Title : Hadrian Romanoff and the Beginning

Status : Rewrite.

Warnings : Unedited. Mild to Strong Character Bashing. (Albus Dumbledore. Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger. Molly Weasley. Ginny Weasley.)

Chapter One : Rock-A-Bye Baby (Harry's In The Tree Top)

Clint Barton, a handsome yet somehow still a nondescript man, stood in the darkened room of an average cottage in Godric's Hollow. He was dressed in dark, flexible body armor with a quiver of arrows on his back, a state of the art bow within easy reach. His eyes, hidden behind redundant sunglasses, were trained on the house directly across the street from him.

He had been sent to watch the house when a report came in a little over three hours beforehand. A large, unidentified spike of energy had caught the attention of the techs in charge of watching the various radars they had around the world. Since Clint and his partner were already in the area thanks to another - already completed - mission he had been chosen to check it out and determine what sort of situation it was.

In the beginning of his stake out there hadn't been much to observe. The house that they had tracked down as the source of the energy looked like any of the other houses lining the street. There were no lights, no sounds, though something was setting off Clint's sixth sense. There was something going on in Godric's Hollow, he was sure of it.

He got confirmation two hours in when a tall man with a long white beard wearing robes of all things appeared out of nowhere in front of the house he was watching. Clint readied his bow, waiting for the man to make a move.

The stranger raised both his arms skyward, something long and thin in his right hand, and made a complicated grand gesture. The air seemed to ripple and Clint watched with grim anticipation as the image of a perfectly normal cottage fell away only to be replaced with an explosion torn mess. A hole had been blasted through the walls, centered on the upper level, exposing the inside of the cottage to the elements.

Clint waited for several moments as the stranger made his way into the destroyed cottage before calling in the development. The bearded man seemed to be inspecting the site, perhaps searching for something, bursts of light appearing whenever he waved his right arm.

Clint reached over to a small table and picked up a compact camera. He snapped several pictures of the wrecked site, including close ups of the stranger who was still looking around.

Finally the man seemed to have finished what he came to do and he disappeared with a loud crack of a whip.

Ten minutes after the stranger had left Clint made to go investigate the cottage himself when another person appeared, just like the man from before. This time it was a man with light brown hair wearing shabby clothes. He stared at the cottage for several minutes before turning his head away, his hand raising up to wipe at his face. Then he disappeared without a sound.

Soon after more people appeared, most of them dressed just as oddly as the first man. Several of them laid flowers at the edge of the property, some of them leaving actual gifts. Clint noticed that they all seemed to be celebrating something, whispering to one another excitedly, pointing at the damaged house as they spoke.

A tall woman with dark hair appeared with a younger blonde woman following behind her, jotting down notes while an old fashioned camera floated in the air beside her. There were bright flashes of light as several pictures were taken; the brunette seemed to be speaking quickly while her assistant hurriedly wrote down everything she was saying. Even from where he was Clint could see that the blonde was glaring harshly at her boss' back whenever she wasn't looking.

"Ooh, hostile takeover coming soon," Clint whispered to himself.

He watched for another hour and a half as more and more people show up to pay their respects and celebrate. As time passed by they get noticeably drunker, stumbling around and shouting out slurred words. Clint caught 'free' and 'boy' and 'saved' the most.

It was easy to see that something big has happened with the wrecked cottage at the center of it. The only question was what.

When he'd been staking out the cottage for five hours he was more than ready to call it in. Nothing that required his expertise or attention was going on and he could pass this assignment off to another agent easily.

He packed away his bow carefully, partly out of respect for his weapon of choice, but mostly because he didn't want to hear the man who designed it bitch about not taking care of his toys. He was just about to do the same with his specially made arrows when a burst of blinding green light caught his attention from the side window.

Clint moved to look out the window but saw nothing except shrubbery and a few trees separating the property lines between the two houses. Just as he stepped away, he heard, "Mummy!"

Moving quickly, Clint ran from the room, bounded down the stairs, and raced outside. He glanced around for a sign of where the cries were coming from but saw nothing.

