Chapter 1: Chapter 1

A/N: Posted 4/13/2014

This story has been abandoned, due to the evolution of my own abilities and this story's utter weakness in whole.

Lily and James Potter stood inside the white room, holding hands tightly. Both had nervous expressions on their faces as their eyes met.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Lilyflower?" asked James, squeezing her hand tightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to; I don't mind."

Lily shook her head firmly. "No James, I need to do this. We both want children." A pained look flashed across his face and she held up a hand to silence him. "I don't blame you. It's not your fault. Fate works in mysterious ways. This is the best way. Just because the child doesn't have your genetics doesn't make it any less yours."

"Excellent choice of words, Mrs. Potter," said a voice.

The married couple jumped, heads turning to look at the man standing in the doorway. He was quite old, with a shock of white hair and more wrinkles than Dumbledore. He leant on a cane but his eyes showed inner strength. "Truer words could never be said." He reached out a hand.

Lily smiled and shook it graciously, followed by her husband. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Erskine."

The man shuffled over and took a seat in the chair. He eyed the two of them critically. "So, you are here because you want to conceive a child? I must confess you do not look like the usual type."

Lily nodded. "Yes. My husband is unfortunately sterile, and we would prefer that the child be related to one of us, if not both of us."

The old man grinned, showing off his teeth. "Ah, very good. You two care for each other very much, yes?"

James smiled at that. "We love each other very much."

Dr. Erskine laughed and nodded. "Yes, love is wonderful. My uncle once told me that love helps the world go 'round. Kindness, compassion, friendship…those are all different types of love." He paused as he eyed them. "This is a very big step. If you're sure, I can show you some of the candidates, to help you make up your mind. Most don't have pictures, but some do."

Lily was shocked at the abruptness of the process. She thought that there would be paperwork, bills, background checks…maybe they came later. "Um…sure! That would be fine."

The doctor stood wearily and shuffled out the room. James turned and grinned at Lily. "That was so much better than I thought it would be! I thought that the muggle way would take a long time."

Lily nodded absently. "Yes…so did I."

Richard Erskine hobbled back into his storage room, muttering to himself all the while. Four decades he had worked this business, and never once had he felt that spark. Never once had a couple had that special connection, and never once had a potential mother looked at him like that.

He scurried over to the back wall and scanned his bookshelf for the appropriate book. As soon as he found it he yanked it out and flipped it open, turning all the way to the back. It was quite a large book, so it perfectly concealed the manila folder on the inside of the back cover. He took it out and placed the book on the nearest table.

He placed the folder on the counter and opened it, dumping the papers inside out onto his table. He picked up the top one, scanning it slowly.

Name: Steven 'Steve' Rogers

DOB: 7/4/1918

DOD: MM/DD/1944

Hair Color: Ash Blonde

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 220 lbs.

Place of Birth: New York, New York

Maladies: None

Following that was several pages of technical data and medical data, all taken just after the experiment. There was a picture as well; a black and white one of Steve, from soon after the experiment, dressed in jeans, a T-Shirt, and a leather jacket gazing just to the right of the camera. It was the perfect capturing of Steve's essence; who the infamous soldier was underneath all of his military training.

Richard had never had the honor of meeting the famous 'Captain America', though he had seen him on television many times. He still remembered his uncle's letters about the skinny young boy he had selected for 'special training'. Richard now knew that it was actually the experiment.

Richard re-opened the book, this time flipping to the middle. There, in the dead center, was a small vial. A segment of the book had been removed to make space for it, camouflaging it perfectly. The vial was about half-full of white liquid. It was the last remaining biological sample taken from Captain America; all the others had been long since destroyed. They were taken between the formula injection and the administration of Vita-Rays. Special needles had been inside the capsule to take blood and semen, to see the effects of the Serum on both. No doubt Steve hadn't noticed, what with the formula coursing through his veins. Richard had been given it for safekeeping…

"I want you to keep that safe, you hear?"

Richard nodded firmly to Agent Peggy Carter as he eyed the vial in his hand. It looked like a semen sample, but why would he need to keep it? He could easily get in massive trouble for taking this. She could as well. Who did it belong to, if she deemed it important enough to smuggle out?

"It belongs to Steve Rogers," she said softly.

His eyes widened in shock. He knew exactly who Steve Rogers was, and that he was Captain America. The incredible soldier who saved hundreds, yet who was also at the funeral of Richard's uncle, Abraham Erskine. "Why…why do I need a semen sample? Isn't it a huge crime to be stealing something like this?"

Peggy stared at it sadly. "It is the last one left. I destroyed all the other ones. Steve would never have condoned them taking samples like this without his permission, and I know that he never gave it. As for why I need you to smuggle it out…I…I'm not sure why it needs to be you. I just feel like you should have it. Keep it, until you meet the right person."

His left eyebrow cranked up like a drawbridge. "The 'right person'? The right person for what?"

She nodded at the vial. "To give that vial to. Or, more accurately, administer it to. I don't know how I know, but one day, in the future, you will meet a woman. Someone who will seem…different. Maybe she'll have a husband, or a family. I want you to use that, Ricky."

His eyes widened in realization. "Use it…to get her pregnant? You do know that such things are only experimental, right? Use a sample from Captain America to have a child?"

She grinned. "No, not Captain America. Steve. He…always wanted to have a family, after the war was done. I want you to use that to create something wonderful. It will be a memory of Steve, still safe. It is specially preserved; it won't lose its…capabilities with time."

He stared at the innocent looking vial. "So…someone will be pregnant with the child of Captain America? Why?"

Peggy shook her head. "I don't know why or who. I only know how. I just believe that you will know her when you see her."

She had been correct; he did know the one when he saw her. Lily Potter was very similar to Peggy. She had that same strong inner fire in her eyes, that same fierce determination. However, it was also tempered by a kind heart and loving soul. He never knew how Peggy did it—he probably never would—but she had predicted correctly.

He nabbed a few other miscellaneous files to make sure that he didn't appear to be aiming for Steve's specifically. However, the others were all less attractive choices, both in genetics and in pictures. Steve's would stand out, and he would therefore be chosen.

After replacing the book on the shelf he hobbled back to the waiting room, where the married pair was waiting.

Lily and James looked up from their hushed conversation as the doctor returned. They had been discussing what they were supposed to tell their friends about all this. Magicals in general typically viewed muggle science as barbaric and crude, no matter how open-minded they were. For them, the thought of something like a sperm donor was horrible and unfathomable. Things like Open Heart Surgery or In Vitro Fertilization were equally distasteful.

There was a bit of curiosity about whether or not the child would have magic. The exact science of where it came from was still unknown, mostly due to wizards in general not being willing to interact with muggles. But Lily hypothesized that carrying a child in her womb for nine months, and exposing it to her magic, would ensure magic in it. She would also take several potions during the pregnancy which were meant to magically stabilize fetuses. All that magical essence would surely do something. Even if the child wasn't magical, James and Lily wouldn't love them any less.

They were deciding whether or not their closest friends—i.e. Peter, Sirius, and Remus—should know. They wouldn't judge the Potters, certainly, but it still was rather private. Sirius would most likely be the most disturbed by it; no matter how much he renounced his family, being raised as a pureblood affected his thought processes. Then they wondered if Dumbledore should know. He was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, but did this really concern him? It was all very complicated.

"Sorry I took so long," said Dr. Erskine with a grin. "My old legs aren't what they used to be."

James waved his hand dismissively. "No trouble at all, Doctor." His eyes lit up with curiosity as he saw the files. "Are those the donors that we can pick from?"

Dr. Erskine chuckled and nodded as he handed the files over. "Yes, these are our current available donor sources. We are a lesser known clinic, so there are not many donations per year."

James plopped down in the seat, handing half of the files to his wife.

"If it's alright with you, I'll leave you two alone. When you need me just call my name, alright?"

Lily nodded. "Sure and thank you."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No trouble at all my dear." With that he stepped out the door, shutting it behind him.

Lily picked up the top file and opened it. She wrinkled her nose as she read the first one.

Name: Albert Michaels

DOB: 12/19/1977

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Brown

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 340 lbs.

Place of Birth: Atlanta, Georgia

Maladies: Asthma, obesity, ADHD

"Definitely not him," she muttered as she cast the file aside. The opened the next one.

Name: John Richard

DOB: 10/31/1981

Hair Color: Dark Red

Eye Color: Hazel

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 120 lbs.

Place of Birth: Paris, France

Maladies: Schizophrenia, allergy to: mushrooms, wheat, dairy, and fish

"Better," she said with a sigh, "But not by much."

James was likewise having similar problems. He quickly eliminated the file of a thirty-year-old who lived with his mother and had drinking problems. "Honestly, why do these bozos donate at all?" Then he froze as he eyed the next file. There was one major difference in it: it, unlike the others, had a decent picture. "Hey Lils, look at this," he hissed, moving the file so that it was in-between them and they could both see it.

Lily leaned over, and her eyes widened as she saw the black and white picture of a handsome man in old-style clothing. "Let me see his personal data," she murmured in James's ear. He acquiesced, lifting up the first page for them to see.

As his eyes skimmed down the page he let out a long whistle. "Damn, this guy's pretty impressive," he noted. "He's tall, strong, built like a rock too." He flipped through a few more pages as his wife continued to stare at the picture. "No health risks, no diseases, prime physical condition in, well, everything. He's perfect! A little too perfect."

"He's the one," Lily finally said, speaking up for the first time. She handed the picture to James. "There is something about him that just seems right. What's his career?"

James flipped the page over. "Muggle military. Pretty high up as well. Woah!"

"What is it?"

"Look at this," said James, pointing to the third line. "The others don't have that."

"Date of death…1944!" Lily cried. She stared at James. "This guy has been dead for over fifty years!"

"Born 1918, died 1944. So he was in his twenties? Poor bloke."

Lily scowled at him. "Not funny. I am just wondering why they have a sample from a guy this old."

"Excellent question." They jumped again as they heard the voice of the old doctor. He had quietly entered the room and was standing behind them. "Well, you see, I have been holding that for quite a long time."

"Why?" asked Lily, hands on her hips and brow puckered into a frown. "Why keep it that long?"

The doctor paused, eyeing her. "A promise," he said finally. "A promise to the woman who was in love with that young man. A promise that I would find the perfect person to bear his child, even long after he was gone."

The serious expression on Lily's face cracked, morphing into a frown of sadness. "She…asked you to do that?" Lily paused, eying the dates again. "Is it still…viable?"

Dr. Erskine nodded. "Yes, it has been specially preserved. You see, Mr. Rogers was quite a valuable commander. He was the strongest, fastest, and smartest. No one could match him. This is the only remaining sample of anything leftover. His girlfriend gave it to me, with a promise that I would hold onto it."

James looked at the picture again. He had been very nervous to even attempt this process. When he imagined having a child, he had wanted one of his own flesh and blood. Maybe a son with his flyaway hair and Lily's emerald eyes, or a daughter with her mother's crimson hair and his mischievous prankster streak. Being unable to produce the child that Lily had so wanted made him feel weak and pathetic; a horrible and useless husband. He had agreed to come here because he knew that it would make Lily happy. James wasn't sure that there would be anyone worthy of his wife. Heck, James didn't think that he was worthy of her. This picture was of a man, a military hero, whose genes could be passed down to James's child. All because one woman would not give any piece of him up. To help raise a child like that would be an honor. "We'll do it," he said firmly. Lily looked at him in shock, no doubt surprised that he was choosing to do it. He had, after all, put up quite a fight against coming here.

Her shock quickly faded, and she nodded as well. "Yes." She turned to Dr. Erskine. "Yes, we choose him. Steve Rogers."

He grinned at her and nodded. "Very well." Then his grin morphed into a smirk. "Now comes the hard part."

"Hello there," cooed James, dangling a finger over the small wriggling form in the bassinet.

The squirming baby, now christened Harrison James Steven Potter, curled his little fingers around his father's finger and gripped it tightly.

"Aw, he likes you," said Lily with a grin. She was watching from her place on the hospital bed where she was resting from the tiring after-effects of childbirth. "That's good. I don't think I could handle both of you crying."

James scowled at her teasing but he couldn't hold it. He looked back down at the bright eyes, which were blinking sleepily. "This little guy is too cute to be much trouble."

Harrison, or preferably Harry, took after his biological father a great deal. He had a sprout of light ash blonde growing on his head and his face was very similar to the picture of Steve Rogers. His eyes, though, held the same emerald shade as did Lily's. The only difference was that right near the center his morphed into a sky blue color.

"I hate that we have to hide his face like this," muttered James. However, due to the quiet of the room, Lily heard.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "But you know about the prophecy that Dumbledore heard. It doesn't even matter that Harrison might not fit it; no one knows, or would believe us. If we told others Voldemort would think that we were lying to get him off of our backs."

After Dumbledore had heard the prophecy, he had been quick to inform the two pregnant women who were due at the end of July. It was perfectly logical for him to assume that the Potters' child was potentially the prophecy one. James and Lily had decided that no one would know that he wasn't James's until after the baby had been born so they would have visible proof. Now, for his own safety, they had decided to place a complex feature glamour on Harry. It wouldn't change his body size or height; it would simply disguise his features and alter his hair to fit a predetermined image. They had decided it was best if he was altered to look like James. They could remove it either once he got a bit older or once Voldemort was gone. Perhaps Dumbledore believed in prophecies, but neither James nor Lily did.

Perhaps one day James would have enjoyed altering Harry's face to look like him; he would have loved for his son to look like his father. But not today. James and Lily had been allowed to keep the information on Steve Rogers; the doctor gave it to them to keep. From the time that they got it James read through it at least once a week for two months. He memorized every line, every fact, and every speck of evidence. It was almost obsessive. Then, one day, he stopped. Because he had finally seen what he had been looking for; not in the file, but in his wife's actions. The way she rubbed her stomach, the way she would watch children play outside. It honestly didn't matter if his child didn't have his genes; it only mattered that he would see James as his father.

James waved his wand over the baby's head, watching Harry follow the trail of the polished wood with his eyes. Like a glittering blanket a veil of sparkling light danced over Harry's skin. With a few whispered words his hair darkened, the blue in his eyes turned as green as the rest, and his features shifted to James's. James was a master of Transfiguration; while the spell was a charm, it was easy for him.

"Don't worry James," said Lily from the bed. "It will be fine. No harm will come to him. We'll make sure of that."

Thirteen Years Later

Remus's eyes narrowed in thought as he watched his best friend's son sit down at the desk. Harry didn't notice, or pretended to ignore, this singular focus, instead taking out his homework from the previous day.

Harry Potter was quite a conundrum, in more ways than one. Remus had been watching his surrogate nephew since the beginning of the year and the boy had him really and truly stumped.

Harry smelled of James—he had his scent faintly attached to him—but he didn't smell like him at all.

It had been puzzling Remus for his entire teaching span. All children smell like their parents, it was something he had always known. Even if they hadn't seen them in years or even if they hadn't been raised by them they would maintain a similar scent. Harry should smell like James because James was his father.

Or was he?

That was what had been niggling at Remus's thoughts. Harry had been gone, for his entire childhood, at the Dursleys. For all they knew he could have been replaced with someone else's child. It seemed like it could have happened, except Harry did smell like Lily. So did she cheat on James with someone else and get pregnant? But no, Lily was far from the kind of woman who would ever do that.

Yet, that might explain some of the differences between Harry and his parents.

While many said, and Remus agreed, that Harry was nearly a carbon copy of James, his personality was nothing like the older Potter. James was brash, loud, boisterous, and—dare Remus say it—arrogant. Harry was almost the complete antithesis of that. However, he didn't take after Lily either. Lily was quiet, but she had lots of friends and a fiery temper like no one else. He still remembered the onslaught of spells that she had rained down on Severus Snape after he called her a 'mudblood'.

Though Remus knew how Severus liked to compare Harry to his father, Harry was almost nothing like either of his parents. Harry was quiet except when he saw some sort of injustice. He had a very strong sense of morality and a Hero Complex to go along with it. Dumbledore had told him all about Harry's little adventures. From what he had heard Harry also despised the concept of 'the end justifies the means'; the concept that Dumbledore seemed to favor.

Oh, Remus knew all about Dumbledore's shadier side. He had fought in a war with the man after all. He had seen how Dumbledore would be willing to sacrifice two or three soldiers if it meant that he could get the rest out alive. Remus knew it and accepted it, even if he didn't like it.

Harry would never have accepted something like that. If he were a soldier he would be the type who would sacrifice himself in an attempt to get just another person or two out of harm's way.

Remus watched Harry as he took notes from the board, one hand adjusting the robes. That was another difference between James and Harry: their body sizes. James had been tall, about 5'11", with broad shoulders and a fit body from Quidditch. Lily certainly had been no slouch, her head reaching just under James's. Harry, however, seemed abnormally scrawny. He was far shorter than both with thin arms and legs. It almost seemed like he could topple over with a single push.

As he watched Harry he thought back to nine or ten months before he was born, the relative time right before conception. He mentally scanned the calendar, thinking if there had been any important dates or instances where Lily had been notably missing. However, it wasn't a memory of Lily missing that he got, but James.

His mind latched onto that date. He remembered that James had missed an Order meeting to…what was it…go to a checkup at St. Mungo's!

His mind raced, connecting the invisible dots. Harry didn't smell like James, but he did smell like Lily…James went to get a checkup at St. Mungo's a few weeks before Harry would have been conceived…he vaguely remembered Lily or James re-reading a muggle file when he was at their houses…

While Remus may have been born of wizarding parents and raised in the wizarding world, he knew a great deal about the muggle one. Many of the jobs he had taken over the years had been in the muggle world, after all. He knew that their science was extremely advanced and they could do all sorts of things that most wizards couldn't imagine doing. He had heard of In Vitro fertilization and sperm donation.

"-sor Lupin? Professor? Professor Lupin?"

Remus was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of Hermione Granger. He blinked, looking over at the bushy-haired girl. "Sorry, sorry. I was a bit lost in my thoughts." He flashed a tired grin. "What did you need?"

As he listened to the excitable muggleborn launch into a lengthy inquiry about Grindelows he filed the information he had stumbled upon away. Yes, he would definitely be investigating this. Not that he had anything against it, but he had to know.

"Run it again."

Agent Hill nodded, sighing internally as she re-entered the sequence in the computer, scanning for any similarities. As before, one popped up.

"Damn," muttered Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. "That is just not possible!" And yet, somehow, it was.

The teams of agents onboard the SHIELD airship had been scanning and entering the DNA samples taken from Steve Rogers looking for anything different. Many of the agents were scientists looking for the Super-Soldier Formula. However, when Agent Hill had entered it into the National DNA Database to search for a match as was procedure they were certainly not expecting it to come out with 50% match.

"Shit," Fury swore again, bringing up the available identification on the match. This was just not his day. When he heard that Agent Hill had found a possible familial relation to Steve Rogers, he was doubtful. When he learned that it was, in fact, true, he figured that maybe the guy had impregnated some woman back in the 40's. Though it did seem unlikely considering how prudish the former soldier was. He nearly had a heart attack when the subject was revealed to be a kid, barely a teenager. Of course he had doubted it. It certainly wasn't possible for a kid to be conceived while he was locked in a block of ice. That is, he was convinced until he saw the fifth line of the personal data.

Sperm Bank. Shit.

"Agent Hill, get me location for that Sperm Bank. Now. Then get me a flight, and I don't care what puffed-up politician you have to give the boot to do it."

He turned on his heel and stalked off, black coat billowing dramatically. 'I hate Mondays,' he thought to himself.

Harry knocked on the door of Professor Lupin's office, his blood racing. He wasn't sure why he had been asked to come back after classes; was he in trouble? Did he do something wrong?

"Come in Harry," said Professor Lupin from within.

Harry took a deep breath and pushed the oaken door open. He wasn't sure what he was expecting after seeing this office laden with garlic first year and pictures of Lockhart his second year, but Lupin's office was far better than he had remembered it.

He had really demonstrated his class type in his choice of decorations. There was a tank in the back with a Grindelow, a Hinkypuff light, and a tooth of some strange creature.

Professor Lupin smiled at him from where he was seared at his desk and he gestured to the seat in front of his desk with the end of his quill. "Please sit down."

Harry shuffled over to the chair and sat down, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the Defense teacher's piercing gaze. "Why am I here?" he finally blurted out.

Lupin chuckled slightly. "Yes, I suppose you wouldn't remember me. You were only a baby, after all." He chuckled again at Harry's confused expression. "I was quite a close friend of your parents, Harry. We were friends in school. I often would go visit you when you were a baby."

Harry's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Y-You knew my parents?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes. Your father and I were best friends all through our Hogwarts years. Him, me, Peter Pettigrew...and Sirius Black." His lip curled in distaste.

Harry stared at his professor. "Sirius Black?"

Lupin nodded and stood from the chair, walking to the chest of drawers. "Your dad, Peter, Sirius and I were a very close group of friends. We loved pranks, not unlike the Weasley twins." He turned from the chest, now holding a picture. "This is us in our fifth year."

Harry took the picture and looked at it. It was four boys sitting on the grass near the lake. One was obviously Lupin; he had the same dark blonde hair, though without the grey streaks. His amber eyes were happier and less burdened. Next to him sat a short chubby boy with watery blue eyes and large teeth. Next to him were two black-haired boys. They were tall, even sitting down. One had wavy black hair that touched his shoulders and laughing grey eyes. The other's hair stuck up all over the place, and his hazel eyes were framed by circular black spectacles.

"Dad," breathed Harry.

"You look just like him," said Lupin. There was an odd inflection in his voice, like he wanted to add something else to that sentence.

Harry's brow furrowed as he looked up at Lupin. "But...if you were my dad's friend...why didn't you raise me?"

Lupin winced, and Harry knew that he had hit a nerve. "I wanted to," he said softly. "But I couldn't. I have a...condition, that makes me an unsuitable guardian."

"What condition?" demanded Harry. "What could have justified leaving me with my relatives? They are horrible!"

Lupin ducked his head slightly. "Lycanthropy," he breathed.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. He recognized the term. "You're a werewolf?" His face softened. "I'm sorry."

Lupin eyed him. "You...you don't mind? Most people would stay as far away from a werewolf as they could."

"Well I will probably avoid you on full moon nights, but other than that? No."

Lupin snorted and shook his head. "James said the same thing."

Harry looked down at the picture, where James was stretching. "People compare me to him all the time. They say 'you look just like James. Except your eyes, you have your mother's eyes'. I mean, I like it, but it can be…tiresome."

Lupin cocked his head to the side slightly in confusion. "Tiresome? Why do you say that?"

Harry sighed. "Because no one ever sees just me. They see the Boy-Who-Lived, or the son of Lily and James, or, in Snape's case, an arrogant brat." Harry looked up at his teacher. "Why does he hate my dad so much?"

"Well…" Lupin looked slightly uncomfortable. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Like I said when we were at school we were pranksters. We even had nicknames; Moony, me, Wormtail, Peter, Prongs, James, and Padfoot, Sirius. James and…Sirius were always the leaders. Peter and I were the followers. Sirius came from a very…Dark family. The Blacks were known for their heavy practice of the Dark Arts, and that they supported Voldemort's ideals." He gave a bitter laugh. "Sirius always renounced his family, but look at him now."

"James," continued Lupin. "Was born when his parents were in their later years. I heard that it was quite a surprise when James was born. James's father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all Gryffindors; in fact, I think that nearly all born Potters. James's mother Dorea may have been a Slytherin but she didn't advocate it like Charlus—James's father—advocated Gryffindor. James grew up with a very pro-Gryffindor mindset. Severus was a Slytherin and he hated Gryffindor. Add that to the fact that he was best friends with Lily who James already had a crush on."

"Snape was friends with my mum?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes. I believe they lived in the same area as children and were friends. Lily may have been in Gryffindor, but she stayed friendly to Severus. James constantly would try to impress her even though she never responded. She was more prone to ream him out for stupidity and cruelty."

"Why cruelty?"

"Well I am ashamed to admit it, but many of our pranks were slightly cruel. James and Sirius loved to target the Slytherins and the pranks sometimes were less funny and more…cruel."

Harry slumped slightly in his chair. He had always seen his dad as a beacon of kindness and perfection. Though that may have been just the little orphan boy wanting a perfect father. "So he was a bully?" That left a bad taste in his mouth.

Lupin eyed him. "When he was younger James was a bit of a bully but then we were all a bit unkind. However, that changed around fifth or sixth year."

"What happened then?"

"James grew up. There was an…incident, with Sirius and Severus, that lead to Severus almost dying. James saved Severus and he realized that he couldn't keep going on like he was. He stopped pranking Severus, or if he did it was only a minor one that affected the entire Slytherin table. If I recall, it was in sixth year that Lily finally agreed to go out with him. They started dating, and continued to the end of Hogwarts. The rest is history. Then came you."

Harry felt much better after hearing the entire story. It was refreshing hearing something real about his parents. All he had before was that Lily had red hair, green eyes, and was good at Charms, while James liked to fly, had black hair like Harry's, and he loved Transfiguration. "Were you there when I was born?"

"That is actually wanted to talk to you about," said Lupin quickly. "There is something that you need to know. Something that James and Lily didn't tell a lot of people, which is why you don't know now."

Harry blinked rapidly as he tried to understand. "Wait...what?"

Lupin hesitated, obviously hesitant to continue. "You need to know that James was infertile."

Harry's eyes bugged out. "What? If he was infertile, then how am I here?"

"They visited a Sperm Bank." Harry froze, staring at Lupin in disbelief. "James couldn't produce children and the magical world doesn't have adoption. Couples where one is infertile usually just get a surrogate to assist them. I know Lily, however, and she never would have wanted to sleep with another man. I worked in the muggle world for a short time so I know all about the muggle processes like that."

Harry felt slightly queasy as he listened to the explanation. He had never expected that the conversation would head in this direction. "But…why do I look like dad?" Maybe Lupin was wrong. Maybe James just didn't say.

