I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter; nor do I own Agents of SHIELD, The Avengers, Iron Man, Captain America, Black Widow, etc, etc, etc. Y'know, the sheer number of characters in the MCU makes doing a disclaimer kinda inconvenient . . .

Hand to hand combat, marksmanship, fluency in multiple languages, basic strategy and tactics, and infiltration and exfiltration: these were the things that Harry Potter, now eleven years old, had learned growing up in the headquarters of the Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate, better known as SHIELD. He had often been told that he would someday grow up to be the new Melinda May, not that he considered that much of a compliment: he certainly respected her skills, and he knew that there must be a reason for her being so closed off (Coulson had hinted at that often enough), but he really wished that he would never end up as emotionally dead as "The Cavalry" was.

Harry had no field experience, he was still deemed too young for it, but over the five, nearly six, years he had been with SHIELD he had spent more time training than most agents did in ten. The only problem his superiors had with him was that he was too specialised: normally, an agent like himself would be expected to learn multiple languages, dabble in physics and biology, be able to hack computers, and lead other agents. Harry, however, directed most of his focus towards combat and espionage training.

He had grudgingly learned French, Spanish, Russian, German, Japanese, and Korean through immersion programs, and had only done so because it was repeatedly pointed out to him that, as he was so young, his brain would naturally absorb languages fairly easily. Each language had taken a month-long immersion session, followed by at least three hours of practise a week, for him to really get the hang of them, and he still had to practise using them regularly so that the knowledge didn't drop out of his head.

As for the rest, he had either been unable to or uninterested in learning:* he couldn't understand a word being said by his physics tutor, his biology tutor had actually broken down crying when trying to explain (what she considered to be) painfully simple concepts to him,* every computer he touched seemed to go out of its way to do the exact opposite of what he wanted it to,* and he could only really understand strategy in the abstract; he couldn't apply it practically unless he was detacthed from whatever he was planning.* He could do so with tactics, but anything else was beyond him. As far as leading other agents went, Harry found himself more than a little intimidated when asked to do so, even in practise scenarios, since he was both much younger and far smaller than the people whom he was meant to be directing.

And so, when he wasn't learning languages, tactics, or strategy, he focused on the physical aspects of his training, training in which he was progressing with astonishing speed. He was far from someone like Melinda May, but he was perfectly confident that he could thoroughly trounce anyone within five years of his age in a fight, an impression which he regularly reaffirmed during his combat training. As for infiltration and exfiltration, Harry hoped to one day be able to waltz into and out of an enemy base with the casual brilliance of Agent Romanoff, and even though he was nowhere near her level, he was good enough to sneak through any non-government (or government-level) security system one could find.*

What Harry desperately wanted was some experience in the field. What was the point of knowing what he did if he couldn't join any missions? And besides, he had once argued to Coulson, Romanoff stCarted when she wasn't much older than Harry. His response had been to ask why Harry suddenly wanted to emulate Romanoff while still maintaining that he would never be as cold as May. Harry had mumbled something about the shooting range before wandering off.

Harry had missed more bull's eyes than he hit that day, making it by far his worst performance in over a year.

"All due respect, sir, I believe that this assignment would be in the boy's best interests," Phil Coulson, Harry's supervising officer, said.

"I'm more interested in SHIELD's best interests," Nick Fury replied. "We can't afford to mess this operation up; he isn't ready for this."

"He has been asking for a mission lately. It's just what he needs: it'll put him with kids his own age, get him in the field, keep him out of danger . . . Hell, it'll even give him a chance to develop a few new talents."

"You're telling me to risk our chance at uncovering this to develop one agent?"

"No, I'm not. I'm telling you that I would risk our chance at uncovering this to develop one agent, and I'm advising you, as that agent's SO, to do what I would do in your place."

The two of them stared each other down, neither willing to back down on their respective beliefs, until Coulson tried again, giving the letter he was holding a good shake to emphasise his next point.

"How about this, then? If you don't do it, he'll keep bothering us until I agree to send him on a mission, and he'll drive someone insane sooner or later." Coulson knew perfectly well that, as skilled as Harry was, he wasn't particularly strong: any mission where he had to fight trained adults would be completely out of his league, and his only talents outside of fighting involved speaking, shooting, and breaking into and out of buildings. While he was fluent in many languages, he wasn't a good enough actor to do undercover missions that would require him to use a false identity, and his inability to actually lead others made him a poor choice for any sort of mission control.* All that meant that Coulson's only options for his protege at the moment were as a sniper or a thief, neither of which appealed much to either of them.

