Disclaimer: I don't own anything, which is probably for the best.

Little Spider

Russia was bloody cold. Harry flicked his hand slightly, an artificial warmth falling over him.

The first job he took in Russia had devolved into a blizzard, a building of corpses, and hypothermia. This one wasn't looking to be any better. A series of perfectly timed coincidences that always happened when he was getting close to finishing it. A truck pulling away too quickly, a forgotten car key, an employee out sick, it was maddening. Worse than that, it had forced him to head towards a place he had never wanted to go.

He had enough of underground markets to last a lifetime, their musty and sweaty smell always stuck for weeks after he had left the places. The Moscow one was looking to be just like the rest of them, except colder; just getting directions to the place had required him to use unsavory methods.

He was surrounded by mostly abandoned warehouses – mostly because of the squatters that were meandering around. What inhabited the area were rotted out husks of things that might have once been people, empty casks waiting to be filled with their choice of drug. Most of them were carrying weapons, badly if Harry was honest about it, the only reason one of them hadn't attacked him was because they knew better. Well, knew wasn't the right word. They probably weren't even conscious of it, but were more aware of it than normal people. Normal people that could pass by him on a crowded street, bump into him, apologize, and go on their way like nothing had happened. Normal people that couldn't even feel it, that had weeded out their animal instincts in school meetings and country clubs, with affairs and living the same day in a loop - over and over again. He had been a stupid little boy once to want to be like them.

These people, these casks, at least they could feel it a little, enough to know not to go near him. It was a reaction that Harry had gotten used to more and more as time went on. He had seen the looks in eyes before, the same look that he was getting now from these people.

The look of prey.

To be fair the people that lived on this row were probably more used to it than they should be, because Harry wasn't the only predator in this world – not even close – and some of them were bound to have passed through here.

Harry casually put his hands in his pockets as he reached the only guarded door on the street. Two goons stood by the steel door – goons was the only proper descriptor really, mostly muscle with guns attached. Casually was the best way to go about things here, you never looked as though you were trying. It was one of the unspoken rules of the job. If you make it look easy chances are you had been around long enough for it to be easy.

Confidence was the key to the game - was the key to any game if you knew how to use it correctly.

The hands in the pockets were a learned maneuver. It made idiots think that you were harmless, or at least mostly so. It made them think that they had an advantage on you. Because they would obviously be faster than you if they had to shoot you, what with their hands free and yours needing time to get out of pockets. It was a lesson he had learned long ago in a stone castle in Scotland surrounded by familiar strangers.

He appeared mostly harmless anyway. He was short for his age, barely touching 5'10", mousy brown hair that had never learned how to behave like proper persons, old clothes - comfortable with too many pockets and loose enough to hide things, but tight enough not to get caught in a fight.

Despite his appearance the guards tensed when he drew near. It was a practiced reaction, because even if they couldn't see it they could feel it. It was their job to feel it, to try and defend against it if necessary. Though as they got a good look at him they relaxed unconsciously. A small smirk crept onto his face hidden by the shadows from the warehouses that surrounded him. They weren't as skilled as they projected, but no matter.

One of the two started to open his mouth, probably to tell him to go somewhere else, well, that wouldn't do.

Harry raised his head to stare the guard in the eye. His sharp green eyes pierced the man; no longer covered by glasses their intensity was enough to freeze men in their tracks. It was an advantage that Harry had no trouble using. They were no longer his mother's eyes, at least not enough for people who had known her to mention it. They were too dark now, and older than hers ever were. There was no innocence in them - no naivety.

They were the eyes of a killer.

The man stumbled back a little as he tore his eyes away from Harry's. Harry smiled sharply as the man scrabbled to get the door open. His teeth were bright and sharp. It took less than a minute and Harry was walking into the large room, leaving behind the two shivering men.