"Lily and James glamoured you to look like James. In the time of the war, with Voldemort targeting them, it was wiser to keep things like that a secret. I never found out exactly why Voldemort targeted you specifically but I wager that the disguise had something to do with it. However, I don't doubt that they would have removed the glamour later. They didn't like those sorts of secrets."

"But...but then doesn't that mean...my dad isn't James?"

Lupin shook his head quickly. "Does being adopted make you any less your parents' child? No. James loved you more than anything. He died for you."

Harry was stunned. No, actually, that word did not communicate the level of shock he felt at this information. He had never expected this. People always told him how much he looked like James Potter. Though, he didn't. It was just a disguise for him. What did he look like underneath it all? "Can I...can I see what I look like without the glamour? I mean…if they never intended to keep it on permanently…why can't I remove it?"

Lupin paused. "That...may be a bit harder. I don't actually know what spell they used and I doubt Finite Incantatem will work for something this complicated."

Harry deflated slightly.

"But," continued Lupin, "I bet I know a way we can find out what will work."

Nick Fury pounded on the door as hard as he could, transferring his impatience into every hit. He did not come all the way out to this deadbeat building halfway across the globe to wait; he came for answers.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" cried a voice from within. "Keep your pants on!"

Fury tapped his foot impatiently, reluctantly quashing the urge to kick down the door and head into there guns blazing. It could have just been an honest mistake. That was always a possibility, though unlikely. Maybe whoever took the sample lost it and it ended up here? It could happen.

The door cracked open, revealing a very old man leaning on a cane. His gaze flicked up Fury, and his eyes widened. "Oh my, isn't this a pleasure. Nick Fury of SHIELD," he drawled. "Whatever can I do for you?"

Fury flicked the safety off his gun and rested his hand on the handle. 'Definitely not an accident,' he thought to himself.

Remus guided Harry towards Gringotts, scanning the street with golden eyes. He had broken the rules in a big way bringing Harry here without permission, but it was worth it. They needed to find out whether or not Harry was conceived via sperm donation.

Remus knew that he was taking a huge risk here, pretending that he actually knew what he was doing. If it turned out that he was wrong he might lose Harry's trust forever. Heck, his whole idea about the donation may be wrong, but at the very least he was positive that James wasn't Harry's father, and the boy deserved to know.

He headed into the white marble building with Harry in tow. Remus nodded to the small goblin by the door as he passed. It was best not to get on the bad side of goblins; their tempers were legendary. Unfortunately wizards liked to suppress creatures that weren't human, which, more often than not, led to rebellions or wars.

Remus walked up to one of the bank tellers. "Mr. Harry Potter wants to visit his vault," he said in a firm voice. That was one thing that goblins disliked about humans; they had to be asked or told everything, like when to sit or when to speak. Goblins preferred initiative.

The goblin slowly looked up from one of the papers. He looked completely unimpressed. "And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?" he drawled.

Remus saw Harry blush out of the corner of his eye but he ignored it. "No, but a blood test should suffice."

The goblin nodded as it withdrew a silver bowl and a knife from under its desk. "Very well," it stated in a bored tone. "Hand please."

Harry stepped forward and reached his hand out to the goblin. With a flick of the wrist there was a shallow cut on the palm of Harry's hand. The goblin waited patiently as several drops of blood ran down Harry's hand and dripped into the bowl. When it was done he snapped his fingers, instantly sealing the cut. Harry pulled his hand away.

Several runes on the side of the bowl lit up brightly as the goblin tapped the side with a sharp ping. The goblin raised an eyebrow as it turned back to Remus and Harry. "Which vault do you want?"

"The family vault," answered Remus. He saw Harry's confused look and made a hand gesture signaling that he would explain later.

"You do understand that none of the currency in the vault can be removed until the owner has come of age?" asked the goblin.

Remus nodded.

"Very well," it said with a long-suffering sigh. It hopped down from the small stool it stood on and beckoned with one hand. "Follow me."

Remus and Harry followed the diminutive creature out of the gilded entry hall and into the less furbished area where the carts lay. The goblin hopped into the nearest one and the other two followed. As he felt the cart start up Remus leaned over to Harry.

"The family vault is where family heirlooms are stored," he said. "The one you most likely saw before is just the trust vault that lasts until you are seventeen. You can't remove any money from the family vault, but you can remove items." Anything else he might have said was cut off as the cart shot off into the darkness.

Steve grinned as he saw his friend Bucky down an entire mug of beer. With a loud belch Bucky slammed the empty mug down and raised a hand in the air. A cheer went up as he scooped the pile of bills on the table towards himself. "Sorry bud," he called to the sleeping man on the other side. "But some people just can't hold their liquor."

Steve snorted, drawing the attention of Bucky. Bucky's face lit up as he saw Steve. "Hey!" he yelled, drawing the crowd's attention. "Three cheers for Captain America!"

A roar went through the bar; people all raising glasses in a tribute to him. "Please no cheers," Steve called as he held a hand up for silence. "But you should know that I couldn't have done anything without my team." He gestured to the six other men sitting around the table.

"So modest!" cooed Bucky in a high-pitched voice. He batted his eyes flirtatiously at Steve. "Oh Mr. Rogers, you're amazing! You are my hero." That was as far as he got before he cracked up laughing.

Steve tried to frown but he couldn't hold it. "Oh Bucky, you flatter me," he pronounced as he saluted his old friend. "But you see I have a girlfriend."

He jumped slightly as he felt a hand appear on his shoulder. "Oh, and who would that be?" purred a voice by his ear. However, the obvious accent gave the identity of the person away.

"Oh maybe you've seen her," he answered in a casual tone. "She's got soft, wavy brown hair, eyes like melted chocolate, and the cutest accent I've ever heard."

The figured moved into his line of sight. "You flatter me Steve," Peggy said with a smile. She pulled the sleeve of her ruby-red dress. "But you promised me a dance."

Steve pushed himself up from the chair. "A dance for the end of the war? Sounds good to me," he replied. He took her delicate hand in his larger one and gently tugged her onto the dance floor.

They twirled around for a few minutes to the piano music. "So what do you think?" she finally asked. "Am I the right partner?"

He lowered her into a dip. "Yea. You're perfect, Peggy."

She smiled at him again, but this one was more of a sad smile. "You're not alone Steve."

"What?" What did that mean?

Suddenly Steve felt himself slip and fall on his tailbone. He groaned as he reached to see what he slipped on…ice? His eyes widened as he saw the patches of ice growing all over the walls and floor. "What's happening?"

"Steve?"

He gasped as he saw Peggy. There were ice crystals growing in her hair and her skin was turning pale blue. He saw that the same thing was happening to other people, however, they didn't seem to even notice it. "Peggy what's happening?"

"You owe me that dance," said Peggy. Her eyes were glassy and her face was blank. Steve grabbed her arms but he yanked back when they were as cold as ice.

There was ice everywhere. The floor had turned into a solid sheet of it, the walls were coated in frost, and all the people seemed to have frozen. All the colors, even the rich scarlet of Peggy's dress, had faded to a grayish-blue in the icy dim.

Steve was having trouble breathing. His lungs felt constricted and he couldn't get enough air. He tried to stand but slipped and fell, cracking the ice. The crack raced up the wall and across the ceiling. Before he knew it the entire building was collapsing onto him in a fall of ice…

Harry staggered out of the cart and fell to his knees in front of the vault with a groan. He hadn't remembered it being nearly that bad last time he had been here. Then again he hadn't been here since he was eleven, and last time he had Hagrid to hang onto.

"Alright there Harry?" asked Remus with a grin as he stepped smoothly from the cart to the landing. "Not too bad?"

Harry shot Remus a heated glare, though it was slightly lessened in effect by the green tinge on his face. "Oh shut it."

Remus just smiled as the goblin unlocked the vault. "Now, now, no need to talk to your professor that way."

"Not in school," muttered Harry as he pushed himself to his feet using one of the stalagmites growing across the floor.

Any further discussion was silenced as the massive metal door to the vault swung open with nary a creak of the hinges. The inside of this vault was a good deal larger than the other. The ceiling was massive, almost as tall as the ceiling of the Great Hall. The entire cavern was filled to the brim with assorted objects. Harry felt his eyes grow wide as he stared at the massive assortment of objects. There were piles of books, clothes, weapons, and jewels. Lots and lots of jewels.

"Wow," he breathed, staring at the fortune. This was all his?

"Whistle when you are done," said the goblin in its gravelly voice. It climbed back into the cart and shot away into the darkness.

"Charming fellow," muttered Remus. He headed into the vault and looked around.

"What if someone doesn't know how to whistle?" asked Harry curiously as he followed. "Do you just end up stuck there?"

"Here!" cried Remus, apparently not having heard Harry's questions, as he hurried over to the nearest corner of the vault. There was a rather plain chair set up against the wall and on top of it was a pile of muggle folders. He picked up the top one and flipped it open. "Harry, I think that this is it."

Harry walked slowly over to his Defense teacher and stood next to him, looking over the werewolf's shoulder. The first page had a title across the top: Artificial Fertilization.

"Artificial fertilization?" asked Harry.

"Sperm donations," clarified Remus.

Harry's eyes grew wide and he sucked in a breath. "So it's true," he breathed. He shook his head slightly and closed his eyes. "I…I did have a few doubts."

Remus nodded as he watched the green-eyed boy. "It's true, Harry. But now that you know that you can learn other things. Like who your biological father was." He flipped through a few more pages before tossing the folder on the ground. "That one is only about the facility itself." He picked up another one and raised an eyebrow at the I.D. number on it. "This might be it." He opened the folder and both eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Wow. He isn't what I expected."

Harry leaned over and he felt his jaw slacken in what would normally be a completely comical way. He stared at the black and white picture in shock. There was no way that Harry was related to this man. He was tall, buff, handsome…everything that Harry wasn't. "It can't be him."

Remus's eyes scanned the page before lifting it up so that he could see the next one. "Give me a minute," he muttered. He flipped through a few more pages before he seemed to find what he was looking for. "Here we go." He held up the page for Harry to see. On the bottom was a star with a line next to it. On the line was a signature. "This is Lily's signature saying that she accepts this candidate. You were wrong; this guy was the one they picked."

"Steve Rogers?" asked Harry. He shook his head. "That guy looks nothing like me."

"Glamour, remember?" Remus frowned slightly as he flipped through a few pages. The name Steve Rogers sounded disturbingly familiar. He felt like he had heard the name before somewhere, perhaps in the muggle world. Did celebrities do donations? "Well I don't see any other candidates, so it probably is him."

Harry shook his head in disbelief as he lifted up a different folder. He blinked in shock as an envelope slid out of the folder and landed on the floor. He picked it up curiously. On the front in cursive was his name. "What is this?" He leaned over to Remus to show him the letter.

"That's Lily's handwriting. Maybe they left a letter for you just in case something happened to them."

"Why would they do that?"

"Lily always planned ahead. James did occasionally as well, though thinking ahead wasn't something that he did much. I'm afraid that it is a trait most Gryffindors suffer from."

Harry stuck his fingernail under the flap of the letter and, after a moment's hesitation, tore it open. He removed the letter inside and sat down on the floor with the wall at his back to read it.

Dear Harry

If you are reading this then we are most likely dead. I am ever so sorry that we left you alone, but I am happy that you have lived on. If all things go to plan then you should be brought here on your eleventh birthday by Sirius and Remus. I hope that they have been raising you well and they have not been corrupting you too much. I am trusting that Remus has balanced Sirius's personality.

The first thing I want you to know is that we love you. We love you more than anything in the entire universe. And I hope that you will continue to be loved for your entire life.

Now, I do not know if we have been able to tell anyone before so I will tell you now: James is not your biological father. He is, sadly, infertile. In the wizarding world most simply choose a surrogate but we decided against it. I instead choose to use a muggle concept called a Sperm Bank. Essentially it is using a surrogate, but without the person. It may make more sense once you get 'The Talk'; I hope that Remus is the one who does that. Anyway, James and I picked a man named Steve Rogers to be your biological father. You can find his file in the stack. He is no longer alive; he died several decades ago. His sample was given by his girlfriend, a woman who lost him before his time and wanted some piece of him to remain. The doctor told us that we are the only people that he has ever picked to use the sample from Steve Rogers.

The fact that you are not James's biological son has never bothered James. He loved you so much, more than anything in the world. Even as I write this I am watching you zoom around on the little toy broom Sirius bought you for your first birthday, James hurrying after. You have somehow managed to exceed the safety speed spells placed on it. I fear that the cat will never be the same after you nearly ran her over.

Now, James and I never wanted to disguise you. Neither of us likes to hide things like that; it is not right. However, it was not safe to reveal your origin. Therefore we used a spell to hide you. If it has not yet been removed then you can do it now if you so desire. It is who you truly are and you should not have to hide that. The spell is called Faciem et Abscondium. It can be removed with the spell Ostendere et Faciem.

I have enclosed a picture from the day before your first birthday. The Sperm Clinic we went to had a wall for successful families, and we decided to send a picture to add to it. The glamour was temporarily removed for this. You look very adorable in it and I don't doubt that you will one day be as handsome as Steve Rogers was. I just wish that I could be there to see it.

I am ever so sorry that we had to leave you, and I want you to know that we never wanted to. However, there is no better way to die than defending the ones you love. I hope that one day you can find someone for yourself.

Love,

Lily

Harry didn't even realize that he was crying until a teardrop splashed against the page. He jerked the page away to keep it dry as the tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. He quickly used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe them away but the damage was done. He wasn't one to cry, but now…now his entire world had essentially been torn apart at the seams and shattered like glass.

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" asked Remus as he saw the boy crying. He reached down and laid a hand on his shoulder. James may not have been the boy's father but Remus did not care for him any less because of that. This Harry was the same boy that had once called Remus his Unca' Moony and loved the man regardless of his condition.

Harry started as his teacher's hand touched his shoulder. He shook himself out of his stupor and looked up at the older man. He didn't like others to see him cry. When he was younger Dudley or Vernon would mock him for his 'weak' emotions, never mind how much Dudley would whine and throw temper tantrums. But Professor Lupin was different. In just an hour the man had already proved himself to be the most trustworthy adult Harry had ever met. "No, no, I'm okay," he choked out. "It's just…this letter is from my mum."

Harry reached into the envelope to check for anything else. He was surprised when he felt a smaller piece of paper. Then he remembered what it said in the letter about a picture. He paused for a moment in nervous anticipation before crushing his fear and pulling the small paper rectangle out. The picture was a muggle one and therefore unmoving.

Harry had seen baby pictures of himself before. Not from the Dursleys of course—they tried to forget that he existed and certainly wouldn't want him immortalized in film—but in the photo album that Hagrid had given him. The little baby version of him had already looked a great deal like James with the messy hair that stuck up all over and similar, if smaller, features. The vibrant green eyes were a perfect match to the eyes of his mother.

The baby in this picture didn't look anything like that baby. This boy's face wasn't quite so round. His eyebrows were lower and his chin stuck out a bit more. Instead of a messy black head of hair this baby had hair that was golden blonde like sunshine on wheat. The eyes were a dazzling green on the exterior, however, the inside half was like a corona of sky blue.

Harry just stared at the picture in shock. This was what he looked like a baby. This is what he looked like, because his father wasn't James. His father was some other man who Harry looked like. Some stranger Harry had never met and would never meet because he was dead, just like James and Lily.

He turned to the folder that held the personal data and removed the picture of Steve Rogers that he had seen before. With shaking hands he held the pictures up side-by-side to see any similarity. It was definitely there; little Harry was nearly a copy of Steve in every aspect except the eyes.

"I guess this proves it," he muttered as he lowered the pictures. When he saw Remus looking at him curiously he handed the pictures to the man.

Remus smiled slightly when he saw the frozen image of the happy baby in the picture. Harry truly was an adorable baby, whoever he may look like. There was something about babies that Remus loved. Maybe it was their pure and untainted innocence, the innocence that he forever lacked. Once upon a time he wanted to be a parent, but then he became a werewolf. Werewolves were not allowed to reproduce for fear of siring another 'monster'.

Remus turned to look at the young boy and he felt himself smile at the sight. It seemed like all the emotional turmoil had been too much for the boy; he had dozed off rather quickly. Perhaps Remus should have waited before taking him to Gringotts.

Remus shrunk the rest of the folders and tucked them into the pocket of his shabby robe before standing. He picked Harry up and headed back towards the entrance. He could bring the boy back here another day so Harry could see some of the objects in here. Now was not the day.

Remus brought two fingers to his mouth and whistled. The sharp noise echoed around the caves for a moment before silence returned. Then the newly-won silence was again shattered by the screeching of a Gringotts cart. Remus looked down at the young boy. 'I am sure that he will be happy to have slept through this,' he thought to himself.

Fury narrowed his one good eye at the doctor. "You do realize that what you have done can be considered a national crime, correct?"

"Yes."

"You realize that you could go to jail for the rest of your life or worse, right?"

"Yes, I do."

Fury sighed and ran a hand over his bald head. "Then why did you do it?" he asked in exasperation.

The enigmatic Richard Erskine just smiled. "It was the right thing to do."

"Pardon?" Fury really hoped that this guy wasn't delusional.

Richard sighed. "I was asked to do this by Peggy Carter, Steve's…girlfriend? His something. I believe that it was called 'repressed sexual tension', and-"

"Get to the point before I start shooting things."

Richard sighed again. "Very well. Anyway, she asked me to hold onto that sample until the right couple came along."

"The 'right' couple?"

"She said that I would know them when I saw them. And I did."

Fury groaned to himself. This was getting him nowhere. "Well, do you know what happened to them?"

Richard shrugged. "After the procedure I didn't hear back from them. Well, except for one letter."

Fury visibly perked up. "What did it say?"

"It didn't say anything. It was just a picture for the wall of successful families that I have. The letter had a picture of the boy that was born using the sample."

Fury paused. Now that he could work with. "Can I see it?"

"May I see it," the old man corrected.

Fury audibly ground his teeth together. "May I see the picture?"

Richard chuckled and nodded. "Why, of course!" He reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. He withdrew a small picture from one of the laminated pockets. "Here you go."

Fury resisted the ever-growing urge to hit the man as he took the picture. His annoyance seemed to fade into a distant buzz as he laid eye one the picture. He had extensively studied the data about Steve Rogers and the man's profile was burned into his brain. Any fool could see the resemblance between Steve and…the kid. The boy was no doubt the son of Rogers, and didn't that open up an enormous can of worms. If the World Security Council got wind of this then they would want the boy. Either to use him in another attempt to discover the Formula or to turn him into the next Captain America.

"Name?"

"I didn't ask," replied the man with that incredibly aggravating smile.

Fury's eye visibly twitched. "Records?" So far all he had was an age and a baby picture. Not exactly much to work with.

"Burned. You do understand the dangers that would come because of who the boy is, yes?"

"Yea I do. And do you understand that I have every right to throw you into federal lockup for a decade or two?" He cast his gaze up and down the man. "If you live that long."

The infuriating man just chuckled. "I don't mind. I know that I am near the end. Do what you wish Director; I won't try to stop you."

Fury clenched his fist for a minute or two before he turned and stalked out of the man's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Alright Harry," said Remus as he placed a hand on the door to the wooden chest. "Focus on a happy memory. Let it overtake you and channel that energy. 3…"

Harry closed his eyes tightly as he thought back through his life, searching for a happy enough memory…and nothing came. It was to be expected, really; the Dursleys hadn't provided him with any happy memories and Hogwarts was nice but didn't make him happy. It irritated him because there was the possibility that he wouldn't be able to cast the stupid charm for that reason.

"2…"

Suddenly an image came to mind. It wasn't a memory, or even a daydream. Harry wasn't even sure where it came from, because it sure couldn't be real. It was…him, but from a third person view. Not alone either. He was standing next to the man, Steve Rogers, like in the picture. They were dressed in identical clothes; t-shirt, jeans, and leather jacket. Harry didn't focus on himself but he noticed that he looked like he should have; like a younger and much smaller Steve. Steve grinned as he ruffled Harry's matching blonde hair. James and Lily were all there, too. They were all together.

"1…"

The image made him feel lighter and happy. It was his family, like it should have been. Either with James or Lily, or with the mysterious Steve Rogers. No Voldemort, no Dursleys, none of the hardship in his life.

"Now Harry!"

Harry snapped back to reality as the lid of the chest popped open and a cloaked figure rose from the chest like an angel of death. The hood of the cloak was pulled over the creature's face, shrouding it in shadow. It was like the tales of the Grim Reaper. Harry could feel the temperature drop as the Dementor sucked in a rattling breath.

"Expecto Patronum!" he cried. A hazy white mist spouted from the tip of his wand and blew into the Dementor. It seemed to lose focus for a moment before turning the hood back towards Harry.

"Focus on the memory, Harry!" exclaimed Remus.

Harry clenched his hand tighter around his wand. He would not be weak and fall down before an abomination like this! "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he yelled.

The happy feeling welled up inside of him like a geyser, racing down his arm and exploding out his wand with a bang. He nearly dropped his wand in shock as the glittering shape of a bald eagle burst out of his wand in a shower of white sparks. The eagle flew forward and collided with the shadowy Dementor head-on. The Dementor screeched, pulling itself away from the being of light.

Remus quickly stepped in front of Harry. "Riddikulus!" he called, brandishing his wand like a whip. With a loud snap the Dementor was blasted back into the chest and the lid slammed shut, locking itself.

Harry watched as the glittering eagle flapped its wings a few more times before disappearing. "Wow," he breathed as the sparkles fell down onto their heads. "That was incredible."

Remus smiled at him as he withdrew a piece of chocolate from his pocket. He snapped it clean through the middle. "It was, wasn't it?" he agreed as he handed one half to Harry. "Quite impressive, too. I was expecting a shield or perhaps a ball of light. However, a corporeal patronus at your age? Truly impressive."

"Corporeal?"

"It has a defined form."

"Oh." Harry paused as he took a bite of the chocolate. "Why was it an eagle?"

Remus eyed him for a moment. "The patronus gets its form from the caster. Their personality, their mindset, their attitude. And not just those. Professor Dumbledore's is a phoenix. Professor McGonagall's is a cat. Are their personalities like those animals? Perhaps. However, I don't doubt that they subconsciously lean towards familiarities."

"I get it."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few more minutes as they finished their chocolate. Finally Harry spoke up, breaking the silence. "Professor, do you have some of those folders from the vault?" This was their first time talking since the bank visit two weeks ago.

Remus nodded. He walked over to his desk and withdrew a few folders. "Here. Luckily today is Saturday, so you aren't expected anywhere."

Harry nodded in agreement as he sat down in an empty seat. He had been on his own a lot this year. Hermione was taking an obscene amount of electives and she was always busy. Ron was fun to hang around with, but there wasn't a whole lot to do with him. The wizarding world had only three ways to pass the time: Books, chess, and Gobstones. None of which appealed to Harry. Besides there was the spat between Ron and Hermione over Scabbers, and both were a bit annoyed that Harry wasn't picking a side.

He was also thinking about dumping Divination and taking Arithmacy instead. He had been pretty good at maths while in primary school, and Hermione's homework seemed interesting, especially if Arithmacy could be used in spell crafting. Runes seemed cool but too much like a new language.

Harry opened the folder about Steve and flipped to the part containing personal data. Last time he hadn't gotten far past the picture and he was eager to read more about the mysterious Steve Rogers. He also wanted to check that he didn't have crazy person in his blood.

Steve Rogers was certainly impressive. A common soldier recruited out of New York that became famous when an act of bravery saved the lives of five hundred soldiers. Funny though, the act of bravery wasn't mentioned. It also talked about his little group of soldiers that undertook the most dangerous and difficult missions yet managed to come out on top.

Harry found himself smiling as he read the file. This man, Steve Rogers, was a real hero. Not like Harry, who had received notification for not dying. Steve had really done something to help the world. Without Steve a lot of people may not have been born.

Harry withdrew the picture of Steve again. "Remus?" The man had insisted that Harry called him that in private. "Can you make a copy of this picture for me?"

Remus looked up from where he was grading and nodded when he realized what Harry wanted. "Sure. Replicatium Duos!"

With a tearing sound the picture tore itself into two pieces. Harry was terrified for a second that it was torn, but then the two halves refilled until they were whole. Now he had two identical ones. "Thanks Remus," he said with a smile. He tucked the new copy into his pocket and replaced the original. Then he paused as he felt a thicker sheet of paper brush against his fingertips. He grabbed ahold of it and withdrew the page.

He was shocked to see that it was a birth certificate. However, the surprising bit wasn't the page itself, but the name on it: Harrison James Steven Potter. That was a bit of a mouthful. "Did you know about this?" he asked Remus curiously.

Remus looked up again. "Know about what?"

Harry held up the sheet. "My birth certificate. Apparently my name isn't Harry James Potter; it's Harrison James Steven Potter."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well it makes sense. 'Harry' always seemed like more of a nickname."

Harry nodded as he looked at it. "Still. I remember at my Sorting they called out Harry Potter. Why not Harrison?"

"Maybe because you have gone by Harry? It is altered by perceptions, after all."

"I guess I never questioned it," muttered Harry as he put the certificate back in its place. "I always thought my name was just Harry. That was the name my relatives called me by." Well, that or Boy. Or Freak.

"Yes," murmured Remus softly. "Your relatives." He looked over at the clock before looking back at Harry. "Harry, how would you like to come over to my house over the break?"

Harry blinked in shock. "What?"

"Well, I have a small apartment in muggle London that I have been staying at. I was planning on staying here over the break—I have no reason to go home—but then I thought that maybe you could stay with me. I could take you on a trip or two to see some muggle sights."

Harry blushed slightly at the thought of an adult doing something nice for him like that. "You don't have to do that."

Remus looked Harry over with a critical eye. "Harry I've seen the way you act. You don't like prolonged contact, you shy away from loud crowds. Even when we first started these lessons you stayed at least six feet away from me at all times."

Harry flinched. "Stranger danger?"

Remus shook his head. "No Harry. I have met Lily's sister. Horrible woman in my opinion. She showed up at Lily's wedding with her obese boyfriend, calling your mother a freak and saying that she was going to hell. She seemed to hate magic and I doubt that it has gone away with time."