"The kid can barely even turn on a computer, what makes you think he'll be able to spend seven years undercover?" Fury protested. He had followed Harry's many attempts at broadening his horizons with some interest, given all the interest Coulson had taken in him, and he had been less than thrilled by what he had seen.

"He won't be undercover, he'll just sugarcoat a few unpleasant truths. Just so long as he remembers to call me 'Mr Coulson' instead of 'Agent,' no one will ever know," Coulson said, voice brimming with confidence. "It's everything he needs."

The two of them sat in silence for almost a full minute while Fury contemplated Coulson's words until . . . "On a few conditions."

Coulson couldn't have been happier.

While Fury and Coulson were discussing him, Harry was in the R&D section, carefully examining a small gun. "It's heavier . . . lighter rounds, shorter barrel . . . perfect sight." Harry was silent for a moment before speaking up again. "You win, Green." He sighed in defeat as he placed his newly made custom pistol in its holster, which was attached to his right hip, before reluctantly placing ten dollars in the hand of an overly-smug Agent Green.

"Make sure you take care of it, kid. Coulson hinted you might need it for something other than target practise soon," Green told him, becoming serious.

Harry snorted. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, Green. I'll be lucky to get my badge before I turn sixteen at this rate."

"I didn't get my badge until I was twenty," Green reminded him as he started walking away.

"You didn't grow up in SHIELD headquarters," Harry protested, falling into step next to him. "I haven't even been out of the city in months. I mean seriously, what gives?"

"Look, kid," Green said, coming to a stop at an intersection, "you'll get your badge when Coulson says you're ready. Maybe that's this year, maybe it's not for another ten years. Either way, nothing to do now but make yourself the best you can be."

Harry frowned, but nodded. "I know. I just wish I could get out more. Coulson travels all over the country, and here I am, arranging an escort just to wander into town for a few hours."

"Coulson worries about you," Green said sagely. "Maybe too much, but that's how he is. I were you, I'd brush up on my skills some. Might convince him to lay off a bit."

Harry smiled at the thought of increased freedom. "Thanks, Green," he said before turning on his heel and hurrying off to the shooting range. He wanted to get used to his new gun, and the only way to do that was to practise.

Three hours in the shooting range later and Harry was getting bored. He was already used to his new gun: it was very similar to his old one, just better in every respect, and part of his training had involved using a variety of types of guns, so that he didn't get too used to any one make or model. The only other things he was truly interested in, hand to hand and espionage, he wouldn't be able to practise without arranging for it in advance, well in advance in the case of the latter.

He could always find somebody to spar with, but his size was a problem. Harry was more developed than most boys his age, mostly due to his training, but he was still quite small compared to the average adult. By the time he started fighting adults seriously, he would already be close to his full height and weight, so he preferred to fight people his own size, since that's what he would be doing for his entire career. The problem was that SHIELD had so few children, there were only two others in the entire agency, and when it had become apparent that neither liked Harry very much, Coulson had deemed it prudent to keep them largely separate, hence the reason he and Harry were based in the headquarters in New York, rather than the branch in DC. That suited Harry just fine, as he wasn't overly fond of them, either, and neither could take him in a fight, even if they were present.

Just as he was heading downstairs to schedule some time in the infiltration training grounds, his bluetooth beeped twice, indicating that he was receiving a call. He pushed the button and said, "Potter here."

"My office, right now." That was all Coulson said before ending the call.

Harry immediately recognised his SO's voice, but he had no idea what he wanted. He had sounded rather excited, so Harry knew he wasn't in trouble (and he rather doubted that anyone could prove who had put the whoopee cushion in Fury's chair, anyway. Harry figured that, with him having as much trouble as he did getting time to work with the infiltration experts, he might as well make up his own training exercises.), but still . . . Usually whenever Coulson got some new gadget to add to his collection, he would show Harry along with everyone else, if only to prove to the rest of SHIELD that someone was impressed with his collection.

Whatever it is, it can't be too bad, he decided. After all, if it's got Coulson excited . . .

