Shuri's lab was her refuge, a place where she was in control. Her parents and the others at court didn't bother to disturb her while she was at work. She'd tried to get T'Chone involved, but he seemed to take more after his uncle, with dreams of donning a Black Panther suit rather than designing one. Not to mention, she'd found that his 'abilities' tended to interact unpredictably with technology.
Shuri didn't want to quash his dreams, tell him that his grandfather would never let him serve in public, even when he was of age he'd be locked up in a gilded cage, far away from anyone who could question his existence. She had hoped that he'd take an interest in a more… behind the scenes field, where he might be allowed to flourish. It wasn't to be. He wanted to help people, serve Wakanda, and be a hero.
"You don't understand, I think he was telling the truth." She told Okoye. The general's presence had done much to dispel the sense of safety that Shuri felt in her workplace. But this room was still her's and she wasn't about to be bossed around like she was everywhere else in her life. At least here, she had absolute confidence in her knowledge and abilities. She was right, damn it.
"About what, princess?" The general asked warily. Shuri supposed she could understand why Okoye was so on edge- it wasn't often that Wakanda had intruders.
"About how he got in." She explained. Inexplicably, Okoye relaxed, something that did not go unnoticed.
"I assumed he used magic." Okoye said with a raised eyebrow.
"Without a wand?" Shuri asked. Granted, she wasn't an expert on wizards, but everyone knew that they needed wands for their magic. The fact that he was currently in their custody was testament to that. "No, the defenses recognized him as Wakandan and let him in."
"How is that possible?" Okoye sounded offended, and Shuri cringed. She was prone to stepping on social landmines, and suggesting than an outsider (let alone a white man) could possibly be Wakandan was a surefire way to offend the general. "Does he have… ancestry?"
Shuri sighed. "No, its not genetic its…" She waved her hand. "Weird." Sadly, many things in her life were 'weird'. She'd been notified about the mysterious intruders. The recordings of his initial encounter with the border guard had been fascinating and baffling. She'd received a DNA sample from his hair, but it had done little to clarify the situation, at least at first. "And I was stumped, but then T'Challa mentioned-"
"Shuri, where is this going?" Okoye interrupted.
For a moment, Shuri hesitated. She knew that what she was about to say would go over badly, but frankly, she didn't care that much about appeasing Okoye. Not after… everything. "I think he was a Black Panther."
"Impossible." Okoye spat. "How could you possibly say that?"
"My sister is right." Her brother stepped forward.
"My prince." Okoye bowed her head in deference. Shuri snorted; she never got that treatment.
"The heart shaped herb leaves an imprint on the body, even if it is withdrawn. It is beyond the physical, but a spiritual link. Our defenses are meant to recognize Wakandans, and there is nothing more Wakandan than the herb." Her brother explained. Shuri was grateful for his presence. There was no one who was more reliably in her corner than him.
"Now." Shuri said "This would be speculative, but when I dug into the data, I found a dormant genetic signature. A set of genes that had been suppressed that share a remarkable resemblance to the herb. T'Challa has these same genes, and I imagine, every other Black Panther did as well."
Okoye winced. Shuri knew that she wasn't comfortable with how little consideration she showed Wakanda's spirituality, how readily she pierced that veil with scientific analysis. "I see." Okoye said tightly.
"Did he say anything about any previous interactions with Wakanda?" Shuri asked. "Or anything that might indicate how he was let in?"
"Not at all." Okoye managed, before turning on her heel. "I will update the king. He has ordered that neither of you are to speak to him."
"Naturally." T'challa said with forced evenness. He and Shuri shared a tight-lipped smile as Okoye left.
"You know I'm on your side." He said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "And T'Chone's. As soon as I know anything, I'll tell you."
"I know you will." She said. "But…"
Her brother smiled faintly. "Impatient as always?"
She turned back to her screen, pulling back up the video she'd been watching earlier, before Okoye had visited. This Harry Potter, being led by the Dora Milaje back to the capital. While by all rights he was at their mercy, he seemed completely self-assured. She hummed thoughtfully. There was something about him that called him to her, something somehow familiar. Then, unexpectedly, a notification popped onto her screen. She scanned it, and her eyes went wide. A DNA match to...
Oh god.
"Do you think you can find out where he's being kept?"
-----
"Well, it could have gone worse." Harry shrugged.
"I suppose it was too much to ask them to be reasonable." Natasha waved her hand, casually phasing through the material of Harry's cell. She was astral projecting and had brought Harry's spirit out so they could talk.