Harry cursed inwardly. Remus was just too darn smart. "It's not that bad!" he protested.

"Harry I know that you probably don't want to talk about it. In fact I doubt that I could make you, so I am not going to try. I just want to treat you to some fun. I doubt that another adult has done that for you."

Harry shrugged in a weak gesture of agreement.

"So will you let me do something nice for you?"

Harry hesitated. Should he? Remus had been nice, nicer than anyone else had ever been for sure. The man had taken time out of his busy schedule to teach Harry the Patronus Charm, go to Gringotts, and even just let him sit in his office. No one had ever gone out of their way for him like that. "Alright," he conceded. "But I'll bring the money!" he added before Remus could speak up.

Remus shook his head disapprovingly. "Harry I'm the adult. I should-"

"No," Harry interrupted. "I've got two vaults stuffed with gold that I couldn't use in three lifetimes and you have got a teacher's salary. Besides, if we use my money then we can do more. Right?"

Remus appeared to want to argue, but he gave up. Harry was a very stubborn boy. "Fine," he muttered.

Harry grinned as he jumped up from the chair. "Brilliant! Vacation in a month!"

Remus smiled as he watched Harry wave and hurry out of the room. The boy was truly something else. He could light up an entire room with his personality. Remus just hoped that nothing would happen to damage that fragile trust.

He stood from his chair and made his way for the floo. Now was the hard part; convincing Professor Dumbledore to allow this.

"Agent Hill?"

Maria Hill looked up from the computer in front of her. She had been attempting to track down the errant DNA strand with remarkable similarity to one Steve Rogers, but no such luck. "Sir?"

Fury didn't say anything, instead dropping a photo onto her desk. Her eyebrows shot up at the baby picture. "Sir?" she began again. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Some scientist made Captain America Junior?" quipped Fury. "Yep. The guy is the ancient nephew of the original formula creator. Apparently he had been saving a sample for the 'right time'."

Hill stared at the picture in shock. She had her suspicions from the earlier test, but she thought that it was a fluke… "What would you like me to do?"

"Digitally age that boy to about thirteen. Just from this he will no doubt look just like Steve Rogers. Actually, scratch the aging thing. Just de-age a picture of the Captain and do a facial recognition all across the world."

"What do I do if something comes up?" asked Hill hesitantly. This was huge. Colossal even. Captain America was the first superhero, and he had a kid then the kid could be the key to a major discovery. Coulson would probably faint if he heard that they were looking for the child of his hero.

"Alert me," ordered Fury. "No one else. We need to make absolutely sure of this before I inform the higher-ups."

"Understood sir," she answered. She immediately pulled up one of the old pictures of the Captain where his face was visible. "I'll get right on that."

"Good," he muttered. He paused as he thought for a moment. "And keep that running for a while. We might not get a hit until around the winter holidays when everyone goes out."

Hill nodded. "Yes sir. Understood, sir."

Fury turned and walked away. Now it was time to barricade himself in his office with a bottle of whiskey to stave off his killer headache.

Several sheets of ice in the Arctic Circle were moving and cracking in the force of the winter wind. There was a lot of natural activity in the area and ice that hadn't shifted in decades was rising to the surface on bubbles of air and currents of freezing water.

Not everything was ice either. There was also a large metal behemoth under the water, frozen for seventy years. The black monstrosity had lost none of its dark allure as it sat under the ice. Even the symbol on the side—a skull surrounded by tentacles—had not been worn away.

A particularly large piece of ice broke off from one of the underwater glaciers and floated up, crashing into the side of the ship. The tremor sent the entire machine shuddering several feet to the side in the weightlessness of the water. However, it was enough to cause a chain of events.

One of the wings was caught in a remarkably violent current that was channeled upwards. The force of the pull yanked the rest of the ship along with it and sent the drowned flying machine spiraling towards the light of day, the light which had not touched its hull in decades.

And far within the ship, in a cradle of ice, Steve Rogers slept on; unaware of the role he would soon have to play.

A massive rumble shook the station, sending various objects around the room tumbling to the floor of the small shack. Dishes, books, and various other personal effects clattered against the wooden paneling. The two men sitting at the table fell from their chairs as the quake shook their base station.

"Что это было?" (What was that?) bellowed one of the men as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Я не знаю," (I don't know) answered the other. "Мне казалось, что ледяной смещения." (It felt like the ice shifting)

The first man stood. "Я собираюсь пойти проверить вне." (I am going to check outside) He stumbled out the door, closing it behind him. The first man set to work putting the room back to order and returning everything to its proper place. He was just checking on the radio when the first man rushed in.

"Aнтон! Вы должны это видеть!" (Anton! You have to see this!) He cried. He grabbed his friend's arm and tugged him out the door before Anton could protest.

"Что это такое Владимир?" (What is it Vladimir?) questioned Anton.

Vladimir just shook his head and continued dragging Anton along. He pulled him to the top of an ice dune and pointed with one gloved hand. "Смотри." (Look)

Anton followed his hand and his jaw dropped as he saw it. A massive metal machine jutting out of a colossal crack in the ice, its metal hull gleaming in the faint light. While there wasn't any sunlight this time of year, they did have several lights affixed to the area around their base. "Что это такое?" (What is it?)

Vladimir shrugged. "Я не знаю." (I do not know.)

Anton looked at the ship for a moment longer before turning and rushing back to the house. "Я призываю его дюйма." (I am calling it in)

Fury growled in annoyance as his phone rang. He had just gotten off the phone with the Council and they weren't happy. Apparently there had been very little progress with the Tesseract and they had commissioned more scientists. They were determined to unlock its secrets before the end of the coming year.

He was not against the idea of using the Tesseract for energy as much as he was against some of the things that might come from it. The Tesseract was essentially a box of pure, unlimited energy. The energy could power Earth for an eternity. However, the Council also wanted weapons to be made from it. Weapons that would utterly obliterate their target with no leftover trace. That was a weapon of fear, not freedom. The Tesseract lived up to the famous saying Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely.

Humans were constantly trying to stretch the limits of their own existence; example one was Steve Rogers. They had been seeking a way to maximize the human physical potential. The beings of Asgard were essentially the goal. Humans could become like that themselves, given enough time and change. But that wouldn't change their nature. There would still be wars, famine, and death; just on a much larger scale. He admitted that more strength was necessary, but not to the scale of what the Tesseract would bring. Personally Fury was hoping that Thor would come back and take it away.

"Director Fury here," he snapped as he put the phone against his ear. "This had better be important." He listened to the voice on the other end for a moment before his eye widened. Without even ending the call he pressed a button on the phone. "Coulson, get here as fast as you can. We have a possible top priority. Dress warm." He paused. "I'm gonna need a ride."

"Are you the guys from Washington?" asked Roger Thomson as the hooded figures stepped out of the truck. The men had gotten there in record time.

"You get many other visitors out here?" asked the hooded man sarcastically in return. Without waiting for an answer he asked another. "How long you been on-site?"

Thomson decided to just go with it. It was safer to not question his superiors. "Since this morning. A Russian oil team called it in about 18 hours ago."

"How come nobody spotted it before?" asked the second hooded figure. He sounded tired and bored. They no doubt thought that this was something not worth their time.

"It's really not that surprising. This landscape's changing all the time." Thomson guided them towards the top of the snow ridge so that they could see the ship. "You got any idea what this thing is exactly?"

"I don't know. It's probably a weather balloon." The first figure sounded more curious now.

Thomson snorted incredulously. These two didn't get it. "I don't think so. You know, we don't have the equipment for a job like this."

The second guy turned to look at him. His features were hard to make out under the hood. "How long before we can start craning it out?"

Thomson shook his head. "I don't think you quite understand." Then they crested the top of the icy pile. "You guys are gonna need one hell of a crane." He heard the second one suck in a startled breath as the first one gasped aloud.

Thomson smirked slightly. "Not what you expected?"

Remus shook his head in bemusement as he watched Harry struggle with the large chest. It contained what possessions Remus was bringing back to his house with them. Harry had insisted on helping, but unfortunately he could not lift the trunk more than an inch off the floor. Remus had offered to assist him but the boy had his mother's stubborn streak, as well as her occasional forgetfulness of magical ways.

"Fine," Harry finally gasped as he collapsed, wheezing, against the side of the chest. "I give up."

Remus withdrew his wand from his pocket. "In that case perhaps I can do this the easy way?" He raised an eyebrow and the boy's face flushed. "Don't be embarrassed," Remus consoled him. "It is a good thing that you don't immediately turn to magic like most wizards. It is a big disadvantage if you only rely on magic and never your mind."

Harry grinned. "True. That's why Arithmacy comes to me so easily; I loved maths." To say that Professor McGonagall was happy when Harry dumped Divination in favor of Arithmacy was an understatement. She had been thrilled that Harry was 'finally achieving his potential'. The funniest thing was Hermione's face when she had seen Harry in her class. The bushy haired girl was happy that he had discarded Divination, though she did question why he had never told her. The truth was that he hadn't talked to either her or Ron much recently. He had been spending many quiet evenings in Remus's rooms, working on homework or reading. The man was like a surrogate uncle and a far more stable adult figure than previous ones in Harry's life.

The Dursleys were not good authority figures in any way, shape, or form. His teachers at school were in general pretty uncaring of him, considering all the negative rumors that the Dursleys spread around. Mrs. Figg was far too batty and empty-headed to be a good authority figure. In general all the adults around Harry when he was young thought him to be an evil delinquent.

Hogwarts was better, but not by much. Snape was not an authority figure. Period. The man was rude, biased, and cruel. He was not a fair teacher; in fact he was little better than a bully and Harry despised bullies. Flitwick, Sprout, and the others were kind but not suited for his purposes. For example, Sprout turned against him in second year instead of being an impartial teacher. McGonagall would have been ideal, except for two things: 1) Her busy schedule with Head of House, Transfiguration Professor, and Deputy Headmistress roles, and 2) Her inability to take children seriously, as witnessed in first year. Harry only ever gave adults one chance and she had lost hers.

Professor Dumbledore was his last choice, and Harry couldn't say that the man really appealed to him. He didn't fit the role of any authority figure. He seemed to play favorites with Harry. He allowed a First Year a broom, gave the child an Invisibility Cloak, didn't take points when said Cloak was used to sneak out, gave points for breaking rules, and showed Gryffindor favoritism. It was like the man wanted to be Harry's friend instead of his teacher. Nice but misguided.

Remus levitated the trunk over to the fireplace. He tossed in a handful of floo powder. "Lupin Lodge," he said firmly before sending the trunk into the fire. It vanished in a swirl of green fire. "Your turn, Harry."

Harry shouldered the rather worn backpack on his arm and stepped up to the fire. He took a fistful of powder from Remus and tossed it in. "Lupin Lodge," he repeated. He held his breath and stepped in.

Remus watched the boy floo away. Convincing Dumbledore had been a tedious task, and Remus had barely been allowed to go. He was only permitted when he swore to lock himself in a room for the full moon and use the Wolfsbane Potion. Like he wouldn't do that anyway. Dumbledore meant well, but he could come off as a little...oppressive, in Remus's opinion. He would always owe the man for allowing him into Hogwarts with his disease but that didn't mean that he approved of everything the Headmaster did.

Remus also wanted to research Steve Rogers at some point while in the muggle world. He was positive that he had heard that name before. Unfortunately Remus was not a rich man and he did not have a computer or internet. In the muggle world he had no educational record and so most good jobs were out of reach. Though it was better than the magical world, where he couldn't get any job.

Remus cleared his throat and tossed the power in. "Lupin Lodge." He waited for the flames to appear before stepping through.

Steve Rogers. The hero of World War II. The savior of hundreds. The greatest military experiment in history. Champion of millions. And, in the man's own words, once the dancing monkey in tights.

Nick Fury watched as the scientists continued to gently break away the ice surrounding the national (and international) hero. The discovery of the Captain was incredible, especially considering that they had been looking for him for seventy years. But the fact that he was alive? Well, that was even bigger news.

When the team sent to investigate the shipwreck had called in, saying that they found the shield of Captain America, Fury had been skeptical. What were the odds? But it proved true when, fifteen minutes later, the overexcited man had reported finding the blonde hero frozen solid. Coulson had actually squealed (though he would forever deny it).

The science of cryogenics was not very well understood, no matter how much certain places would promote the idea of freezing yourself and being revived later when they had a cure for death. The actual freezing process was not the complicated bit; it was the revival of the subject who had been frozen. Reviving the body of Steve Rogers would be hard, not to mention his mind. If they failed one part then the other would go with it.

Fury watched as the last piece of ice was gently tugged away from the man's massive bicep. Fury was actually feeling quite smug at the moment. The Council had ordered him to stop looking for the Captain a few years back, but he had continued on anyway. Now he just wanted to rub their faces in the fact that he was right.

The medical professionals came into the room and began to examine Steve. They were going to do a few tests to check physical response and prepare him for awakening. If he was not in a stable environment it could damage his psyche. Some other agents were already setting up a realistic 1940's environment for the Captain to wake up in. They were going to gently introduce him into the new world.

Fury was a bit nervous (not that he would ever admit it) about waking the man up. A whole new Pandora's Box was being opened up with the Super-Soldier's discovery. SHIELD computers had been scanning all over for the mysterious boy born with the stolen sperm sample, but there were no leads yet. Fury was beginning to think that he had overestimated the kid's resemblance to Rogers. Hell, he was only seventy percent sure that the boy wasn't dead, and that was because there was a lack of matching obituary pictures.

Then there was the possible explanation that Steve Rogers would need if they did find the kid. Procedures like the one which led to the creation of Steve's progeny were purely theoretical around the time that Rogers would have been frozen, and it was possible that the man didn't even know of them. Having to explain how babies are made to a man over forty years older than Fury—and yet at the same time twenty years younger—would be a nightmare.

Fury turned away from the operation room as the medics prepared to move the Captain to the room where he would wake up. Fury decided that he could go spy on Stark to help ease the pressure in his head; that always cheered him up. The vain billionaire though that his hacking SHIELD went unnoticed, but Fury had taken to allowing the man slight access if only because it would keep Stark from the important things which were hidden under deeper encryption.

Harry turned slowly as he looked around the small apartment where Remus lived. It was rather strange being back in the muggle world before summertime. He had never gone anywhere in the muggle world besides primary school, the Dursley's, Figg's, and the zoo on that one occasion.

Remus's apartment was small but quaint. The apartment was made for one person and it only had one bedroom. There was one bathroom, a kitchen, and a decently sized living room. The living room had a couch, a worn armchair, and several bookshelves lining the walls. Remus obviously had very eccentric tastes; the books on the shelves ranged from wizarding history to muggle fantasy and science fiction. It was fairly quaint and homely. Remus had tried to convince Harry to take the only bed, but Harry had adamantly refused and decided to sleep on the couch instead.

"Ready to go?" asked Remus as he emerged from his bedroom dressed muggle casual wear—slacks, sneakers, and a sweater. Neither of them knew of fun things to do so they had decided to just go explore London for the day. If they saw anything that looked interesting they could write it down as a possible excursion later.

"Yea," answered Harry, running a hand down his shirt self-consciously. The only muggle clothes that he had were Dudley's hand-me-downs; therefore, rags. The only ones that fit Harry anywhere near well were from when Dudley was eleven.

Remus frowned when he saw what Harry was wearing. "Harry…why are your clothes so big on you?"

Harry grimaced. "They are Dudley's old clothes."

"Why are you wearing his old clothes?" asked Remus with a raised eyebrow. "Didn't you have any of your own?"

Harry's face flushed slightly. "Aunt Petunia didn't want to buy me clothes," he muttered softly. But Remus heard it with his enhanced werewolf hearing.

Remus's fists clenched slightly as his face tightened. "Well that won't do," he said tightly. "Now I know what we are going to do first—we are going to go clothes shopping for you."

Harry shook his head quickly. He hated people treading him like he was fragile or like he was needy. "No, it's fine! You don't have to-"

"Please," interrupted Remus as he raised a hand. "You need your own clothes, not just hand-me-downs from your cousin who is clearly several sizes larger than you." He sighed when he saw how hesitant Harry still was. "At the very least do it because you can't walk around in public while wearing rags."

Harry faltered for a moment before sighing and giving in. "Fine."

"Curve ball, high and outside for ball one. So the Dodgers are tied, 4-4."

Steve frowned as he felt the lights hitting his eyelids. He was so tired, did he have to get up now?

"And the crowd well knows that with one swing of his bat, this fellow's capable of making it a brand-new game again."

Steve's mind began to return to awareness. His blue eyes began to slowly blink open.

"Just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets Field."

Steve turned his head to the side slightly as he took in his surroundings. 'Where am I?' he thought blearily. 'I don't recognize this place.'

"The Phillies have managed to tie it up at 4-4."

He watched the fan spin as a part of his mind registered what he could hear on the radio.

"But the Dodgers have three men on."

Steve turned his body and moved his legs off of the bed. He used his forearms to push himself upright, feeling a heavy weariness in his bones that he didn't remember being there before.

"Pearson beaned Reiser in Philadelphia last month. Wouldn't the youngster like a hit here to return the favor?"

Steve paused as he realized what the commentator was saying. He slowly turned towards the radio.

"Pete leans in. Here's the pitch."

A car horn blared from outside the room he stayed in but Steve barely noticed it. He was more focused on the game; or, more importantly, which game it was.

"Swung on. A line to the right. And it gets past Rizzo. Three runs will score. Reiser heads to third. Durocher's going to wave him in."

'I know this game,' he realized. 'But if this is what I think it is, then why…'

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard the creak of hinges. He looked up at the door to see a young woman gently pushing it open. She was wearing a standard female uniform; dark tie over plain brown uniform. Her hair fell in loose curls. 'Peggy is prettier,' he thought in some part of his mind.

"Good morning," she greeted with a smile, closing the door behind her. She glanced at her watch as she took a few steps toward the bed, her heels clunking on the floor. "Or should I say afternoon?" She folded her hands neatly in front of her.

"Where am I?" he asked slowly.

She gave him a calming smile. He didn't trust her expression, or her in general. "You're in a recovery room in New York City."

"The Dodgers take the lead, 8-4. Oh, Dodgers!"

His gaze flickered over to the radio as his suspicions were confirmed.

"Everyone is on their feet. What a game we have here today, folks. What a game, indeed."

Steve narrowed his eyes slightly at her. "Where am I really?"

She gave him that innocent toothy smile again. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"The game." He watched her brow crease ever so slightly into a frown. "It's from May 1941. I know, 'cause I was there." He knew that he had struck a chord. Her entire posture seemed to alter; stiffening and shifting into something else, something that was definitely not a nurse. He stood and took a few steps towards her, his height and size making him loom over her threateningly. "Now, I'm going to ask you again. Where am I?"

He saw her right hand tense slightly. "Captain Rogers-" she began.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Suddenly the door opened and two large, probably armed, men stepped in. He backed up as he saw them. They came running towards him and with practiced ease he grabbed them by the front of their jackets and sent them slamming towards the wall, smashing it open. He jumped through the gaping hole and into a larger empty room.

"Captain Rogers, wait!" cried the faux-nurse, but he ignored her. He threw open the doors to the room and ran down a hallway. He heard the voice of the faux-nurse blaring over a speaker.

"All agents, code 13!I repeat. All agents, code 13!"

He stumbled out into a bigger hallway filled with people. Apparently the phrase 'code 13' meant something to them, because all the people turned to look at him simultaneously. As a few began to approach him he ran away, pushing people aside in his haste.

He saw glass doors ahead and burst through them onto a busy street filled with cars. He took off running down the street as he heard people come running after him. It was almost like the time just after the experiment when he had been chasing a HYDRA spy. Steve ran past the cars and down the street, halting to a stop in the middle of a busy intersection.

He spun, looking all around him. This place was like nothing he had ever seen. There were enormous advertisements that stretched up the sides of buildings next to him. There were vibrantly colored screens all across the walls, unlike any tech that he had ever witnessed. He realized that the cars he had passed were different as well; sleeker and faster than the ones he remembered. As he watched several large gleaming black cars drove up around him, forming a circle.

"At ease, soldier!" called a rough male voice.

Steve whipped his head around as his body responded to the familiar order. He paused when he saw a bald man in a black leather trench coat with an eye patch. Steve didn't recognize the man, but he carried himself like a commander.

The man spoke again. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show

back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly."

"Break what?" asked Steve in confusion.

"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years."

Steve's breath caught in his throat as he realized what that meant. Asleep…for 70 years? That was why everything was so different. That was why everything seemed so strange. The world had moved on without him. He was like a rock in a river bed; everything else changed like it should, but he stayed.

"You gonna be okay?" asked the trench coat man.

"Yeah," answered Steve. It felt like his mind was detached from his body and he knew that this would hit him harder later. "Yeah I just…" His mind went back to Peggy and their last conversation. That was now decades ago. Peggy may have a family, and children of her own. Or she might not even be alive anymore. "I had a date."

Remus held a pair of jeans up in front of him and shut on eye as he mentally sized them up to Harry. "What do you think?" he asked as he opened both eyes and lowered the jeans. "These good?"

Harry shrugged in dismissal. "I'm not good with clothes shopping. The most that I have done was getting Madame Malkin to measure me for school robes."

Remus ignored the angry fire that burned his heart as he heard Harry casually dismiss the fact that he had never gotten clothes. When Harry had been a baby he had been spoiled, both by his parents and by his godfather. Sirius may have been a Death Eater but he was wonderful with Harry. He was always bringing new toys or games for the little boy to play with. However, instead of growing up spoiled Harry had been neglected by the family that was supposed to take care of him. Even the wolf inside of Remus was angry. Wolves guarded their young fiercely, and it angered his inner wolf that the one deemed his 'cub' hadn't been treated suitably.

"Okay then," said Remus as he tossed the pair of jeans, along with a few others, into the small cart that Harry was pushing. "So we have some pants. Now we should pick up a few shirts, a jacket, and then some casual shoes. Then we should be done."

Harry sighed and nodded as he pushed the cart along after Remus. Harry had insisted that the man use his money for clothing as well, and now he was almost regretting that decision. Remus had taken his earlier words about having virtually no spending limit to heart and had decided that Harry needed an entire new wardrobe. Harry was just lucky that it was only casual clothes. Remus would be a nightmare if Harry needed dress clothes.

"Here we go," grunted Remus as he dumped at least a dozen assorted shirts into the cart. "I grabbed some T-Shirts, long-sleeved shirts, and even a turtleneck or two. Just in case." He grinned at Harry's disgruntled look. "Oh, come on! It isn't that bad!"

"Easy for you to say," muttered Harry. "You're not the one with a diva dragging you all across a clothing store and burying you in clothes." Truthfully Harry was quite touched by Remus's kind gesture. He had always wondered what it would be like to have someone's undivided attention.

Remus cocked his head to the side slightly. "Diva? What is that?"

Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. It wasn't fun to tease someone if they didn't understand the joke!

Remus just chuckled as he tugged his student along. "Come on now, Harry. Stop fussing." He pulled the boy—who in turn was pulling the cart—towards the shoe section. "What size do you wear?"

"Woman and their shoes," muttered Harry. Remus sent him a mock-glare. "Um…size seven."

Remus vanished into the stacks as he began to look for a fitting pair of shoes for Harry. Harry just shook his head fondly as he watched the man go. Remus was rather fun when it was just the two of them. It seemed to bring out a more fun-loving side of him. That made it easier for Harry to see how his tranquil teacher could have once been a notorious prankster.

Harry's gaze was drawn to the side as he waited. He flicked his eyes over the various coats and jackets hung up on the racks, looking for a suitable one. It would save time if he found a jacket while Ms. Lupin was going after the shoes.

His gaze paused on a certain one. It was an older style leather jacket. It was a soft brown, with two breast pockets on the front and two other ones on the sides for hands. The material looked durable and comfortable, but it also reminded him of something.

He glanced up and, after making sure that Remus wouldn't be back for a moment, withdrew the copy that he had asked Remus to make of the picture of Steve Rogers. He had often looked at that picture, in fact he had done it often enough that it was nearly etched into his brain. A finger absently traced the edge as he looked from the figure to the jacket hanging in front of him. He tapped the picture for a moment in thought before shrugging and tucking the picture away. He grabbed the jacket off the rack and pulled it on over his shirt. He pulled the sleeves and bottom of it down as he checked the size. It fit him well, even if it was a bit big.

"Here we go Harry," said Remus as he returned with a pair of dark blue running shoes. He paused as he saw what Harry was wearing. There was a gleam in his eyes that told Harry that the man knew exactly why that jacket was picked, but the man was thoughtful enough to keep quiet.

Harry sat down on the floor and pulled on the pair of shoes. He wiggled his feet slightly. "They're good. I like them." Truthfully he was just glad that they weren't falling apart, but the comfortable fit was nice.

Remus held out a hand and pulled Harry to his feet. "Good. In that case we are pretty much done shopping now." He grinned. "Now we can actually go do something."

A real smile grew on the young boy's face. Finally!

His fist collided with the punching bag with a soft thud. He tensed up his arm before slamming his fist into the bag as hard as he could. The boxing glove dwarfed some of the impact.

Steve shook his head as he yanked the gloves off his hands. He wasn't in the mood to train the easy way. He landed a bare punch on the bag with his knuckles, reveling in the irritating texture. He punched it again, harder and faster in a series of quick jabs. The tension built up more and more until he slammed his fist into the bag as hard as he could and heard the snap of the metal chain. The bag tore itself away and went skidding across the floor, sand going flying all over.

Steve was breathing heavily as he eyed the rough, red skin on his hands. It was a good sting. It helped take his focus away from the turmoil of his emotions.

Seventy years. He had been gone, thought dead, for seventy years. All his old friends from the war had long since moved on. The man, Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD, had looked up Peggy Carter for him. She apparently had gotten married several years back to one of the men that he had rescued from a HYDRA camp, though she never had any children.

