Nothing. Months of searching, questioning, tromping around the countryside, and following rumours even further than that. All that, and they had absolutely nothing. Not one sign of Harry bloody Potter, and Ron was starting to loose hope. Not that he'd ever admit it . . . not that he ever could.

In the last six months or so the official search had petered out until it was more or less just him, Hermione, and occasionally which ever one of his family was available to help. But everyone had lives that they had to get back to - Fleur was pregnant, Teddy had started walking, his dad had been promoted again. But now, it looked like even Hermione was starting to give up.

Scrubbing at his face, Ron blew a breath out of his nose and dropped his hands into his lap. He was in the same chair he'd been sitting in for every spare moment he'd had for the past year. He glared at the wall opposite him where he'd tacked a map up. When they'd realised Harry wasn't in Diagon Alley Hermione had pulled out a world map, and charmed it so that it would zoom in on whichever part of the world they were going to search next. They'd marked out each possible location that Harry might have wandered off to on his own in yellow, and each location someone who'd want to hurt him might be in red. Each and every location, including all the blue marks for rumoured sightings, were accompanied by a black X. Dead end.

The floo flared green, and Hermione stepped out. Dressed to the nines, and hair done to match. Ron couldn't remember if she'd told him where she was going tonight. There was always some function, or charity, or something she was going to. He couldn't keep track.

"Hey," He said, saluting her with his half drunk coffee.

"Ron, it's ten o'clock. Tell me that's not what I think it is." Hermione sighed, dusting her dress off, and making her way over to him.

"It's decaf, if that makes you feel better."

"A little, if it's true. The healer said you need to cut out caffeine, or you'll never be able to regulate your sleeping pattern."

"I know. That's why it's decaf." Ron growled as she sat down across from him, her back to the map.

"I'm only reminding you." Hermione sniffed "The benefit went well, thank you for asking."

"Great."

Hermione blew a long breath out of her nose. "You could show a little more enthusiasm. It was to raise awareness for the bill to protect underage werewolves from being taken out of school."

"And that's great." Ron said through his teeth "I'm sure Harry would be thrilled."

"Yes, he would be."

"I'm sure he'd be more thrilled if he could attend himself."

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, putting one hand on the arm of her chair and squeezing. "That's hardly the point, Ron."

"It's exactly the point!" Ron shouted, setting his mug down with sharp click of ceramic on wood, and stood. "He could be here if - "

"If what?" Hermione roared back "If I let all his hard work go to waste, and started chasing down weak leads from some, some fame seeking groupies who claim to have seen him having an ice cream by the beach in Praia da Marinha!"

"No! If you didn't treat him like he was dead." Ron hissed "I've seen the quotes in the papers, Hermione. Every time you mention him, you sound like you're writing his eulogy. 'Harry spent his life fighting injustice', 'if Harry could see the progress these bills have made, he'd roll in his grave'."

"I never said that!"

"You might as well have!"

"He's been gone over a year now, Ron! We need to accept that we may never find him, a-and I think the best thing we can do for is finish what he started!" Hermione said to Ron's back. Tears she'd been holding back leaked out of her eyes as Ron whirled around to face her.

"The best thing?" Ron shouted, ears going red "The best thing we can do for our best friend is keep looking for him! He wouldn't stop if it were if it was you, or me. He would want - "

"He would want us to take care of Teddy!" Hermione screamed over him "Teddy who is going to spend the rest of his life at the mercy of these, these barbaric laws if something isn't done! That's what he would want."

Ron took a step back, they'd gotten in each others faces without him realising it, and Hermione was standing more or less under his nose. "I can't abandon him, Hermione."

She pursed her lips, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks "Like me, you mean? He's my friend too, Ron. I miss him, and I want him back safe, and sound every bit as much as you do. But you know damn well he'd rather be dead than leave Ted to suffer!" She took a shuddering breath, and drew her shoulders back "I'm not saying you should stop looking for him, but I-I need your help too."

"What do you want me to do, Hermione?" Ron mumbled "I'm not like you. I can't play at being a socialite, and make people listen. Make them see they're being bloody idiots."

"You'd be better at it than you think you would." Hermione smiled "Look at Harry. Remember how nervous he was before that first press conference?"

Ron barked out a laugh "He vomited in the umbrella stand in the lobby."

"He did not!" Hermione said on a laugh.

"Nearly. And I told George that he did."

"Is that why George gave him a pack of sickness bags for his birthday?"

Ron snorted and nodded "Yeah, jinxed my slice of cake so it turned into boogies when I took a bite for that one."

"That's disgusting." Hermione chuckled "Did Ginny teach him that?"

"She says no, but I don't really believe her."

Hermione wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and looked over her shoulder at the world map. "Do you have any new leads?"