"I could just break out and make them listen." Harry suggested. The cell was the best that Wakanda could produce, a dome of a transparent Vibranium alloy that offered no privacy. Still, neither the walls nor the handcuffs would be enough to hold him, nor the guards that regularly patrolled the hall.
"The entire point of this was to give them some time to prepare before Hela arrives." Nat said. "I don't see a point to you rotting in a cell. And we don't know how likely you are to convince anyone of anything. Say you do get to Shuri and jog her memory, then what? Would she really be able to convince her parents of anything?"
Harry hummed in thought. "I don't know. But I feel like I need to try."
"Well-" Natasha paused "Looks like you've got company." Harry let his soul drift back to his body, his eyes blinking open just as his new visitor came into view.
He nearly choked. Of all the people to find him, it was the one person he was looking for. She was older than he remembered her, not just physically, but deeper. The Shuri he'd known was irrepressible and full of youthful energy. The woman in front of him now felt… worn down.
"Shuri." He breathed.
"Who are you?"
Harry knew there was only one way to answer that question. With a pop, he apparated. His handcuffs fell to the floor with a clink as he appeared behind her. "I'm sorry about this." He said, and took her hand. Shuri grunted, her knees buckling. Harry caught her as she crumpled, gently lowering her to the floor. "Its okay, take your time." He told her. His words were belied by the shouts coming down the hall. He sighed. "Don't portal us out." He said, knowing Natasha was listening and was looking for the excuse, especially with Shuri in tow.
"What have you done to her!" A guard, one of the Dora Milaje, bellowed. "HE HAS THE PRINCESS!"
Shit. He was not making any friends today. "She's fine!" He called, knowing it was pointless. "She's just... resting?"
In a swift motion, the guard unfolded her spear and charged him. It wasn't a bad tactic, all things considered. Harry sent a stunner out from his palm, which was batted aside with the spear. Harry clenched his hand in a fist, and the spell veered back at the guard. She fell to the floor unceremoniously.
He wasn't inclined to move, and even if he did, he had no clear idea where to go from here. Harry's cell was in the middle of a non-descript room, with equally non-descript halls stretching in two directions. He supposed it was convenient that there were only two directions they could attack him from… probably. Natasha had taught him to expect the unexpected, after all.
He didn't have much time to dwell, and soon the Dora Milaje had closed in on both sides. "You will release the princess, or suffer the consequences." Okoye snarled.
Harry stood over Shuri's body, a hand held out to each group. "Yeah, I suppose if I just hand Shuri over, you'll let me stroll on out of here." He chuckled. "No. I want to talk to her, first."
Okoye nodded, and the Dora Milaje attacked. They were an efficient fighting force, a potent ally to the Avengers in another world, but not prepared to face him. With a pulse of magic, he blasted each group off their collective feet. To their credit, most landed on their feet and sprung at him again.
He was somewhat limited. He didn't want to do anything that could seriously hurt them, but stunning them all would be a tedious proposition, especially with those spears. His surroundings were mostly Vibranium, which eliminated most transfiguration. Still, he had options. As the first wave entered the room, Harry cast a silent Winguardium Leviosa. The women lifted into the air, their momentum dying as they lost purchase on the floor. Some of them flailed or grabbed for the walls that were just out of reach, others hurled their spears at him, only to find that they too lost momentum and hung in place. The sight would have been comedic if the situation had not been so serious.
Okoye, who was among those out of the spell's range, was not amused. She responded by swiping along her collar, which produced a gas mask that arranged itself over her mouth and nose. The others followed suit. "Really? Going to gas us?" He asked, looking at Shuri "That's… really cold."
"We're not savages." Okoye snapped as a thin, almost invisible haze began streaming through vents in the ceiling. "It'll put you to sleep, nothing more."
Harry produced bubble-head charms for him and Shuri. "Cool." Harry said. "I won't feel bad about this." Reaching out with his magic, he found that the masks weren't entirely composed of Vibranium. The wonder metal that it was, even Wakandans needed to incorporate other materials into their technology. With a few seconds of focus, he vanished the parts of their masks he could. He watched with satisfaction at the sudden horror on the women's faces as their protection quite literally fell to pieces. One by one, the levitating guardswomen went limp, while Okoye and the rest were forced to retreat. Behind them, the two exits to the room slammed closed.
Harry knelt beside Shuri. "Hey, you with me?"