The room was bright and large and crowded – as expected. He tugged his coat a little closer and ignored the tiny urge to cast a bubble charm around himself. The spell would no doubt do what he wanted and shield him from the disgusting surroundings and filthy people; it would also draw more attention than he wanted. He resigned himself and continued onwards.

The stalls were filled with most anything you could imagine, and some things you wouldn't want to. Most of the owners were pacing around them with stacks of guards making sure no one was trying to slip away without paying - more of a problem here when your preferred clientele had the ability to pinch what they wanted from you. Some were a little more discrete in their protection, carefully placed employees hidden in the crowd to notice undesirables and little cameras to take in everything. Harry was sure that he could get past both forms of security if ever the need came, but doubted that it would be necessary on this trip.

The crowds were as diverse as the goods - all races, creeds, and colors wandering around the area – perusing the goods. The languages that flowed fluently from mouths came from all four corners of the globe and some that weren't spoken anywhere but here.

The marketplace had a language of its own. It was the type of language that was learned through healthy observation because if the wrong word was slipped out at any point in time the tone of a transaction could change instantly. The marketplace protected its secrets fiercely. A transaction was not a trivial matter here, but a case of life or death. Harry had learned the language slowly and as carefully as he could in the quickest time. Still he required a liberal use of silence and intimidation to get the job done sometimes.

He slipped through the crowd easily, getting lost in the sea of faces, unnoticed and invisible. It was almost as good as his cloak – almost. He relaxed the tension in his body, flowing through the crowd. His uncontrollable hands almost slipping into passing coat pockets before he checked them. Pick pocketing in a market where everyone carried a weapon wasn't a smart idea.

The booth that he was looking for was towards the back. It was tucked away into a corner of the market – a prime piece of landscape. The nook it was placed in was as private as it got. There were no visible guards or cameras. There were thick curtains that covered the walls and the entrance to the nook. A plush carpet and large sitting pillows covered the floor. The area was cut in half by another curtain, an area for private business meetings lay behind it. Three female attendants in silky clothing and veils walked through the room softly giving out drinks to those waiting.

Harry leaned against one of the walls in the space and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. There were a few men seated on the floor. One of them had a group of four guards surrounding him as he calmly drank from the teacup that had been placed in front of him by one of the attendants. An uncomfortable Asian man sat at the farthest side of the room. Harry pulled a little more into the shadows, comfortable in his anonymity.

A man walked out of the curtains. His hair was short and blond. His face was handsome in an unremarkable way. His suit bespoke, tailored to his body perfectly. His leather shoes gleamed. Everything was in its proper place. His features were sharp enough to cut stone. His thin lips were upturned in a non-smile. His expression was familiar, the slight turn to the nose and stiff shoulders, though he didn't have the brown bushy hair that his long dead friend did, it was the same know-it-all look.

Harry settled the face in his mind. Harry had never been a psychic, in fact he laughed at most of them, but he trusted his gut - it had saved his life more than once and had earned it. This man was important and Harry's part of the world was small enough that people tended to meet more than once. He shook off a slight urge to follow him out of the room and see where he was going.

No one else exited the curtain and it was left open. None of the attendants motioned towards the clients and Harry knew then that he wasn't as invisible as he had hoped. He slipped from his wall and headed to the open curtain. A couple of the clients were surprised by him, which mollified him about his ability to remain hidden when he wanted to.

"Come in, come in. Your reputation precedes you, Basilisk." The Arabic man who sat behind the desk was skinny and clean shaven. His teeth too white and nose too big. He took care of himself, but tried too hard. A man that wanted to fit in, but wore the position badly. A sheep in wolf's clothing. "You had my guards surprised and fooled for many minutes. They are still looking through the tapes to try and find when you slipped in. I do hope you don't think this an insult."

"Never, insults are bad ways to start transactions." Harry pulled his hands from his pockets. The man across the desk tensed a little before purposefully forcing himself to relax. No doubt reminding himself who was in charge. Harry showed his teeth at the man in a mockery of a smile. "I'm honored that you even knew who I was."