Ron sighed and dropped back into his chair. "Dung's cousins friend swears she heard someone say they saw him in Las Palmas."

"Las Palmas? That's in the Canary Islands, isn't it?"

"Yes it is."

"And he was supposed to be doing what?"

"Apparently, he was getting his beard trimmed."

Hermione gaped. "His beard? Harry had all the facial hair of a toddler."

"I know," Ron scrubbed his face "unless someone cast a hair growth charm on him -"

"There's no way that would be Harry."

"Which is why I'm here. Drinking shit coffee, and yelling at my girlfriend."

"Well, to be fair. She yelled back." Hermione stood and walked over to Ron's chair, so she could settle herself onto his lap. With a little shuffling around, they settled into each other's arms, and stared at the world map.

"One of two things is going to happen." Hermione said, her head tucked under Ron's chin "Either we're going to find him, or he's going to find us."

"He's going to walk right in, and ask what took us so long, is he?"

"No, he's going to want a sandwich."

MEANWHILE IN NEW YORK WITH BRUCE - - - - - - -

Well isn't this just perfect, Bruce grumbled to himself. He was sure his heart had stopped beating the moment he'd registered Harry wasn't in his bed. It had since started back up again, but Bruce was at a loss of what to do. Natasha was right, Bruce moaned internally, and now there's a tiny concussed assassin running around the tower.

Bruce glanced over at the firmly close door, then back to the newly vacant bed. How far could the kid possibly have gotten? He hadn't even heard the door open! How could a guy who'd been out cold two seconds prior move so quietly that not only had Bruce not noticed him get up - but Clint hadn't either! He'd had to have moved the second Clint had his head in the vent. . . If he actually assinates anyone I am never going to live this down.

"Dr. Banner." Jarvis's voice broke into Bruce's thoughts from on high "The young man has taken refuge under the bed."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Bruce said to the ceiling. Right, the bed. Of Course he was under the bed.

Bruce made his way slowly back over to the bed. He hoped that Jarvis would think to let Client know what was going on as he lowered himself slowly to the ground. If Harry was an assassin, having his cover blown wasn't likely to put him in a stellar mood. The second he got low enough to peer under the bed Bruce's hazy suspicions on Harry's character were dispelled. Not even a concussed assassin would have crammed themselves so tightly into a keenly uncomfortable looking ball of limbs; he could practically hear Natasha scoffing. Bruce breathed out through his nose, and offered the boy a smile.

"Hi there-" a bony fist snapped out and hit Bruce square on the nose.

It wasn't the hardest Bruce had ever been hit, but blood was spurting out of his left nostril, and he reeled back from the shock of it. As he was blinking to clear his watery eyes, Harry had rolled himself out from under the bed on the far side, and made a break for the door. Still half blind, and bleeding from his nose, Bruce lunged after him. Though "lunge" may have been a rather generous description, as it turned into more of a flop at the end. A flop that, fortunately, put him within grasping distance of Harry's ankles. He managed to get his arm wedged between Harry's running feet, bringing the boy crashing to the ground - At least until Harry caught himself on the palms of his hands and kicked out at Bruce like a mule, landing a solid hit to Bruce's chin. He had to stop doing that.

Bruce was still working on getting his eyes to come back into focus when realized that Harry had made it back to his feet and was headed for the door. The boy yanked on the handle, then pushed when it wouldn't open, and Bruce sent up a silent thank you to whoever had thought to lock it behind themselves.

"Captain Rogers is on his way, Dr. Banner."

"Thank you, Jarvis." Bruce slurred, after spitting out a bit of blood that had dribbled down from his nose into his mouth. When they had this under control again, Bruce decided, he was going to go get a nice little potted plant to put it beside Jarvis's main server. Or maybe a little rock garden.

Harry had basically plastered himself to the wall beside the door when he realised he wasn't getting out that way, and was scanning the windows. Bruce hauled himself up to his feet, trying to look as unthreatening as he could while drenched in blood. He held out a hand to Harry, palm open, and kept his other hand on his own nose.

"Easy now," He said "I'm not going to hurt you. So, if you could please stop hurting me, that would be great." He tried for a smile, but Harry didn't seem to appreciate his attempt. The boy squinted at him like he was sure Bruce was trying to pull something over on him, and inched back towards the door. His fingers had barely brushed the knob when a distinct click signaled the door being unlocked. Harry practically launched himself away from the door, and into the nearest corner as Steve cautiously pried the door open, and peered inside.

"Mind pulling that shut behind you?" Bruce said, waving Steve inside with him.

Steve nodded, and squeezed his bulk through as small of an opening as he could manage, but stayed in front of the door. "Are we having a problem here?"