Steve shook his head bitterly. The six men from his old team had died several years back, all peacefully. Most of them had their own children and grandchildren. Steve almost wanted to meet them, but he had decided against it. He was most likely just an old bedtime story, if even that.

"Trouble sleeping?"

Steve looked up and saw Fury heading towards him. The man was a different kind of general than what Steve had experienced, but he was decent enough. Though he did swear a lot.

Steve looked up at him. "I've slept enough, sir. Seventy years."

Fury chuckled as he stopped a few feet away from Steve. "I know that it must be quite disconcerting for you, all this." He gestured with a hand. "Advanced technology, the war being over…for us it was decades. For you? An hour at most."

Steve looked around the gym. "That's why I stay here, sir. Not much is advanced in a gym like this."

Fury snorted. "One day I'll take you to what passes as a gym nowadays. Advanced is the only way to describe it. And cut the 'sir' stuff, this isn't official."

Steve frowned. "Then why are you here?"

Fury just stared at him for a moment in silence before sighing and walking over to the sparring ring. He sat down on the edge. "Captain, what did you know of Dr. Erskine?"

"The man who created the formula used on me?" Steve clarified.

"Yes."

"Er…he was from Germany, he worked for Hitler at one point, his first test subject was Schmidt-"

"No, no," Fury cut him off. "I know all that. Did you know anything about his family?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at the direction that the questioning had taken. "Family? Well he mentioned to me once that he had a younger brother, but that is all that I know."

Fury nodded. "Yes, he did have a brother. His brother, in turn, had a son named Richard. Richard came to work for us at his uncle's behest. Richard was a geneticist; brilliant man. He was part of the Research and Development team that worked to try to get the Formula out of your genetic code. Unfortunately it didn't work."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Let me finish," said Fury as he held up a finger. "Richard was a few years younger than you; about eighteen when you were lost. Anyway, soon after you were lost at sea he was sought out by Agent Peggy Carter."

"Peggy?"

"Yep. She had a mission for him. She wanted him to take care of something. A biological sample from the Formula test that she stole."

Steve frowned as he leant against one of the poles that held up the punching bags. "I don't remember them taking samples until afterwards. And why was this one special?"

Fury shook his head. "Apparently someone placed a few micro-needles inside the capsule to track the effect of the Formula on your blood. Not just blood though. One needle took a sperm sample."

Steve's face flushed darkly before suddenly paling. "Wait, they did what?!"

"That was what Peggy stole. She did it because she knew that you would never have consented to having it taken."

Steve nodded even as his expression was one of disgust. "Do you know who ordered that?"

"No. They never figured it out, though it couldn't have been Erskine. He was brilliant, but no engineer."

Steve relaxed slightly. At least he could know that Erskine hadn't betrayed him. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked again. "And why did Peggy want him to keep it but not destroy it?"

Fury looked uncomfortable and that made warning bells go off in Steve's head. If Fury could feel uncomfortable… "Because the sample was used."

The Super-Soldier paled further. "What?"

Fury rubbed his forehead. "Alright, I can't do this whole 'tell it to him slowly' thing. You want to know what happened? Richard Erskine used your DNA to father a kid. Happy?"

Steve's eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly as he slid down the side of the pole and onto the ground. "He…what?"

Fury stood up and walked over to Steve. "Thirteen years ago he used the sample to impregnate a woman who came to the Sperm Bank where he had been working for the last decade or two."

Steve just stared at the Director in incomprehension. "I have a kid?"

Fury rolled his eye. "Yes, Rogers. You have a kid. We don't have much information, just that the baby was a boy. Oh, and a baby picture. The kid looks just like you."

Steve didn't seem to hear him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" It had been three days since he had been revived.

"When did you expect me to tell you? Should I have waited until the nurses were sticking three-inch needles into your arm before saying 'Congratulations, it's a boy!'?"

Steve just made a strangled noise. How the hell was he supposed to respond? He had been flung forward seventy years, learned that all his friends were dead, poked with needles for hours on end, and now he learned that some whacko had made a kid using his DNA?

Fury sighed. "Alright, I get that this is a lot. I just figured that you would want to know." He walked past the stunned Captain and headed for the door.

"Can I see what he looks like?" Steve managed to call out.

Fury looked over his shoulder. "When we find him."

Remus sat down in one of the swiveling chairs in front of the computer and typed in his password. He glanced at his watch. 11:30. Harry was definitely asleep and he wouldn't notice that Remus was gone.

When they had returned from their shopping trip and ensuing zoo visit Harry had been so tired that he had fallen directly asleep. When the boy slept it was like a large weight was lifted from his shoulder. A weight that no child should have to bear.

Remus was not stupid; he had seen Harry tucking the picture of Steve Rogers into his pocket every morning. But Remus never said anything; it wasn't his business. For Harry it was a way to remind himself of who he was.

Remus was currently in the library a few blocks away from his apartment. He had actually worked in this library for a short time before becoming the Defense professor at Hogwarts. This was the nearest and safest place that Remus could think to access the internet. It also, luckily, kept him from going too far from Harry.

Remus pulled up a new search window. S…T…E…V…E R…O…G…E…R…S, he typed in. He had a suspicion that the mysterious Steve Rogers was more than a common soldier, but he was certainly not expecting the many answering sites that popped up. One of them showed a clear view of the blonde man from Harry's picture, just in a different place.

Remus clicked the link. His eyes widened as he saw the famous figure dressed in red, white, and blue with a star on his chest and a circular shield in his hand. His eyes skimmed the bio.

Captain America, hero of the war. Selected as a candidate for an experiment meant to create the 'perfect soldier', no one thought that Steve Rogers was right. But he proved them wrong when several acts of bravery and heroics awarded him the Medal of Valour and a place among the greatest men of all time.

Remus leaned back in the chair in shock as he realized why he knew that name. He had once worked in a muggle museum, and there was an entire section dedicated to World War II. There was a large display about Captain America. Even in Britain he was famous for his heroics.

Captain America? Harry was the son of Captain America, one of the greatest heroes ever? It didn't seem possible, but then Remus had seen the files. He had seen the picture that Harry toted around like a child would a teddy bear. Hell, the baby picture was visible proof!

He shook his head in disbelief. Wasn't that just typical? But then it might be a good thing for the boy. Harry could have a hero figure of his own to believe in, not just a mysterious dead soldier. Captain America was a great man, and one who Harry could really look up to. He wouldn't just be a picture and a file.

Remus paused as he saw an ad on the side of the page. He needed to find some way of telling Harry other than straight out telling him. The boy would need to figure it out himself. What better way than to take him somewhere where he could learn all about the man?

Steve's brow furrowed as he stared at the tiny picture held between his fingers. The baby in this picture looked a lot like the baby pictures that Steve had seen of himself. In fact they were nearly identical. The strong chin, low eyebrows, blonde hair, and over-sized nose were all him. In face the only difference was the sparkling emerald eyes that the baby had, pupils rimmed with sky blue.

For Steve this was true, visible proof about the boy he was apparently father of. Heck any fool could see it just by seeing them! Steve had his doubts before, but they were all thrown out the window in the face of this baby.

Steve had once considered becoming a parent. He liked the idea of having a family. Of course, there were many limiting factors. His health issues, lack of success with females and of course the war were the main ones. Then, after the experiment, he was told that he had been rendered infertile. It was a bit sad but at the time he had known it was a small price to pay.

But now he was a father. Sort of. He had given—unwillingly and unknowingly perhaps, but still given—the genetic material for the boy. But did that make him a father? No, not really. He knew from experience that it had to be earned. Then came another question: Did he want to? He could honestly say that he didn't know.

Steve was not totally adverse to the idea, but it didn't fit right with him. He himself was only twenty-six, after all, and if Fury's information was right then the boy was thirteen. Though mentally Steve wasn't really a twenty-six year old. War changed people. You had to be mature and selfless, calm in the face of danger.

There was also the possibility that the kid—his kid!—had parents and a family. Quite likely, actually. There was no reason for the parents to have gone to get pregnant artificially if they hadn't tried naturally, and so they must have wanted children. Steve knew that he couldn't just butt into their life, even if SHIELD was determined to. Fury had declared that he wouldn't force the kid into anything, but they would need to know about him 'just in case'.

Steve sighed as he placed the picture down on the small table in front of the couch where he sat. At the very least he wanted to see the boy. Being a father might be too much to ask of him, but he could freely admit wanting to meet the kid. Perhaps they could at least be friends.

Harry pursed his lips in concentration as he raised his wand. The reflection of himself in the mirror did the same thing. "Ostendere et Faciem," he chanted as he flicked his wand. He crossed his fingers as he waited for something to happen and…nothing. Again. Damn.

He sighed as he looked back at his mother's letter. It didn't say anything about the spell other than the incantation, and he was doing the incantation but there were no results.

Remus was currently at the library down the street. He had told Harry this morning that he had to double-check the information about the place he wanted to take Harry today. He had said that it was a surprise.

While he was gone Harry had been a bit bored and decided to read through some of the files again. It had made him even more curious to see what he looked like without the disguise on. After all, it was his break and no one would know. So here he was now, trying to take it off before Remus could get back.

"What are you doing?"

Harry shrieked as Remus's quiet voice spoke from the open door right behind him. Harry jumped almost a foot in the air in shock. "Remus!" he cried as he leaned against the sink counter to catch his breath. "You scared the hell outta me!"

Remus smiled lightly. "Sorry. Not my intent." He looked over the letter and Harry's wand, still held incriminatingly in his hand, and his smile dimmed. "What are you doing?"

Harry grabbed the letter. "Nothing, I was just-"

A hand snapped forward at inhuman speed as Remus plucked the letter from Harry's hand before he looked at the wand. "You were trying to take off the glamour, weren't you." It wasn't a question.

Harry fidgeted slightly under the piercing gaze. He considered trying to lie but he knew that it wasn't worth it. "Yes," he said dejectedly.

Remus frowned at him. He wasn't really against the boy doing that but it was a big decision, mostly because replacing it would be very difficult, maybe even impossible. "Harry you can't do that now."

"But why?" asked Harry. "I don't see what the problem is."

Remus hesitated. What was he supposed to say, that he didn't want the boy to do it now because he would be getting another shock in a few hours? Was he supposed to tell Harry that he was taking him to a place where he would discover just who Steve Rogers really was? "Harry this isn't just some little thing."

"I know!" cried Harry, throwing his hands up in the air. Then he sighed and slumped down against the sink. "I'm just so tired of wondering. Sometimes I look at my reflection and feel like I am living a lie. I feel…wrong. I know that you see it, Remus. I just need to know myself, if only so that I can stop wondering 'what if'."

Remus's face softened slightly. It was true that he had seen how his surrogate nephew acted. Harry was conflicted, stuck between the life he knew and the life he didn't. While it may have been better for Remus to tell Harry to just let it go, he knew that he couldn't. He was a professor; it was in his job description to help children. So instead of doing what he should have done and refused Harry, he sighed and withdrew his wand. "Alright." He said with a defeated sigh. "I'll do it. Though you know that I might not be able to replace it, right?"

This made Harry falter for a moment before he set his jaw and nodded. "If that happens then the truth will come out like it was supposed to. My mum's letter did say that they didn't want the secret kept forever."

Remus almost wanted to chuckle fondly at the expression on Harry's face. Harry really was a true Gryffindor; brave, noble, and stubborn. "Alright," he sighed as he glanced down at the letter. He made sure just to read the spell; the rest of it wasn't his business. "Ostendere et Faciem, huh? Alright." He placed the letter down and looked at Harry. "Turn around and face the mirror." The boy did so. Remus gently tapped Harry on the head and at the same time said the spell. "Ostendere et Faciem."

Harry gasped slightly when the wand connected with his head and unleashed a flurry of golden sparks. For a second he was worried that his hair would catch on fire, but that thought evaporated as he watched the face in the mirror change.

Starting at the point where Remus's wand had connected Harry's hair began to lighten from its previous black to an ash blonde. The color crept down his hair like water until all his hair was that color. The hair also seemed to lose whatever force had been keeping it in its upright disarray (which looked like he had been jolted with static electricity) as it fell into a messy, but flat, position, with his bangs just touching his eyebrows.

The next to change was his face. His skin tone didn't change but the rest of his features did. His eyebrows thickened and inched their way down his face until they were perched in such a way that gave him a perpetually serious look. The center of his eyes around the pupil morphed into a brilliant blue that melded into the familiar emerald green halfway through the iris. His jaw pushed itself forward slightly and his chin gained a bit of size. His face was now almost exactly the same as the face in his picture.

"Oh Merlin," he breathed as he reached up to touch his cheek. The reflection did the same, reminding him that the face he saw was his.

Remus smiled slightly from behind him. "You do look a lot like him," he murmured, more to himself than to Harry.

"Yeah," replied Harry as he turned his face from side to side. Of course there were small differences, the eyes for one thing. Another was that Harry had a slightly pinched look to him, seen in the way his eyes were a bit sunken and how his skin seemed a bit paler than it should be.

He was so focused that he jumped when Remus placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know that this is a lot to take in," the werewolf said. "When you want to go just come downstairs."

Harry nodded to his professor and watched as the man left the room. He then pulled out the picture of Steve and held it up. His gaze flicked back and forth from the mirror to the picture. "I wonder what my life would be like if I had been raised by you," he said quietly to the picture. "I wonder what kind of dad you would have been."

Steve shifted uncomfortably under the man's piercing stare. This was supposedly one of Fury's top agents? He didn't seem very professional in the way he was acting. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, his mouth was hanging open slightly and…was that drool? Steve looked over at Fury helplessly.

The Director obviously found it hilarious, if the smirk was anything to go by. "Steve Rogers meet Agent Phil Coulson," he introduced. Then he turned to the smaller man. "Agent Coulson meet Captain America."

Coulson was a fan of his, if the weak gurgle he made in response was an indicator Steve could hear the voice that he had deemed his 'inner Bucky voice' chanting just back away slowly over and over.

They were meeting in Fury's office in a building called the Triskelion in Washington. Steve had never seen anything like it. The technology was so much more advanced than he was used to. When he had first seen an automatic door he had thought that there was a camera nearby and a man pushing the 'open' button.

Steve decided to take the first step. "Nice to meet you Agent Coulson," he said, stretching out his hand.

Coulson just stared at the hand for a moment before seeming to snap out of it. "Nice to meet you as well Captain Rogers," he replied in a calm voice as he shook the Steve's hand. It was like his personality had done a complete one-eighty, from drooling fan to mature government agent.

Steve turned to look at Fury in confusion. "Agent Coulson is one of the two agents I have searching for the boy," stated Fury. It was rather obvious who 'the boy' was.

"Why only two?" asked Steve.

Fury looked at him with his one eye. "Captain Rogers, you were the perfect soldier, the beacon of hope in the war. If more knew that another had been created using your genetics then he would be in grave danger. There is also the fact that we have absolutely no data about him."

"Oh."

"Coulson, what did you need to see me about?"

Coulson cleared his throat to speak, even as he continued to look at Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Well Director, while monitoring various stations for any potentially matching images an alert came up from someone's internet history."

Steve frowned in confusion. "Internet?" He had heard that word mentioned a few times over the past few days. "What is that?"

Fury apparently found that funny. "Basically it is a connection between almost every piece of technology on Earth." He saw Steve's blank look. "Think television signals but with information."

Steve nodded slowly, even though he barely understood.

"Anyway," continued Coulson. "Someone got flagged. Apparently last night they were searching for information on 'Steve Rogers', then followed with 'Smithsonian'. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, however, this morning that user went to the site of the sperm bank that was run by Mr. Erskine."

Steve looked from Coulson to Fury. "He was looking for…information on me, and then on the place where the doctor took my…" His face flushed darkly. "You know what." He swore that Coulson's lips twitched.

"Yes," said Coulson. He removed a picture from the inside of his jacket and handed it to Fury. "This is the image from the security cameras. Unfortunately we couldn't match him with anyone on the known databanks, but I did set a monitor for him to see if he meets with anyone that we might know."

Fury nodded. "Good. Keep me posted."

Coulson nodded in return. "Of course, sir." He turned to look at Steve. "Captain." He nodded again before turning and walking out the door.

Steve watched him go before turning back to Fury. "He seems a bit…"

"Star-struck? Yea, sorry about that. Coulson is quite a fan of yours."

Steve grimaced slightly. Just his luck. "What do you think about this possible lead?"

"Well I've got two theories," said Fury. "One is that this guy wants a kid that matches your description."

"A bit creepy," Steve muttered. He had never really been comfortable with his fame. All he wanted to do was join the army and serve. Instead he ended up as a national figure.

"Or two, and I think that this is a bit more likely, he knows something about the kid."

Steve felt a strange twisting of apprehension in his gut. Nervousness? Was he nervous that he might be meeting his sorta-son soon? Perhaps a bit, he would admit.

Fury walked over to his desk and sat down. "I'm afraid that I don't have much for you to do for now, Rogers," he said with a small frown.

Steve shrugged. "It's alright, sir. I guess I can just go for a walk around the city. It'll be interesting to see how things have changed."

Fury nodded. Then he opened up one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a rectangular object and tossed it to Steve. Steve caught it and examined with a frown. It was a rectangle of black reflective metal with one side made almost entirely out of glass. Placed to the bottom of the glass was a circular indent with a square on it. "What is this?"

"An I-Phone," said Fury with an amused smirk.

"I-Phone?" Steve pressed his finger into the indent and nearly dropped it when the glass lit up with a bunch of small icons and pictures. "Whoa! What is this?"

Fury chuckled. "Basically a handheld computer and phone."

"This is a phone?"

"Yep. You will hear it ring and then an image of a phone will pop up with a green icon and red icon. Red means ignore, green means answer."

Steve frowned as he weighed the device in his hand. "This is really weird."

Fury shrugged. "Well it works. Now you can go out and explore. I'll call you if anything happens."

Steve nodded as he hesitantly pocketed the strange device. He trusted Fury enough to know that the man would tell him if anything happened. "Alright sir. I'll be back later."

Harry stared at the large wax model of an Indian curiously. He had never been to a museum before and it was very interesting for him. There had been a school trip to a museum back when he was about seven, but Petunia and Vernon had lied and said that Harry was sick and unable to go. In actuality he was locked in his cupboard for the day. He found history was fascinating, though unfortunately the class at Hogwarts was a bit lacking.

Remus and he were currently in America, surprisingly enough. The surprise place that Remus had decided to take him to was a place called The Smithsonian. It was apparently a series of museums that showcased many different aspects of history.

Remus had used side-along apparition to get them there. Harry had decided that while floo travel was bad, side-along apparition was terrible. Wizards in general seemed to really lack any decent kinds of transportation. Portkeys, floo travel, and apparition all seemed, while fast and efficient, overly violent. According to Remus apparating by yourself was a bit easier than side-along.

Harry didn't have the glamour on, either. He had decided that he would keep it off until the break ended. He knew that he would have to replace it when the new semester began, but he wanted time to get used to his real face. After all, one day the glamour would be coming off for good.

Harry walked over to one of the other exhibits. Inside were a set of bright red womans' shoes, laden with glittering ruby sequins. Apparently they were the real ruby slippers from the movie 'The Wizard of Oz'. Harry had never seen it; the Dursleys would have kept anything with the word 'wizard' far away from their house.

He passed by the next one, which contained the R2-D2 and C-3PO used in the Star Wars movies. He had been able to see one of them while at Mrs. Figg's; it was on TV at the time.

When Harry turned the corner next to it he slammed directly into someone and fell back onto his rear end. He blinked and looked up, seeing a slightly heavyset man looking down at him. "Oh, I'm sorry!" the man apologized as Harry pushed himself to his feet. He had a southern American accent. "I guess I have been blocking the path a bit." Then his eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second ad he looked at Harry's face before widening suddenly. "Oh my gosh! Why, little boy, you look just like him!"

Harry bristled at the little boy comment but before he could do anything in response the man had held up a hand. "Wait for a moment; I gotta go find my wife. She has to see this!"

Harry watched the large man go dashing away with surprising speed. "What on Earth was that about?" he muttered to himself. He then turned to see what the man had been looking at and his eyes grew wide.

There was an entire section that was separated from the others. There was a life-size standing model off to the side of a figure in the famous red, white, and blue suit with the round shield to match.

Captain America. An entire section on Captain America! Harry had studied the man back in school. He was a hero, a legend! A much better one than the Boy-Who-Lived, anyway.

Harry walked towards one of the many information boards placed around the section, all detailing different aspects of the Captain's life. Harry paused as he looked at the picture of a very skinny man in a tank top, with dog tags hanging around his neck. Weird, he almost looked like Steve. Actually, he looked a lot like Steve.

Harry frowned as he walked away from the board and towards one of the other exhibits. Steve Rogers had apparently been alive around the same time as Captain America, and Steve was in the army as well. Maybe they knew each other, or were related?

He froze when he looked to his right and saw a picture. It was Captain America, but without his helmet. Piercing blue eyes looked out from under low eyebrows and ash blonde hair. The set of his jaw was the same as it was in the other picture. Harry's picture.

With trembling hands the boy pulled the picture of Steve from his jacket. He looked from the photo of Captain America to his picture, and back. They were the same. The exact same. He looked to the caption next to the Captain America picture.

Steve Rogers, December 1943

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as it all clicked in his mind. The man's perfect health record, his military rank, the reason why his sample for important enough to save for seventy years. Steve Rogers was Captain America.

"There he is!" cried a boisterous voice. A hand landed on Harry's shoulder and the boy whipped his head around to see the large man from before. The man smiled as he pulled a rather pretty redheaded woman to his side. "See Anna? I told you that he looked just like little Captain America. Wasn't I right?"

Harry barely registered the words as his gaze slid to the left. He saw Remus standing behind the couple. The expression on his face was sad, pitying, understanding…but there was no surprise. No confusion. That meant that he had known. That was why they had come here. So Harry could find out. He couldn't just tell him.

Before Harry knew it he found himself pushing past the couple and hurrying out of the Captain America section. He vaguely heard the man say "Was it something I said?".

Harry saw Remus stretch out a hand towards him. "Harry-" the man began, but Harry just shook his head as he backed away. He saw Remus's face fall. With a last glance at the werewolf Harry turned and ran away.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like, it's better than yours…

Steve gasped as loud music suddenly began to blare from his pocket. Face burning, extremely conscious of the nearby people turning to stare at him, Steve dug the phone that Fury had given him out of his pocket. He pushed his finger against the screen.

"Come on, come on," he muttered. Then he sighed in relief as it lit up and the buttons appeared. He was quick to press the green button and silence the irritating music. "Director?" hissed Steve into the phone.

He heard a chuckle emanate from the phone. "Captain Rogers. I hope that I haven't disturbed you."

Steve still felt heat in his face as a few people glanced at him. He was standing on a sidewalk near a busy street and there were many people walking by. There was a light frost on the grass next to the sidewalk and the trees were bare.

Everything seemed so new and advanced. The buildings, the cars, the machines, even the people! Their appearances seemed to have radically changed. It was like everyone was wearing less, even in wintertime. He saw a girl in nothing but a see-through T-Shirt and a pair of shorts that didn't even go halfway down her thighs! He had immediately turned in the opposite direction.

"Director Fury, what on Earth was the music?" Steve demanded.

The infuriating Director just chuckled again. "Why, that would be a ringtone. It plays whenever you get a call."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "Why is it something so… crude?"

"Not important," Fury dismissed. "We got something on the scanners."

Steve perked up. "Really? Did you find something?"

"Look at your phone," Fury answered enigmatically.

Steve frowned as he pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. A small box popped up in the bottom right-hand corner. "What do I do?"

"Press your finger gently against the box," said Fury wearily.

He did as ordered. Suddenly a photo appeared, dominating the entire screen. He felt his breath freeze. "Is that who I think it is?"

The photo was of two people. One was the same guy that Steve had seen in the picture Coulson had showed him; a middle-aged man with light brown hair streaked with grey. However, it was the other one that got his attention. It was almost like looking at himself before the experiment. The photo wasn't very clear but the hair, the face, and the body were almost identical to how he used to be.

"I am sure that you can see the resemblance," commented Fury. "The kid popped up on our scanners just seconds after that guy."

"Where?"

"Pretty close to you, actually. I have Coulson heading out to intercept them."

Steve frowned. "Intercept?"

"Yea. He'll bring them back to the Triskelion for an explanation. He should have them in about fifteen minutes."

Steve nodded before remembering that the Director couldn't see him. "I'm on my way." He pulled the phone away from his ear as Fury disconnected the call.

"Here goes anything," he muttered to himself.

Harry sighed as he leaned back against the wall behind him. He was in a section of the museum that had lots of different types of cars from all throughout American History. He knew that he couldn't exactly leave without Remus, both because he couldn't get home and because the security probably wouldn't allow him to, but that didn't stop him from hiding elsewhere in the museum.

Luckily there was next to no one in this exhibit at the moment, so he was safe from curious eyes. He really just needed this time to cool down from what he had learned. Who would have guessed it? Steve Rogers was Captain America.

Of course, in hindsight, it explained a lot. The file with his biological information had been nearly flawless, lacking any familial diseases or maladies. That made sense if you added in the fact of the formula to make him the perfect soldier. Same for his physical appearance and military rank at such a young age. Unfortunately for Harry it appeared that the good physical traits hadn't been passed down.

Worse was that Remus knew. Remus knew and he hadn't told him. Harry could understand the hesitancy; why on Earth would Harry believe him? But that he had done it this way was more than a little irritating. Now Harry had to deal with all this shock without any way to escape.

How on Earth had he ended up being born—albeit indirectly—from Captain America? Harry seriously doubted that the people in control would want that to happen the way it did.

Harry watched as a middle-aged man with a receding hairline came into the exhibit. He was dressed like a businessman in a flawless suit and he was holding an honest-to-god briefcase. When he saw Harry he turned to look at him and his eyebrows shot up.

The man took a few steps closer and Harry began to feel cautious. When the man saw Harry shy away from him he stopped. "I am Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. May I speak to you?" He held out an official-looking badge for Harry to see.