"Yes, well..."The man stopped and motioned to the small faded Ouroboros on the sleeve of his jacket. "I assure you the honor is all mine. Your reputation precedes you." The man's eyes flickered down towards his desk, never quite reaching Harry's eyes. "Is it true what they say about Basilisk's eyes?"

"That no one who has seen them has lived to tell the tale?" Harry stared at the man's still frame. Frozen like a mouse before a snake. "Of course it's true. Basilisks are the king of snakes. A single glance could easily kill you, petrify you if you were lucky enough to only catch their reflection." The man gave a slight shiver at Harry's tone and Harry knew it was time to back off a little. Some intimidation was important to every transaction here, knowing where you stood with those around you was important. However, you never alienated people if you could help it. "Lucky for you I am not really a 10 meter mythical snake." Harry forced his grin to become less sharp. "Now I feel we have been lax in out introductions, you know my name, but I haven't the slightest clue what yours is."

"Harab, sir. Muhammad Harab. My apologizes for not introducing myself as soon as you came in. I was merely stunned to meet such a man of your statue." Harry had to give it to him; the man was a master at sucking up - which is probably what got him this job in the first place. "Let us get down to business. What brings you to my humble house?"

"I'm here for one of your lesser known services. I need a partner. It will be a short job, less than a week long to set up and complete. I would prefer a female and younger."

The man sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin lightly. "What a curious request coming from the man who only works alone."

"While I could do it myself it would draw more attention than I really want." The lie slipped from his lips easily. That wasn't the reason he was asking.

"I see, well, it looks like you have found me in a very unfortunate position." Harab tabbed his fingers on his desk. "We no longer offer the service which you are requesting."

Harry raised his eyebrow, one of the most profitable matchmaking services in the world had been discontinued - that didn't sound right. "I see. I'm sorry to take up so much of your time." He stood swiftly.

"I do hope you enjoy the rest of the marketplace." Harab said absently. No doubt as soon as Harry was out the door the phone would be in his hand, calling whoever it was that hired him. Harry let the heavy curtain fall behind him and stalked quickly out the alcove.

He didn't groan in frustration, but the urge was there.

It was difficult enough to find a partner for legal business, illegal business was even harder, but the kind of work that Harry did made it practically impossible to find reliable partners that wouldn't stab you as soon as your back was turned. The company that Harab worked for did many things, most of it illegal – some not – but it was well known as the only company that would be able to pair you with a reliable partner.

He slipped further into the crowd.

The deeper one went into the market the weirder items that were on sale. Exotic pets had its own unique section in the back that had the most light of the whole place. Harry stepped past the foul smelling booths without a second thought. His mind was on an exit. It was time to get the job done even if that meant ignoring….

Shouting. In Russian.

Harry was walking towards it before he even realized what he was doing, his body gliding easily through the throng of people. It wasn't unusual to hear shouting in Russian when you were in Russia, he supposed, but it was the octave of the voice that caught him by surprise.

The shouting was getting louder this time with a mixture of angry voices, men mostly and then….

"...Некомпетентные бабуины. Держу пари, вы даже собственные члены не найдете, настолько они малы." He saw her as he reached the front of the crowd - the voice that drew him here, the one that didn't fit.

The girl couldn't have been older than fourteen. Her hair was an unbelievable dark red and curly. It was cut short but visible under her hat. Her thick winter coat made her look bigger, but Harry could see how small the girl really was. The way that she moved made it obvious. The girl was a predator, like him. Him a few years back but so much so it almost hurt to look at. Her alert and fluid posture, a position that it would be hard to slip behind, twitching fingers that lingered near mid thigh where Harry could see the familiar wrinkling in the clothing that indicated a weapon.

She was broken.

