as they bumped and jostled one another. He fought the urge to wretch.

This idiocy of yours will only result in my control in the future child, you know this. The voice murmured, attempting to coax Harry into defeat. It only makes you feel guiltier later on you know how…brutal I can be. Harry bit his lip as his eyelids slipped closed. Oh how he simply wished to give in to the voice!

I will not. I don't want this, I don't want you! Harry growled, roughly shoving a jagged piece of metal into his bag. The voice snorted.

You think I don't know this?! You are a stubborn child, a mere babe and yet you claim to be more knowledgeable than I?! You are killing us! Starving us simply to prove a point! It takes centuries to gain the control you are trying to force on yourself! CENTURIES CHILD! You will lose control, before the month is out. I've little doubt you can carry on much longer, having refrained from feeding for five weeks now! Harry resisted the urge to flinch as the voice snarled and raged within his mind, struggling against the walls he had built to contain it.

I refuse to be more of a murderer than I already am. Harry's words were low as he began to make his way towards the large door of the deep warehouse. He was no more startled by the unexpected arrival of him, than a baby by its mother's hand.

"I should think you had learned your lesson by now, Master." Harry stilled, his shoulders tense as he stared at the ground.

"It's good to see you too, Thanatos. Still going for the gloomy, omnipresent vibe, or have you decided to shake things up yet?" Thanatos snorted as Harry slowly spun about to face the ancient immortal. It was a struggle to keep from laughing as the wizard took in the newest image his servant had gone for.

Thanatos had altered his hair from its previous length to a short, spiked style that was artistically mussed. The ebony locks were dyed crimson red at the tips as they fell into his pitch black eyes. Thanatos grinned, bringing Harry's attention to the identical loops piercing the being's bottom lips on each side. Another piercing was settled on the immortal's brow, and several ran the lengths of his ears. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"As you said Master, I needed to 'shake things up a bit.'" Thanatos shrugged his wife-beater clad shoulders as he pinned the wizard with a hard glare. "You are not taking care of yourself Master; your mates would be most displeased if they were to find you in such a deplorable state." Harry's lips pulled back into a snarl as his hackles rose.

"I haven't any mates, Thanatos! Do not speak of it! I know I am far beyond worthless, I know I am a freak, but you needn't remind me with each and every one of your visits!" The wizard's breathing was uneven as he struggled to hide the wave of loneliness that washed through his heart, before he managed to block everything out again.

It was like locking himself in a closet where nobody could reach him. He was empty and hollow, unreachable by all, even his mates.

Harry's eyes slipped closed as an unbearable pain ripped through his soul, threatening to release the Soul-Cry from his lips. He wouldn't let it escape, it would only increase the madness that encompassed an unmated submissive. That encompassed him; that took over today.

A slightly chilled hand on Harry's balled fists had the young man opening his eyes, snapping back to reality in a flash. Thanatos' cold, empty eyes were sparkling with an undefinable emotion as he brought a hand up to Harry's cheek.

"Enough of this running Master; it is time you joined your mates." Harry had hardly a second to comprehend the immortal's words, before he felt as if his very soul was being ripped from his being.

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Everything was hazy, his vision blurred and unfocused; it immediately set him on guard. Ever since his attack, Harry's vision had been perfect, an unending sea of crystal clarity. Something powerful must have happened to cause this.

Groaning, the wizard brought a hand to his head as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Almost immediately the memories swarmed his mind, filling him with a sense of unease. What had Thanatos meant? Where was he? What was—Harry's thoughts were derailed as the burning in his throat picked up intensely.

You must feed child! Now! Your magic has been drained. Feed now or I will. Harry's heart rate sped up as another wave passed through his throat, knocking him to his hands and knees.

No! Nononononononono! Please don't make me! I don't want to be a murderer, fuck just—

ENOUGH! It has been 16 extraordinarily long years! It is time you accepted me as a part of yourself!

