Hi all! So... new HP/Avengers crossover? No sure whether to continue or not. What do you think, dear mortal readers? Also, I know nothing about universities in America. So excuse any bullshitting. I know the set-up of the lab-room is not optimal. Anyways, ENJOY! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the Avengers. All I own is my laptop and whatever plots I come up with to use in the infinite playground presented to me by other inspirational creators. So don't sue me.
Anyone recognise the special guest who appears...?
Prologue
"OH GREAT! Stupid! STUPID!"
If only she had realised, as she picked up her dripping, rain-filled work boots off the front step, that bringing them in the night before would have saved her an abhorrent amount of trouble. But, then again, fate did have an odd way of pulling all those in to complete their destiny, so if it had not been the slimy, soaked shoes… it probably would have been something else as equally devastating, like spilling orange juice down her uniform or finding maggots in her ham sandwich; anything that would lead her to the sink in the lab room.
At that moment, however, all Darcy Lewis could think about was the dismay at having to wear wet boots to work, as there was no time to dry them, nor did she have enough money to buy a new pair.
So, rushing out of her apartment with squelching shoes and no breakfast, she began what happened to be one of the worst days of her life. And the most incredible.
If the boots were not bad enough, then her car, refusing to start, confirmed her suspicions that the day would be utterly miserable. As if setting off dominos, everything started toppling downhill.
She had to run to work. The busses ran every half hour, so she did not have time to catch one, because she was due at work in five minutes. Then the rain clouds, which had so generously filled her boots during the night, decided that she needed a shower, soaking her to the bone.
She arrived at work ten minutes late, dripping wet. To top that off, the water in her boots had soaked completely through her socks. And almost nothing, in her opinion, was worse than slimy, wet, stinking socks.
After a ten-minute lecture from her boss, Darcy was given a mop, a bucket and a bag full of cleaning gear, and then sent off to scrub the toilets.
Yes, you heard right. Darcy Lewis. Scrubbing toilets. All thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D.
Because of them, she was sent undercover in this hellhole.
It had started with the death of Director Fury. Or, well, his not-death. Though she had not known that at first, and would never admit to having cried for the pirate-eyed-agent. With the attacks on S.H.I.E.L.D, all agents, consultants and scientists that were loyal to him, and could be spared, had been sent away, with meagre money rations and no idea of what was happening. Darcy had, since then, seen the destruction of the heli-carrier on the news.
But there was nothing she could do. She had been sent away, for which she was mostly glad. What could she do, besides run her smart mouth and fire her taser? Nothing against the half-man half-machine Winter Soldier! Though she wouldn't mind giving Captain America, in his tight, sexy spandex, a bit of moral support!
And where were Jane and Thor in all of this? On their honeymoon. In France. And Darcy had no way of communicating with them, for fear of messages and phone calls being traced by Hydra. The bastards. No friends, no family, no idea-of-anything-that-was-happening! All she could do was continue living the live of a boring mortal, in hopes that S.H.I.E.L.D would quickly sort out their issues and give her a green light.
Even Intern…. err…. Ian, who had remained in London while she and Jane had moved back to New York, was currently unavailable to her. Not that their relationship was going very far.
And so, with her grant of cash for undercover living, she was forced to take on a new identity as "Darcy Benson", and work as the cleaner for Springfield university. In Ohio. Ohio. And once again, she was without her beautiful iPod.
Scrubbing around the basins and polishing the taps, she paused as she glanced into the mirror, spotting the dark, purple rings under her, usually vibrant, blue eyes. Her curly, brown hair, sitting just below her shoulders and tied back in a loose ponytail, had turned into a sticky, messy mass that clung to her face. She grimaced, placing the brush down for a moment and wiping a piece of fringe out of her eyes.
At least she still had her looks, she thought with a light grin. She was sure she had been a model in a previous life… when you looked at her nerdy frame from the right angle, at least. Speaking of her nerdy frame… she frowned as she inspected her butt. Had she put on weight? Probably. Time to lay off the comfort foods. Grimacing, the turned back to her tools.
She then proceeded to accidentally elbow the scrubbing brush she put down, knocking it flying onto the floor. Detergent and bubbles flew in every direction, splattering all over the tiles. She gritted her teeth in frustration, yanking a towel out of her cleaning bag and beginning to soak it up, before some poor student or professor wandered through and slipped.