"We're alright." Bruce said, as Harry hunched his shoulders "I think he just got a bit of a scare when he woke up."

Steve nodded sympathetically, his own posture relaxing a little as he turned to face the young man. "Hi," he said, his voice low "I'm Steve."

Harry seemed thoroughly unimpressed with this information. He starred Steve down as though he could make the super soldier burst into flames if he thought about it hard enough, and remained in his corner.

"I know how scary it can be, waking up in a strange place, and not knowing how you got there, but we're not going to hurt you. My friend Bruce," Steve gestured over at said friend who gave a little wave "was making sure you weren't hurt too badly. He says you took quite the knock to the head. You're going to be fine, but you'll need to take it easy for awhile. Is there someone you want us to contact? Your family maybe? A friend?"

By this point Bruce was 100% sure the boy wasn't paying a lick of attention. His fingers twitched at his sides - scratching over the denim of his jeans, and his shoulders hunched lower the more Steve talked. His eyes scoured the room, and flicked back, and forth between Bruce and Steve, and the space between the two of them.

"Hey now," Steve tried again "it's alright. You've only been up a few minutes, why don't you sit back down and let Bruce check your head? We only want to help."

That certainly got his attention. Bruce mused to himself as Harry's attention snapped to Steve, and he briefly wondered if that was how Natasha's targets felt if they saw her coming. Distracted by his musings Bruce very nearly got mowed down as Harry made a break for freedom - fortunately Steve was on top of things.

The soldier moved just as Harry did, slipping both arms under the boy's armpits, bringing his hands together behind his head, and pulling just a little bit.

"I'm going to need you to calm down, son." Steve said in his Captain voice. Even Bruce felt his spine straighten at the tone. Harry had no such reaction. Instead of being cowed the boy pulled his right leg up and stomped down on Steve's foot.

Steve winced, but refused to loosen his grip. He saw the look of panic flash across the boy's face as he realised he wasn't getting anywhere, and hoped that would be the end of the struggle. He kept right on hoping that until something slammed him in the gut so hard he was flung backwards out into the hall. His head bounced off the wall and slumped into a heap on the floor while the shrimp of a kid that'd sent him flying dashed out past him, and down the hall.

Steve groaned and wheezed his way into a sitting position in time to see Harry skid to a halt in front of the first door he came to. The kid gave the door a tug, and Steve sighed in relief when it didn't open.

"The medical floor is on lockdown, Captain. The others have been notified." Jarvis' voice floated over them, like rain ending a drought.

"Thank you, Jarvis."

"It was not- "

With a fizzling crack Jarvis' voice cut out, and the door Harry had been tugging on swung open with a crack.

Bruce stumbled out of the medical bay as Harry disappeared in the newly opened door, which snapped closed behind him on it's own.

"Please tell me that wasn't the stairs." Steve wheezed. He hadn't had the wind knocked out of him in a long time. He really hadn't missed the feeling.

"No, sir. That would be a storage closet." Jarvis said, his robotic voice was filled with static and warbled a bit, but he was back.

"Well," Bruce said, dabbing at his sluggishly bleeding nose "that could have gone much better."

"Are you okay?" Steve asked as he hauled himself to his feet.

"I'll be fine." Bruce waved him off "How are we going to get him out of there? Poor kid's terrified."

"He'll have figured out he's trapped by now." Steve sighed "Let's give him a minute to catch his breath, then we'll try to talk him out."

"I might advise swifter action, Captain." Jarvis said "the young sir seems to have pried the grating for the ventilation system off the wall, and is currently climbing into said ventilation system."

"Shit!" Steve lunged for the door, giving it a hard tug - there was enough force behind it that Bruce honestly expected the door to be ripped right off it's hinges.

It didn't so much as budge.

SWITCH POV SWITCH POV

Well, isn't this just effing beautiful. Not one damn thing had gone right since he'd woken up. In a strange bed, in a strange room, with a couple of very strange men. He felt like someone had kicked the ever loving' snot out of him - and just for good measure - gone and got himself trapped in a labyrinth of air ducts! It had been a bit of a desperate move. Finding himself inside a closet had been a nasty surprise. He'd been so focused on getting away he really hadn't thought his route out. When his eyes had landed on the air duct he'd automatically went for it. Half clambering up a shelf stocked with mystery boxes and paper towels, and digging his fingers under the edges of the grate. It'd popped off like the lid of a jam jar, and he'd tossed it aside, scrambling to cram himself into the only escape route he could see. He'd crawled a couple of feet into the vent, inhaling mouth fulls of dust as he went, before his panic wore off just enough for him to realise where he was. Now, he lay face down, trying to get his heart rate under control.