She groaned, blinking wearily. "Why… are the Dora Milaje floating?" She murmured.
"I redecorated." Harry smiled. "You don't like it?"
"Harry, what did you…" Shuri froze, her eyes going wide as she sat bolt upright "Harry! I remember… I remember…" Her eyes lost focus again.
"Take your time, I know it's a lot to process." Harry said "Honestly, you're handling it better than Nat did."
"Fuck." She rubbed her temples "This is such a mindfuck. How the fuck did this happen?"
"That's a very long story that I can tell you later." Harry said sympathetically. "Long story short, the world's screwed up and we're going to fix it."
"Great." Shuri managed with a strangled voice "I'll… help."
"Can I hold you?"
"Please." Shuri immediately folded into him, burrowing her head into his chest. "It's all so much."
"I know."
"You have a son."
"I thought that might be." Harry breathed "What's he like?"
"His name is T'Chone. He's thirteen. Stubborn. He likes jokes. Wants to be a hero. Wants to be like you, even if he doesn't know it." She mumbled into his chest "I wish I could do better by him."
"I'm sure you did the best you could." Harry rubbed her back "I know none of this is how we wanted it to be. You had no idea how he was conceived; I can't imagine what that was like."
"It was bad." Shuri whispered.
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault. I just wish… I could have remembered."
"It was a pretty good night." Harry snickered "Shame that you forgot." Shuri blushed, the memories of her prior sex life, which was leagues more successful than her history here, coming back to her.
"This is going to take some getting used to." She groaned.
"Its okay, we've got time."
"Do we? I think you pissed my parents off."
"I can take anything they throw at me." Harry said. "And if I can't, Natasha will portal us out and then chew me out for being reckless, probably."
Shuri giggled. "But seriously, what did you do to them?" She peered up at the still floating Dora Milaje.
"Used their own knockout gas against them." Harry shrugged.
"I made that gas." Shuri said, sounding vaguely offended "It was supposed to be for medical purposes."
"Well, to be fair, they thought they were rescuing you." Harry sighed "They're probably freaking out right now."
Shuri hummed, and pushed herself to her feet. Harry rose with her, steadying her when she wobbled. "We don't-"
"No, its fine. We need to get moving, anyway." Shuri shook her head. "I'll deal, I'm really glad you came."
"Me too, even if-" Harry deliberated on how to put it "-the circumstances could have been better. Hela's coming for Wakanda."
Shuri froze, growing rigid in Harry's arms "Shit." She hissed.
"She knows that I have a connection here." He continued "So she's after you."
"And if she finds T'Chone…" She murmured.
"We won't let that happen."
-----
Wood clacked against wood as T'Chone swung his spear down at T'Challa's defense. With the enhanced reflexes the herb gave him, deflecting it wasn't a challenge, but he was impressed nonetheless with the swiftness of the attack. T'Chone was only thirteen, but he was picking up on his training quickly. T'Challa followed up with a series of probing jabs with his own spear, watching in approval as T'Chone shifted away from the attacks. He kept his eyes studiously focused on his uncle, waiting for an opening.
If T'Challa weren't the Black Panther, he might have been caught flat footed by the discarded shield that streaked in from behind him. He heard the slight whistle of it moving through the air, though, and could see the mischievous glimmer in his nephew's eyes. He rolled away, letting the wooden shield pass harmlessly overhead. Just as he was improving in battle, T'Chone was honing his 'abilities'. Shuri flat out refused to call them what they were- magic. Their parents refused to even discuss their grandson's manifesting powers, preferring to pretend that they- and T'Chone- didn't exist.
Pulling out of his roll, T'Challa swiped his spear at T'Chone's ankles. Magic usually took all of T'Chone's focus to pull off, making it an ideal moment to catch him flatfooted. He hopped away from T'Challa's swipes but was put off balance enough for him to take advantage. T'Challa had him on the floor in under a minute.
He held his hand out to help him up "You're improving." T'Challa said.
"Not enough, apparently." T'Chone shook his head good naturedly. "I thought I had you there with that shield, 'Challa."
"You'll find that your old uncle has quite a few tricks of his own." T'Challa chuckled. "Now, how about we get lunch?" T'Challa led the boy out of the sparring room. Technically, it wasn't meant for sparring- it was merely a large room attached to T'Chone's bedroom that had been converted for that purpose. In one of the other attached rooms was a small kitchen and dining room. While the space was undoubtedly luxurious, it was also a cage. His father wanted T'Chone out of sight, and part of that was keeping him in his quarters as much as possible. T'Chone bristled under the confinement, but he and Shuri tried to get him out as much as possible beneath their father's nose.
