Chapter 19: Only Option!
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The man's scream of pain was cut off as Harry punched him in the nose, sending his head rebounding off of the floor with the sound of crunching bone.
A scream of anguish exploded from behind him and Harry rolled to the floor as the woman shrieked out a banishing curse.
The shimmer of air missing by inches, Harry was already on his feet, releasing the attack he had been charging for a few moments.
The Asgardian spell rocketed forward, an orange beam of concussive energy.
Fatigue slammed into Harry as he released the spell designed for beings with much more power than him to use, but nonetheless, he didn't allow himself to lapse in his movement whatsoever, ready to charge the woman and slam a fist into her throat.
That was not needed, however, as with him not having wand and not having used any other spells for the duration of the fight, the witch was woefully unprepared, only managing to erect a weak shield.
The orange magic shattered the weak barrier and slammed against the woman's stomach, joined by the magical backlash of her shield charm breaking as it picked her up and flung her backwards.
A sickening crunch echoed through the room as she crashed into the wall at an angle that had probably broken her neck and fractured her skull. Oops.
Harry turned to the man and walked over to him. The Russian was now at least partially conscious, and was reaching for his wand that was laying a few feet away.
His fingers just brushed the wood before Harry's boot came stomping down upon them, prompting a scream to burst from the man's throat.
"Where's my wand?" Harry demanded in Russian. "And where am I?"
"Where's my wife?" Fear filled his tone.
Harry looked over to the woman's most likely-dead form, obscured from the man by an overturned table. "Alive," he lied, "but she won't be for long unless you tell me where the hell my wand is."
The man looked around, still trying to catch a glimpse of his apparent wife. Panic dominated his eyes, but he made an attempt to calm himself. "Do you promise not to kill either of us?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Shall I remind you that you were the one who kidnapped me?"
"You killed my friends!" the man snarled.
"Yeah, it was my only option if I wanted to get out of there free, and if they were all prepared to torture a child as you were – not that you've managed to – they deserved it.
And it was only because you tried to arrest me for a law I didn't know existed!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, I promise not to kill you."
The man relaxed. "It's in my left trouser pocket."
Now that Harry looked properly, he could see the white leather of the handle protruding from the said pocket. He leant down and retrieved it with a muttered thanks.
And then he blasted an icicle through the man's neck. That had been one of Loki's first lessons: when you make promises you aren't going to keep, make sure that no one finds out.
Harry had found the remainder of his belongings in the fireplace, apparently already having been used as firewood. Luckily his captors hadn't thought to search him, so he still had his disguise necklace.
Other than his wand – which he now had – all of his other possessions could be bought easily, so he didn't mind the loss of those too much. He would just have to obtain some money which never proved to be too difficult an affair.
Before he did that, however, his priority was to get out of Moscow, and it would probably be best if he left Russia entirely. It had been an absolutely terrible idea to go there in the first place, and keeping under the radar would undoubtedly be much more difficult with both SHIELD and the Russian Ministry of Magic on the lookout for him – well, his disguise, but it was the same thing.
Since he had arrived on a plane from England, it was likely that they might looking for him there as well, especially since he had spoke English to Coulson, albeit in a perfect Russian accent.
As far as the Russian's were concerned, they knew that he spoke perfect Russian and didn't know about anything else, so it would probably be best to avoid Russian-speaking regions.
Seeing as SHIELD focused on North America, that was also ruled out. An illusion that changed skin colour would be substantially more difficult to sustain for long periods of time than his current one was, so most of Africa, South America, and Asia were ruled off if he didn't want to end up sticking out like a sore thumb.
That left Harry with the options of some European countries, Oceania…and Antartica…. Whilst he would be perfectly comfortable in the latter's environment, he would also be rather easy to find as a child in a place with a population with a maximum of 5,000. Well, that or he would have to survive off eating penguins.
He and Loki were both leaning towards Europe, its much larger magical population making it far easier to blend in and obtain any needed supplies. Then it just came down to which country to go to.
Eventually, after much discussion and arguing, Harry decided to go against Loki's judgement and use a completely foolproof and totally not cliché method to choose where to go: throwing darts at a map.
Unfortunately Loki's training had not extended to dart-throwing, or any other throwing methods for that matter, but Harry managed to hit Europe on his fifth try. Further observation revealed that it had landed upon Italy. So Italy it was.
So Harry took a cab to the nearest airport outside of Moscow where he was fairly sure there would be less – if any – wizarding defences at than in the capital city. His thoughts proved true, and after a few hours of waiting, he was on a plane to Rome.
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