"Mummy! Dada!"

Clint froze. Not quite believing it he tilted his head back to look up into the branches of a large tree. Nestled into the crook of a thick branch and the trunk was a handwoven basket, the edge of a baby blue blanket hanging out.

"The hell?"

"Mummy! Dada! I scared!"

Cursing under his breath, Clint ran forward before launching himself up, catching onto the lowest branch. He swung himself up and over, landing gracefully on his feet in a crouch. He ignored the sting of his palms where the bark bit into his skin. The kid kept calling out for his parents, pleading for someone to come help him.

Clint pulled himself up to the next branch which put him at just the right place to grab hold of the basket without risk of knocking it over. He grabbed it and held it close to his chest, not taking the time to look inside before he jumped to the ground, careful not to jostle the basket too much. Only once he was standing steadily on the ground did he finally look at who he had saved.

The child was a little boy with pale skin, rosy cheeks, a tuft of dark hair, and the brightest green eyes Clint had ever seen. There were tear tracks on his puffed out cheeks and his nose was running. He was wrapped haphazardly in a soft blanket and was wearing a white pyjama top with a cartoon lion stitched onto it.

On his forehead was a crude lightning bolt cut into his skin, marring the otherwise unblemished skin.

The boy stared up at Clint unblinkingly. "N't Mummy," he accused.

Clint's lips twitched. "No, definitely not your mom, little one." He teased. "So what were you doing all the way up there?"

"Wan' Mummy!"

"Alright, let's try something else. What's your name?" Clint asked as he began walking back into the house.

"H'rry,"

"Well, Harry, you and I are going to have a long conversation about appropriate places to play hide and seek." Clint poked the little boy's nose, making Harry giggle.

Inside the house Clint turned on one of the lamps, bathing the room in a soft glow. He set the basket down on the floor before taking Harry out of it, settling him on the uncomfortable couch. When he did so an envelope fell out on to the ground.

It was addressed to a Petunia Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive. The letters were written in cursive, light against the stiff material and barely showed up in the low lighting of the room.

"Who's Petunia, bright eyes?" Clint asked half-heartedly. Harry peered up at him and shrugged, looking so uninterested that it made Clint laugh a little. "Alright then, care to tell me how you got all the way up in that tree?"

"H'me,"

"You live in a tree?" Clint teased before turning serious. "So, you were trying to get home." He said more to himself. "Mutant ability? Teleportation maybe? No, all those other people were popping in out of nowhere so unless there's a secret society of teleporting mutants I doubt it. And Harry showed up in a flash of light."

When no answers appeared to him Clint called in to request a replacement, giving a basic overview of what had happened so far. He neglected to mention that he had found a small child in a tree. After he put away his phone he turned back to the strangely calm boy, who was chewing contently on his blanket.

"Need anything?"

Harry ignored him, completely focused on eating his blanket.

Clint sighed then pulled the just as uncomfortable arm chair closer to the couch and sat down. He stared at Harry for several long moments.

"What is going on here, huh, bright eyes? A destroyed cottage, unknowns appearing out of nowhere to leave gifts and flowers, a baby flashing himself into a tree. Damn if it makes any sense,"

"You no say tat!" Harry admonished. "Ba' word!"

"I can say whatever I want. I'm a grown up," Clint countered.

Harry blew a raspberry then giggled - there was something familiar about the exchange for the little boy.

Clint clasped his hands together. "So here's what we're going to do. I'm going to go finish packing up, you're going to sit here and not vanish in a burst of light, then we're going to wait for my replacement to show up so we can meet with my partner and supervisor. That sound like a plan, buddy?"

"Sou'd like a pan, buddy," Harry repeated.

"Close enough." Clint quickly went upstairs to finish packing his things before returning. Harry hadn't moved in the short time and was once again mouthing at his blanket.

"Hawky, we go h'me now?"

Clint stopped short. "What did you call me?"

"Hawky!" Harry chirped.