Where the hell was he supposed to go now? They had to know he'd gone in the vents - that Jarvis guy that'd ratted him out, had to be watching him somehow - cameras, must be. He'd sworn there'd only been two people in the room when he'd woken up. The dark haired one had turned his back and the blond one crawled into the vents - it should have been safe to move! There must have been . . . oh sweet Merlin, the blond guy went into the vents.

He needed out. Jarvis probably had an eye out for him. No matter which way he jumped he was stuck! Jump out, and there'd be a welcome committee waiting for him. Stay, and blond guy hunts him down. Even without blond guy - what was he going to do? Live the rest of his life in here, licking dust off the walls, and waiting for death? Maybe he could go back? Jarvis probably wouldn't be watching the hall way anymore. It might give him a decent head start.

"Bloody fucking hell." He grumbled, shimming himself backwards until his feet hit nothing but open air. He wiggled his right foot downwards until he made contact with the top shelf, and let himself drop the rest of the way. Back on solid ground, he hesitated. He really didn't know how big this place was - what if he made it out of the building and he was in the middle of nowhere?

Grinding his teeth together, he made himself yank the closet door open. One way or another he was getting out of this place!

SWITCH POINT OF VIEW

Tony had been through some truly hellish situations in his day. Things he'd believed he would never come back from, and things he'd wished would be the end of him. Looking back on them now, he couldn't think of anything that'd been as intensely uncomfortable as his current elevator ride with Natasha "I told you so" Romanoff.

She'd magically popped out of who the hell knows where as he'd been examining Houdini's CT scan, and watched over his shoulders as he worked. Never said a word, just observed. When his A.I. had brought them the news of Harry's escape Jarvis had only gotten halfway through his proclamation of "Sir, there seems to be a problem" and Nat had leveled him with a look so scathing it could have peeled paint. A stare she kept up all the way into the elevator, boring into the back of his head. By the time the elevator dinged open on the medical level Tony was ready to sprint out of the stupid thing.

"Okay, what the hell happened?" Tony demanded the second the elevator doors opened.

Bruce and Steve, both milling about a few paces away from the storage closet, looked up as Tony and Nat stepped out. When Jarvis had announced that Harry had stopped moving they'd decided it was best to call in the others and see if the kid came out on his own.

"Keep it down," Bruce scolded "We don't want to scare him anymore than he has been."

"Okay, seriously, what happened?" Tony stage whispered, as he and Nat drew level with the other two Avengers.

"Clint and I were talking when he woke up - about contingency plans." Bruce said, with a look for Natasha. "He spooked and tried to run."

"Where's Clint now?" Natasha asked.

"In the vents." Steve said "Just in case Harry starts moving again."

Tony peered around Steve, then peeked over his own shoulder. "Where is he exactly?"

Bruce and Steve both pointed towards the closet.

"He's just sitting in there?"

Before Tony had even finished asking the closet door flew open and their disheveled patient stumbled out into the hall. He froze as he found himself face to face with the two men he'd recently escaped from.

"Hello!" Tony exclaimed into the shocked silence that had followed the boy out of the closet. "Your ears must have been burning, we were just talking about you!"

"Tony," Bruce sighed, but before he could intervene further he was nudged out of the way by Natasha.

"Hi there," Natasha's posture melted into something more easy and welcoming than Bruce had seen since she'd been sent to retrieve him in Calcutta. She was all soft shoulders, and smiles as she approached the boy, who was still watching their group warily.

"Don't mind those big lugs," She smiled, inching towards the boy and ever so slowly putting herself in his line of vision "They don't mean any harm."

Harry focused more on Natasha, seemingly mesmerized by her smooth voice. He certainly wasn't relaxed, Tony mused, but he wasn't retreating back into the closet either.

"You gave us all quite the scare, you know." Nat said, taking another couple steps closer. "Do you remember what happened?"

Harry worried his bottom lip between his teeth, but stayed silent. He wavered, seeming unable to decide if he wanted to back away from the approaching woman, or see what she would do.

"It's okay if you don't," Nat continued "I wouldn't be surprised, you took a nasty bump to the head. We just wanted to make sure you were alright; you were all alone when my friends found you."

She was stood in front of him, blocking his view of the three men further down the hall, but didn't reach out to him; afraid that it would send the kid back into the closet. As it was the boy seemed to have fallen into a trance, and she was afraid that if Tony's patience wore out before she could win the boy over, the billionaire would wreck any chance they had of building a trust with the boy. Coincidently, it also kept his attention away from the door behind him, where Clint had nudged the door open just enough for him to see out. Apparently, he'd gotten bored in the vents and decided to join the party.

"My name is Natasha, and these are my friends," She continued, smiling through the snort she heard Tony make behind her "Steve, Bruce, and Tony. They didn't mean to scare you, I'm sure they're sorry about it."