Harry felt himself freeze. The American Government was here? "Uh… why?"

The man reached into the inside of his jacket. Harry tensed, expecting a gun, put instead the man pulled out a small sheet of paper and held it out for Harry. Then Harry realized that it wasn't paper, but a picture. The picture was of—go figure—Steve Rogers. Or should he say Captain America. "What is this?" he asked the man.

The man gave him a fake-looking smile. "I need to speak with you concerning the matter of your biological father."

Harry's eyes widened. How the hell did they find out?! "I'm afraid that I don't know what you mean."

Agent Coulson tucked the photo back into his jacket. "You are not a very good liar you know. Now where is your guardian? I will need to speak with them as well."

Harry's eyes shot to the door. Could he make a run for it and get away? This guy didn't look like much-

"Don't try to escape," interjected Coulson. "I have several men outside."

Harry grimaced but conceded, knowing that he could not win this. "Fine," he ground out. "Follow me. I'll go find him."

Coulson smiled cheerfully. "Perfect."

Harry wanted to punch the man.

Harry crossed his arms stubbornly as he looked out the tinted window of the massive black SUV that he and Remus were riding in with the mysterious Agent Coulson. It was like wherever he went he was Fate's source of amusement. First Boy-Who-Lived, then Heir of Slytherin, then Dementor Food, and now the new thing for the American government to poke with a stick.

"I apologize for inconveniencing you," said Coulson as he watched Harry sulk. "But this is a matter of great importance that we need to address as soon as possible."

"It's alright," replied Remus with a wan smile. "I hope there isn't any trouble."

"No, not trouble per say. However, I am not the best person to inform you of the current situation. It is… delicate, to say the least."

Remus's forehead creased in a frown but he didn't comment. He looked over at Harry. The boy was glaring out the window and his posture was tense. Remus could smell frustration, tension, and a touch of fear oozing off of him in waves. He knew that Harry's frustration was aimed mostly at him, with the other two mainly at Coulson.

"Are you alright there, Harry?" Remus asked him softly.

Harry just shot a glare at him before returning to stare out the window at passing traffic.

Remus sighed as he sat back. He ignored Coulson's questioning look.

About fifteen minutes later the car stopped. They were inside a large parking garage with neon lights hanging from the ceiling and an elevator off to the side.

"We're here," said Coulson as he opened the door and stepped out. He nodded to Remus and Harry. "Welcome to SHIELD."

When Harry walked through SHIELD he was strangely reminded of his first visit to Diagon Alley, albeit with technology instead of magic. Everywhere there seemed to be some type of interesting gadget or cool doohickey.

The entire building seemed to be made of glass or steel; all reflective and clean with sharp edges and smooth sides. He almost wished that he was wearing something nicer simply because everyone else was dressed in suits. He felt quite inadequate in his jacket, jeans, trainers, and T-Shirt.

More than a few people stared at him as he passed. Some even would do a double-take. He wasn't sure why that was and when he asked Coulson the man just smiled slightly and said "You'll know soon enough". Infuriating.

Harry's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened as they stepped into the elevator and it started to rise. Sure, he had been in an elevator before, but not one like this. The glass walls and thin metal railing made it feel like he could fall out if he so much as leaned against the sides of the elevator.

He looked out over the city of Washington in amazement. He had never seen anything like it. Sure, he could see very high from the Astronomy Tower, but not like this. Here he could see the cars, buildings, and people. It made him fell so small and insignificant in comparison.

The elevator dinged. "We're here," said Coulson.

Harry hurried out after the two of them. As he walked down the hall he glanced from side to side, seeing the scanners dotting the walls. He had no doubt that his identity was being recorded and verified over and over.

He was paying so much attention to his surroundings that he made a misstep. As he turned one of his feet snagged on the front of the other and made him stagger. He lost his balance and fell backwards. He closed his eyes and braced himself to hit the floor, but it never came. He opened his eyes and realized that someone had caught his shoulders as he fell. He looked up and his surprised gaze met a nearly identical one.

He was so shocked that the question burst out of him before he could control it.

"Who are you?"

Steve paced back and forth in front of Fury's desk. The Director seemed completely calm from where he sat, but then again he was always calm. Steve was actually jealous of him.

This entire situation was stressful for Steve. Waking up seventy years in the future was very hard for him to begin with. Then he learned that he had a son. That itself was massive, in both a good way and a bad. Even if all they had was a biological connection it was still something. He didn't have anyone now besides this mysterious kid. The kid who he was about to meet. What would he be like? What would he think of Steve? Would he even want anything to do with Steve?

"Sit down already Rogers," Fury finally groaned, looking up from what he was working on. It was a report on some strange type of computer, called a tablet. Steve didn't get why everyone seemed to want a computer smaller and thinner than the others. Bucky would call it reverse compensating. "You're giving me a headache with your pacing and stressing."

"Sorry sir," Steve apologized as he moved to sit on one of the chairs in front of Fury's desk. "This is very strange for me."

Fury snorted. "I should hope that this is strange for you. Otherwise I really don't want to know what you do on weekends."

Steve gave the Director a confused glance and was about to ask what the man meant when a buzzer rang. "What's that?"

Fury tucked away the tablet and glanced down at his phone. "Message from Coulson. They're in the elevator on their way up."

Steve stood back up from his chair as his tension heightened to new levels. He was usually quite adept at hiding tension, but this time it was much harder. He could feel the urge to fidget like a schoolboy. Focus Rogers, his inner Bucky voice chanted. Just be calm. It'll be like meeting someone new. Not too bad, right?

Steve looked over at Fury. "Who is coming?"

"The kid and his guardian. The one from the picture."

"And how much do they know about me being alive?"

A ghost of a smile flickered across Fury's scarred visage. "Nothing yet."

Steve felt nauseous. They didn't know that he was alive? What would they think when they found out that he was not only alive but young. Maybe the only reason that they wanted his biological sample was because if he was dead then they wouldn't have to worry about the potential awkwardness. He found himself pacing again, back and forth in front of the door.

He walked up to the door for a moment, wishing that he could see through the metal. Being nervous was not his thing. Even when he was still frail little Steve, he had tried to maintain confidence-

Suddenly the door slid open halfway through his mental monologue. He leaned out curiously, and just in time too. He saw someone falling and he quickly darted forward to catch them. The moment that he caught them by their shoulders he registered just who the person—or rather kid—was. The resemblance was almost unnatural. It was like seeing an exact copy of his face from that age, and in turn extremely similar to his current one. The only difference was the emerald green eyes that were now blinking up at him in surprise.

"Who are you?" the kid blurted out.

Steve pushed the boy back up. After a slight wobble the kid was back on his feet and stable. "Um…thanks," he said as he looked at Steve. His eyebrows shot up a bit in surprise when he saw Steve.

"Who are you?" demanded the man with him, stepping towards Steve with his eyes narrowed. He was several inches shorter than Steve but that didn't make him less intimidating. His bright amber eyes seemed to contain some sort of feral intensity and his upper lip was pulled back into a snarl.

Coulson stepped forward. "Captain Rogers," he greeted. "I'll be leaving them with you now." He turned and nodded to the boy and his guardian. "Mr. Lupin. Mr. Potter." With that he turned and walked away.

Steve winced internally as Coulson walked away. He really wished that the man hadn't used his name and title like that. Wasn't this supposed to be about easing them into the realization of who he was? If their shocked expressions were anything to go by, the two knew who he was.

"Captain Rogers?" breathed the kid. "Steve Rogers?"

"That's impossible," said the older one as he shook his head. "You can't be alive."

"And isn't that quite the conundrum."

The two visitors jumped when the voice of the Director spoke from next to Steve. Steve had to stifle an amused smile when the boy's eyes widened comically as he saw the eye patch.

"Gentlemen," welcomed Fury. He gestured towards his office. "Please come in. This will take a bit of explanation."

"So what are your names?" asked the bald man as he sat down in the large swivel chair behind the desk. "I am Director Nick Fury of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, also known as SHIELD."

Harry stole a glance over at the man who was supposedly Steve Rogers. It was impossible, he knew, for the man to still be alive. Well perhaps not alive, but still young. Harry doubted that this was the same Steve Rogers. Most likely he was a grandson or a lookalike. But did that mean that he was related to Harry? If he was a grandson then Harry was his uncle…weird.

"My name is Remus Lupin," said Remus. "And this is my…nephew Harry Potter."

Fury froze, his eye rotating to stare at Harry. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," he muttered to himself.

"What?" asked Harry.

Fury shook his head. "British, manages to get from England to Washington without using any airport, and being mysteriously absent from all records. I should have seen it." He sighed. "You're the Harry Potter, aren't you? The famous magical kid who survived the unbeatable curse. My agents in magical Britain told me about you."

Remus's jaw dropped. "How do you know about the magical world?"

Fury snorted. "You don't exactly hide yourselves well. I mean, half of you go running around the streets in dresses in pointy hats. It is just my luck that the kid made from a stolen sample of Captain America ends up as one of the most famous magicals in the world. The odds of this must be ridiculous."

"What do you mean magicals?" questioned Steve. His arms were crossed and his brow was drawn in confusion. Harry barely held back from staring when he saw the pose that was nearly being mimicked from the picture.

"I'll explain it to you in a moment," said Fury as he waved a hand dismissively. "Well, Mr. Potter, you are quite the special person, you know. We have been looking for you."

"Why is that?" asked Harry.

"Aside from the obvious, because of something we found in the ice almost a week ago. Something that had been frozen for a long time. Say about seventy years."

"What?"

Fury pointed at Steve. "Him."

Harry blinked. "What?" What on Earth did that mean?

Remus, however, seemed to understand what that meant, if his shocked expression and pale face were anything to go by. "No way," he breathed. "The odds of that are-"

"As small as the odds of Harry Potter being related to Steve Rogers?" finished Fury. "Of course. Yet here we are. We found him and we were completely flabbergasted to learn that he was alive. It was like natural cryostasis"

Harry looked back and forth from Fury to Remus in confusion. "I don't get it. Cryostasis?"

"Harry," whispered Remus as he leaned over. "He was frozen in the ice. They revived him. Seventy years. Do you get what that means?"

Harry slowly turned his head to look at Steve. The blonde man was looking at Harry with a strange expression; curious and yet also wary.

"He is Captain America," finished Remus. "He is Steve Rogers. The same Steve Rogers, alive again."

Steve watched through the two-way mirror as the medical professional wiped down Harry's arm with antiseptic before gently inserting the needle. The boy winced slightly but did not otherwise move or protest. He looked around the room as the woman drew his blood, his gaze stopping and head tilting to the side when he noticed the mirror. The room was usually used for treating military prisoners which was why there was a two-way mirror.

Harry was sitting on a table in one of the examination rooms in the Triskelion getting his blood taken and a few injections done. Fury had wanted to be sure that there were no diseases hanging around.

"Lily used to tilt her head like that all the time," said a voice from behind him.

Steve looked to the side and saw Remus stepping up to the glass. When Steve had first seen the man he had seemed older than he was, mostly due to the grey hair and tired look to his face. Now, however, he seemed more worn than old, like he had experienced a lot in his life.

After the truth about Steve's identity had been revealed to them Remus and Harry had asked lots of questions. Actually, Remus more than Harry. Harry seemed to be in a state of slight shock. Remus had explained how he had learned of Harry's true paternity and why they hadn't been able to find him before. Some sort of magical illusion. They had then basically covered what SHIELD was and what it entailed, and what they wanted with Harry.

The truth was that they just needed to know his whereabouts so that they could keep an eye on him. According to Fury they also needed to see just how much Harry had inherited from Steve and if they could get the Super-Soldier Serum from his blood like they couldn't do from Steve's. A long shot, but still a chance. At the very least the two would be staying in the Triskelion for a few days more.

"Remus…Lupin, right?" Steve asked. Remus nodded. "You said that you're Harry's uncle?"

"Not biologically," Remus admitted. "But I was one of his dad's—James's—best friends back in school."

"A school for magic," Steve muttered as he watched the medical woman remove the vial of blood and pick up another one full that was filled with a clear liquid. "I never would have believed it."

Remus shrugged. "Most don't. Hogwarts has been hidden for centuries, nearly since its creation. Back then the muggles would burn us alive if they knew about us."

Steve grimaced. He knew his history and all about the Salem Witch Trials; they were barbaric. "Must have been horrible."

"Yea, but it isn't so bad now. Over two-thirds of the people in the magical world have at least one non-magic parent."

"Like Lily Potter?" It was strange to not know a single thing about the woman who gave birth to his son. "What is she like?"

Remus chuckled. "Curious, are you? Well you have every right to be." He paused for a minute. "Lily was vibrant. All who knew her would describe her like that. In both personality and appearance. She had long crimson hair and vibrant green eyes; she was gorgeous. However, no man would ever try to cross her. Her looks were matched by a fiery temper and fiercely strong will." Remus chuckled again. "Why, I remember one time a boy a few years older than her named Lucius Malfoy tried to make a move on her. He was the type of boy to think that anyone with muggle parents was worthless, but he was still a guy and he still found her beautiful, if only for physical needs."

Steve hated it when men saw women like that. "What happened?"

"Well, he told her that, and I quote, 'A filthy mudblood like her should be honored to have the attention of a Malfoy'. She took one look at him before kicking him in the groin and knocking him back onto the ground with a punch to his nose that shattered it. Even now it is a little bit crooked."

Steve smiled at the image his mind created. Lily sounded a lot like Peggy in personality. Peggy would not have taken insults from anyone and she would have hated being talked down to. "She sounds quite incredible."

Remus nodded. "Yes. James was infatuated with her from the moment that he met her, back when we were all eleven. Of course she hated him. Back when he was younger James was quite the arrogant little brat, mostly due to being a spoiled only child of older parents."

Suddenly something clicked in Steve's mind as he turned to Remus. "Wait, you said that Lily was vibrant. Why the past tense?"

Remus winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh yea, we forgot to tell you about that. Lily…is no longer with us."

Steve turned to look at the boy who was currently having his hand smacked away from where he was reaching for a cookie that was on a tray for when they were done. The woman just glared at Harry and the boy gave her a sheepish smile. "When?"

"When he was a year old," answered Remus softly. "A psychopathic magical serial killer."

"What about…his father?" Steve wouldn't deny that referring to James Potter as Harry's father brought about mixed feelings. Simply seeing Harry had made him more eager to know the boy, his likes and dislikes, his favorite things to do. At the same time he knew that he really had no rights to. The boy's real father was James, and if this were a normal situation then they probably wouldn't even meet. He would be a name in a file and maybe, if Harry was lucky, a face in a picture.

Remus sighed. "James as well. On Halloween 1999 they were both killed, leaving Harry an orphan. He was raised by Lily's sister and brother-in-law."

Steve picked up on the slight heat that was injected to his voice as he spoke about them. "I take it that you don't like them very much?"

Remus exhaled and ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "Lily told me a lot about her sister. Apparently, when Lily was accepted into Hogwarts Petunia wrote, trying to get in as well. She even offered to work for lessons. Unfortunately magic is something that you need to be born with, and Petunia didn't have it. She turned jealous. If I recall she took up the invitation to Lily's wedding just so that she and her husband could rant about how much of a 'freak' Lily and her husband were."

Steve tightened his fist. He hated prejudice and people who would attack others for something that they couldn't control. One of the boys back in his high school had been very racist. When Steve spoke out against him the boy had given Steve a bloody nose. "Were they abusive?" he asked softly.

"Abusive? Not in the strictest sense. However, they were blatantly neglectful. They essentially tried to distance him from humanity."

Steve crushed down the anger. Children were precious, and nothing—nothing—gave a person the right to be cruel to one. "Why was Harry sent to them? There had to have been someone. Heck, even an orphanage!"

"They were the only option," said Remus with a shrug. "Harry normally would have gone to his godfather Sirius Black but the man was arrested for assisting in the Potters' murder."

"You said that you were one of James's best friends. Why didn't you take him in?"

"I couldn't, I have a dangerous magical condition that makes me unfit to raise a child. Besides, according to Headmaster Dumbledore there are blood wards that protect Harry."

"Who is this Dumbledore?" asked Steve. "You mentioned him once or twice before. Who is he and why is he so important?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore is one of the most powerful and brilliant wizards in the world. He defeated the last Dark Lord, Grindelwald, and gained a lot of popularity. He led the force against Voldemort in the war. He is a very good man, but at the same time he has the flaw of seeing the big picture and not the individuals."

Steve frowned as he considered the way this Headmaster sounded. He sounded good, but not entirely correct. Everyone was important and the choice of what should be sacrificed for the good of all was not a decision for one man to make.

He was pulled from his musings when the pneumatic hiss of the automatic door brought him to his senses. He looked over to where Harry was emerging from the medical examination room. He had a plastic cup of water in one hand and a napkin in the other which most likely once held the cookie. Harry smiled when he saw Remus but froze when he realized that Steve was there.

Steve realized that he would have to make the first move. "Hello Harry," he greeted, stepping forward. He reached out his right hand. "I'm Steve Rogers."

Harry just stared up at him with wide eyes for a few moments before Remus nudged his shoulder. Harry blinked before tucking the napkin into his jacket pocket and shaking Steve's hand. The Captain's nearly swallowed the younger boy's. "Nice to meet you," he stammered out.

Steve couldn't hold back a grin at the kid's attitude. "I hope that the blood taking wasn't too bad."

Harry shrugged. "Er…not too bad. The lady was more worried that the needle would go through my vein."

"They had the same problem when I enlisted," admitted Steve. He had to fight to keep from smiling again as Harry's eyes flickered over his large muscles. The kid seemed to have some sort of strange effect on him. "I was smaller then," he added.

Harry just nodded. "I...I saw the pictures."

Any further discussion was cut off as the medic came out of the room. She nodded to Steve, Remus, and Harry in turn. "We have the blood being scanned currently. It should take an hour or two to get results." She looked at Harry. "You should probably get something to eat. After all those injections and blood samples you need some nutrients in your body. Besides, you are too skinny anyway." With another nod she turned and walked away, heels clicking on the floor.

"Where can we get something to eat?" asked Remus, looking at Steve. "I really don't know anything about our current arrangements."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Actually let me talk to Fury. Maybe he will let us out to go eat or something."

Harry wanted to sink into the floor merely from the heavy tension that seemed to hang in the air like a fogbank around him.

He, Remus, and…Steve were all eating in the cafeteria in the Triskelion, the headquarters of SHIELD. He was given the basic gist of what SHIELD was; top secret government agency. But then wasn't that all of them?

He had a million questions that he wanted to ask Steve. The man was his father, after all. Harry wanted to know everything about him yet he was too intimidated, both by Steve's appearance and by his image. Steve was Captain America, he wouldn't want some kid pestering him with questions. Besides, did he want to get to know Harry? He may have been pissed to find out that Harry existed.

"So how have you been adjusting to this time period?" asked Remus as he took a sip of water.

Steve shrugged his massive shoulders. "I'm okay, I guess," he admitted. "It is hard. I mean, when I went to sleep we were in a war. Now I wake up and there is peace. I feel caught in-between both worlds."

Harry forced himself to speak up then, knowing that it was a perfect chance. "I felt like that when I entered Hogwarts," he confessed, garnering Steve's attention. "I had grown up in a world without magic and suddenly I was pushed into one where I wasn't just magical, but I was a celebrity as well. I always tried to hide in school before and now I had to deal with everyone looking at me."

Steve gave him a smile that dramatically boosted Harry's spirits. It made the man seem more approachable and open. "Directly after the formula was used on me I learned that I had two choices. I could either become a guinea pig for the scientists looking for the formula or I could help the war effort. Unfortunately, I did not know that by 'help the war effort' they meant what they did."

"What did they have you do?" Harry asked, leaning forward in fascination.

"Earlier I had helped chase down a German spy and lots of people saw me. Senator Brandt had me dress up and promote the purchase of war bonds." Steve grimaced. "I was a dancing monkey."

"What changed?" Harry asked, his earlier intimidation forgotten. "How did you end up as a soldier?"

Steve smiled again at him. "I kinda…staged a one-man siege on the base where my best friend Bucky was being held. All I did was unlock the cells for the prisoners for them to escape, but they gave me all the credit."

"Wow," breathed Harry, eyes wide.

Steve wasn't sure why the awe in Harry's eyes had made him feel so good. Maybe it was because there was a part of him that wanted to prove himself to the kid, to keep Harry from being ashamed to be related to him. Steve had never liked to tell stories like this before but now he found them easy to draw upon. He had told Harry about his first mission, a bit about HYDRA, the Red Skull, and even Dr. Erskine. Harry had just soaked up every story with wide eyes.

Steve paused as he passed Harry's bedroom door. The three of them—Remus, Harry, and he—were staying in an underground section of SHIELD that held bedroom for the workers who couldn't always go home. They were in a joint wing that was a bit like an apartment, with three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a TV. Well Steve had been told that it was a TV; in his opinion it was too thin to be one.

He leaned back and peeked through the small crack that separated the door from its frame. The space cast a small yellow rectangle of light over the floor and onto the bed, illuminating the face of the sleeping teenager. In sleep Harry looked so peaceful and young; fragile and breakable at the same time.

It made Steve wonder what it would have been like if he had come back earlier and found Harry when he was a year old and kept him from going to the Dursleys. He loved children, always had, but could he raise a baby? He wasn't sure about all the necessities of a child but he would never have left baby Harry with his deplorable relatives.

Steve had actually asked Nick Fury what he could do about them. When the Director had heard Steve's repeat of Remus's words he had promised to investigate them. Fury had no love for child abusers.

Steve headed into the kitchen and was surprised to see Remus there, a mug of tea in his hands. Steve glanced at the clock and saw that it was just past midnight.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Remus with a small smile.

Steve just nodded as he walked over to stove.

"Help yourself to some tea," said Remus. "I made extra."

After a moment of thought the Super-Solder decided to take up the man's offer and poured himself a cup of herbal tea. He wasn't much of a tea person but he would rather have tea then try to operate the fancy coffee machine that was already there. Besides, coffee had a short-term effect only. His metabolism processed the caffeine too fast.

Remus gave him a small smile as he sat down. The man always seemed so laid-back and calm. Steve envied that, especially in the recent upheaval. "I take it that you couldn't sleep either?" Steve asked hesitantly.

Remus chuckled. "Not really, no. I tend to do my best thinking at night." He gazed at Steve curiously. "What about you?"

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to do. I mean, this situation is so strange! Harry seems like a great kid, really, but I'm not his dad, not really. But then why do I feel so protective of him?" He wasn't sure why he was baring his soul for the man but he seemed so trustworthy.

"Because it is just the way he is," Remus replied. "Harry is a very protective person, mostly because he has had people who were supposed to protect him hurt him. But when he trusts someone he will connect to them in a very powerful way. It is just who he is. I saw it in the way that he was acting around you while you two talked. You fascinate him because you are the kind of person he wishes to be."

"Me? Why?"

Remus chuckled again. "You are everything that was expected of him. In the wizarding world he is expected to be the perfect hero, vanquisher of the Dark Lord. When he sees you he sees the man that he wishes he could be. Not only that, when he sees you he sees a hero. Most boys his age have a role model, like their dad or some other male figure, but he didn't because he was the role model. When this school year started I remember several of the youngest ones coming up to him for an autograph or to meet him."

"Sounds painful," said Steve with a grimace. "You seem to know him very well."

"I am his teacher and I am also very observant. I was not much a talker in school and I perfected the art of reading people."

"Does he like the attention?"

Remus shook his head quickly. "No, not at all. He never likes to stand out. Well, except for whenever there is something like bullying going on. He hates bullies."

Steve hid a grin behind the rim of the mug as he remembered what he had once said to Dr. Erskine. I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from. He watched Remus gulp down the last of his tea and stand, and knew that this was the time to voice the question that had been nagging at him for a while. "If James and Lily had lived what would they have done? If they found out that I was alive."

Remus paused from putting his cup into the sink. He sighed and placed it down before turning. "If James and Lily were alive they would have told you. Simple as that. They more than anyone knew of the importance of family."

Steve nodded as Remus bid him goodnight and headed back to his bedroom. That was the answer he had been hoping for. He had felt nearly guilty when he had such a good time talking to Harry. He had felt like he was trying to steal the spotlight. But now he felt a little better knowing that they wouldn't hate him for trying to get to know their son.

Remus frowned as he read the missive that Dumbledore had sent him. He had found it when he had apparated back to his house to collect some things for Harry and him to wear. As much as it seemed to be merely an assurance of Harry, Remus knew that they did not want to lose him. They had some plan for the boy, and Remus needed to protect him. He was just happy that Steve seemed on board with it.

Remus had been quite wary of Steve in the beginning. Remus didn't want to see Harry get hurt if and when he started trusting Steve. Harry needed a father figure, and all the better if it was actually his father, but there was the danger of him getting attached to someone who he shouldn't be. But Steve was as vulnerable as Harry, albeit in a different way. Steve was lost and alone, adrift in a world that was not his own. They could help each other.

According to Dumbledore, Siri—Black had attacked some of the Gryffindor students while they were in the bleachers for the Hufflepuff/Slytherin Quidditch game. He was reported as yelling 'Where's Harry?' several times. Dumbledore apparently wanted Remus to bring Harry back to Hogwarts for his own protection.

Remus didn't understand the Headmaster's logic. Black had already proven himself able to get into Hogwarts; several times in fact. On the contrary, he had no clue where Remus lived outside of Hogwarts and neither did anyone else but Dumbledore. In fact, Harry was in an even safer place now, so no, Remus wouldn't bring him back.

Steve felt a grin tugging at his lips as he walked through Washington D.C. with Harry and saw the young boy's eyes shooting around. He had been smiling more in the past day because of Harry than he had in a long time.

He wasn't sure how, but somehow Remus had convinced Steve to go for a walk with Harry while Remus went to his place to collect some clothes for them. It wasn't that Steve disliked being around Harry, but there was always awkwardness there. Both of them seemed to be avoiding the subject of their relation and the circumstances surrounding it. So far Harry had been treating him like a friendly adult, but with nothing else there.