"How do you know that name, big guy? Did someone tell you?" Clint asked intently, sitting down on the couch next to Harry. The boy stared back at him, his eyes glittering.

"Mummy say it."

"Uh huh," Clint murmured as he thought it over. "So your mom told you about someone named... Hawkeye?" Harry bobbed his head in answer. "Did she say anything else?"

Harry scrunched his face up as he tried to think of an answer. "Mummy say don' w'rry, Hawky and Widdy help. Ten she go to sleep."

"She went to sleep?"

"Yeah, Bad Man go 'haha!' and she go to sleep." Harry confirmed.

Clint cursed loudly, making Harry flinch back. "Sorry, big guy. Uh, do you think you can tell me your mom's name?"

"Mummy!"

"Of course it is," Clint sighed. He checked his watch. "We should be gone from here soon, big guy, so just sit tight."

Clint was half way through regaling Harry with the technically classified story of his and Natasha's trip to a small town in Maine when he heard the familiar sound of a SHIELD SUV pulling up. Clint got up and peeked out the window to be certain before he gathered Harry up in his arms, making sure to slip the envelope into the largest pocket of his pants.

There were three short knocks at the door followed by a plain man in a seemingly cheap suit walking into the house. He looked over Clint and Harry and to his credit didn't show any surprise.

"Report?"

"A cover up of sorts was placed over the site, hiding the damage, until an unknown man, white, old, long beard, came by and brought it down. Since then several more unknowns have appeared, leaving gifts and paying their respects. No chatter, no fights." Clint summarized. "Left my notes in the upstairs bedroom, facing the site."

The agent nodded then tossed a set of keys at Clint who caught it as he marched forward out of the house, Harry held tight to his chest.

Not having a car seat was a bit of a concern so Clint made do by setting Harry on his lap and driving slowly. A drive that normally would have taken only half an hour ended up taking fifty but Clint wasn't willing to risk hurting a child.

They pulled up to the temporary headquarters and as soon as Clint had put the car in park Harry began to fidget.

"You okay, bright eyes?" Clint carefully slid out of the car, moving Harry to rest on his hip. Harry started to squirm in his hold, forcing Clint to tighten his grip.

"Itty!"

"Itchy? You're itchy?" Harry didn't say anything else, only pouted, before a bright translucent green shield appeared around him, encircling him completely. Clint paused in his steps. "Well that's new."

It said a lot about SHIELD that a glowing baby barely warranted a second glance by the agents standing at the entrance. Clint was quickly checked in and Harry was given a visitor's badge because apparently Sophie Jenkins from the Front Desk has a sense of humor.

Clint strolled confidently through the base. Harry had calmed down in his hold and was gnawing at Clint's shoulder. The shield was still holding strong.

They met Coulson and Natasha in a debriefing room which had been taken over by a certain supervisor and turned into a coffee room. Neither of them showed any surprise at the sight of Clint holding a child, only offering eyebrows raised in sync.

Clint opened his mouth to explain but was interrupted.

"Mummy!" Harry cried out, disappearing from Clint's hold in a bright light and reappearing in front of Natasha. She reflexively caught him before he fell to the ground. He patted her chest happily, smiling widely. The shield was gone.

"Think you could watch him for a bit, Nat? Cool, thanks." Clint moved to take a seat at the small round table. Natasha glared at him but didn't set Harry down or try to hand him off to Coulson, who looked faintly amused with the whole thing. Clint grinned then pulled out the envelope, easily opening it without damaging the wax seal.

"What is that?" Natasha asked. Harry was playing with a lock of her hair, pulling the curl and letting it go to watch it bounce back into shape.

"A letter I found in the basket Harry was in." Clint answered. His brow furrowed as he read. "Okay, so his name is Harry Potter and the site we were watching was where he lived with his parents who..." Clint glanced up at Harry before averting his eyes. "Who were murdered on Halloween night by someone known as a dark wizard."

"Dark wizard? Sounds like we stumbled upon Britain's magical community, otherwise known as the wizarding world." Coulson said.