"I would like it noted that I was not present for the alleged scaring." Tony called out, raising a finger to signal his interjection.

"Ignore him," Natasha said, offering an easy smile to the still very uneasy looking boy. "We usually do."

"Where am I?" The rusty croak of his voice seemed to surprise the boy, and Natasha smiled gently as he cleared his throat.

"You're in New York City, at Avengers Tower." She said, voice even, and unthreatening.

"I d-don't - what?" he stuttered out, nostrils flared as he visibly tried to get air in his lungs.

"You've had a fall," Natasha continued, "and hit your head, and we think you may have a concussion. Disorientation, dizziness, nausea - all normal symptoms. If you'll let him, my friend Bruce can have a look and make sure you're not hurt any worse than that."

"Worse?"

"Ah, no need to be too worried there," Tony piped up "your CT scan came out looking surprisingly good. You know for someone who, ugh, well, it's a lot better than it could have been all things considered."

"Thank you, Tony." Natasha said extremely pleasantly as she brought the paint peeling glare out over her shoulder. She was back to smiles when she turned back to the boy "The CT scan shows you have a mild concussion. We'd like to make sure that you don't have any other injuries we may not be able to see, and take care of the ones we can. If you'll let us."

"Are you doctors?" the boy asked scanning the small crowd before him.

"Some of us are." Tony declared, throwing an arm around Bruce.

"Yeah, I think he meant the medical kind, Stark." Clint drawled.

Bruce had only rarely seen a young man move quite as quickly as 'Harry' did in that moment. Before anyone could take more than a step Harry had whipped around, arm outstretched and the closet door (which Bruce swore had been out of the boy's reach) slammed closed on Clint's nose.

"Oh, that looked like it hurt." Tony hissed "Hey! Bird brain, you good?"

"I am bleeding from my face. Again."

"He's fine."

"How about we move everyone into the ward?" Steve sighed "Bruce you can get cleaned up, we'll get Clint's nose set, and we'll get this young man a check up."

"Is that okay?" Natasha asked Harry, who was still staring wide eyed at the closed door.

"Did I - ?" Harry stammered, turning to Natasha. "The door, it -"

"Let's get you check out, okay? Just take some deep breaths, and come sit." Natasha said, placing a gentle hand on his still outstretched arm. "We'll talk once we know you're okay."

Swallowing, Harry nodded, and let Natasha lead him into the examination room he'd woken up in. Over his head, she pinned the three men standing in their way with the same glare she'd gifted Tony with in the elevator. They shuffled out of the way, and let them both through.

"Hey," Clint said from behind them. He'd stepped out of the closet, slidded up to Bruce, and waved at their twin blood stained fronts "we match."

"Great," Bruce said, swiping at some partially dried blood on his chin.

"Soooo, is he telekinetic?"

"It kind of looks that way." Steve sighed.

"Should we call S.H.E.I.L.D. now?"

"And ruin the party?" Steve raised his eyebrow "No, let's find out if he knows anything first."

"I'm on board, but it really didn't look like he knew anything." Tony said offering both Clint and Bruce a wet nap from a pack he'd pulled out of his pocket. "Couldn't even tell Nat what his name was."

"Couldn't, or wouldn't?" Steve asked

"Did you see his face when she asked?" Tony scoffed "He doesn't know shit."

Whipping off his face, Bruce sighed and followed Natasha into the examination room without another word.

"This kid is some asshole's science project, isn't he?" Clint asked, hands firmly on his nose. He pulled down on his nose a couple of times, his eyes watering.

"House money is on that one." Tony said, inspecting Clint's nose as the archer dropped his hands. "I think your nose is just permanently like that, buddy. How many times have you broken it?"

"Fuck if I know."

POV SWITCH

Harry was still a nervous wreck by the time Bruce had gotten through the much delayed physical. He asked if Harry would be more comfortable if the others left, but the suggestion had narrowed green eyes boring holes into Bruce's head. He insisted Natasha stay. The others trooped out after Steve had mumbled something about getting dinner ready, and Tony had insisted it was a three man job.

Harry gripped onto Natasha's hand like she'd drop off the face of the earth without it, and held unnervingly still throughout Bruce's examination. Ten minutes later he was sporting a few new bandages for the road rash along his side and a splint for his sprained wrist. He'd had all the pebbles and dirt flushed out of all his cuts. It was a keenly uncomfortable experience for everyone involved. Bruce felt distinctly like an aggressor in a way he'd prayed he never would, when he watched the young man in front of him seek reassurance from Natasha each time Bruce asked him to move a certain way. Every time Bruce needed him to show him his leg, lift his shirt, or turn his arm over that same narrowed eyed glare came out, until he got a nod from Natasha that it was alright.