Harry screamed as his baser instincts took hold, his mind thrashing against the iron cage he had been locked in. The wizard was bound by the very being he had been infected with, doomed to watch as families were slaughtered by his own hands.

It is time you learned to embrace me. The voice whispered, his words sending an apprehensive chill down Harry's spine. He didn't want to be a monster; he didn't want to be a murderer!

But it didn't matter what Harry wanted, because he was already falling into the feral abyss, guided by the parasite in his head. He was an angel crashing from heaven, falling far and fast, but he wasn't going to stop, because fallen angels could always fall farther.

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Director Nick Fury was in an absolutely wretched mood. Anybody would be if they had been in his position. Rubbing weary hands over his face with careful movements so as not to dislodge his eye patch, the man groaned. Could this week possibly be any worse?

A knock at his door had Fury pulling himself together in preparation to meet with two of his top agents and the spies of the Avengers Initiative. Natasha entered the office first, her movements smooth and fluid. Fury often felt he was observing a humanoid version of a cat when he watched the red-headed agent move. Directly behind Agent Romanoff was her partner and long standing friend, Agent Barton, code name Hawk-Eye.

The man was sturdily built with large biceps, though they were nowhere near as impressive as Steve's or Thor's, and muscles rippling beneath tanned skin. He had piercing blue eyes and a mouth, though frowning now, that had a damn near perpetual smirk playing around the corners. Fury gestured towards the seats in front of his desk, pinning the two with a hard stare as they settled themselves, Hawk-Eye choosing to perch himself upon Fury's filing cabinet rather than the offered chair.

"I have an assignment for the two of you that requires the utmost secrecy." Fury began, his voice grave as he narrowed his working eye at the two agents.

"All of your assignments require secrecy, Director." Barton pointed out with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. The director sighed as he glared half-heartedly at the cheeky man.

"Yes, as they are often delicate situations such as the one we find ourselves in now." His words had both agents adopting serious masks as they stiffened in their seats. "A week ago a massive explosion of Gamma Radiation occurred near Dead Horse Bay, centered about an abandoned warehouse. We feared it had been another experiment conducted in the effort to create the results Dr. Banner got. Unfortunately, there was no sign of a mutated creature, nor was there any sign of a fight, injuries; nothing. Had it not been for the radiation on our scans, the entire incident would have gone unnoticed."

"So what does this have to do with us?" Natasha interrupted, her eyes hard as she tried to control her emotions. She didn't like the idea of some idiot trying to reproduce the life-long condition Bruce was forced to put up with every day for the rest of his life.

"Neither of you would have been involved if it hadn't been for the attack that occurred on a sports center, not an hour and a half later. Fifteen citizens were slaughtered and drained of nearly all their blood and left to rot in the streets. A call was made for law enforcement, but only part of the tape was recorded." At this, Fury pressed a button on his laptop and a woman's voice filled the room.

"911, please report your emergency."

"Please, you gotta help us! He's killing them! Help, please!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down, can you tell me where you are?"

"The sports center, the A-aviator Sports—AAAAHHHHHHH!"

A horrifying, spine chilling scream filled the office as the woman frantically tried to keep contact with her victim. An ominous gurgling sound filled the tape, followed by a vicious growl of pleasure before the line went dead. Natasha shivered in disgust as she stared at her boss.

"Two hours later another attack nearly identical to the first occurred in Gerritsen Beach on Noel Avenue. A family of five was slaughtered in their home, including twin girls of three years old, and a young boy of only eight years. No fingerprints were found on the scene, nor could any DNA be obtained. Over the course of the last week, three more attacks have occurred, moving closer to New York, and we fear this thing will soon be preying on the people of the city. If such a travesty were to occur, it would cause mass panic and chaos. We cannot allow that to happen. It is your assignment to find, track, and bring our murderer in for questioning. You are not to kill him unless he threatens you in any lethal way. Do not attack unless he does so first. Do you understand your parameters?"

"Yes sir." Came the succinct reply from both agents. Fury nodded as rested his chin on his clasped hands.