"Can I try making a stew again, 'Challa?" T'Chone asked.
"After that last stew?" T'Challa teased. One could describe T'Chone's cooking as... creative.
"Okay, maybe I added too much mango last time. But this time you can help!"
T'Challa heard a soft pop and didn't think much of it, but when the door to T'Chone's quarters opened, his attention was piqued. It had to be Shuri, but he wouldn't have expected her back so soon. That was why he'd visited T'Chone. The two of them tried to strike a careful balance between being with him and giving him space. Honestly, T'Challa expected and hoped that his nephew was getting into some mischief while they weren't looking. The boy had so few outlets as it was.
"Shuri, how did the questioning go?" He called. Then he stilled as he picked up two sets of footsteps, and then laughter.
"T'Challa!" Shuri called back "Better than I could have hoped, but…" T'Challa turned the corner, to find the man who was supposed to be imprisoned hand in hand with his sister.
He raised an eyebrow. "I assume there's an explanation for this." He said. T'Chone peaked around the corner curiously. The boy wasn't used to strangers, and he'd never seen an outsider before. The man- Harry- caught T'Chone's gaze, and the boy jerked back.
"T'Chone, you can come out." Shuri told him "Its okay. I want you to meet…" T'Chone edged back into view. It was odd to see him so shy, when around those he knew well he was anything but. "Well, this is your father."
"What?" T'Challa breathed. He'd given up on solving the mystery of his nephew's birth. It was obvious that his parentage was from an outsider, and a white man at that, but despite a thorough investigation no one could find any hint of foul play. Shuri had claimed she had no idea what had happened, and T'Challa had believed her. He didn't want to believe it, but had she been lying after all? "Shuri, who is this? Did you know?"
T'Chone was frozen, his wide eyes taking Harry in, oblivious to the standoff between his uncle and mother. "Not until today." Shuri raised her hand- the one that wasn't holding Harry Potter's hand. "It's hard to explain." She turned to Harry "Any chance you can jog his memory?"
He shook his head "No, unfortunately that trick only works on people I've…" He bit his tongue "Well, T'Challa should remember eventually."
T'Chone stepped forward, seemingly in a trance. "Is it true?" He asked, his voice quavering.
Harry's eyes glistened as he beheld his son, and despite his misgivings, T'Challa was utterly convinced that the emotion was genuine, that whatever else, T'Chone's father absolutely loved him. "Yes… T'Chone, was it?" Harry gave him a watery smile "I'm so sorry I couldn't come sooner, but I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."
Shuri was wiping her eyes, smiling nonetheless, as T'Chone cautiously approached them. "Why weren't you?" He asked.
"I was trapped." Harry said carefully "I wasn't able to escape until a few weeks ago."
"Where?" T'Challa probed.
"London." Harry said succinctly.
"Isn't that the city that's a horrifying temporal wasteland?" Shuri asked.
"The same. Where do you think I found Peggy Carter?" He asked rhetorically "It wasn't in an iceberg; I'll tell you that." Shuri snickered, and T'Challa got the sense that he was missing a reference.
"Peggy Carter?" T'Challa asked, the name sounded vaguely familiar, but he shook his head. It wasn't important. "How did you end up in London?" He shifted "Better yet, how is T'Chone your son?"
"Well you see, brother-" Shuri teased, eyes glinting "-when a man and a woman love each other very much…"
"Forget I asked." T'Challa rolled his eyes. He couldn't be upset. He hadn't seen his sister like this, so playful, in years.
Harry and T'Chone were ignoring the byplay, each watching the other intently. "I know this is a lot." Harry said softly "Take all the time you need."
T'Chone nodded, choking out "Baba, I-"
At that moment, Okoye marched into the room, flanked on each side by members of the Dora Milaje. "Harry Potter." She announced. Harry and Shuri tensed, with the wizard shifting into a battle stance. T'Challa could tell that she was rattled, her composure paper thin. Something was wrong, he could feel it.
"Hela, the Goddess of Death, is approaching the city." Her voice, to its credit, didn't shake at the words, even as T'Challa's world spun. This was more than their family drama, more than whatever suspicions he had of Harry Potter. This was life and death, Wakanda's very survival at stake. "I would like to formally request that you help us defend Wakanda from this threat." She bowed her head "And offer our sincerest apologies for how we've treated you."