"I hate this."

"That's what kids your age wear."

"It's too exposed. I feel so vulnerable." A day after Coulson had called Harry to his office, the two of them were sitting on a plane, flying coach from JFK International Airport to Heathrow, the latter wearing a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, the former shorts and a t-shirt, said attire being the source of his irritation. "I could at least be dressed like you. They'd probably think it was cute."

"Probably," Coulson replied, sounding remarkably unconcerned.

The two sat in silence for a few moments before Harry started complaining again. "Why are we flying coach, sir?"

"You know why," Coulson said, amused. And if he was being honest, Harry did know why. It was SOP for SHIELD agents to draw as little attention to themselves as possible when traveling, and this mission was more delicate than most. Even so, Harry very much doubted that anybody would be checking to see what class tickets they had on their plane trip.

"And don't call me 'sir.' It'll raise all sorts of alarm bells with these people."

"Yes, sir," Harry smirked. Coulson raised his eyebrows. "It's not like there are any of them here, sir," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I think," he added, somewhat nervously.

"Just be careful once we land. You've been out of the orphanage too long to have any excuse for being so formal."

Harry was about to ask why they didn't just say that he had been pulled from the orphanage later than he had been, but realised that he already knew the answer: the less lies they told, the easier it would be for him, who had never before had to maintain any sort of facade for longer than a few hours, to keep up with them. He wouldn't be able to hide the dynamic he and Coulson had, so the next best thing was to give a plausible explanation for it.

"How will I practise anything while I'm away? If I can't come back until Thanksgiving, I'll be lucky if I can still keep up with the initiates by the time I get back."

"For someone who grew up surrounded by it, you sure do underestimate SHIELD a lot," Coulson replied smugly. "I'll get you what you need to set up a shooting range. As for hand to hand and espionage, we'll figure something out. You can always make up your own exercises, too. I think this Dumbledore guy might need some of the Fury treatment."*

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," Harry said, pulling a lunch bag from his backpack. It wasn't technically legal to bring his own food onto the plane, but it wasn't legal to bring a gun, either, and between the two of them, Harry and Coulson were carrying five (Harry holding the tranquilizer and emergency pistol Green had made for him, Coulson two tranquilizers and an emergency pistol).

"Anyways," he said, taking a bite out of a smuggled piece of (now cold) pizza, "that'll only get me so far. Sneaking past a bunch of amateurs's easy. It'll barely be enough to keep me in shape." He gave a small salute with his half-eaten slice to emphasize his point.

"That might be true," Coulson admitted, pulling out and opening a sprite from his own carry-on bag, which he popped open, "but you're still years ahead of where you should be. A few months away from headquarters, and you'll be years minus a few months ahead. Actually, make that more than a few months: something tells me you won't have a Thanksgiving break."

Harry sat in sullen silence for a few minutes (They don't even have a Thanksgiving break, he thought irritably) before trying a new tactic. "Sir, you want for me to make a good first impression, right?"

"I want for you to make a realistic first impression. It's not realistic for a kid your age to be wearing a three-piece."

"Unless I was going out of my way to impress them," Harry countered, highly impressed with his own reasoning.

"There is such a thing as going too far." Harry stared up at him with wide eyes that seemed to scream "look at how innocent and caring I am," though Coulson only snorted. "Overselling it. I guess you can wear a suit. An inexpensive one," he hastened to add, seeing the look of triumph on Harry's face. "Nothing tailored."

"That's all I ask. Besides, I'm so used to them. I'm not sure I can start wearing other clothes just like that; I might go into withdrawl."

Coulson rolled his eyes. "And what happens if you need to fight while wearing shorts and a t-shirt? It's not much good learning to fight if you can only do it wearing a suit and tie."

"I don't need to wear a tie," Harry protested, somewhat offended, "I just like to. And anyways, whose fault is it that's I'm so used to wearing suits, sir? 'Oh, he needs to get used to standard SHIELD attire.'"

"Alright, I definitely don't sound like that."

"And besides," Harry continued, ignoring him, "suits are just more practical. What good do radios hidden inside cuff-links do if I'm wearing a shirt with sleeves that don't even reach my elbows? I'd look like an idiot wearing loafers with knives hidden in them with a pair of cargo shorts. And whoever heard of somebody wearing a watch with a stun-bullet in it without a suit?"