He wasn't sure if Harry was being defensive as a response to an unknown situation, or if he was just embarrassed about his breakdown in the hall. Either way, he had identified Natasha as an alley, and Bruce as a potential threat - it wasn't exactly doing wonders for Bruce's self esteem. Kid wasn't seriously injured, thankfully, but Bruce had a sneaking suspicion that 'Harry' would have prefered a few broken ribs to the apparent memory loss. Call it intuition.

With a sigh Bruce scrubbed at his brow, just above his glasses. This had been a very long day, and it wasn't even noon yet.

"Okay," he said "I'm going to ask you a few questions. It will help to see how extensive your memory loss is. Is that alright?"

The boy's jaw hardened. Bruce could still see how unsure the poor kid was, but with one more reassuring look to Natasha, he looked Bruce dead in the eye and nodded.

"So, we've, ugh, already established you don't remember your name. We've been calling you Harry, by the way."

"Harry?" the kid said, as though testing the name "Why Harry?"

"You had a letter in your pocket." Natasha said softly "our friend Tony, the dark haired man with the beard, felt that you looked more like a Harry than a Ron."

She smiled at the boy's wide eyed look of disbelief, but Bruce could see her cataloging his reaction, or lack thereof, to both names.

"I look like a Harry?"

"Honestly?" Bruce chuckled "I have no idea. You'll have to ask Tony about that one. In the meantime, is it alright if we call you Harry?"

"It's better than nothing." Harry shrugged after mulling it over for a moment.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Harry." Bruce said "Can you tell me how old you are?"

"I'm eighteen." Harry said, then frowned "That, is it that odd? That I know how old I am but not my own name?"

"Not necessarily." Natasha said "The brain is a funny thing, there's no real way to predict what you'll remember or when."

"Remembering your age is a good place to start." Bruce added with a smile "Can you tell me when your birthday is?"

"It's . . . it's, ugh, July . . . something." Harry sighed "I don't know, my head feels fuzzy."

"Fuzzy?"

"Yeah, it's like I'm fine, until I start to concentrate. I mean," Harry gingerly touched the skin around the gash on his head "It definitely hurts, but I still feel clear headed - I guess? But when I, I think about my birthday. . . or my name, it's like I lose focus."

"Like you're only able to see half the picture," Natasha supplied "Bits and pieces are too out of focus to see - too fuzzy. And too many of the pieces are fuzzy to really know what the whole picture is."

Harry nodded stiffly through a lump in his throat.

Bruce cleared his throat after a moment "Hopefully that picture will come more and more into focus as time passes. It would be best to have you in a familiar setting, but we're a bit hard pressed to know what to do with you."

"Guess nameless eighteen year old is a bit vague to put on the missing persons posters, huh?" Harry drawled through one corner of his mouth.

"Eh, just a little." Natasha bumped her shoulder with Harry's. "We could add English accent to the list, but that only narrows it down so much."

"Do you remember your parents names?" Bruce asked, feeling more and more like a moderator as the conversation progressed. "Or where you're from?"

Harry pulled his hand away from Natasha and pressed his palms into his eyes. "I don't know!" he growled out "I told you, I can't remember. I can't see the damn picture!"

"Okay," Bruce said evenly "let's back up then. What's the last thing you can remember before waking up here?"

"I was. . . running errands." Harry said, hands still pressed to his eyes.

"Where?"

"London, yeah, I was in London."

"London, England?"

"Yeah," Harry lowered his hands, looking decidedly worried now "I, I don't know how I got here."

It was Bruce's turn to look to Natasha for guidance. She breathed out a long breath from her nose, before reaching out to take Harry's hand and tug it towards herself. She waited until she had the boys attention, and offered him a small smile when she had it.

"Harry, I promise you that my friends and I are going to do everything we can to help you." She said gently "Knowing you remember being in London helps us narrow down where to look for your family. Anything you can remember helps us narrow our search more, and more, every piece of the picture helps make a whole. Can you tell us anything else from before you woke?"

"I don't know," Harry swallowed, giving Natasha a sideways glance "I, er, I think I remember a woman with red hair."

"Oh yeah?" She said, giving her head a shake "like mine?"

"Kind of, I think her's was, um, brighter."

"Try to picture her for me. Does she seem familiar?"

Harry's brow furrowed in thought, and he took a long breath through his nose. "Yeah, I think so."

"Okay good, so you knew her?"

"Yeah,"

"Is she a friend, neighbour, your mom?"

"I'm not sure, but I, I just know she's. . . she wouldn't hurt me. She didn't do this to me."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"What's her name?"

Harry shook his head, fingering the skin around the gash on his forehead again.

"Alright, well that's a start." Natasha said, with a pat to his hand "How about we talk about your little trick earlier?"