"Wizarding world?" Clint repeated incredulously.

"Yes." Coulson said simply. "It's been around for as long as anyone can remember. Wands, potions, turning people into frogs, the whole bit. We don't have a very comprehensive file on them but still more than they'd be comfortable with given their penchant for removing the memories of magical happenings from non-magical people." He explained.

"SHIELD doesn't have a lot of information on these guys?"

"Magical communities as a whole? We know everything. Britain's? We didn't even know who was in charge until thirteen years ago when one of the recruits came to us. He was a first generation wizard, what they refer to as a muggleborn, who thanks to prejudice against 'non-pure' bloodlines was unable to make a living in the community and didn't have a lot of options outside of that since he had been removed from the non-magical world for so long while he attended a magical school." Coulson leaned back against the wall. "According to Agent Callaghan they're an insular community that focuses primarily on wealth and lineage. Those who don't come from strictly magical families are looked down on by those that do and since the 'purebloods', as they like to call themselves, hold most of the power, first and most second generations don't have a lot of options."

Clint skimmed through the letter again while he tried to put his thoughts and questions in order. "You said this Agent Callaghan wasn't able to find work in the non-magical world because of his schooling. Why?"

"The school is as isolated as they come. Once a magical child is located, a representative of the school visits them to explain about the 'odd occurrences' that have been happening throughout their childhood. They're offered an invitation to a premiere magical learning institute where they can learn to control their magic." Coulson explained dryly, not sounding impressed.

"Right," Clint drawled.

"What's the catch?" Natasha added.

The ends of Coulson's mouth twitched. "What they don't explain to the family is that the only offered classes revolve entirely around spells and potions. Even the history and arithmetics only focus on magical history and the magical property of numbers."

"So whatever education they get is useless outside of this community. How long do they go to this school for?" Natasha asked, moving to sit at the table across from Clint and placing Harry on her lap.

"Seven years. They get the invitation when they turn eleven, which is the age children Britain's magical community start school, and graduate at seventeen." Coulson answered.

Clint scoffed. "So they're basically missing out on the most important years of school and the parents don't know this until it's too late." Coulson nodded.

"What about that lineage prejudice?" Natasha questioned.

"Here's how it goes. There are people without magic, which they call muggles. If two of these 'muggles' have a magical child then they're a 'muggleborn'. If the parents consist of one muggle and magical or a 'pureblood' and a 'muggleborn' and they have a magical child then they're a 'half blood'. To be a pureblood the rule is that your parents and all four of your grandparents have to be magical, though of course the farther back the line goes, the better. If two magicals have a child that doesn't have magic, they're referred to as 'squibs'-"

"Squids?" Clint interrupted.

"No, squibs. Emphasis on the 'B', agent." Coulson smirked. "As I was saying, if a magical family produces a squib they're usually cast out of the family and abandoned in the non-magical world. It's considered a disgrace to the old families."

Natasha's face shut down. "They send their children away because they don't have magic?"

"Some. There are old families who don't particularly care about lineage, though they still use theirs to their advantage." Coulson shrugged. "The hierarchy goes pureblood, half blood, muggleborn, squib, muggle. As such there is hardly any non-magical influence in the community, such as the school classes and the technology. First generations - muggleborns - have the hardest time finding a place in the community. Despite spending at least seven years in the community they don't know much in the way of magical customs or traditions because they aren't taught, they don't have the familial connections to get good jobs straight out of school, and they can't turn to their old world because they're just as out of touch. Most that return to the non-magical world resort to petty crime or they join the military, which is where we found Agent Callaghan."

"So these kids are offered this fantastic opportunity, where they can learn magic and be part of a whole other society. Only they aren't told that there won't be anything they're familiar with, that they're going to be looked down because of their parents, and that once they finish school they won't have any prospects. Wonderful." Natasha glowered, prompting Harry to reach up and try to pull her lips into a smile. The gesture relaxed her and Harry noticed, happily returning to playing with her hair.