"Suit up then agents, you have an assignment to complete."

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Harry's steps were swift and silent as he skillfully traversed the thick crowds that characterized Times Square. His mouth was set in a frown, the expression hidden by the deep hood of his simple cotton jacket.

He needed to stay hidden for the moment; out of sight, out of mind and all that rot.

Hunching his shoulders, the dimension traveler sidled up against a nondescript brick wall, tapping out a rhythm with his fingertips. For a split second, the world seemed to still as hope filled Harry's soul… then it died, shriveling into a blackened ball of despair as his body didn't melt into the seemingly solid wall. Tentatively extending his magic, Harry tapped out the rhythm once more, exaggerating the movements of each finger.

The wall stayed solid, muggles could still see him, and Harry Potter was all alone.

Shivering, Harry tried to fight off the chill that invaded his previously toasty jacket. His emerald green eyes darted about the bustling square as he frantically scrabbled for some explanation as to why America's Ministry was refusing him access.

Well it's obvious, isn't it child? The voice whispered exasperatedly. Harry grimaced as he pushed away from the brick wall. There is no ministry. I doubt magic even exists in this world. Your servant sent us here for a purpose, contact him.

Harry shook his head slightly as he walked away from the square, moving in the direction of the seedier portion of New York City.

You know, I really shouldn't talk to you right now. Not after what you did to those people. And no, Thanatos has more important things to worry about. Besides, magic is everywhere; I just have to find it...

Child... We are in an unknown world with no way to contact anybody. Talk to your servant. And we needed the blood from them, you know this. It is high time you began accepting me as a part of you. Harry's jaw clenched as he walked, an infamous sign of his stubborn streak taking over.

I don't think I will. Closing the connection as best he could, Harry ignored Shadow's angry muttering a as he surreptitiously searched the alleys for an empty one with plenty of darkness to hide in.

"Ah hah!" He whispered as he slid through the entrance to the perfect place. The alley was particularly dark compared to the rest, practically swathed in the shadows of night.

Flicking the Elder Wand out of his forearm sheath, Harry began the long, arduous process of setting up layers of wards around what would soon be his tent. Egyptian runes, Chinese spells from the demons, Parselmagic; the wizard had no compunction when it came to protecting himself.

Not after the war; not after the horrors he had witnessed.

Pushing those pesky, depressing memories away Harry ran a weary hand down his face, grimacing at the feel of slow-growing stubble. Gross. Adding 'shaving' to his list of things to accomplish, Harry stuck his arm into his Endless Pouch, blindly searching for an Arabic tent he had been gifted three years ago.

It was a rather useful gift, given to him by a client who had believed his case hopeless until Harry had solved it. Despite the price at which his client could have sold the tent at the market, he gave it to Harry with a grin and "goodbye." Smiling softly at memories of the Arab's eccentric grandmother, Harry went about the mechanical motions of setting up the tent to be his new home.

The tent itself was similar to the one Mr. Weasley had used at the Quidditch World Cup. It was made of Egyptian cotton with a charm woven into the pale fabric. The charm was designed to allow heat to escape in hotter temperatures, while keeping it confined in cooler. Within the thin walls, there were three rooms, those being a bedroom—bathroom included—a small living room, and a kitchenette. Giving one final flick of the Elder Wand, Harry strode into the tent, the fabric fluttering behind him.
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Sweat poured from Steve's face as he ruthlessly pounded the punching bag in front of him, reveling in the sound of his fists smacking the leather. Lately, Steve had been feeling on edge, though he couldn't pinpoint the exact reason why.

It didn't have anything to do with the inexplicable longing he had been feeling the last few months, nor was it even remotely related to the way his pants seemed to shrink in the crotch area when Tony walked around without his shirt on.

No, his new, waspish personality had nothing to do with these pesky problems at all.

Steve ground his teeth together as he clenched his jaw, his fists flying with inhuman speed. Not that he was truly human in the first place.