Steve followed Harry's gaze to one of the elaborate Christmas decoration that was set up on one of the open spaces near the buildings. This was so different from what he was used to. The elaborate decorations and fancy embellishments that seemed to drip from every surface were overwhelming.

"There are lots of decorations," said Steve as a way to break the silence that had been present almost the entire walk. He winced inwardly at how awkward it sounded.

Harry turned to look at him with his big blue-green eyes. Steve almost wanted to comment on how childlike the kid seemed in that moment. Steve had been a small person but he still had several features that added a more masculine look to his face, like his large jaw and defined features. They would obviously show up on Harry's face in a year or two but without them he seemed more like an innocent little boy. The vibrant eyes and long blonde bangs certainly didn't help that. "Yea, I guess so. In my relatives' neighborhood they didn't like to decorate."

"Really?" asked Steve curiously. "Why not?"

Harry shrugged. "All the houses in their neighborhood look alike; it is a bit creepy. They don't decorate because it might set them apart."

Steve smiled lightly. "Did they decorate at your school?"

Harry nodded. "Yea, but it was magical. These non-magical decorations are different, and really interesting."

They walked in silence for a minute more before Harry spoke again. "I'm sorry."

Steve looked at the boy uncomprehendingly. "For what?"

Harry's head was bowed and he was looking at his feet as they walked. "I'm sorry for making this so hard for you. It must have been horrible, waking up and learning that you had a kid that you didn't want or plan for. Now you have to take care of me and watch me even though it wasn't your choice. I would understand if you don't want me to intrude into your life."

He just stared down at the boy, his son, in shock. How had Harry gotten that idea? Steve stepped in front of Harry to stop the boy and got down onto one knee, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder and using the other to tilt his head up so his eyes would meet Steve's. The expressive blue-green eyes seemed to have darkened slightly.

"Don't think that," Steve commanded. "Don't you ever think that about yourself, Harry. You were right about one thing-"

Harry seemed to sag slightly.

"-and that was that you were a surprise. But you were a good one. Harry, I'm alone in this place. I mean, sure I have Fury or Coulson or a dozen other people, but not one of them see me as anything other than Captain America. Except you. You are the only person here who sees me as more than that. When I found out, do you know the first thing that I wanted to do? I wanted to see you, Harry. Fury gave me a little baby picture of you. I thought that I would be intruding in your life." Steve sighed. "Harry, I didn't plan you but I want you to know that I am very glad that you are here. Now I am not alone in this new world. If I had a choice, I would never choose to not have you here."

A small smile slowly spread across the boy's face as Steve finished his proclamation. Harry pulled up a sleeve to wipe his eyes. "Thanks," he said, his voice a bit shaky. "It's just, my relatives never planned on me and they hated getting stuck with me. I didn't want that to happen to anyone else."

Steve shook his head as he stood. "You are wanted. Maybe not by your relatives, but they aren't your only option. And I swear that you will never have to go back there again."

Harry smiled up at him. With a nod of reassurance Steve began to walk again, Harry hurrying to keep up with his long strides. Steve hadn't noticed it before and he slowed his pace a bit for the boy. He wasn't sure if he could be a dad, but he would try, because whether or not he could he wantedto. He wanted to earn Harry's respect and trust, and, more importantly, he wanted Harry to have someone to depend on.

They began to follow a small path that weaved through one of the open grassy spaces. There were several people playing in the snow, building snowmen or playing with their dogs or just sitting peacefully. Steve watched a man toss a ball to a small child that was obviously his son and an idea popped into his head to break the mood that they had set.

He slowed slightly, letting Harry get a bit ahead of him. He quickly scooped a small pile of snow off the grass and balled it up in his hand. It was loose and would fall apart quickly, but would serve his purpose. He waited until they approached a curve before tossing the snowball towards Harry.

His aim was true, and the baseball sized lump of powdered ice collided with the back of the blonde head. He was glad that he chose a curve, because Harry fell sideways onto the snow beside the path. He stared at Steve in shock and Steve wondered for a moment if he shouldn't have done that.

He was proved wrong when, a moment later, a snowball collided with his face. He blinked as Harry cracked up laughing. Steve just grinned as he grabbed another handful of snow. Harry too grabbed some and took off running, Steve chasing after as he pelted the boy with snowballs and his son returned the volley. It was only later that he realized that he had been mentally referring to Harry as his son.

Steve, Harry, and Remus sat down in the chairs inside the medical examination room that Harry had been in the day before to get his blood taken. The test results were back from the blood assessment, and the medical examiner had not only called them, but Fury as well. The Director was in the same mood that he seemed to always be in— displeased.

After their walk and the ensuing conversation the invisible barrier between Steve and Harry had gone down, not completely, but it had gone down. Harry seemed less wary of him and more open to talking whenever he was around Steve. Remus had looked rather amused when Harry and Steve entered the apartment sopping wet with half-melted snow in their hair and their cheeks flushed from the cold after their walk and snowball fight. It was the happiest and most carefree that Steve had felt in a long while. He had completely forgotten about all the drama and hardship that had occurred recently.

"So can you tell me why I had to cut off a conference call with some very important people just to come down here?" asked Fury, staring at the medical examiner. She was holding a clipboard in her hand and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She was obviously uncomfortable with being on the receiving end of Fury's ire.

"Of course," she replied with a hesitant nod. Her gaze flickered from Harry to Steve in back before moving to the clipboard. "Alright, first the results of the blood screening. There were no diseases present in Mr. Potter, and he seems relatively healthy."

"Relatively?" asked Remus.

She nodded. "Yes. He is quite small for his age, but that isn't really a health factor like a disease." She cleared her throat and continued. "Then we did a comparison of Mr. Potter's blood to Mr. Rogers's blood. While we are unable to withdraw the actual formula from Mr. Rogers's blood, we can identify its presence. We have discovered that same presence inside Mr. Potter."

Steve glanced down at Harry, who was looking up at him as well. They were most likely both wondering why, if the formula was inside him, he didn't have the same benefits as Steve.

"Now, there were a few things that seemed a bit off. Firstly is that, as far as we can tell, the formula is dormant inside Mr. Potter, which is why many of the traits exemplified in Mr. Rogers are not present. He has the capacity for it, just not the actual presence. Another strange thing was that his cells seem to have done this by blocking off the formula."

"What do you mean blocked off?" Steve asked. Science really wasn't his thing, especially not medical science. Back in school he had been more of a math and history person.

"It is like an exterior force has affected his cells and forced them to seal away the presence of the Super-Soldier Serum. As far as I can gather from the tests it should have begun to show itself as he aged. The formula should have made itself known by making him look…well, a bit like you Mr. Rogers. He would have been tall for his age, quite strong, his muscles would have developed with little or no work, and there would have been no health defects. That is where it begins to get strange."

She turned on the screen behind her and it showed a rotating DNA model with several segments illuminated. "His cells do seem to be extremely resilient towards sickness, more so than they should be, but not as much as Mr. Rogers's. It was like the formula began to take effect but was cut off early. I have seen effects like this when certain species are introduced to varying types of radiation but never on this scale. Nothing that I have seen matches this."

"Radiation," muttered Harry. Then his eyes widened and his gaze shot to Remus. "Voldemort! The Killing Curse!"

Remus's gaze snapped to the woman. "When Harry was a baby, he was exposed to a…relatively unknown type of energy. In all past tests this…energy has killed any living thing near it. Could that have affected him?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably as he heard Remus talking about the incident when Harry was a baby. Steve hated the thought that a madman would try to murder an innocent child. Even more so because the newly awakened feelings that he took to be parental instincts made him wish that he had been there to protect his son.

The woman looked contemplative as she nodded slowly. "I…suppose. After all, the Vita-Rays were made to promote life and growth and they activated the formula. It is reasonable to assume that energy meant to kill would seal it off in just the same way. Actually it is a good thing that the formula had absorbed it. It most likely, if it is as potent as you say, would have killed him otherwise."

"Can the blocks be removed by the Vita-Rays?" asked Fury, his one good eye scanning the model of the DNA which was now showing how little of the formula inside Harry was unlocked.

She shrugged. "I'm afraid that I don't know, Director Fury. This is uncharted territory. However, I think that in the end it would come down to what is stronger, this unknown energy or the Vita-Rays. If we attempted to activate the formula and the Vita-Rays were not strong enough then I believe that the backlash would convert the Vita-Rays' effect into these 'Killing Rays' and, well, you can guess what would happen."

"So I guess that's a no to unlocking the formula," muttered Harry when he saw the horrified looks on both Steve's and Remus's face.

"But this isn't for sure," the woman quickly added. "Even if we could activate the formula with Vita-Rays it would be heavily inadvisable until Mr. Potter was about sixteen or so. If his body was altered so radically this early into puberty then it could have detrimental long-term effects on his growth. I would recommend getting his blood tested when he three or four years older to see if it has improved."

Fury nodded and dismissed the woman with a wave of his hand. The moment that she was gone he sighed and slouched down. "Great," he muttered. "The World Security Council was hoping to have another Super-Soldier and now I will have to deal with their heat."

Steve visibly bristled at that. "You mean that you were intending to turn Harry into a weapon?" he hissed, narrowing his eyes at the Director.

Fury shook his head. "No, I disagreed with it. They are the running force behind many of our operations though, and what they want they usually get. They should at least be appeased by the possibility that in a few years he might be eligible."

"Another Super-Soldier is not worth the possibility of Harry's death," Steve answered. He shook his head at Fury.

Fury nodded in agreement. "Yes, I know that. We will cross the bridge about the formula when we get to it, which shouldn't be for a few years more." He glanced at his watch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go explain to the Council why I went running out of our meeting."

Dumbledore's bushy white eyebrows bent themselves into a frown as he read the reply from Remus to Dumbledore's letter. Apparently the werewolf thought that bringing Harry back would be one of the stupidest things that could be done, what with Sirius running around attacking students. Remus had said that he had Harry were perfectly fine and safe with him, and that no one could find them.

Unfortunately for them, Dumbledore could not allow that. With Black running around and the unknown location of Voldemort's spirit, nowhere was safe but Hogwarts, with Dumbledore. Besides, Dumbledore needed Harry here so that he could guide the boy.

From the moment that Dumbledore had done Priori Incantatem on Voldemort's wand, and realized that the mark on Harry's forehead was from the Killing Curse, he had vowed to protect and guide Harry.

Dumbledore was old. That was all that there was too it. He was old and his time one this Earth was rapidly approaching its end. Soon he would die and the legacy that he had built, the legacy of defying the Dark, would need to fall to another. Harry was the ideal person to take over.

Dumbledore had been unsure about leaving Harry at the Dursleys, but there was no other choice that would work. Besides, unlike Tom Riddle, Harry would be able to have a relatively stable life.

Of course it didn't work out that way. When Dumbledore had found out about the Dursleys' abuse he had been understandably upset, but at the same time it was the perfect scenario. Harry had been very open and kind when he met Hagrid and he had shown considerable compassion. Instead of the environment tainting him, like it had tainted Tom, Harry had maintained a positive outlook and the ability to see good in others. Dumbledore could not be more thankful that he would not have to deal with another rising Dark Lord.

Harry's first year at Hogwarts had gone remarkably well. Sure, there had been the incident with the troll, and of course Voldemort on Professor Quirrel's head, but it could have been worse! Besides, it worked as an excellent test for Harry. He had not been tempted in the least to join Voldemort. While Dumbledore would not have willingly put Harry in danger, he had to admit that the opportunities that occurred by themselves were quite nice.

That opinion was reinforced in Harry's second year. The moment that the writing had appeared on the wall he had known that it was from Tom. Few others even knew about the Chamber, let alone how to open it. The first thing that Dumbledore had done after the last opening of the Chamber had been to search the school top to bottom to find it, but nothing was discovered.

He had never planned on letting Harry go down into the Chamber. Actually Dumbledore had been hoping that Harry would find it so that Dumbledore could go down into it and slay the basilisk himself to boost his popularity, which was waning with time and age. While he was the most revered wizard amongst the older generations, like Molly Weasley's and the Potters', the younger students were less assured of his omnipotence. They saw him as a crazy and senile old man. However, getting thrown out of the school was not in his plans. Then Harry killed the basilisk and again defied Tom, proving once more that he was pure of heart.

Dumbledore knew that what he was doing wasn't, strictly speaking, moral, but he also knew that it was necessary. Harry needed to be molded into the next beacon of the Light for when Dumbledore was gone. Nothing could be allowed to disrupt those plans, even Remus Lupin. Harry needed to be guided down the correct path and if it was necessary to have Remus distance himself from his surrogate nephew then so be it.

Steve walked into the apartment where they were staying, hair soaked with sweat which also was soaking through the white T-Shirt he wore. He had been at the gym getting a workout in with some of the heavy weights. The Serum had increased his strength to superhuman levels, making six-hundred pounds simply difficult for him. He knew that if he really pushed it he might be able to hit a thousand, though it would take some time and training to reach that level.

He paused and blinked in surprise when he saw multi-colored lights blinking from various points in the entrance hallway. They looked like tiny colored stars floating through the air by themselves. Steve frowned slightly as he hurried down the hallway and into the living room, where they had come from. He realized what they were once he walked in.

Christmas decorations. The living room had been decked out with various Christmas decorations. The mantle of the fake fireplace had a garland stretching across it, small white lights twinkling inside of it. A red and green blanket had been stretched over the back of the couch. Multiple twinkling lights like the ones in the hallway floated around the room, obviously made by magic. In the corner of the room stood a large Christmas tree which was currently being decorated by Harry and Remus. Well more Harry than Remus. Remus was sitting down on a chair, looking quite weary.

"What's all this?" Steve asked curiously, glancing from Remus to Harry.

Harry turned around so quickly that he could have gotten whiplash. "Steve, you're back!" he exclaimed with a grin. The grin was infectious and Steve found himself smiling back. "Want to help me decorate the tree? Remus is too tired to."

Steve cast another glance at the greying man and realized that he looked more than tired; he looked sick. He had dark shadows under his eyes and he seemed quite weary. "Uh…sure," Steve answered slowly. He could talk to Remus about it later. "Just let me go get changed out of these sweaty clothes."

When Steve returned from a shower and change of clothes ten minutes later the two were still doing virtually the same thing; decorating and resting. Harry had already covered the a third of the tree with decorations and he was slowly working his way around with colorful glittering ornaments.

When Harry saw him he waved him over and showed Steve the large box that he had been drawing the ornaments from. "Remus conjured these for me, along with the lights. He transfigured the tree from one of the couch pillows."

Steve took one of the golden ornaments out of the box and placed it on the tree. "Conjured them?" he clarified. "He made them out of nothing?"

Harry nodded. "Yea. It's apparently one of the hardest types of magic. They won't last forever but they should last until a few days after Christmas."

Steve was impressed. He had never imagined that something could be created out of nothing, even temporarily. "Is transfiguration like transformation?"

Harry nodded as he hung a glittering bauble from one bough. "It is all about imagination, I think. Our first class we had to turn a match into a needle."

They hung a few more ornaments in silence before Harry spoke again. "Did you decorate a Christmas tree when you were little?"

Steve paused from where he had been reaching to grab another ornament. It had been a long time since his childhood Christmases. He hadn't really celebrated much in the war years in remembrance of all the men who couldn't either. He glanced over at Remus and was slightly relieved to see that the man had fallen asleep. This was something that he would be willing to share with Harry, but maybe not Remus. "We didn't have a lot of money," he said, adding on another ornament. "My parents were immigrants from Ireland. My father died when I was seven years old from a training accident in an army training camp and I was raised by my mother. She was a nurse. We didn't have a lot of money for frivolous things but my mother was always very particular about us celebrating Christmas together." He smiled sadly in remembrance. "She often worked the Christmas shift at the hospital to get extra money. I remember that every year, without fail, she would bring me a present when she got home that night."

"I'm sorry," apologized Harry. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no, it's alright. I miss her but I know that she is in a better place. She died when I was seventeen. My best friend Bucky let me stay at his place until I got a job and could afford a place of my own."

"You've mentioned him a few times," said Harry as he added a few more ornaments. The tree was nearly covered now due to the fruits of their combined efforts. "Bucky was your best friend?"

Steve nodded. "Yea. His full name was James Buchanan Barnes, but he hated that and so went with just Bucky."

"My middle name is James," Harry piped in. "Well, actually, I have two middle names. My full name is Harrison James Steven Potter."

The corner of Steve's mouth twitched. "That's funny, because if I had named you then you would have had James in your name because of Bucky." Then he froze as he realized what he had just said. Neither he nor Harry had really broached the topic of him being anything more than a biological connection to Harry. However, he had been thinking of what it would have been like if he had raised Harry and the answer had been completely unintentional.

"That's really ironic," said Harry, apparently not noticing Steve's reaction. "I end up with your name and your best friend's name both."

"Er…yea," answered Steve, pushing his off-topic train of thought into the back of his mind for later contemplation. "Bucky joined the army when I was about twenty-two. Well, I tried, but due to my weak physical form and assortment of physical ailments I was rejected."

Harry raised one eyebrow at him. "What health issues?"

Steve paused and thought back to the list that he had once carted around everywhere in hopes that some recruitment center would take him. He began to list them, raising a finger for every one. "Asthma, Scarlet Fever, Rheumatic Fever, Sinusitus, Chronic or frequent colds, high blood pressure, Palpitation or pounding in heart, easy fatigability—though that was because of how small I was—, heart trouble, nervous trouble of any sort, household contact with tuberculosis, and a parent with diabetes." He shrugged. "I memorized the list."

Harry looked slightly unnerved. "Erm…wow. In that case I am extra happy that all I got was easy fatigability."

Steve shrugged. "Yea, the Serum protected you from others. Anyway, I was rejected several times over. I actually tried using many fake locations; I luckily wasn't caught."

"What changed?"

"Dr. Erskine. I told you about him before, remember? He found me and had me enter with his consent. He later told me that it was because of my spirit that he picked me for the Serum." Steve smiled as he remembered the late-night meeting that he had with the doctor. Erskine had changed his life in many ways, one of them being through his nephew giving Steve Harry. "I was just a face for the crowd at first but then Bucky's unit got stuck and I rescued them. I later made a team out of some of them, Bucky being one of them."

"What happened to him?"

Steve thought back to that day on the train. Speeding along the zipline, landing on the fast-moving metal tube, and the ensuing confrontation. Seeing Bucky handing off the railing as they shot through the snow-covered mountains, trying to reach him, and then seeing his life-long friend fall. "Bucky died saving my life."

"Just like my mother," Harry said sadly as he pulled something from the bottom of the box. It was an ornate golden star made for the top of the tree. Its frame was made out of thin golden bars forming a three-dimensional star shape with thin points and a full middle. The spaces between the golden frames on each arm were filled with crystal triangles that took in light and spread it out like a rainbow. In the very center of the star was a spiral of gold placed on the crystal backing. The entire piece was gorgeous.

Harry reached up to try to place it at the top of the tree but found that he couldn't reach. Steve hadn't noticed it before but he suddenly realized that he had been putting ornaments near the top, where Harry couldn't reach.

"Hold on," muttered Harry as he looked around. "I'll find a chair."

Steve moved before he realized what he was doing. He grabbed Harry from behind, just underneath the armpits, and lifted him up towards the top of the tree. Harry jerked in shock before quickly reasserting himself and putting the star on top of the tree. Suddenly there was a bright flash and a loud pop from next to them. Steve turned to his right as he lowered Harry and there stood Remus, a Cheshire Cat grin on his face and a camera that looked to be from the same time period as Steve in his hand.

"What on Earth was that?" Harry demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at Remus angrily. Instead of answering Remus just took another picture before they could react.

Once the white spots dancing in his vision from the flash had vanished Steve reached forward to yank the camera out of Remus's hands but the man just yanked it away and with a flick of the wooden shaft in his hand it vanished.

Sirius bared his teeth in a savage grin as he removed the stick from the fire, watching the smoke curl off of the dead rat that was skewered on it. Rats were quite abundant in Hogsmeade, most of them having fled the Dementors in Hogwarts. While he hated eating the rats it made it much easier to imagine that each one was Pettigrew. Well, that and roasting them enough.

He watched the rain fall outside his cave as he chewed on the rat, his mind lost in thought. He had watched the rain fall from his cell in Azkaban. He loved to imagine Peter as a rat, running in the rain. The little bastard couldn't swim in either his human form or his rat one. Sirius liked to picture the rat slipping, falling into a puddle that was only just too deep for him to stand in, and…death.

It was a good thing that no one was nearby to see him grin, showing off yellow teeth that had slivers of rat stuck between them. Anyone who saw Sirius now would never think that he was innocent, but innocent he was.

He had realized what a critical error he had made when he had jumped those Gryffindor students. He had only been aiming at the kid with the orange hair who had been carrying the bloody rat but he had forgotten to draw the kid away from the group. Then he had noticed that all the students were from the same age group—third years—and that Harry wasn't with them. He had completely broken his cover by demanding to know where Harry was.

After that little…incident…Sirius had realized that he was going about this all the wrong way. If he killed Pettigrew then his innocence would never be proven. However, he also could not just hand him over to the Ministry; Fudge would give him the Kiss faster than he could say 'innocent'.

"François," he muttered to himself as he absentmindedly crushed the skull of the dead rat in his fist. He had one more option: foreign sanctuary. If he left the country and found another one where they would allow him to prove his innocence, then Fudge had no choice but to allow him a trial. He could prove that he was innocent and then he could take Harry.

His memories of Harry were a bit fuzzy but he still remembered the little giggling baby that looked like James. Sirius could take control of Harry's guardianship and he could raise Harry the way that James would have wanted. He could teach Harry about pranks, about girls, and about teasing the Slytherins. It would be just like having James back.

He tossed a handful of dirt into the fire to smother it as he hurried out into the rain, morphing into Padfoot. He sniffed the air before making his way towards The Three Broomsticks.

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hairline in shock as he tore open the long package that he had received in the mail and found a broomstick. Not just any broomstick, either, but a Firebolt. He had seen the Firebolt in the Quidditch Supply store in Diagon alley and it was über expensive.

It was Christmas morning and Harry, Steve, and Remus were all in the living room of their…apartment, for lack of a better term, opening gifts. Harry had received about ten in all from various people he knew. Remus had gotten two or three from his other teachers. Steve didn't have any, not that he minded.

"A Firebolt!" Harry gasped in shock as he stared at the gleaming handle of the ridiculously expensive broom. "This must have cost a fortune!"

"Who sent it to you?" asked Remus suspiciously as he crouched down next to Harry. "If Sirius Black sent it then it may be cursed."

"I kinda doubt that," muttered Harry. "Why would he spend a fortune on a cursed broom for me? Wouldn't it be easier to just send a box of candy or something? Why would he use a broom that costs enough to make the Malfoys wince?"

Remus paused as he realized the logic in what Harry was saying. While the Black family certainly had the money for a dozen such brooms, why would Black risk it all just for a medium-level chance at revenge? It made no sense.

"I thought you were joking about witches and wizards flying on brooms," admitted Steve as he looked at the broom. "But this broom could only be made for flying. There is no way that you could sweep with something like that."

Harry nodded in agreement as he set the broom aside to try later. "Yea, a lot of stereotypes turned out to be real in the magical world, which really surprised me when I was first introduced. I wonder which came first, the stereotype or the real thing?" Harry paused as he pulled another package from under the tree. It wasn't wrapped in wizarding wrapping paper like the others, and the shape was something different than the others. "What's this?" he muttered as he tore the paper off of it.

He was very surprised when he found a large leather glove and a ball inside of it. The ball looked familiar, like something from a muggle game. "What is this?" he asked again.

Steve fidgeted slightly and Harry realized that it was from him. He hadn't honestly been expecting anything from Steve for multiple reasons and the fact that the man had gotten him something made him feel both happy and guilty. Happy because Steve cared enough to get him something and guilty because he hadn't gotten anything for Steve in return.

"It's a baseball glove and a baseball," admitted Steve after a moment of silence. "You were telling me about that game, Quidditch, and I figured that I could teach you about baseball as well. I mean I understand if you don't want to, but-"

"No, no!" Harry interjected quickly. "That would be great. I'd like that."

Steve smiled at Harry and nodded. Harry really did want to learn about something that Steve liked to do as well, and he had heard that baseball was the most American sport.

"Damn," muttered Remus. Harry and Steve turned to Remus, who was entering from the kitchen. Neither of them had heard him leave earlier.

"What is it?" asked Steve.

Remus sighed and combed his fingers through his greying blonde hair. "Dumbledore's phoenix just dropped off a note. Apparently he visited my apartment and found that we weren't there and now he is demanding that I bring Harry back or he will alert the Ministry."

"The phoenix came? Why wouldn't he just travel with it?"

"Certain wards are rather picky about who they allow through. For example a phoenix may be able to fire-travel somewhere alone, but if it tried with a wizard the wards may block it," explained Remus.

"Can he really do that?" asked Steve with a frown. "After all, he gave you permission to take Harry."

Remus shrugged. "Dumbledore doesn't like surprises, and he always likes holding all the cards. I have no doubt that he means well, but as they say, 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions.'"

"Why does he have so much control over me?" asked Harry in annoyance as he crumpled up one of the spare pieces of wrapping paper.

"Dumbledore is able to act In Loco Parentis, or in the role of a parent, for any orphans who reside at Hogwarts. He holds your guardianship and is allowed to make choices for you."

Harry scowled angrily as he crossed his arms and dropped into a cross-legged position. "That's horrible," he growled. "I don't want him to have that much power over me."

Steve was staring at Remus, clearly deep in thought. "Remus, how do the Wizarding Guardianship Laws work?" he questioned, seemingly out of the blue.

Remus blinked at Steve before his eyes widened in realization. "The Ministry will take an orphan and determine the closest blood relative if all members of the parents' wills are ineligible. If that closest relative does not accept guardianship then the child's fate is determined by the Ministry." His amber eyes bored into Steve's. "Are you thinking what I think that you're thinking?"