"It's a scam." Clint commented. "The whole thing is a big scam. They probably have to pay a hefty tutition, don't they?" Coulson nodded. "They pay for a next to useless education and once they graduate, there's no more use for them."

Natasha remained silent for several moments. "Clint, what does the letter say?"

"It's addressed to Petunia Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive. It says that she's Harry's aunt, and only surviving relative, on his mom's side. She doesn't seem to be magical," he started. "In fact it seems that whoever wrote this is trying their damn hardest to convince this Dursley woman to take her nephew in, talking about 'family protection' that will 'keep them hidden from those of less than reputable positions who would seek out to hurt those close to Lily and James Potter'. Man, this guy is laying it on thick." Clint commented. "Uh, it says that her sister and her brother in law were 'tragically struck down as casualties in war now past.' Basically, the Potters were killed by an enemy in whatever war they were fighting and only Harry survived."

"Let me see," Natasha leaned forward, reaching for the letter. "Is this parchment?"

"Paper hasn't been introduced to the British magical community." Coulson said absently. "Who's the letter from?"

"Albus Dumbledore. Know him?" Clint added when he saw recognition on Coulson's face.

"He's the headmaster of the school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Hogwarts?" Clint sputtered.

"Aren't witchcraft and wizardry the same thing?" Natasha pointed out.

"How do you know all this?" Clint added. "I hadn't even heard of these communities and you seem to know everything SHIELD does."

"I read the report." Coulson said simply.

Clint looked at his supervisor with suspicion. "You read all the reports SHIELD sends out, don't you? Like, literally all of them."

"Why would the headmaster be so directly involved in the placing of an orphan?" Natasha asked, bringing the conversation back around.

"Not sure. I'll have someone look into it. Besides Callaghan, we have a few more disenchanted magicals in our ranks."

Natasha finished reading through the letter for the third time and set it down. She looked down at Harry who peered back up at her. She raised her hand and gently ran it over the cut on his forehead. Harry closed his eyes in contentment.

A soft, golden glow emanated from Harry, slowly spreading to cover the little boy entirely before reaching out and wrapping around Natasha as well. It held for a minute, pulsing brightly, two tendrils of light spreading out to touch Clint and Coulson, before suddenly turning blinding and bursting, a shower of sparklers raining down on everyone in the room.

"Writty!" Harry reached out to try to catch the pretty lights, giggling.

"What just happened?" Clint refrained from jumping out his chair in alarm.

"Not sure. I'll have Callaghan and the others look at the footage, see if they recognize it. It might just be a case of 'accidental magic', where magical children cause things to happen without meaning to, usually in a case of extreme emotion." Coulson explained. He made to leave the room to go start of up the paperwork when Clint spoke;

"There's something else. Back at the watch house Harry called me 'Hawky'." Clint started. "When I asked him about it he said his mom told him 'don't worry, Hawkeye and Black Widow will help you.' He said that after that she... went to sleep." He trailed off with emphasis.

Coulson looked between the two agents. "Well, we know she was a witch. Pyschic isn't that far of a leap. One of the electives at Hogwarts is Divination as well."

"Like tea reading and crystal balls?"

"Exactly. I'll add it to the list of things to check out." Coulson held out his hand and Natasha passed him the letter. "I'll have Evidence go over this and have the names ran. Clint mentioned he found Harry in a basket which sounds like Dumbledore intended on making Harry a porch baby so it's probably not a good idea to just ship the boy off without checking it out."

Clint nodded. "Right. There's got to be something going on if this guy was going to explain everything through a letter without really explaining anything. Do we keep the little guy for the night until they're cleared?"

"If they're cleared," Natasha added.

"Why not? He obviously likes the two of you and it's only for the night. You don't need to be back in America for at least four days either." Coulson said. "Have fun playing house." He called back as he walked out of the room. He ignored Clint holding up a finger at his retreating back.

"Well, isn't that sweet."

Clint's head snapped up at the voice. He had been dozing in one of the cots placed in the shift change room. He looked around the room and saw Coulson standing in the door way and Natasha and Harry were laying down in the cot next to his.