Perhaps not exactly in the same way that Harry was, but he could see in her the same fault that had caused all of the problems in his life in her. She was a product of luck. Of good and bad luck mixed together, constantly swirling, a cycle, a never ending battle to figure out which would win. Or maybe he was projecting.

He shook his head and tried to pay attention to the fight. Now was not the time to reminisce or philosophize. Ginny's death had made him weak in a way that this girl was exploiting unconsciously. The hair wasn't the same, but the attitude was unmistakable. Even towards the end when the curse had taken hold, still Ginny had that stubborn fire. Harry wondered if that was why she was targeted so early on. Voldemort always was skilled at picking out people with talents.

He fixated back on the scene. The red head was glaring, her eyes were flashing in anger. The men facing her were morons, just like the goons at the door. They didn't know what they faced. Harry looked toward the exit again, but couldn't get his body to move. Something in him was hesitating.

His hand flicked again. The muted noise of indecipherable languages disappeared in a roar of words. The translation spell wasn't selective of a specific language, it translated any languages that he couldn't understand into something he could understand. He had once heard of a wizard who was absolutely convinced that his goats were plotting his death try and use the spell to figure their plan. He apparently murdered all of his goats after using it, but Harry wasn't sure if that meant the spell had worked or it hadn't.

"What is so hard to understand about don't attract attention?" The red head shouted at the tallest man. The tall blond was red faced, embarrassment and anger at getting scolded by a fourteen year old no doubt.

"Look here, girl!" The man's hand reached out to grab the girl's arm.

The red head looked at the offending hand for a second before she reacted. In a flash she had grabbed the wrist of the man and pulled his fingers back. Her leg lashed out next kicking towards the groin. The tall goon groaned and fell to his knees. She threw a right hook that made the man fall to the ground dazed.

By this point the rest of the group was moving. Two of his fellow goons reached at the same time. The red head wasted no time in slipping through one man's legs and springing up just to punch him in the kidneys. She kicked him in the back to make him fall and kicked his head for a knock out. By this time another was trying to rush her. She moved so fast Harry could barely follow her movements. One moment she was standing still in front of the rusher. The next she was elbowing him in the face, stomping on his right foot and kicking him in the stomach.

The next two tried to come at the same time again. Harry watch closely as a thin wire exited one of her hands and flashed around the throat of one of them while tripping the other. Soon the two were so tangled together neither could move without injuring the other.

For a moment there was complete silence, the five men lay twitching on the floor. The crowd stunned and the other men frozen. The red head didn't stop moving though. From one of her pockets she drew dagger, clean and sharp, the girl knew how to care for weapons. She wasted no time in walking back over to the first man - still groaning a little as he clutched his private bits. She pushed him over onto his back and crouched over him. The dagger hovered over the man's wide frightened right eye.

"If you ever touch me again I will cut off your bits, cook them, and then feed them to you. Do you understand?" The red head didn't move as the man on the ground started nodding frantically. "Good."

A grin spread across Harry's face. He had found her.

Some of the remaining men pulled themselves together enough to start moving again. The girl sprang out of the crouch as readied herself. Harry was less than surprised when a group of five more men came running through the crowd and joined the angry group of goons.

Eight against one weren't great odds and though if the others were any indication they probably weren't any great threat alone or off guard, but they still had quantity. No matter how skilled a fourteen year old girl she was, she was going to have a tough time again so many grown men.

"I think it's about time to break up this little party." Harry broke free from the crowd and positioned himself between the girl and angry men, very carefully turning his back to neither.

The girl narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't say anything. No doubt she was smart enough to know when she was outnumbered. If so she already had more sense than he had at the age.

"Who are you?"

"A good Samaritan." Someone in the crowd let out a chuckle. The man who spoke for the group turned red and before another word could be spoken rushed him.

Harry shifted and let the man run past and trip into the crowd. He felt a hand grab the back of his jacket. His arms slid out of sleeves easily and turned back to the group in a ready position leaving the goon holding onto the jacket.

