Harry ignored the sound of alarms blaring as he walked through the remains of the Ministry of Magic. The new Ministry had uprooted eighty years prior, but there was one artefact that they'd been unable to transport and instead they'd had to leave behind a set of wards to hide and protect it. Harry had torn them down just moments ago; hence, the alarms.

The faint pop of apparition didn't bother him either; by the time anyone managed to catch up to him, Harry would be gone.

A hundred years was a long time to live; Harry would know. It was an even longer time to live alone, but Harry had practically become a hermit after Ginny had died, only interacting with the muggles that lived in the village closest to his house when he made the weekly walk into town for groceries, instead choosing to focus on academics.

He scraped a hand over his cheek, feeling the soft skin under the bristles of his boxed beard. He looked as young as the day he'd turned twenty-five, the day he'd stopped aging. He certainly didn't look the two hundred and fifty years he'd lived. He'd had to use glamours for most of his life, hiding his immortality from the wizarding community. It didn't take a genius to work out that the Hallows had granted him that which Voldemort had hankered after, and he didn't fancy being painted as the next Dark Lord, dabbling with necromancy.

Five years following Ginny's death Harry had faked his own, and left the wizarding world for good. His children had grieved and moved on, and their children after that, and so on and so forth. Such was the way of life.

A bottomless moleskin pouch hung was tied onto the belt in his jeans. Inside he kept his entire life; books, potions, clothes, broom… everything a wizard would need if he was starting up a life on a magicless planet.

Today, Harry was going exploring. Through the veil.

"Holy shit, what the fuck is that," Andre swore. Nick turned his eye on him and waited.

"Sir, come and look at this." In three quick strides Nick was at Andre's side. Andre gestured to the screen before him.

It was lit up in a blaze of colours, indicating a massive energy flare over the North Atlantic, the Bermuda Triangle to be specific.

"What is it?" Nick growled.

Andre shook his head. "No idea, sir."

There was a gasp beside him and Nick turned to glare at the offender. She winced and quickly brought up an image similar to the one on Andre's screen on her own, but this time it was over New Mexico.

"This is from Doctor Foster's recordings in 2011," she said. "Of when the wormhole opened up and spat Thor out."

"Aw shit," Nick said. "Another wormhole?" He grabbed communicator and called Phil.

"Got something I need you to check out. Fancy a trip to the Caribbean?"

Landing in the middle of the ocean wasn't Harry's idea of a good time. He spluttered up a mouthful of salt water and dragged his broom from his bag, shooting into the air. A few flicks of his wand dried him out and then he cast location spell that would direct him to the nearest dry land.

He ended up on a gorgeous beach, white sand and blue skies as far as the eye could see. A few discrete discussions with some bewildered locals and Harry discovered that he was in the Bahamas, and it was early 2012.

Well, Harry had packed a beach towel.

He rented a room in a local hotel indefinitely, and sprawled out on a deck chair, soaking up the rays. He'd decide what to do next when he'd gotten himself a tan.

Phil didn't like the Bahama's. He'd been forced to remove his suit jacket the moment he stepped off the plane, and his trip had continued downhill from there.

No one had noted anything suspicious in the local area, or if they had, they weren't saying. Two days of enquires had led to nothing but irate holiday makers and bored staff politely telling him where to shove it.

Eventually, he'd decided that he need to go to the 'scene of the crime', so to speak.

Getting out there was the problem.

After a long and convoluted discussion with the owner of the only yachting company on the island, Phil discovered that a skipper would take him out to sea, but not where he wanted to go, and if he wanted to take a boat out himself then he had to have the necessary qualifications for sailing a yacht.

Phil did not have a skipper's licence. He didn't even know how to sail.

It was mid-morning. He sat at the bar and order a pina colada in the hope that would cheer him up.

The next step would be trying to find someone who owned their own boat, and paying them copious amounts to take him out for the day.

"I hear you're looking for someone to skipper a boat for you." The voice was British, Queen's English, cultured, and saying exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I might be. Where did you hear that?"