Steve smirked slightly as Harry looked at him curiously. "Well, I know how to circumvent this Professor Dumbledore. We take Harry to get his closest blood relative determined and see if they will accept guardianship of him." His smirk grew. "I have a feeling that they would be more than willing."

As Steve walked down Diagon Alley with Harry and Remus he wished that he had a way to slow down time so that he could see everything at once. It was like the entire cobblestone street was filled with images straight out of a children's book. Men and women dressed in colorful robes with pointed hats, cauldrons in the windows with glittering smoke rising from them, magical animals squawking from cages against the shops, and all over things moving of their own accord, changing, or performing impossible feats.

He barely noticed as Harry dragged him towards the enormous white marble building that stood at the end of the street. However, his attention was immediately drawn to the short figures wielding long spears. His military training kicked in, making him move to stand between Harry and the creatures. If the amused glances that were shot his way were any indication, they noticed it.

Harry just gave him a weird look as they walked towards the nearest empty teller. Steve made a mental note to explain the basics of combat instincts to Harry; it could save his life someday.

"Harry Potter here to take a blood relation test," said Remus as he stepped up to the teller.

The teller moved his head slowly to look at them, a bored expression on his wrinkled face. "And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key or fifteen galleons?" he drawled. Harry reached into his pocket and took out a small golden key, handing it to Remus who in turn handed it to the goblin. "Very good," he drawled again as he reached under his desk and pulled out a sheet of white parchment and a wicked looking dagger that had colored jewels set into its hilt. "Mr. Potter, please hold out your left hand."

Harry did as was told, though Steve was watching the goblin with the knife carefully. He tensed when the creature moved but relaxed minutely when it only pricked the tip of Harry's finger. A fat red drop of blood slid out of the tiny puncture wound and landed on the parchment with a plop.

The three of them watches as Harry's name blossomed into existence, all four parts of the name in place. A line grew up out of the name before splitting and heading in opposite directions. At the end of each line more names grew. On the left it said Steve Rogers and on the right it said Lily Potter née Evans. Underneath both were the dates of their birth and, in Lily's case, death.

"That's enough," said Remus quickly. He nodded towards Steve. "Can this blood test be used to determine guardianship for a magical minor?"

The goblin looked slightly more interested now as he glanced between Harry and Steve. His beady eyes flicked to Harry's forehead. "Yes, so long as it is registered with the Ministry of Magic. That can be done by us for a fee of five galleons if the guardian in question accepts the minor. The guardian must also consent to a blood test to prove their identity."

"I do," Steve said quickly as the goblin looked at him. After a quick test like Harry's the goblin nodded affirmatively and tucked the pages into a muggle folder.

"Sign here," it commanded as it pushed another paper to the front of the desk.

Steve scanned the form with his eyes. It was a sheet saying that he accepted full custody of Harrison James Steven Potter, now known as Harrison James Steven Rogers, under both the magical laws and mundane ones. He took the blue quill and carefully signed his name at the bottom.

"This form will be registered with the Ministry within three business hours," said the goblin as it handed a copy of the papers back, along with Harry's key. "Twenty galleons have been magically removed from your vault. Have a nice day."

Steve turned to stare at Remus in shock as they walked away, missing the dazed look on Harry's face. "That's it?" he hissed. "All they require is a blood relative? What if the blood relative is a psycho?!"

Remus sighed and shrugged. "In the magical world blood and family is everything. You'll find that the attitudes in the wizarding world greatly differ in certain aspects."

"I don't get it," said Harry as he hurried to keep up with Steve. "I understood that we were going to be getting my guardianship from Dumbledore, but what did that goblin mean?"

"It is more than guardianship, Harry," said Remus with a shrug. "Like I said, blood matters in the wizarding world. Steve, as your biological father, wasn't just given custody of you, Harry. He effectively adopted you, though even more so considering that you share blood."

"So now Dumbledore can't force me to do anything!" Harry realized. "He can't do anything because now I actually have a parent with guardianship status."

Remus nodded at him. "Exactly."

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, reviewing the current point tallies for the year and sucking on a sherbet lemon, when he heard the telltale tapping of an owl's beak on the window. With a flick of his wand the window swung open, allowing the feathery creature in. When it landed on his arm he took the scroll from it and barely a moment later it was soaring back out the window.

He eyed the Ministry crest imprinted on the crimson ribbon that sealed the scroll. It looked quite official. Why would he have gotten a Ministry letter? If he ever did before it was a letter from Fudge pleading for advice. With a foreboding feeling in his stomach he unraveled the letter.

Albus Dumbledore

You are being notified due to the change of guardianship for your magical ward, Harrison James Steven Potter. He has been claimed by a close blood relative and the relative has taken over all guardianship roles. All possessions belonging to Harrison Potter that reside with you must be forfeited immediately.

Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.

Ministry of Magic, Department of Human Resources

Dumbledore swallowed his lemon drop whole.

Once he managed to stop coughing and hacking from the rather irritating feeling of the fruity sphere sliding down his throat, his reasonably brilliant mind began to work. He summoned a Wizarding Genealogy book from across the room and quickly flipped to the section on the Potters. It was about twenty years old, so it wouldn't show Harry, but it would show who was before him.

Violetta Bulstrode—Cygnus Black Aelia Malfoy—Leonard Potter

Dorea Black—Charlus Potter

James Potter

Dumbledore closed his eyes in horror as he realized what that meant. The Blacks, the Malfoys, and the Bulstrodes were Harry's closest relatives. They were some of the Darkest families in all of magical Britain. While the Potters had been a well-known Light family they did still marry into the Dark ones occasionally. Aelia Malfoy had been the white sheep of her family, a Ravenclaw in a family of Slytherin, but she was still a Malfoy. Technically she was Lucius's great-aunt.

He glanced down at the letter again and his brow furrowed. He hadn't known that Harry's full name was Harrison James Steven Potter. He had always thought that it was Harry James Potter. Why would James and Lily put the name Steven in his name? The middle name was usually reserved for the father's name, or occasionally the grandfather's name.

There were many, many issues with this. The blood relation was the most troubling factor. Since blood mattered so much in the wizarding world very little could be done to contest blood relation. Child abuse was essentially nonexistent as well because of how few children wizards usually bore and the value that they placed in their heirs. The Weasleys were a notable exception. If Harry's new guardian had all the magical rights then they could make any choices for Harry, even to send him to another magical school, and that was not something that Dumbledore could allow if he was going to train Harry to become the next savior of the Light.

He stood from his chair and grabbed the nearest over-robe that he could find, pulling it over himself. He had to stop this. Harry could not be taken by someone who did not trust Dumbledore. That must not happen.

Steve and Harry were eating lunch in the cafeteria of SHIELD when Fury came stalking up to them. It was just Harry and Steve because Remus was napping in his room again. Steve kept meaning to ask the man what was wrong, because Remus certainly was not revealing the information.

"Director," greeted Steve with a nod at the bald man. "What can we do for you?"

Fury didn't respond, instead taking a thick sheet of paper out of his jacket and slamming it down onto the table in front of Steve, making Harry jump slightly at the sudden bang. "Mr. Rogers," he began in a genial tone that was the complete antithesis of his posture and tense shoulders. Then he turned to Harry. "And Mr. Rogers Junior."

Harry stilled and glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye. The message in his gaze was clear: Uh Oh.

"Imagine my surprise," continued Fury. "When one of the many programs I have on my computer flagged a mention of your name. In Britain. Apparently a certain Harrison Potter has now been legally adopted by a Mr. Steve Rogers. What was rather curious—" His fists clenched as he said the word, making the leather in his gloves squeak "—was the fact that this was without any of the legal processes that come before. It was so fast that it was almost like…magic!" His eye turned to glare at Steve. "Explain. Now."

Steve fought the intimidation technique that Fury dearly loved to use. "I took custody of Harry," he said bluntly as he pushed his food tray a bit further away and folded his arms in front of him. "He was in the custody of the Headmaster of his school and the man does not seem to have a track record of good decisions. I wanted to take away the chance of him using his power over Harry to control him."

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Albus Dumbledore? Yeah, I know about him. Seems a bit manipulative and he has a touch too much power. He seems to have a complete monopoly of the British magical world, but he hasn't done anything too major yet."

"He does?" Steve asked in shock. "How?"

Harry spoke up for the first time. "Dumbledore defeated the last Dark Lord, Grindelwald. He got really popular because of it and he is in lots of books. I didn't realize it until now but he was in all the books that people born in the non-magical world read when they start at Hogwarts."

"The man has gotten used to being asked for the answers," Fury said with a shrug. "After a while I assume that he liked everyone looking up to him and so he started to feel like only he knew the best choices. If so then he won't be too happy about this adoption." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Fine, fine, I understand why you did this, Rogers, even if it is going to be a buttload of paperwork." He sent another glare at Steve before walking away. "Thanks for that," he called over his shoulder.

Dumbledore pursed his lips in annoyance as he read down the list of belongings that he would have to return to Harry. They were all various things that James Potter had lent to Dumbledore back during the war. Most were various types of monitors that were made to determine a person's health and safety, something that he had used with the Longbottoms and the Potters while they were in hiding. Now, however, he used them to keep watch over Harry. But he couldn't do that if the monitors were gone.

But there was a more troubling item on the list, one that he was extremely reluctant to return. His—or rather, the Potter—pensieve, which James's father Charlus had lent him back in the days of the war against Grindelwald. Charlus was one of the few who knew of Dumbledore's…connection to Grindelwald. He had lent Dumbledore the pensieve so that he could try to discover who had been the cause of Ariana Dumbledore's death. Unfortunately, there was no luck in doing it, but Charlus had died before Dumbledore could return it. He had been planning on giving it to James when the boy was old enough but when the war against Voldemort began he realized that he needed to continue to use it.

He used that pensieve to view many memories that he had collected over the years; memories pertaining to Tom Riddle. His childhood, the people he tormented, and even some memories of his family. But if the pensieve was gone then those memories could not be viewed.

Pensieves were exceptionally rare objects. To make them required extremely in-depth knowledge of many branches of magic, including the ever-elusive Alchemy, as well as exponential levels of magical power. The last person to make a pensieve was Perenelle Flamel, the wife of Nicolas Flamel, creator of the Philosopher's Stone.

The Potter pensieve had been passed down through the family for generations. The parents usually passed it down to their eldest child when they died or when they reached a very old age. The family used it for a multitude of purposes, from teaching their children to investigating memories. One Potter, a lawyer, had used it in lawsuits.

Dumbledore ran a wrinkly hand through his beard as he sighed and proceeded to gather up all of the monitors and books that he had borrowed from Charlus or James. He consoled himself with knowing that he had already read the books through several times.

After a moment of hesitation he stepped up to the pensieve and began to remove the memories within, strand by strand. He could only hope that Harry would let him borrow this again. Perhaps if he told the boy about how his grandfather had lent it to him…yes, that could work.

Remus ran a hand over his face tiredly as he tried to watch the muggle sport that Steve had playing on the television. It was called baseball, apparently, and Steve had been teaching it to Harry after he gave him a ball and glove as Christmas presents. From the way that Harry was watching in fascination Remus would wager that the boy was now hooked on it as much as he was on Quidditch. The professor just hoped that Harry would not try combining them anytime soon.

Remus stood and walked into the kitchen to get a cup of tea, taking care not to disturb Harry. The full moon was in just one day and it made him extremely lethargic. He knew that Steve had noticed and soon the man would ask him about it.

"More tea? Seriously?"

Speak of the devil. Remus sighed and placed the kettle back onto the stove. He had known that this talk was coming for a while now. That wasn't to say that he was looking forward to it; he was scared of Steve's reaction. "I try to avoid coffee," he said. "It…disagrees with me."

Steve snorted as he stepped past the doorframe and into the kitchen. When Remus shot him a puzzled look he waved a hand dismissively. "Sorry, but that phrase reminded me of something someone once said." He stared at Remus for a moment. "What's going on? Really? I mean this can't be normal."

"Normal isn't a word that could ever be used to describe me," Remus muttered as he turned around and leaned against the corner. He sighed tiredly and nodded. "Alright, you're right. I told you that I have a wizarding sickness, right?"

Steve nodded.

"Well, it is my…time of the month, for lack of a better term."

Steve suddenly paled. "Wait, what? I mean, you can't mean-you don't mean-"

Remus couldn't hold back a short laugh as he waved a hand to stave off Steve's fear. "No, no, not that. I, um…I have a magical sickness that affects me once a month. Have you ever heard of werewolves?"

Steve blinked. "Wait, what? What's that?"

"A werewolf. The correct term for the disease is called Lycanthropy. It is a disease that makes me change, once a month on the night of the full moon, into a wolf. Not just a wolf, but a giant, angry, feral beast. It's a curse, a horrible affliction that is passed through the bite of a werewolf. The wizarding world shuns all werewolves."

Steve just stared at him for a moment. "If it is as bad as you claim then why do you teach? Isn't it dangerous?"

"There is a potion called the Wolfsbane. It makes it so that I can keep my mind when I turn into a wolf."

"Then I don't see what the problem is," said Steve. "If you can control it then why is it so bad?"

Remus shrugged. "Prejudice?"

"Well, I don't care about that. You are a good man, Remus. As a good friend once told me, it is what is on the inside that counts."

Remus smiled lightly. "Thank you Steve, that means a lot to me."

Clint grinned as he watched the famous Super-Soldier toss a baseball to his son standing twenty or so feet away. The boy raised his baseball glove to intercept the white ball shooting through the air. The ball collided with the glove and bounced off. The boy frowned in annoyance as he picked it up off the snow-laden ground.

Clint had been assigned as their unofficial 'watcher' for the day while Steve taught his son how to play baseball. The boy wad bundled up in a jacket to keep him warm from the winter chill.

"Close your hand when the ball hits the glove," Steve instructed the boy, showing him how to grab the ball. "It keeps it from bouncing out."

Harry nodded as he looked up at the much taller man. "Got it," he replied.

Clint twirled a long stick in his hand as he watched the boy succeed in catching the ball for the first time. The triumphant grin on the kid's face was mirrored on Steve's face. It was such a cute moment that Clint wished that he had a camera so he could make some potential blackmail material for later.

His musings were interrupted when his phone suddenly rang. With a sigh he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. He was torn between groaning and smirking when he saw that it was Coulson. It was worth a smirk if the call was because Coulson had discovered the hair-removal in his shampoo and worth a groan if it was because Coulson had a job for him.

"Barton," he said as he answered the phone.

"Agent Barton," Coulson's ever passive voice came over the phone. "We need you to come to the Tesseract testing facility."

Clint pulled the phone away from his ear and placed a hand over it before groaning loudly. Once it was out of his system he cleared his throat and put the phone back up to his ear. "Now, really? I thought I was supposed to be guardian Cap and Junior here."

"This takes precedence."

Clint swore that Coulson practiced his 'special agent voice' in the mirror every night as he stared at his Captain America poster that was stuck to his mirror. Clint had snuck into the man's apartment once to see it. "Alright then. I'll be there in a few hours."

"I'll be waiting."

Clint sighed and hung up as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. Damn baldie agent and his obnoxious calls. He cast one last glance over at Steve and Harry, who were still tossing the ball. He smiled as the boy leaned too far backwards for one and fell onto his back in the snow.

"I can't wait until Stark learns that the Cap has a kid," he muttered as he jogged over to the headquarters so he could catch a flight. "The man is gonna freak."

Remus stepped out of the whirling emerald green flames with a deep breath, banishing the soot from his robes with a flick of his wand. After a quick glance around his office he removed a small wooden rectangle from his pocket and placed it on the ground. "Engorgio," he incanted as he pointed his wand at it. The rectangle swelled and expanded until it took the familiar shape of his worn and battered wooden trunk.

He pushed open the lid and began to remove the clothing from within. He would not deny that it was rather disappointing to have to change into wizarding robes. While it was traditional they were not easy to maneuver in at all, especially after using muggle clothes for a while.

"Remus my boy, you're back!"

Remus jumped violently at the Headmaster's voice. Then he began to jump up and down, yelping, after he smashed his toes into the wooden chest. After a few moments he put his foot down and took a few deep breaths. He shot a glare at the Headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore. I really wish that you wouldn't pop up like that."

The old man winced slightly. "Yes, sorry about that my boy, it was not intentional."

Remus nearly bit out that he was tired of being called 'my boy'. He was, after all, in his thirties. "What did you need?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Dumbledore straightened up slightly in his seat. "Remus, I received a rather troubling notice over the break about Harry."

"Really?" asked Remus as he returned to unpacking the trunk. He respected Dumbledore and it was easier to lie when he wasn't looking the man in the eyes.

"About a guardianship change," Dumbledore continued. Remus could feel the old man's eyes boring into the back of his skull. "Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Remus sighed and turned back to look at Dumbledore. The Headmaster was looking at him with those eternally pitying eyes that always made him feel guilty. "Yes, I do," he answered.

Dumbledore frowned. "Why would you do that, Remus? His closest magical relatives are the Blacks and the Malfoys!"

"Nope."

Dumbledore blinked. "What?"

Remus rubbed a hand over his face. "Albus, James couldn't have kids."

Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "No, no, of course he could. I mean, how else could Harry-"

Suddenly he froze and his tired blue eyes widened. "Surrogate," he breathed.

Remus nodded. "Yes. I wasn't sure, before. But Harry and I visited his parents' vault, and it is true. Harry had a glamour on him to disguise him. James and Lily visited a muggle sperm bank when they learned of James's infertility."

Dumbledore sat down on one of Remus's armchairs heavily. "You found him?"

Remus nodded. "Yea. Steve's his name, Steve Rogers. He didn't know that he was a surrogate. It turns out that the sample was stolen. But Harry and he have met, and talked. He's…he's good for Harry. You should see the way they interact sometimes."

"How?" breathed Dumbledore. "The prophecy...the prophecy said…"

"Prophecy?" asked Remus, taking a step towards Dumbledore. "What prophecy?"

"There…there was a prophecy about Harry being the defeater of Voldemort. He…he was born to those who defied Voldemort three times…"

Remus raised one eyebrow. "Prophecy? Albus, prophecies are fickle and temperamental. No matter how much you try, it is nearly impossible to correctly discern it. For example, did it say that they had defied Voldemort or they defied him? It could mean that in their lifetime they will defy him three times."

The old man looked down at the floor. "Remus…I don't know what to say. I was so sure…"

Remus just sighed. "Albus, don't try to reason through this. Please, just do what needs to be done."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, yes." He stood shakily from his chair. "In that case, I have several possessions that you need to give to Harry, from me. They rightfully belong to him. I was lent them by his...by James and Charlus."

Remus nodded as he watched Dumbledore hobble over to the fireplace. It was like the entire world had just been pulled out from under him and he could barely stand. Remus just consoled himself with the fact that at least the man was trying. It was better than the alternative; trying to get Harry far away from Steve.

Dumbledore paused before stepping into the flames. "Remus, may I meet him?"

Remus nodded at his old teacher. "Sure, Professor. Sure."

Steve tried to ignore how disheartening it was to see Harry packing his trunk. He watched from the door as the boy placed his baseball glove and the baseball into the trunk. As much as Steve tried to deny it and tried to ignore it he had become attached to Harry. Harry was, whether or not they admitted it, his son.

Even the short time that they had spent together over the break had proved it. Steve had been spending all his time with Harry; after all, he had nothing else to do and he didn't know anyone. When Harry was gone he wouldn't know what to do.

"Are you going to visit over Easter?" he asked. He hoped that his voice didn't sound as pleading as he thought it sounded, but he figured that he couldn't be that lucky.

Harry turned and smiled at him. Steve hadn't noticed it until he had seen some of the pictures of James and Lily, but that smile was all Lily. "I hope so," said the boy. "It would be nice to have someone to visit."

Steve returned the smile with a crooked grin. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud buzzing. He frowned as he reached into his pocket and removed the phone that Fury had left with him. He stared at the screen for a moment before he pressed the green button and held it up to his ear. "Uh…hello?"

"Captain Rogers?" Fury's voice emanated from the phone. Somehow the Director always managed to sound gruff and angry.

"Yea. Er, yes sir."

"Where are you right now? Is Junior with you or is he with the other guy, Lupin?"

"With me," answered Steve. Harry shot him a weird look and Steve held up a finger to silence any questions.

"Damn," cursed Fury from the other end of a line. "Well then, tell your kid that he's going on a little road trip."

Steve frowned. "Director, what's going on?"

"I would have preferred to explain this to you in person but I didn't have the time to get all the way into the domestic quarters. We have a situation."

"What is it?"

His phone beeped loudly. Steve pulled it away from his ear and on-screen he could see a picture of a luminescent blue cube. "That is the Tesseract," continued Fury. "It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet."

"HYDRA's secret weapon," muttered Steve. He saw Harry staring at him with wide blue-green eyes and knew that he would be treating his son to a full in-depth explanation of HYDRA. Well, at least an edited version.

"Yes," answered Fury. "A hostile force has taken control of it. We need your help to retrieve it. I've got Coulson making his way there right now to take you to our meeting point."

Steve nodded before remembering that Fury couldn't see. "Understood, sir. Is Jun-Harry coming as well?"

The boy in question shot him a glare. Whenever they had seen Fury the man had taken to calling Harry by the name Junior and it annoyed Harry. Steve personally found the nickname rather cute but Harry, like any teenage boy, didn't like being 'cute' in any way, shape, or form.

"Yea. This is far bigger than school and it could lead to a potential global catastrophe. The safest place for now is with us."

The call clicked off. Steve frowned as he stared at the mobile device before turning to Harry. "Change of plans, kid. Something's happening and there is no time to get you to your school. It looks like you're coming with me."

The old man took a sip of his tea before grimacing and placing it down on the plate with a sigh. He lifted a silver bottle out of his pocket and poured a small trickle of liquid into his tea cup. He lifted the china and took another sip, this time sighing in relief. It had been a long time since he had spiked his tea, but this time it was worth it.

He cast a glance over at the picture of the most recent Potter family, Lily, James and Harry. It looked so happy, so peaceful. Seeing James holding the little baby with the same messy black hair made him wonder why they never told him. James, infertile…it shocked him. Well, he was more shocked at the fact that they had never told him.

One thing was for sure: prophecies could not be predicted. He had tried, and in his negligence he had ruined lives.

Yet at the same time this could be a good thing. Harry having a father was very good for the boy, especially if the man was as good as Remus said. Harry would stay Light if he had love. Petunia being a source of love for Harry was quite far-fetched.

He took another gulp of tea.

Perhaps when Harry came back Dumbledore could begin to give him some private lessons. He could teach the boy about Light magic, pure Light magic. Harry would become more attuned to it and over time it would help shape him. Only certain people could become Light Lord or Dark Lords, and Dumbledore knew that his time was ending.

He finished off his tea as he stared at one picture, the only one that was not moving. It was a black and white photo of a small boy, about ten years old, with smooth black hair brushed into an impeccable position. His features were elegant, his skin pale like a noble's. He was dressed in a muggle schoolboy's outfit. However, he was not smiling. His expression was blank, totally blank. The way that a child's expression never should be.

"Oh, Tom," Dumbledore whispered as he stared at the childhood photo of Voldemort. "If only I had known."

Tony tossed a wadded up paper ball across the living room of his penthouse, aiming for the waste bin. He grinned when it bounced against the wall behind it and dropped in.

"Two points, sir," said JARVIS's electronic voice from above him.

Tony's gaze flicked over to the computer next to him, where a program was hacking into SHIELD's database. He groaned in annoyance as he saw that it wasn't done yet.

"JARVIS make it go faster," he commanded his AI.

"I am sorry sir, but no matter how advanced I am I am unable to alter the speed of time."

Tony put on his best pouty face as he glared at his ceiling. "Useless machine! You are supposed to be perfect!"

Suddenly the computer beeped and he spun his chair around with a loud whoop. "Yay, it's done!"

JARVIS apparently thought that this was the appropriate time to pitch in. "And yet you wonder why Ms. Potts comments on your lack of maturity?"

"Didn't ask you JARVIS!" Tony called as he began to pull up different files. He immediately noticed that the file for Captain America had been accessed and recently altered. He cackled evilly as he began to dig through the files. However, the glee was short-lived when he noticed that there was a pretty powerful firewall surrounding a file labeled Personal.

"Ooh!" he cooed as he tried to tear down the firewall. "Personal life of Captain America! Mr. Spandex has only been back for a few weeks and he already has a personal life." He grinned again. "Hey JARVIS, how much do you want to bet that it is about Cappie's secret boyfriend?"

"I do not gamble, sir," responded JARVIS. "I do not have the capabilities—"

"Oh shut up," the billionaire snapped. "Seriously, don't be so serious. You're worse than Agent."

He scrunched up his nose as the firewall held firm against his marvelous (if he did say so himself) hacking skills. Then there was a flicker, and just for a half-second something appeared on the screen before vanishing.

"Stolen sample," Tony muttered as the firewall sprang back into place. "Stolen sample of what?"

Harry held up a hand to shield his eyes as he stepped off of the plane that he and his da—Steve had ridden there.

He had noticed a rather troubling turn of thoughts recently. He had been thinking of Steve as his dad, and once or twice he had nearly slipped up and called the man that. Luckily he had caught himself in time. But he didn't want to risk saying it and alienating Steve. They had a connection, sure, and they got along terrifically, but he didn't know if Steve was ready to be his dad. And if he wasn't then Harry would not push it. They had lots of fun over the break, with snowball fights and baseball, and he was sorry that it was over.

Whatever this was, it was big. Coulson had given them a bit of a rundown of what was happening before he began to fawn over Steve, and while Harry did not understand a lot of it he did know that whatever was going on was bad.

"Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers."

Harry looked up. He blinked in surprise as he saw a woman who could have been a relative of his mother's in another life. The pale skin, crimson hair, and almond-shaped eyes were all extremely similar to his mother's. He pulled his gaze away from her before she noticed his staring

"Ma'am," Steve greeted the woman.