As it happened, she did not need to worry about other people; she should have been more worried about herself. As she turned around, after finally cleaning up all the mess on the floor, she stood on the scrubbing brush, which she had conveniently forgotten to pick up.
Needless to say, by the time she had finished cleaning that bathroom, she had bruises forming on her back and was reciting curses she hadn't used since high school, with a few new additions, courtesy of Tony Stark, added in. She even invented a few words.
By midday she was starving, having forgotten to have breakfast in her rush to run to work. Placing her cleaning gear in a supply closet and wiping her hands on the ridiculous, brown jump-suit they called a uniform (it was the most unflattering thing she had worn since her compulsory middle-school uniform), she headed towards the cafeteria, hoping to find something hot.
Wandering down the hall, Darcy glanced sneakily in the windows of the different rooms in the medical and science wings, looking to see if anything interesting was happening. Strange things often turned up at the university. Often looking slightly… otherworldly.
As she glanced into the window of a lab room (which appeared empty), however, her boots, which seemed to think she had ignored them for too long, decided to add another negative point to her day.
The wet shoe hit a particularly slippery tile, and she lurched forwards, smacking her nose into doorframe with a nasty thud before she could raise her hands in defence.
"By Thor Almightly! Why? What have I done to deserve this punishment? Damn you universe, just throw me into Mount Doom and be done with!" She moaned.
Groping blindly for the doorframe to steady herself as she stood up, Darcy watched a few drops of red appear on the white tiles at her feet.
Where was that coming from? Whoever made that mess was going to be in serious trouble…
Then she realised that it was coming from her hand. Which was still cradling her wounded nose.
"Ah crap!" She swore, suddenly realizing her predicament. A few people wandering by paused, one obviously trying not to laugh, while the other looked mildly concerned.
Darcy's eyes watered as her nose throbbed painfully. She rummaged around frantically in her pockets, hoping there was a tissue. The almost-laughing man, with slicked back blonde hair and honey-brown eyes, stepped forwards, brandishing a key and pushing her to the side, quickly unlocking the door to Taxidermy Room 3.
"Go clean yourself up in there, Kid, quick! There should be tissues by the sink. But Don't touch anything!" The man warned, although his lips were still twitching at the corners.
As she lunged for the sink, Darcy vaguely noted the door closing behind her. Snatching a lump of paper towels, she stuffed them into her face, thoroughly embarrassed with the scene she had caused.
The amazing Taser of Gods, brought down by a door frame…
It took her ten minutes to completely stop the bleeding. By then, her lunch break was over, and she had spots of dried blood on her uniform. Binning the last of the bloody tissues and paper towels, she washed the smears of blood off her face and hands.
Sighing, she stood on her tiptoes to glance in the tiny mirror on a cupboard door, grimacing as she inspected her swollen, purple nasal regions and already-blackening eyes.
She blinked as she stared at the boring, white room. Rows of shelving lined the walls, each obviously containing some kind of stuffed mammal. An archaeozoology lab, then.
A large, wooden desk sat in the centre of the room, holding stacks of paper and empty coffee mugs. Darcy grimaced. She would be blamed for the dirty state of the mugs, for sure, even though she was not generally allowed in this particular room.
Glancing at the clock suspended on the wall (it was also white), she frowned as she noticed the time. If the Boss caught her now, she would be in even more trouble (Though he was nowhere near as scary as Fury, she had to admit).
Moving quickly towards the door, she turned the handle and pushed it open with her shoulder. Only, it did not open. It was locked, she realised, as she slammed into it, knocking her nose lightly. Her eyes watered again, and her hands flew up to her face, making sure that it was not bleeding again.
Relief washed through her, followed by a slight twinge of anxiety. She was locked in! And she did not have a key – she was not permitted to clean the labs rooms; she was just a lowly bathroom cleaner; meaning no access. When she had enquired, the manager had muttered something about a previous young man who had stolen a stuffed monkey head and worn it to a wedding. Darcy decided not to pry after that.
She pressed her face against the small window in the door, hoping somebody would notice her predicament, like the man who had let her in.
However, they all seemed to be either having extended lunch breaks, or had taken off to attend lectures.
But now, because of that, she was stuck. Groaning, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling a few long strands loose, no-doubt making herself look even worse.
Then her eyes locked onto a note, stuck to one of the large freezer doors at the end of the room, which held the more… fresh, specimens.
She could not help herself. She picked it up gently, eyes brushing over the writing.