Further burying himself in his workout, the super soldier proceeded to demolish three more bags, casually tossing them into the pile of four other shredded bags. Grasping a new bag, Steve prepared to punch the leather, only to pause as he gingerly rested his forehead against the equipment, breathing deeply through his nose.

Why?! Why were these emotions plaguing him?! Why was he…aroused by the mere thought of Tony? Why was it that women did nothing for him in anymore—in a sexual manner of course, seeing as how Pepper was happy to help him with anything, and Natasha had saved the world on several occasions.

Steve sighed as he slumped into the bag, the solid strength he was renowned for fading in the face of his tumultuous emotions.

For an immeasurable amount of time, Steve simply stood in the gym, surrounded by equipment and all alone as he simply breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Opening his eyes, the captain took up his stance, sending a harsh right hook into the bag.

He could ponder his wayward sexuality at a later date, for now he would simply breathe and exercise. Breathe and exercise.

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Clint's eyes were narrowed as he scanned the perimeter of the block he had been ordered to watch. The search for this lethal, mutated creature had been going for over two weeks now, but since that first week, the trail had gone relatively cold. After the succession of gruesome murders straggling towards the Big Apple, everything had gone silent.

No murders, no radiation, nothing.

Grumbling under his breath, Clint slowly straightened his stiff, numb legs, pointedly ignoring the buzzing coming from his earpiece until he had repositioned his limbs. After nearly four hours in that damned position, the archer felt he deserved a little time to get himself straightened up before Fury began grilling him for information once more. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Clint sighed as pressed the button to allow calls.

"Barton!" Fury's voice barked into his ear. "What in the hell took you so long to answer?"

"Nothing sir, I was in the middle of adjusting position when you called." Fury grunted in acceptance and Clint could just imagine the twitch beginning in his right eye as he scowled at the archer.

"Has anything happened? Suspicious activity? Give me your report agent." Clint sighed almost imperceptibly as he began the arduous task of listing every suspicious thing that might possibly have happened during his watch. Fury was obviously growing agitated and concerned with the lack of activity, yet there was nothing he or the agents could do without a lead of some sort.

Clint's eyes scanned the ground as Fury informed him of a team of five ground agents that would be coming in to sweep the surrounding area, when Clint saw him.

"FUCK!" He cried, grasping his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. Adrenaline pumped through Clint's blood as he knocked the arrow and took aim.

Three…

Two…

One…

The arrow whizzed through the frigid air of the early New York morning, slicing through the chill with deadly purpose. It was silent as it sailed towards its target, the tip pointing true and steady as Clint had known it would. The archer's breath hitched as he ignored Natasha's and Fury's demands for information.

"What?!" He breathed, staring in awe as the tip of the arrow stopped mere inches from the man's face. The male blinked as he brought a bloodied hand up to caress the frozen weapon, before closing his delicate fingers around the shaft in a deadly grip and crushing the titanium of the arrow. His eyes flashed up as he locked gazes with Clint's awed and terrified form.

The man smiled a slow, cruel expression, his lips pulling back to reveal pure white teeth….

And fangs. Fucking fangs.

"Fuck." Clint hissed again. He was royally screwed he was.

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Natasha was running fast as she could, her feet flying across the pavement as she leapt from roof to roof with easy familiarity.

"Lost contact with Clint, sir. I'm on my way now." She muttered into her ear piece.

"Don't attack unless the target is hostile. Do everything you can to subdue the target; only give lethal blows if he is uncontainable or refuses to cooperate."

"Yes sir." Natasha's words were short and clipped as she fought the urge to rip the head off the bastard that had dared to attack her partner. Forcing her legs faster, Natasha's eyes widened as she caught sight of two struggling figures on the next rooftop. A chilling laugh filled the air as the attacker lunged, forcing Clint to dodge a swipe of some kind of weapon. Squinting her eyes against the shadows that seemed to swarm around the duo, Natasha leapt onto the roof, sailing towards their target. Her gun was in her hand in a split second, aimed towards the exposed back of their target, and loaded with a sedative fit for a rhino.