"I don't know how I did it."

"Any of it?" Bruce asked, leaning forward a little.

"No, I just. . . I wanted out so the door opened. I-I wanted that guy, Steve? I wanted him to let go, and then he was gone. I don't know how."

"I get it, you felt trapped, right?" Bruce said, voice low "There was no way out, and you just needed out, no matter what. Then all of a sudden, you're out. You don't know how, exactly; and you barely remember it happening, but you're out."

"Yeah," Harry rasped out, eyeing Bruce as though seeing him in a whole new light. "You, um, you do tricks too?"

"Sort of," Bruce smiled "I had a bit of an accident, a long time ago, and ever since I can do things too."

"Incredible things," Natasha said with a smirk.

"Yeah?" Harry said, looking between the two of them expectantly "Like me?"

"Not quite," Bruce said "but when I get really scared, or angry something happens that I couldn't explain for a long time. And it took me a really long time to figure out how to control it."

"But you can now?"

"Some days are better than others."

"Oh."

Bruce smiled at the look on the boy's face. "You landed amongst a group of some of the most unique people around. If anyone out there could help you figure out what's happening to you, it's us."

"Provided you aren't the ones who did this to me."

"Oh, I like him." Natasha drawled "You're right to be suspicious, Harry. But, no, we didn't do this to you."

"What did happen then?" Harry all but whispered.

"Tony and I were out for a walk." Bruce said, exchanging glances with Natasha. "We ended up in this little park, and while we were there you appeared in the air above our heads, and just fell. You hit your head on the ground, and we called a friend to help us get you here. The only thing you had on you was a shopping list, and a letter."

"Addressed to Harry, from Ron?"

"Yes, exactly."

"So, I really was shopping then?"

"It would appear so."

Harry took a big breath, wincing a little. "But you don't know how I appeared in the air."

"No, we don't."

"So, how are you going to help me if you don't know where I'm from, how I got here, or what's wrong with me?"

"We have resources." Natasha said, with a wink "Plus, you and Bruce aren't the only ones with special tricks."

"Really?" Harry said, perking up.

"Yeah," Natasha sat up straight, and shook out her hair "Remember Steve? He's like ninety five."

"As in years old?" Harry squawked.

"Yup."

Bruce smiled as Harry made a noise of disbelief in his throat. Natasha was assuring the boy that she spoke only the truth, but Bruce barely heard her. He was watching Harry. The kid certainly looked the age he claimed, but Steve still looked thirty. What if Harry had been suspended in time too? This red headed woman might not even still be alive. It could potentially explain the use of parchment. . . but the modern language, and jargon threw a wrench into that mess. God, what a mess.

"Natasha," Bruce said suddenly, cutting into her conversation with Harry. "I think Tony keeps some spare clothes around somewhere. Do you think you could try to find Harry something that fits? Let him get cleaned up for dinner?"

"Yeah, sure." Natasha said, eyeing Bruce up. "Come on kiddo, let's find you some clean clothes."

"Yeah, okay." Harry blinked "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go make sure Tony doesn't destroy dinner."

TEN MINUTES LATER IN THE COMMUNAL KITCHEN

"So, what's Houdini's story?" Tony said the second Bruce was out of the elevator.

Bruce pulled his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose before taking a seat next to Clint at the breakfast bar. "Not a clue."

"He doesn't remember anything?" Clint asked, waving his forkful of spaghetti "Like, nothing?"

Bruce sighed, and took the plate Tony offered him "Not nothing, he thinks he's eighteen. He's pretty sure he was in London, and he sort of remembers a woman with red hair. Has no idea who she is, but he thinks she was friendly at least."

"He said 'woman' specifically?" Steve asked, coming over with a pot in hand to dish out a portion onto Bruce's plate "as in older, maybe his mother? An aunt?"

"It could be," Bruce concided, picking up his fork "he was inclined to trust the next red headed woman he met, so it's unlikely she was she was someone he feared."

"He really doesn't remember anything else?" Steve put the pot back on the stove.

"Natasha's still talking to him." Bruce said "The damage to his head isn't that bad, so the memory loss must be trauma based. Hopefully if we can find the right triggers things will come back to him bit by bit."

"Yeah, okay," Clint rolled his eyes "so, we're going with kid's not a danger to anyone I take?"

"If he was sent in to infiltrate the Avengers, he's been doing a pretty shit job of it." Tony snarked, then stopped and cocked his head to the side "Huh, I guess he did kinda take out Hulk, and Captain Spangles over there - oh, oh! and you too Clinty-poo, don't think I forgot you."

"Fuck off, Tony."

"Yes," Steve said, ignoring Clint "with his. . . psychic ability he did knock me back."