The sleeveless shirt that he had been wearing under it was all black except of the stark white Ouroboros that covered the back of it, his sign. He turned his back to the crowd and wasn't surprised when he heard gasps.

Harry flexed his arms and settled into stance. He had been without a wand for enough time that he no longer reached for it in a fight, but still felt lost without it in his hand. There was another reason the crowd could have a gasped of course, the scars that covered his arms like sleeves, tick-marks coated his body, displaying his count to the world. It was hard to miss them, some still red and others faded silver, but never gone. It was no wonder what they thought, they were wrong of course, but it was easy to make the assumption that he had cut them himself.

The goons seemed frozen, staring at him like mice to a snake. A few of them slunk back into the crowd, no longer so eager for a fight that wasn't going to be an easy win.

Having a reputation of ruthlessness certainly was useful at times like this. The man who held his jacket was frozen solid, staring in horror. A slight stammer and whimper exited him. No doubt he was wondering if he would make it out of the building alive. After a minute of no one attacking Harry straightened, he took a step towards the group and delighted as they flinched backwards.

He grabbed his jacket off the trembling hand of the man and swung it over his shoulder. He turned back towards the girl.

"Nice to meet you." He nodded at her. "I have a job, are you interested?"

The girl straightened and tilted her head as she stared, trying to dissect him with a gaze. After a moment she nodded back.

Harry gave a smile and headed towards her, carefully stepping on one of the downed men as he left, enjoying the groan that he released. The crowd parted for him like the red sea and the girl followed behind, towards the exit of the warehouse.

Harry gave a nod to the two men that guarded the door and was happy to see them back away from him. He slipped his jacket back on once outside and continued down the street. He didn't check to see if she was following, curiosity alone would make her come.

It was cold and snowing, but he expected little else.

"This will do." The alley they ended at was blocks away from where they started and Harry cast a small sensory charm to check, there was no one around.

"What do you want?" The voice was sharp, but oh so young.

"I have a job." Harry smiled as he turned back to the girl. "Should be fairly simple, quick enough. I just needed good distraction material." He motioned at her.

The girl stared at him apathetically, that wasn't the question that she was asking.

"What do you want?" She asked again. Her hat flaps around her face and large jacket wasn't quite enough to keep her warm based on her red face. Her hand lay close to her body, no doubt clenching weapons hidden in her sleeves. "For the favor."

Harry let the fake smile slide from his face and allowed the emotionless man underneath to come out. The was no reason to hide in current company and he had long since passed the point of caring what others thought anyway. "A job."

The girl narrowed her eyes at him again, but nodded. "I see. We will discuss repayment afterward."

"If you like." Harry nodded to her. "It's too late tonight, we will have to start on in tomorrow."

The girl nodded and looked away. "Location?" Harry looked at the slight slump to the shoulders, and the face that had turned away. She didn't have a place to sleep tonight it was obvious from the state of her clothes. He had no doubt she was skilled, but something had obviously gone wrong on her last job if she had resorted to yelling at the help. Which meant there was a good chance she didn't have any money to spend on shelter.

Which left two options, let her stay out the night and hope that she showed up tomorrow or...

"It's best we stay together till the job's over. Just to make sure." No need to tell her what he was making sure of. He turned his back and started walking towards his hotel.

It took a moment before he felt the small body approach on his left.

"Black Widow." He looked down at the girl who very pointedly didn't look at him.

"Basilisk." He smirked when she stopped suddenly, stared at him eyes wide. He continued walking without pause. "You coming little spider?"

AN: So, I did a thing. I rewrote the first chapter of my story. And I'm thinking I'm going to have to rewrite the rest of it too. I need to know what you think I should do. Should I delete all the chapters of my original and start adding new chapters there, or should I leave the old one and continue on this one.

Also, let me know if you think this is better or not. That would be helpful. Some stuff changed, and some stuff didn't.

Sorry,

~Rain