She nodded at Steve. "Hi." Then she turned to Coulson. "You're needed on the bridge."

Harry turned away and walked a few steps towards the side of the boat…it was called an aircraft carrier. While he had grown up in the muggle world, his knowledge of it was not very in-depth, thanks to the Dursleys. The wizards were so self-assured of their own greatness that they often forgot that the muggles, while without magic, were far more advanced when it came to intellectual pursuits. If the wizards ever fought against the muggles then Harry would put his money on the muggles. A bullet could move much faster than a Killing Curse, after all.

His brow furrowed as he watched the water around the ship begin to churn and spin. A large hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to see Steve standing behind him, one hand on his shoulder. The man seemed to be holding him back from the wind that had started to billow around.

"Is this a submarine?" Steve wondered aloud.

"Yea," muttered the man with dark brown curly hair next to Steve. "They want me in an underwater pressurized environment."

Harry raised one eyebrow as he turned to look at Steve. Steve just mouthed 'later' to him. Harry turned back to watch as massive turbines began to spin, faster and faster. The wind was sucking so strongly that, if it weren't for Steve's hand, he would be scared about getting blown over or sucked into the spinning blades like a bird into a jet turbine. Then the water began to fall away as the turbines started to rise, the entire ship rising with it.

"A flying ship," Harry gasped out. "Wicked!"

"Oh no, this is much worse," muttered the dark-haired man.

Harry rolled over in bed as he tried to make himself comfortable. It was, yet again, to no avail. With a tired groan he sat up and glanced over at the blinking green lights of the clock on his wall. One thirty-five in the morning.

He finally just threw aside his blankets and stood up from the bed. He flicked on the lights as he began to change his pajamas out for jeans and a T-Shirt.

Steve had been gone for a while now. He had headed out for Germany to catch Loki, taking Natasha with him. Unfortunately Harry was stuck on the Helicarrier with nothing to do. He had tried to sleep but he couldn't while Steve was out there fighting a psychotic god.

Harry stuck his head out the door, checking the hallway for any people, before he began to creep down said hallway. He winced slightly at the security cameras but figured that he wouldn't get caught as long as he didn't do anything to piss off Fury.

Harry looked out one of the massive windows as he crept down the hallway. Seeing the storm strangely enough made him think of the movie Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones, when Obi-Wan was on Kamino. He wondered if it was entirely safe to be on a giant flying ship in a thunderstorm.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped as he heard a voice behind him. He whipped his head around and saw Bruce standing in the open door of a room on the other side of the hallway. Harry could see a very complicated-looking machine inside.

"What are you doing here?" asked Bruce. "Steve said that you went to bed."

Harry could see dark circles under the man's eyes. He had gotten a chance to speak to Bruce earlier and the man reminded him of Remus in a lot of ways. Bruce had been so shocked when Harry had learned about the 'Other Guy' and just shrugged. Both Bruce and Remus seemed to believe that because of unfortunate circumstances they were incapable of being loved.

"I couldn't sleep," replied Harry, following Bruce as the man headed back towards whatever he was working on. "Watcha doing?"

Bruce smiled lightly at him as he ran some sort of portable handheld scanner over the machine. "I'm scanning for Gamma Rays, trying to find the Tesseract."

Harry cocked his head to the side slightly. "Wasn't Steve going to go find that? Do you know when he will be back?"

Bruce paused for a moment and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Steve just got back, actually. He caught Loki with some help from Mr. Stark I believe. I heard that they picked up someone else on the way."

Harry hmmed his assent as he hopped up to sit on one of the tables near Bruce. Steve would have to pass by on the way to the sleeping quarters so Harry could ask him how it went.

"Do they know why Loki was in…Germany, was it?"

Bruce shrugged. "I'm not sure. Fury will probably come by later-" Suddenly the dark-haired man froze, staring at the wall opposite him.

Harry turned to follow his gaze. Through the windows set into the walls by the door he could see a group of people walking by. They were all dressed in standard SHIELD uniform, all except for one. He was quite tall, Harry would guess at least as tall as Steve, with long black hair, pale skin, and glittering green eyes. The man was looking straight at Bruce with a smirk on his face that practically oozed smugness.

However, then his gaze slid over to Harry. The smirk melted into a puzzled frown as the man's brow creased. His stare flicked up and down Harry quickly and he did not look away until he was pulled past the last window and out of sight.

"Who the hell was that?" Harry breathed. "Was that…"

"Loki," confirmed Bruce.

As it turned out Steve was not extremely impressed that Harry was up at two in the morning, but he dealt with it by sending the boy to bed immediately. Harry would have argued more both if he felt that it could have done something and if he hadn't liked the feeling of a father wanting what was best from him.

"So who was that?"

Steve turned from watching Harry walk down the hallway to look at Tony Stark, the one who had spoken. Steve wasn't sure what to make of Stark. On one hand, based off his files and personal information, Stark was a narcissistic playboy with no respect for other people. On the other, he was a lot better than he used to be and Stark had been working hard to change the world for the better.

"Harry," replied Steve. "He's my, uh, my son."

Tony raised one eyebrow as he walked a few steps toward Steve. "Yea, I kinda got that from the uncanny resemblance, Mr. Spangly. The only question is how? I mean, you were a Capsicle for several decades and I don't imagine that a girl wants to make out with a man trapped in ice."

Steve grimaced slightly at the lewd reference. Howard had a habit of making comments like that every once in a while and they never failed to make him uncomfortable. "It's rather complicated, but Harry is the result of a stolen…er, sample."

Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at Steve. Steve crossed his eyes as he looked at the finger of the shorter man, which had ended up nearly touching his nose.

"That's what that meant!" Tony exclaimed. "Somebody stole your sperm and grew a kid!"

Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times. "What?"

Tony jerked his hand back quickly. "Never mind," he said as he turned away and strolled back over to his computer screen. "It isn't important." He pressed his finger against the screen a few times. "So, what was it like waking up to find that you had a teenage kid?"

Steve cast a glance over at Banner, who seemed to be absorbed in his own little world as he worked. "Well…it was weird, but Harry is a good kid."

Tony smirked at him and shook his head slightly. "Of course he is, especially if he is anything like you." Steve wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult. He decided to just take it as a point of fact. "Then why is he on this boat? I wouldn't exactly call it the safest place right now, what with Loki on board."

"Yea, but he doesn't have anywhere else to go. His mother and…stepfather? Were killed when he was little."

Tony winced. "Ouch, now I see. Well if it makes you feel any better, Stark Towers is pretty safe. Not that I want it to happen, but if you ever need to hop off and do a little dance for Fury then your kid can stay at the Tower."

It was a nice gesture, and it helped soften Steve's opinion of the man a bit. Sure he was still an arrogant rich-boy, but he at least meant well.

"Now get some sleep," Tony demanded as he pointed at Steve. "Us genii have to work here."

Though apparently meaning well did not extend towards general kindness.

Harry frowned as he looked down at the dark brown liquid that was gently shifting in the Styrofoam cup on the table in front of him. He was in the…snack room, for lack of a better term, that had been provided for the Avengers. He had tried a few of the foods that were in the vending machine but none really appealed to him. He hadn't had a lot of sweets as a child and therefore candy didn't really satisfy him like it would a normal person. Currently he was trying to get up the nerve to try coffee. He hadn't slept very long and Steve had relented to his requests, allowing him to stay up on the condition that he got something to eat. Coffee was supposed to help you get energized and he hoped that it worked.

The sound of the door opening made Harry look up. Standing in the doorway was a very buff man with long blonde hair a shade lighter than Harry's and a beard. He was tall, taller than even Steve, at least six and a half feet. It was Thor, the God of Thunder.

Thor walked across the room towards the food dispensers but paused when he saw Harry. He smiled at Harry as he changed his course to take a few steps towards the boy, and the smile made him look much less intimidating and more like a puppy. "Hello young one," he said in a deep, gravelly tone. "Who might you be?"

Harry stared up at the massive man for a moment, brain stalling, before he understood the question. "Oh!" He blushed slightly. "I'm Harry P-…Rogers."

Thor's brow creased in a puzzled frown. "Rogers? The Man of Iron called the one with the shield by that name." He looked at Harry again, more closely. "There is a great physical resemblance between you two. Are you related to him?"

Harry's lips twitched at Thor's archaic method of speech. "Steve? Yea, he's my, uh, my dad."

Thor's eyes widened as he realized. "Ah! I see." He glanced over at the machines before looking back at Harry with pleading eyes. Harry had heard of 'puppy dog eyes', but he had never seen them before now, especially not from a man several heads taller than him and large enough to, if he wanted to, squash him like a big. "Perhaps you can help me…Harry? The Son of Coul told me that I could find nourishment here, yet I do not see anything meant for consumption."

Harry nodded as he stood, grimacing at how short he was in comparison to Thor. Seriously, did every man he meets have to be so tall? Hopefully he would grow some. "These machines have food inside them." He walked over to one of the vending machines. They didn't actually require money, which was lucky. "You push a button sequence to choose that kind of food. For example, those M&Ms are D4. So you press D-" He pressed it. "-and then four-" He pressed it as well. "-and there you go!" The bag of chocolate candy popped out. Harry tore open the top and handed it to Thor. "The food is inside that."

Thor frowned slightly as he looked at it. "It is not much. Why do they place the food in the bag if it is already inside the machine?" He then tried to grab a few of the candies from the bag, but his large fingers kept dropping them. With a sigh he poured them into his hand and then dropped them into his mouth.

"Well the candy isn't always in this machine," started Harry, but he paused when Thor's eyes widened comically. "What?"

Thor stared at the bag. "This mortal food is remarkable! It is so sweet, even more so than Asgardian desserts!" He lifted the bag and tilted it back, pouring all of the contents into his mouth. When he was done he threw the bag down. "Another!"

Harry watched as the bag fluttered slowly down to the ground. A devious grin crept across his face, a grin that could only have come from his mother's side. A thunder god on a sugar high? Now this would be good!

Natasha was heading towards Loki's prison cell block when she heard it. A sound that was entirely out of place on the SHIELD Helicarrier. Laughter. It was originating from the room that Fury had turned into a snack room for the officers and, currently, the Avengers.

She opened the door to the room and what she saw was so ridiculous that it took her a moment to take it in. There were two people in the room. One was the boy who was apparently the son of Steve Rogers. He was currently leaning against one of the walls and laughing so hard that his face was flushed from lack of air. And the other person, who was currently groaning on the floor, was Thor, God of Thunder.

Harry, as his name was according to Coulson, slid down the wall onto the floor as he continued to laugh. "I-I-I c-can't b-b-believe tha-at y-you d-d-did that!" He sputtered out as he continued to laugh. Finally he took a deep heaving breath, calming himself. Three second later he had burst into fitful giggles.

Thor struggled to sit up but fell back onto his back with a gasp. He gave a deep chuckle. "Yes, I admit that I may have…overdone it a bit."

"What exactly is going on here?" asked Natasha as she stepped into the room. Both males turned to look at her with wide eyes, caught in the act of whatever they were doing. For the first time Natasha noticed that Thor had several dozen candy wrappers piled up around him. Her gaze slowly slid over to the vending machine. It was empty. "Please tell me you didn't," she said exasperatedly as she shook her head.

Harry grinned again and pointed at Thor. "I gave him some M&Ms, and it all went downhill from there." He snorted once before he cracked up laughing again.

Natasha's lips twitched slightly at the thought of the thunder god gorging himself on all the candy in the vending machine. "Let me guess, stomach ache?"

"Is that what you mortals call this pain in my gut?" moaned Thor as he pushed himself up onto one of the chairs. Suddenly his mouth opened and a massive belch came out. It was so loud that the empty Styrofoam cup next to him fell over.

Harry was lying down on his stomach now, pounding his fist against the floor as he laughed. Natasha couldn't hold back a small smile at the picture. It was so ridiculous; the world was in mortal peril, there was an army from space trying to attack Earth, and yet things like this could still happen.

Steve stormed into the lab that Bruce and Tony had been assigned for tracking the cube. He had just come from the storage section of the ship, and now he was in a towering rage looking for Fury. Every crew member who had seen him had immediately jumped out of the way or risk being on the bad side of Captain America.

The HYDRA disintegration gun was dropped onto the table with a loud clang just as Tony asked about the mysterious Phase Two. "Phase Two?" said Steve, shooting Fury a glare of pure ice. "Phase Two is SHIELD using the Cube to make weapons."

Fury held up a hand in an attempt to pacify the Super-Soldier. "Rogers, we gathered everything that we could on the Tesseract, this does not mean-"

"You're lying," interrupted Steve as he crossed his arms. "It's weapons, it's always weapons." He shook his head in disgust. "I was wrong, Director, the world hasn't changed a bit."

Bruce glanced over at Natasha as she walked in. "Did you know about this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Natasha opened her mouth to speak but she was interrupted by Steve. "I can't believe you!" He growled as he loomed over Fury. "I trusted you; I even brought my son here because you told me to! Is he even safe here? How do I know that you won't just try to turn him into your next weapon?"

At the same time Bruce was demanding to know why SHIELD was going to build weapons. The talking grew louder and louder until there was a full-on argument going between the six of them.

"I do not agree with them," Fury declared sternly, "But the World Security Council wants to start training Harry in hopes that he will one day be a better soldier than even you, Rogers."

"Are you people crazy?" Tony interjected, moving to glare at Fury. He missed the surprised glance from Steve. "You want a child to fight for you? Sure my childhood was crap, but even I know that you don't do that. Harry is a kid! You know what types of people make children fight wars for them? Tyrants!"

Steve stared at the multi-billionaire in shock and no small amount of gratitude. He had been impressed with the man's offer of protection for Harry before, but this really made him realize that Tony Stark wasn't as big of a conceited jerk as he pretended to be.

Unfortunately, his thought process was cut off when an explosion raced through the lab, sending them all flying across the room.

Harry groaned, clutching his head as he staggered out of the snack room. He wasn't sure what had happened; one minute he was collecting wrappers to toss in the garbage, the next he was flying across the room towards the wall. If the ache in his head was anything to go by he had hit his head pretty hard.

Harry grabbed onto the wall as he felt the floor shifting beneath his feet. He wasn't sure if the floor actually was shifting or if it was just his imagination, but it felt real.

He felt the phone that Steve had Fury give him vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and held it up to his ear. He paused when he didn't hear anything and then turned it around; it had been upside-down. "Hello?" he groaned out.

"Harry?" came Steve's panicked tone. "Harry are you alright? You weren't answering!"

"M'fine," Harry slurred out as he staggered a bit.

"You don't sound fine!" cried Steve, in full-out overprotective mode.

"Hit my head," Harry muttered as he finally just sat down against the wall, unable to keep walking. "Bit dizzy."

"Hit your head?" The panic in Steve's voice seemed to up another notch. "You might have a concussion! Can you see straight?"

"Stars," Harry replied as he reached out to grab the twinkling lights in front of him. He frowned as his hand passed through them. "Not real stars."

"Harry? Harry, listen to me very carefully," commanded Steve. Harry lifted the phone away from his ear and looked at it sternly. "Do not fall asleep. You hear me? Do not fall asleep. I think that you have a concussion and if you fall asleep then you might slip into a coma."

"M'kay," Harry slurred as he leaned his head back, wincing when it touched the wall a little bit too hard. "No sleepy." Then he heard footsteps to his right.

When he looked he saw two black leather boots. He slowly followed the boots up, where they morphed to legs, and farther. He stared at the elaborate green vest for a moment before he looked higher and saw a pale man with long black hair looking down at him. He felt like he should know him, but he couldn't remember how. "Hi!" he said as he waved sleepily. "Can't talk, can't sleep."

"Harry? Harry?" Apparently Steve could hear him. "Who are you talking to?"

The man reached down and plucked the phone from Harry's hands. Harry dropped the now-tired hand with a sigh. "Hello there," the man purred into the phone, an accent similar to Harry's tinting his words. "Is this Captain America?"

The sound of Steve's breath catching could be heard through the phone. "Listen here you son of a bitch," swore Steve. "You touch one hair on my son's head and I'll-"

"What?" asked Loki innocently. "Kill me? I don't doubt that you would. Luckily-" Here he looked down at Harry, who was closing his eyes, and smirked. "-I have a bargaining chip." Any further conversation was cut off as he canceled the call.

Loki grinned triumphantly as he strode through the mortals' flying ship, the blonde boy who was related to the overly patriotic man levitating behind him. While the creators of the ship were mortal, and beneath him, they could still create impressive machines. On Asgard all advancement had ceased in favor of stagnation.

On Earth he would be a king, a god. He would rule the mortals far better than someone like Odin ever could. He would do what was best for everyone.

As he stalked towards the rooftop so that he could leave on the plane Barton brought he flared out his magic, sensing the boy that he had brought with him. He knew that the boy was magical, a powerful one as well. However, it wasn't the magic that intrigued Loki but the edge to it. The boy's own magic was relatively pure, white with a few freckles of grey like most. The unique thing was that the child's magic was also tainted with Dark. Well, swimming in Dark actually. It was a contradiction in itself. Somehow Darkness existed inside the boy yet it was not of the boy.

Loki stepped out onto the rooftop as he guided the floating boy ahead of him. This boy would be a perfect little addition to his plans; Loki was sure of it.

Tony blasted over the city of New York, the thrusters on his suit failing for just a moment before kicking back into gear. He frowned from within his helmet. His little ricocheting ride through the propeller of the Hellicarrier had irreparably damaged his suit. He had a few others, luckily, but getting them would be nigh impossible with Loki at his tower.

He switched from flying to hovering as he stopped in midair above the device that held the Tesseract, the source of all their problems recently. There were two figures near the device. One was Erik Selvig, the astrophysicist that Loki had commandeered for his project. The other…

"Shit," swore Tony as he pulled up the line to the plane that was on its way there. "Guys, you there?"

"Yes," replied Clint Barton, the one flying the plane. "What's your status?"

"My status is extremely pissed. Turns out that Selvig isn't the only one watching over the Cube; Loki's got him a friend. Harry."

There was the sound of scuffling and then Steve's voice was on the other end. "Harry? Is he okay? What's happening?"

Tony looked down at the blonde boy, who was staring up at him with a cool gaze glazed over with light blue. "Loki's got him under his hypnosis spell, I think. I don't know why he put the kid up here…"

Harry raised his arm, pointing one finger at Tony. Tony barely had time to blink before a beam of light sent him flying head-over-heels away. "Damn!" he swore again. Steve had told him all about Harry's magical gifts. He hadn't believed at first, but after being backed up by Fury, Tony got a skeptical acceptance.

Steve heard him. "What is it?"

"Harry's the bodyguard," said Tony as he watched Loki walk inside his penthouse. "Loki is having him use magic to fend off anyone who comes near. Loki knows that we can't attack him."

Tony heard Steve swear violently on the other end. Today had really been an eye-opening experience for him. His father had always talked about Captain America as a god-like figure, perfect in every way. It made him feel inadequate. But after seeing how Steve acted around others, and towards Harry, he realized that Steve was just that: a man. A better man than Tony could ever hope to be, but still a man.

Tony landed on the platform and let JARVIS remove his suit as he walked inwards. Loki mirrored his actions on the other side. Tony cracked his knuckles and swallowed. "Showtime."

"Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity," Loki drawled as Tony strolled in. Tony cast the man a disdainful glance and shook his head.

"You are in way over your head, big boy," he said loudly as he snagged the bracelets that were wirelessly connected to the Mark 7 version of his suit.

Loki raised one dark eyebrow. "Why do you say that? The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that. What do I have to fear?"

Tony snorted as he leaned towards Loki, bracing himself on the counter. "The Avengers. Earth's mightiest heroes and some such nonsense." He walked around the counter and looked at the Trickster God.

"Yes, I've met them."

Tony shrugged as he looked around his penthouse, acting as if Loki was unimportant. "It takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one. But let's do a head count here." He held up a hand and began to tick off fingers. "Your brother, a demigod—or is it god?—who also has developed a friendship with Harry, the kid you enslaved. A man with breathtaking anger-management issues, a couple of master assassins, and the most dangerous of all." He took a few steps towards Loki as he smirked. "Captain America. Not just a living legend—who does kinda live up to the legend—but an overprotective father who is prepared to rip you limb from limb in order to protect his son. And you, big fella, have pissed off every last one of them."

Loki just smiled confidently. "That was the plan."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Not a great plan. See, when they come, and they will come, they will be coming for you. Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you. Because if we can't protect the Earth then you can be damn well sure that we'll avenge it."

Steve growled as he ducked one of the alien's blades and slammed the edge of his shield into it. There were so many of them, and they kept coming! The odds of their winning were infinitesimally small. Even more aggravating for him was the fact that because he was fighting he could not go get Harry and try to break Loki's control on him.

That was a rather large issue as well. So far it seemed like 'cognitive recalibration' (also known as a heavy knock to the head) would work to remove the mind control, but they couldn't do that to Harry. For two reasons: 1) He would not let anyone hit Harry, and 2) Harry had a concussion. Further aggravation could make it much worse.

He grimaced as he saw several of the aliens trapping a group of civilians in one building. This was going to get messy.

Natasha pushed herself up to her feet from the crouch that she had rolled into. Her well-trained eyes immediately picked up on the boy looking over at her from his place next to the Tesseract. His blue-glazed eyes leered down at her.

"Take it easy kid," she said soothingly as she took a small step closer. "I don't want to hurt you-"

She was cut off when a sickly green light blasted out of the boy's fingertips and towards her. She felt an ominous feeling in her stomach at it; she could tell that the green light was bad. She rolled to the side and drew her gun. Sure she couldn't shoot the boy, but he didn't know that.

"Leave," he said, his voice carrying the commanding edge that his father's always had. He held up his hand again. "And I won't have to kill you."

On any other occasion Natasha would have laughed, but not when facing an unknown type of attack, like magic. For all she knew the boy could snap her neck with a wave of his hand. Of course, if he could, why hadn't he…?

Suddenly a white light shot towards her. She ducked and the light blew a fragment of the wall surrounding the roof apart. So white lights exploded, huh?

As another light, a purple one, shot towards her she did a series of front-handsprings to dodge, also getting her closer to him. Natasha prepared to tackle him when her feet left the floor. She swore in Russian as Harry effortlessly levitated her towards the edge of the roof.

Taking a chance, she tossed the handful of pebbles that she had snagged off the rooftop at him. As expected his concentration broke and she fell to the floor. His head reared back, lips bared in a snarl, and he held up his hand again. His fingertips flashed with white sparks and Natasha shot towards the Tesseract globe.

The spell came at her just as she got behind the blue sphere. The spell hit it and for a moment it seemed like nothing had happened; it dissolved into the globe. However, then the light coalesced on the surface and blasted right back at the boy. Natasha couldn't hold back a wince as Harry went flying backwards and his head smacked against the metal with a loud crack.

Natasha's voice came over the communicators. "Is anybody listening? I can close the portal!"

Steve put his hand to his ear quickly. "Natasha? You're there? Where's Harry?"

There was a momentary pause before she spoke again. "He…uh…he's incapacitated. But that's not important now. The portal!?"

Steve wanted to scream at her about how Harry mattered the most but he knew that the boy would never forgive him. "Close it."

"Wait!" interjected Tony. "We've got a nuke heading in. It's gonna blow on less than a minute." A pause. "And I know just where to put it."

Loki grinned weakly as he looked up at the Avengers. They were all there, and Barton was holding an arrow to his face. The overly patriotic man was holding his son his arms and glaring down at him with more anger than Loki thought that the man was capable of showing.

"If it's all the same to you," he said weakly. "I'll have that drink now."

CRACK!

Loki gasped as his nose broke under the foot of Captain America. Heck, he didn't even know that a mortal could be strong enough to damage a god! Somehow the man had, kicking the Trickster God in the face as hard as he could and breaking Loki's nose.

"That was for Harry," the blonde man hissed into his face.

Steve sat by the bedside in the hospital, watching Harry's chest rise and fall slowly in sleep. Every so often the boy's chest would take a moment longer to rise, and every time he tensed to call the nurses, but it would inevitably rise. Kind as she was, the nurse had warned him that if he called her over one more time for a false alarm then she would drug him with a narcotic. He didn't doubt that she would do just that.

They weren't quite sure what was wrong with Harry, but they had gotten him to the hospital as quickly as they could. All of the nearby ones were packed with people trying to get medical attention after Loki's attack, but Harry was in a critical enough position to get immediate help. Steve didn't know if he should be horrified or glad of that fact.

A knock on the door made him look up. Bruce was standing there, dressed in a jacket and pair of sweatpants that he had been given by Tony. "How are you doing?" he asked as he eyed the dark circles under Steve's eyes. "You must be exhausted. Why don't you sleep while I watch him?"

Steve shook his head as he looked back at his son. "I can't, not now." While Harry laid there it was so easy to realize that, while much had happened in his life, Harry was still a child. His light blonde hair, the lighter shade one of the subtle differences between Steve and him, was splayed out across the pillow.

Bruce sighed. "Harry wouldn't want you to get sick from exhaustion," he said as he handed the Super-Soldier a bottle of water.

Steve drank the bottle dry within moments, crushing the plastic in his grip. "Just a few hours longer," he relented. "Then I'll sleep. But not yet."

"I'll go let Tony and the others know. He has arranged for all of Harry's medical bills to be paid by him, you know."

Steve felt a stab of guilt at that. Tony had been very kind to Steve and Harry, and Steve didn't know how he could repay him. "Tell him thanks for me."

"He knows," answered Bruce with a knowing smile before he turned and walked out.

Steve sighed and took Harry's smaller hand in his larger one. He squeezed lightly, praying to whatever deity who would listed in hopes that Harry would be okay. "Come on Harry," he breathed. "Wake up, please. I can't lose anyone else, not now, and not you." He brushed the bangs from Harry's eyes. "Please."

Perhaps it was luck, coincidence, or fate, Steve would never know, but as he spoke Harry's eyes fluttered open. His gaze seemed to be unfocused for a moment before he zoned in on Steve's suspiciously watery eyes. He smiled at him. "'Lo,