She fired, the silencer on the tip of the gun keeping it from making noticeable noise in a fight. Somehow, their target heard it however, as he spun to the side, dancing away from the two with impossible speed.

"You can't win." He rasped, blood dripping from his lips. It was then that Natasha noticed how filthy the man truly was. Blood literally coated his skin, staining every inch of the flesh a crimson red. It shone on his lips, and his eyes were glowing with a ruby red color. Natasha shivered as the man licked one of his fingertips, his tongue darting out to wrap sensually around one ebony claw.

Claws and fangs. Right, mutated vampiric creature. Got it; it's not like we don't have enough crazy shit on the planet. Straightening her spine, Natasha brought the gun up to aim it directly at the creature's face, studiously ignoring his crazed, sadistic grin. Clint groaned next to her, slowly pulling himself to his feet. The red-headed assassin winced when she heard some of his ribs shift, indicating fractured, if not broken bones. The shit I'm gonna put you through… Natasha's eyes glowed with murderous purpose as the man...vampire…thing continued to lick his claws clean, his grin growing as though he had heard Natasha's thoughts.

Shaking her head of such silly ideas, the red-head loaded her gun, the click of the ammo falling into place sounding ominously loud. The man chuckled. "Sir, I am Agent Romanoff and this is my partner Agent Barton; we're here to help you."

The man snorted, Natasha scowled, and Clint grunted in pain.

"Sir, I can help you. My boss specializes in treating and assisting unusual cases of abnormalities. We can help you control your new urges and show you how to use them to your advantage." The man froze as he lifted his eyes to glare at the woman.

"You think you can help me control them?!" He hissed in outrage, his clawed fists clenching into tight balls tense muscle. "You think you know what I go through?! You think you understand?! You don't know ANYTHING!" The creature roared, lunging towards the agents with supernatural speed and blazing fury. Clint shouted as Natasha tried to dodge the furious vampire, but her speed—even at the training level she was at—was far too slow.

The next moment was the most terrifying handful of seconds Natasha had ever experienced.

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Harry stared at his bloodied hands with horror in his eyes, watching the claws slowly begin to shrink to slightly sharpened nails, feeling the crimson in his irises bleed away into their usual emerald green. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wincing slightly as he pricked the muscle on the retracting points of his fangs and sighed.

It had happened again, he had lost control, let the madness take over while Shadow was hunting for them. Shadow was considerably more receptive to the madness than Harry was which was obvious in the amount of blood coating his skin.

Harry shuddered as a single tear slipped out from his clenched eyes, before he hardened his heart. Whoever he had killed this time deserved a proper burial. Turning around, Harry blinked as he caught sight of two people, a man and a woman.

Inching closer, Harry felt his heart rate speed up as his sensitive ears picked up the sound of wet breathing. He's alive!

Of course he is you dunce, I was able to grasp a short moment of lucidity. It was long enough for you to take control. Harry nearly collapsed with relief as he rushed towards the couple, dropping to his knees as he whipped out the Elder Wand.

What do I do?!Right, make a diagnosis, okay.Taking a deep, calming breath, Harry drew the tip of his wand from the man's temple to his feet in a steady line, chanting in Latin as he went. Slowly but surely, ghostly words began to appear above the man's body, some a luminous crimson, others in sickly yellow, and the occasional spot of green.

There was a lot of red.

Harry gulped as his eyes scanned the words, the injuries rushing through his mind as his training pushed to the forefront of his brain. Punctured lung, six cracked ribs, fractured skull, bruising on the brain, windpipe nearly crushed. His left hand is completely shattered and his right shoulder is dislocated. Fuck, what did I do?!

Me. Not you Harry, this was all my fault. Shadow's voice was a mere whisper of his usual refined purr. Harry's heart jumped. His alternate side never apologized. NEVER. Taking a shaky breath, the wizard lifted his wand again, preparing his magic to heal the massive injuries.