Natasha was curled around Harry protectively, one of her hands placed against his chest - making sure he kept breathing - and the other placed under her pillow, where Clint knew a gun was hidden. Harry was snoring lightly, drool gathering at the corner of his open mouth. His blanket was clutched tightly in his small fist.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Clint said even as he nodded his head and made a heart with his hands.

"I saw that," Natasha said sleepily, her eyes still closed.

"I would hope so." Clint retorted. Her arm moved just slightly and Clint picked up the sound of a gun cocking. "Understood."

"How'd the background checks go?" Natasha asked as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, careful not to jostle Harry too much.

Coulson stepped forward and sat at the end of Clint's cot, holding out two folders. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Masters in Transfiguration, and Alchemy Apprentice." Coulson recited while Clint and Natasha looked through the files. "The Wizengamot is the closest equivalent of Congress they have and the International Confederation is the magical UN."

"He's cited as being a firm believer of 'blood equality' and 'creature rights' but there's not much showing him putting his money where his mouth is." Clint mused.

"So he talks a big game, has plenty of power to back it up, but from what I can tell he's only pushed through two laws that actively help first generation magicals." Natasha added. "What's he doing placing a child somewhere?"

"Most likely because he took advantage of the chaos happening in the community. On Halloween night the Potters were killed by a dark wizard, who we've now identified as the Dark Lord Voldemort," Coulson paused, allowing both agents to let out snorts of disbelief. "Now the Potter family is one of those old families I mentioned, in fact its one of the oldest and is part of something known as The Court but they were known to champion for equal rights. This Voldemort guy made his name by proposing a 'blood revolution'. He gathered all the bigoted and rich and attempted to 'cleanse the wizarding world of the filthy mudbloods who seek to destroy their way of life' and threw the society into a civil war that lasted for years."

"I'm guessing that's the war Dumbledore said was over. What does Harry have to do with that?" Clint asked.

"Harry's the one that ended the war." Natasha stated incredulously.

"What?"

"Harry's been credited with vanquishing the worst Dark Lord of the century, surviving something known as the Killing Curse while he was at it." Coulson explained calmly. "He's the first person since the creation of the cursed to do so."

"They're calling him the Boy-Who-Lived." Natasha said in disgust. "It's like they're just ignoring that his parents died along side this Voldemort."

"A child is their hero." Clint shook his head.

"So Dumbledore has some investment in this and decides to squirrel the little guy away while everyone is celebrating the end of the war. What about the Dursleys?"

Coulson gestured at the folder. "Near the back."

Clint flipped through the pages, his eyes darting back and forth while Natasha read at a more sedate pace. "Vernon and Petunia Dursley, married three years ago, have a son named Dudley. Ooh, poor guy." Clint winced in sympathy. "Alright, Vernon works for some place called Grunnings and is currently being evaluated for a promotion in the company. Petunia is a stay at home mom, though she does have a realtor license. There's nothing of note in their background. They're almost disgustingly normal."

Natasha nodded in agreement. "There's no reason not to let them take Harry in. No criminal record, no financial trouble, and they have a son around the same age."

"We can drop Harry off tomorrow, tell them what we know, and maybe find out a little more about things." Coulson said.

"What about the investigation?" Clint asked.

"We'll keep on it until everything is cleared up. Like why would the leader of the uprising personally go after the Potters."

Clint turned to look at the sleeping form of Harry. "Is the little guy going to need protective detail?"

Coulson took a deep breath. "Most likely. His involvement in the defeat of this dark wizard is going to make him a target by his followers. We'll need to discuss it with the Dursleys but I don't seem them turning the protection down."

"No, but they might turn him down." Natasha said. "They might not be willing to take in Harry if it puts their family in danger, even if he is their family. Their son's safety should be their first priority."

"Well, if he's such a celebrity then there's bound to be a bunch of people who want to take him in. Not to mention close friends of the Potters. We'll just have to make sure he goes to a good person or family who want more than the publicity." Clint said.

"I'll start the paperwork."