"And!" Tony said "slammed the door on poor little Hawkeye's nose. And, what voodoo did he use on you again, Brucie?"

"Har har," Bruce said "Point being, even with his . . . abilities, I think we should be looking through missing persons reports, rather than mugshots."

"Kid was freaked, yeah." Clint said fingering his own nose "I've seen some punks get in over their head and do the same. What's to say this kid didn't realise how bad he screwed up, and decided to fake the memory loss thing to get out of it? Could be he's some kind of puppet master sociopath type. I hear they make 'em young these days."

"He's not a sociopath." Bruce shook his head, and reached for a slice of garlic bread.

"You think a sociopath wouldn't know how to hide being a sociopath?"

"You think he could hide something like that from Natasha?" Tony interjected, popping a blueberry into his mouth.

"Oh, hell no."

"Exactly." Bruce said "Besides, Tony and I can vouch for the validity of his injuries."

"The circumstances of which could be faked. Obviously kid has some kind of voodoo going on, it's not out of the realm of possibility."

"Then I'd say whatever he planned backfired, judging how vulnerable he was when he woke. He seems rather genuine in his concern over the whole memory loss thing, and - "

"Fake-er." Clint emphasized with a jab of his fork in Bruce's direction.

"Okay seriously, what is with you playing devil's advocate all day." Tony demanded "Cap jumped ship to our side."

"I'd rather not live in a world where every injured child we come across is a suspect." Steve said, sitting down on a stool next to Tony.

"Very noble. So, now it's you and Natasha on the nay vote, and I'm pretty sure you started out neutral. What's your deal, bird-brain?"

"Nat's busy, somebody has to offer up an alternate opinion so all sides are heard. Otherwise, you assholes would just all have an agreement circle jerk, and welcome the kid in with open arms." Clint snorted into his water glass "Plus, Nat will probably stab me if I don't."

"Well, then we'll let her make the ruling!" Tony declared after a collective moment of silence from the others "and in the meantime we can narrow our search down to Great Britain. Jarvis!"

"Commencing search for persons in Great Britain matching the description of subject Houdini."

"Wow," Clint said around a mouth full of noodles. "I feel like that's going to be a crazy long list."

"Is Nat going to stab you for not offering unhelpful suggestions too, or is that one just for me?" Tony asked, clicking his tongue at his friend.

"Well, at least we have a couple of names to help narrow it down." Steve sighed, running a hand through his own hair.

"First names." Clint stuck his tongue out Tony, who rolled his eyes "We have a couple of first names that we don't even know for sure are associated with the kid we've got. And, those names? Harry and Ron. Those are fucking nicknames. Shorthand versions of Harold and Ronald. We might be looking for a Harold or a Ronald in Great fucking Britain."

"You, sir, are a negative nancy." Tony blew a raspberry at Clint before turning his attention to Jarvis again "But he does have a point about the nickname thing. So, include the names Harold and Ronald in the search, Jarv!"

"Certainly, sir."

"So, the kid doesn't have a problem with us calling him Harry?" Steve said rather loudly to Bruce when it looked like Clint might have a supremely unhelpful retort for Tony.

"He's agreed to answer to it anyway. I don't know how okay he is with anything at the moment though."

"I bet." Tony said "You ask him about the voodoo thing?"

"Yes, he didn't know anything about that. Just that he really wanted a way out, and suddenly he had one." Bruce sighed, chewing on his bread. "He asked if we were the ones who did this to him."

"Wow. Feel a little insulted."

"Don't be surprised if the kid asks you how old you are, Steve." Bruce said, ignoring Tony again.

"Okay, why?" Steve set his own plate down, and hopped onto a stool.

"Nat was trying to reassure him that he wasn't . . . completely atypical. We talked about my tendency to turn green -"

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Tony asked "Cause I like it. It's family friendly."

"- And Nat might have mentioned your age."

"Fantastic." Steve shook his head, and moved to start in on his meal.

"Hilarious," Clint said through a full mouth "Are we calling S.H.E.I.L.D yet?"

"Are we still voting? Cause, I vote no." Tony said, hand partially raised.

"I think we should give Harry a little more time." Steve said "something might come to him if his mind has a little time to rest."

"If he goes berserk and tries to kill us all in our sleep, because he suddenly remembers a mission to do just that - yall are on your own."

"Do you really think that's what's going on?"

All four Avengers whipped around to see Harry and Natasha standing in the open elevator. Harry was pale, wide eyed, and stock still. Natasha, on the other hand, looked like she was torn between laughter and kicking them each in the head.

"Sir, Miss Romanoff and Mr Houdini have arrived for dinner." Jarvis' voice chimed over head.

"Thank you, Jarvis." Tony said, not taking his eyes off the child.