Healing spells were always more difficult for Harry to perform, because his natural instincts urged him to perform black magic, death magic. Closing his eyes, Harry drew the wand in a halo around the man's head. "Pelat tumor." Harry murmured, gasping as the pure magic flowed through his tainted veins. The wizard could practically feel Shadow there, holding him up, supporting him under the strain of the magic.

I'm alright.Harry thought quietly, frowning slightly when Shadow merely snorted at him. Ignoring the vampiric presence at the back of his mind—whom Harry found he was having a hard time staying mad at—the ex-soldier went back to his work. Pressing gently along the back of the man's skull with his fingertips, Harry extended tendrils of his magic and winced when he came into contact with a web of spidery cracks. Gingerly pressing the tip of his wand to the area, Harry whispered "Signaveris." He sucked in a harsh breath as the magic ran through him again, but soldiered on, relying on Shadow the further down the man's body he went.

By the time Harry reached the man's left hand, sweat was pouring down his forehead and his hands were trembling slightly. It had only been ten minutes since he had begun healing the agent, and Harry was already exhausted. Reaching into his pouch, Harry pulled out a bottle of skele-grow, ignoring the whine that was growing in his ears. The agent's hand would be useless if he tried to heal the delicate bones of the appendage; Harry was an experienced emergency healer, but he was no medi-wizard. He was also a man with limited power, and he would have to expend a lot of power for this trick he was about to do.

Breathing deeply, Harry waved the Elder Wand, effortlessly banishing the bones in the man's hand. Gently tipping a small dose of skele-grow into the muggle's mouth, Harry pumped some of his magic into the now boneless hand, encouraging the potion to work on the otherwise magic-less man. Panting with exertion, the fast fading vampire lifted his wand a final time. "تسريع النمو، وشفاء ما تم كسره، وتساعد هذه الروح. بواسطة سحر أنا المرسوم يحيا مرة أخرى."( Speed the growth, heal what was broken, help this soul. By magic I decree, he shall live again.) Harry groaned as he felt the world begin to spin.

Harry? Harry!

Green eyes blinked up at him from a pale face surrounded by a fiery halo, the barest hints of words falling from her lips. "Thank you."

Harry groaned as his eyes began to roll back in his head and a roaring sound filled his ears, wind buffeting him from every side.

"I'm sorry." He whimpered, collapsing into the black abyss of unconsciousness.

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Director Fury paced in front of the hospital ward, his heart pounding as he waited for news about the state his agents were in. Licking his lips, the director clenched his jaw. He had been so stupid! I should have known the mutant would be too strong for just two agents, even agents of Romanoff's and Barton's caliber. Shaking his head and growling at himself, Fury continued to pace, controlling the urge to flinch as the scene from the rooftop invaded his mind.

When he had lost contact with Barton, Fury immediately sent out a team of agents to help the two spies, determined to get them out alive and unharmed. He had gone with the team as he attempted to get in contact with Agent Barton, listening to Romanoff's report while on the jet. Unfortunately, even with their advanced technology, getting to the agents' stake-out took time, time that Fury did not have.

The two agents had been strewn about on the roof, blood surrounding their bodies. As they arrived, the target had passed out, hunched over Barton while Romanoff watched. She had barely been conscious and it was obvious Barton was not. A medical team from the Helicarrier and rushed out to take Barton while he had crouched next to Natasha, simply talking to the fiery red-head as her eyes went in and out of focus.

Nick shuddered as he pulled himself from the distressing thought of losing his agents, focusing on the matters at hand instead.

He had two agents out of commission in the hospital bay and a hostile mutation of some kind chained to a bed in a sealed hospital room.

Nick groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose; he needed a good strong shot of whiskey and a long night's sleep.

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Harry hissed as he opened his eyes, the bright light searing his retinas before he could slam them closed once more. A low clicking sound filled the room before a voice murmured "I've dimmed the lights so you can open your eyes now." Startled, Harry turned in the direction of the mysterious voice, his lashes fluttering as he waited for the pain in his eyes again.