The man who'd spoken was of average height, young, with bright green eyes and messy black hair. His mouth quirked in amusement.

"Everyone in this resort has heard about that," the man replied. "My name's Harry, and I'll be your captain for the day."

Phil's pina colada arrived, and he took a sip, thinking about the offer. It seemed genuine enough. If it wasn't, then all the better. Phil could handle himself.

"Mine's Phil. Nice to meet you," Phil said. "And I appreciate what you're doing for me."

Harry's eyes creased as he smiled. "No problem. It'll be nice to have some company for once."

"So, what exactly are you looking for?" Harry asked as casually as he could.

The technology Harry had seen so far had been rudimentary, on par with the early 21st of the world that he'd come from, but he was staying in an under developed part of the world. The presence of a what was surely a government agent suggested that someone had noticed his entry to the new dimension, so there was a chance that they had more advanced technology than Harry had first assumed.

"Who says I'm looking for anything?"

Harry raised a brow. Phil snorted.

"Fine. I've not exactly been subtle. I'm investigating the reports of a disturbance," Phil said. "Can't tell you more than that, I'm afraid."

A light breeze drifted over Harry's shoulders. He cut the engine and beckoned Phil over.

"Come hold the wheel?" he said. "I'm going to get the sail out."

When Phil was in touching distance, Harry petrified him, and caught him before he fell. Phil glared at him accusingly.

"Sorry," Harry said. He levitated Phil into a chair and bound him to it, and dripped three drops of veritaserum down his throat. Phil's eyes went glazed, and Harry removed the body bind.

"Who do you work for?"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division."

Harry laughed. "That's a mouthful."

"SHIELD for short."

"Why are you here?"

"I've been sent to investigate the wormhole that was opened up over the Bahamas."

"How did you know?" Harry asked, fascinated. Muggles in his own world hadn't discovered magic until the '30s.

"Satellite imaging scans for certain types of energy signatures."

"That implies you know what type of energy signature to look for. How?" Harry demanded.

"Last year an alien came through a wormhole. We've been keeping an eye out ever since."

"An alien? What?"

"The Norse god Thor is actually an alien from the planet Asgard." Harry's jaw dropped. This world was already more exciting than the one he'd left, and there was no wizarding community as far as he could tell. He absentmindedly fed Phil the antidote.

Phil inspected the man before him while he waited for the drug to completely clear from his mind. Whatever Harry had given him had been potent. He'd been compelled to speak, to answer truthfully and to the best of his ability. He supressed a shiver. The damage that could be done with a drug like that was immense.

"So," he said, then stopped when Harry's unsettlingly bright gaze fixed upon him once again. "So, you're the person whom came through the wormhole?"

"That's me," Harry replied.

He wasn't Asgardian, of that Phil was sure. It begged the question: what was he? Who was he?

"I don't suppose you'll leave me alone if I promise I'm harmless?" Harry said. Phil gave him a look that he hoped indicated just what he thought of that question. Judging by Harry's amused grin he'd managed to make his point.

"I can't believe the person I came to investigate ended up being the one investigating me," Phil said wryly.

Harry gave him a sheepish grin, and a long thin stick appeared in his hand.

"If it makes you feel better, you won't remember any of this."

Phil's panic must have shown on his face, because Harry looked apologetic even as he pointed the stick at Phil.

"Sorry," he said, and everything when black.

"Phil!" Harry cried. "Are you alright?"

Phil pushed himself up from the floor and blinked. Harry inspected him. He seemed to not have suffered unduly from Harry's obliviation.

"What?" Phil groaned.

"You fainted." Harry ushered Phil down into the cabin. "Sun stroke, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Phil said, looking confused. Harry swallowed down his guilt.

"Why don't you have a rest? I'll let you know when we get to those coordinates," Harry offered, and Phil agreed.

"Nothing to report," Phil said to Nick over the phone. "If anything came through the wormhole it's long gone."