"You realise, of course, that our new tech renders all that stuff completely obsolete? Well, maybe not the watches."

"Like you don't wish you could use it in the field, too, sir," Harry snorted. "You'd spend a whole year listening to every one of Fury's rants if it meant walking into some dinner party and talking to HQ through the cuffy-talkies." He spoke into his bare wrist. "'Coulson to ground control. Unable to locate Major Tom. Over.'"

"Cuffy-talkies?" Coulson asked, torn between amusement and offense.

"What?" Harry asked, shrugging. "It's easier than 'walkie-talkies that just so happen to be cleverly disguised as a pair of cuff-links.'" He grabbed another slice of pizza and gave it a small wave for emphasis. "Just 'cause I think all your retro gadgets are cool, it doesn't mean I have to be all formal about it, sir."

"The irony of that sentence . . ."

"Yeah, I didn't really think that one through."

"You called me, sir?" Harry asked cautiously. Maybe it is about the whoopee cushion? What if I'm about to be punished for it?!* Maybe I'll have to clean the entire building! Maybe I'll be reassigned to work in Antarctica! Maybe I'll be forced to do combat training with initiates for a month! No, not even Fury's that-

"Congratulations, Agent Potter," Coulson said, holding out a small, leather square that Harry instantly recognised as a folded SHIELD badge.

It took him several seconds to process what was happening. Agent, he called me. Agent Potter. He's holding a SHIELD badge. He called me Agent Potter.

* That said, SHIELD wasn't terribly concerned with what Harry was interested in, only what he was capable of. So, even though he would just as soon have skipped it entirely, he did learn stuff that he didn't particularly care about, if only to make his superiors shut up so that he could go back to shooting and punching things.

* The physics and biology tutors were both teenagers who excelled at their subjects, and so they taught him the sorts of things that they were learning at his age. These things were too advanced for him, since he had no prior knowledge of either subject and wasn't a prodigy. Since SHIELD just assumed that they were teaching him appropriate material and Harry assumed that he was just being an idiot, nobody ever really got to the heart of the matter.

* Computers hate him because the magic in his body makes them act up, not because Harry's too stupid to figure them out. Also, I have this theory that the more complicated an electronic machine is, the more it's affected by magic, which means that a computer, which is fairly advanced stuff (particularly in the MCU) is pretty much screwed if he tries to reason with it. That said, I don't think that all SHIELD agents are really proficient with them, given that, between the two of them, Coulson and Ward could barely turn the hologram thingy they use on, much less actually manipulate the images it projected, when separated from Fitz-Simmons.

* What I was trying to convey here is that Harry understands strategy, but he can't really apply it unless it's in something theoretical, like chess, or a situation where he isn't part of the group of people being directed. I can't see most kids being able to direct other people in a fight if they were in the thick of the action themselves; it's just not the sort of division of one's attentions that a child would be capable of. That said, it's the sort of skill that he'll develop over time, particularly since Harry's known for keeping a cool head in dangerous situations.

* Basically, if you want someone to break into a museum at night, sneak onto an airplane, or swipe a bag of chips from your local convenience store, Harry's your guy.

* The mission that they're sending Harry on is basically just an easier version of an Alex Rider-y mission: he doesn't really have to act to blend in at Hogwarts (not that he'll be able to in any event), and he isn't creating a false identity and sticking to it for extended periods of time. As for the second bit, imagine an Agent out in the field taking orders from an eleven-year-old. Kinda dumb-seeming, right?

* Does anyone else think it was a little naive of Harry to think that Coulson wouldn't figure out that he was the one who put a whoopee cushion in Fury's chair? Not that the prank amounted to much, since Fury isn't nearly stupid enough to sit in a chair without checking it first (nor was Harry stupid enough to leave any prints), but he was still pissed off that anyone would have the audacity to try something so juvenile. And yes, Coulson knows it was Harry, but he's more impressed that Harry managed to booby-trap Nick Fury's chair with only one person being able to identify him as the culprit than annoyed at the prank. I mean seriously, that's pretty badass.