It didn't come.

Blinking slightly to dispel any leftover sleep from his eyes, the vampire slowly took in the room he had somehow come to be in. It was small, barely eight feet by eight feet, and the majority of the space was taken up by the bed Harry appeared to be laying in. Shifting slightly, the wizard's eyes widened as he felt two steel cuffs rattle against his wrists. Harry's entire body tensed as he nervously took in the sight of his wrists, cuffed and restrained to the bed. Forcing air into his lungs through deep, steady breaths, Harry ruthlessly crushed the urge to let his alpha take care of him, to curl up in a ball and let his mates protect him.

He had no alpha, he had no mates, and he was already succumbing to the madness. No dominant wanted a submissive tainted by insanity.

Biting his lip as he fought the tell-tale signs of tears forming in his eyes, Harry quickly shoved his depressing thoughts aside. Now was not the time to host a pity party—despite the emotional turmoil he had been put through the last few weeks.

Looking around the room once more, Harry's emerald eyes easily fell upon the only other person in the tiny room. He had warm blue eyes with green swirls interspersed in their crystal depths. His face was lined with laugh lines, and his eyes were slightly crinkled with crow's feet. The man had a gently receding hairline, and Harry guessed his age to be around late thirties to early forties. Sniffing the air cautiously, the vampire nearly sneezed as his sensitive nose was flooded with a wave of chemicals, followed by the scent of gunpowder, leather, and aftershave.

Straightening at the overwhelming scent of gunpowder, Harry immediately scanned the room for possible threats, ruthlessly shoving the urge to shrink away, under the proverbial bed. Sniffing the air once more, Harry nearly jerked back in surprise as he caught a whiff of a rather strong sedative emanating from the man; a sedative strong enough to do a number on him, even with his increased strength and stamina. It wouldn't knock him out, but it would definitely slow him down, and it would make fighting a hell of a task. Staring at the man warily, Harry opted for a polite, if slightly confused, question.

"I don't mean to sound rude or anything," Harry began, unsure of what this mysterious, armed man might do to him, "but could you uh, tell me what's going on?" The man stared at him, his eyes flickering over Harry's face as though searching for something, something Harry apparently didn't have.

The wizard couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"What do you remember?" The well dressed, authoritative man queried, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands. Harry bit his lip as the urge to cower grew stronger. Shadow gave a pitiful whimper in the back of his mind, the urges affecting the aged vampire quite a bit more than they were the wizard. It scared Harry; Shadow was usually so strong, so powerful, and yet he fell to these yearnings, these instincts, like a paper fell to the wind

Shadow, what did we do? The vampire let out another whimper while Harry struggled to keep from expelling the sound.

Madness….got me...He panted, obviously fighting their over bearing instincts. Attacked an agent…hurt him bad…you saved him…. Shadow let loose a high pitched keen in his mind as the smell of the sedative grew stronger, inciting an irrational fear in both of them.

Then Harry realized he had been shaking, full body tremors that rattled the bed and clattered his cuffs against the railing.

The man had risen and was swiftly making his way towards the wizard, when Harry stilled, his eyes hardening as he forced Shadow into submission, quelling the instincts spurred on by fear and adrenaline.

"I'm fine." He gasped, moving to raise his hands in a warding way, only to stiffen as he was restrained by the cuffs. The man paused on his quest towards the emotional vampire, indecisiveness flashing across his features for a swift second, before his face settled into a mask of calm once more.

Settling himself in the plastic chair, the man looked Harry straight in the eyes.

"I am Agent Coulson, one of the many agents for SHIELD;Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. SHIELD is a secret organization that works for the government to help prevent apocalyptic scenarios from occurring through experiments gone wrong, alien invasions, and pretty much anything else you can imagine. We protect our country—and often times the world—from the shadows." Harry blinked.

Thanatos, you are so dead when I get out of here!

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I hope it's better than either of the other versions. Let me know what you guys think, and I will try to get chapter two out soon!