AN: A little history lesson for y'all: when Dumbledore left Harry with the Dursleys, they dumped him at an orphanage. They basically said "hey, here's this kid. Somebody left him on our doorstep, but we have no idea who he is, who left him there, or why, so could you maybe take him off our hands 'kaythanksbye." They did, of course, know who Harry was, as well as who dropped him off and why, but they didn't mention those particular factoids to the people at the orphanage. Because they had no idea what his name was, they gave him the name "Adam Smith," which is a thing that orphanages apparently do. Coulson was out in Britain doing a mission for SHIELD one day (the details of which may or may not become important later) when he saw Harry, who was ostracised by his peers for being "weird." He took him in and brought him back to SHIELD headquarters to be trained as an agent.

After a bit of digging, he was able to ascertain that Harry was the son of Lily and James Potter by looking into the people who dropped him off. Because they were always so obsessed with images, the Dursleys left their names so as to appear to be good citizens who were the victims of a cruel prank that had been played as much at Harry's expense as it was at theirs. Coulson looked into their families, saw that Petunia's sister had married a man and had a son who was the right age, and saw that both she and her husband died on October 31st 1996, just two days before Harry was left at the orphanage. From there, it was pretty obvious what happened, and he told Harry that his real name was Harry Potter. Harry immediately switched from "Adam Smith" to "Harry Potter," and has since had his name legally changed.

On another note, I moved all of the events of the HP universe forward fifteen years to make this crossover somewhat believable. So little in the HP universe has to do with technology or events that actually occurred in our world that the change really doesn't make much of any difference. Also, random note, the name "Adam" doesn't have any real significance, it was just the first name that popped into my head and seemed somewhat plausible for an orphanage to assign a kid in its care.

And about those other two kids in SHIELD: they'll never be relevant, they're just kids who dislike Harry because they think he's stupid. Since he focuses almost entirely on physical skills while they both concentrate on other roles (yes, there's some combat training there, but it's not much more than basic self-defense), they both think that he's a complete idiot who can't do anything but fight. I had a lot of trouble giving Harry enough skills for it to be realistic, given his upbringing, but not enough for him to be so wicked awesome that he's the entire solution to every possible problem.

The whole "Harry gets training before Hogwarts and is much better at magic, or smarter in general, or a better fighter, or whatever it is" thing is a concept that I like in theory, but rarely in practise. I feel like people have a tendency to label the Harrys (Harries? Screw it, I don't really care.) of these stories as Stus, simply because he's already good at certain things before starting school, but I really don't think that's fair. So long as it's handled realistically (meaning that he either isn't better than one would expect him to be with a lot of hard work, is, but he still worked very hard to develop whatever skills he has and has developed said skills to the exclusion of others, or he was given a lot of power at a high price), I think it can lead to some very entertaining scenarios. Hopefully this'll be one of 'em.

That said, I don't plan on focusing much on Hogwarts. My plan here is basically to have bits and pieces of Harry's first year, followed by significant moments in his second and third years. I'll show his fourth year in its entirety, then focus on the Marvel Cinematic Universe, starting with Avengers and moving on to Agents of Shield, which is where it'll really start to branch out from the cannon of the MCU. Coulson's team (which really needs a snappier name than "Coulson's team") will still go on most of the missions that they do in the series, but Hydra may not be a thing, and I'll focus mostly on an episodic "mission of the week" type structure. As far as shipping goes, I have no plans thus far except for what I won't do: fair warning, this fic will contain a marriage contract. That said, the contract will act mainly as motivation for Harry to work harder at understanding the magical world and culture, and the marriage the contract demands will never come to pass.

So, with all that in mind, I hope you enjoy this ridiculous crossover! Insofar as it can be enjoyed, which is hopefully pretty far. Happy holidays, thanks for reading, and Duke out!

PS: In response to a review that I got, I changed this chapter up significantly, giving Harry a more well-rounded background. I really struggled to show that, while he has a lot of skills, he isn't better with them then a kid his age realistically should be with sufficient training: some stuff will just have to wait until he's old enough to have a clearer grasp on it. Mostly that means things like dividing one's attention in specific ways or directing other people, both of which are exceedingly difficult for someone to learn and apply at a young age.

Also, I'd argue that most kids couldn't just start learning about the stuff that SHIELD agents need to know about at such a young age without being uncommonly intelligent. Harry isn't dumb, but he isn't a genius, either, and he just doesn't have a whole lot of interest in or patience for things like sciences and math.