Dr. Roper,
Thought you'd like this beast! They found it in the possession of some smugglers a few weeks ago, along with two mummified queens and thirty mummified cats. I managed to get my hands on it for a few days; thought you'd like to have a look at it! It's going to be shipped off to California on Monday, though, so you should hurry if you want to examine it before Dr. Gaustein gets his hands on it!
Anyway, it's from London, originally; it came through one of those portals a few months ago. What realm it was from, I don't know, but it's certainly not from earth. Enjoy.
From your ever faithful ex-student,
Timmy Cloughman
Sticking the note back on the door, she felt her eyes flickering to the latch on the cupboard. Should she?
Dr. Roper was notorious for his anger issues, and had nearly been fired numerous times, however was still a valuable asset to the university, so had not been. Students trembled in his wake, and even the other staff avoided him. So should she risk it?
She could be fired… but, then again, the freezers could not be seen from the door, and she would hear the door being unlocked, and she was going to be in trouble for being in the room in the first place anyway…
…And she was over this job, anyway. She had made up her mind.
With nimble fingers, she un-did the latch – feeling quite relieved that it was not padlocked like some of the other freezer drawers – and pulled it open, her eyes widening as she looked upon, what had to be, the most amazing creature she had ever seen.
It was a wolf. And it was massive. Though folded and crammed into the tiny freezer compartment, Darcy was sure that it would be able to stare her straight in the eye, were it standing on all fours.
It was still completely furred, with no evident decomposition. It looked a bit thin, yes; but even in death, beast still looked like it could get up and walk away. And eat the boring old lecturers who ran the university. Or, possibly, her.
Slowly running her fingers though the inky, black fur, her eyes took in its broad shoulders, lean muscles and lithe frame. It was beautiful, yet so terrifying at the same time. Kind of like Loki, she thought with a quick smirk, as she thought of Thor's hot (and dead, she reminded herself), bad-boy brother. Though his personality left something to be desired, sure.
Leaning forwards slightly, she carefully used her thumb to open the beast's eyelid. What colour would its eyes be? Gold or brown, like grey wolves? Black? Orange? Red? How different were galactic wolves to Earthly wolves?
Green. Although dull and milky, the eye was clearly a deep, emerald green.
"So, Space-Lassie; what realm are you from?" She murmured to the creature, holding out a hand in the typical Vulcan Salute. "Nanu-nanu."
She poked its ear, still half-expecting it to leap up an eat her… not that a Trekkie greeting was going to help her any if it did.
Of course, talking to oneself was said to be the first sign of madness, she knew, but for lack of anything better to do, she held it in her defence that she was at least talking to something, even if that 'something' was dead.
The rattle of the door. Fumbling of a key. Oh no.
Darcy leapt up, jamming the wheelie chair back against the desk and lunging for the freezer drawer, shoving hard. It was jammed! She shook it frantically, but the draw refused to move. The door opened, and a man – who Darcy recognised as the grouchy Dr. Roper, stepped in, eyes instantly flicking over her and the space-wolf.
"How dare you, Girl! What are you even doing in here? And mooching around in my property no less?"
The man continued to shout, his face lighting up like a tomato, as he stormed over to Darcy, spit flying from his mouth.
"But – I was locked in! I just needed-"
"I don't care for your fancy excuses, Girl! Say goodbye to your job, say goodbye to your career, and say goodbye to your money, 'CAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO COURT FOR THIS!"
By then, Darcy was cowering against one of the desks, the large, tomato-faced man towering over her, eyes scrunched up in rage. She wanted her taser. Now.
"But, I-"
"You'll regret this for the rest of your life! Now, where are those blasted security guards?
"NO! I -"
"YOU STUPID CLEANING GIRL, STICKING YOUR NOSE WHERE IT DOESN'T BELONG…"
"Sheesh! So much howling! Don't listen to him, kid. He's all bark and no bite." A casual, male voice snorted softly from behind Dr. Roper. Despite the low volume, the voice was heard clearly.
Dr. Roper stepped aside, whirling around, allowing Darcy full view of a man… boy…. It was difficult to tell his exact age, but he was young.
A full head of thick, black hair, brushing his shoulders in a wild tangle, almost Loki-esque, except messier and not combed back. He had a narrow, plain-looking nose and lips that looked ready to smirk. His skin was pale and flawless, eyes bright, glowing green. His most distinguishing feature, however, a lighting-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, almost hidden under his dark bangs.
He was tall, too; At least six feet tall.
"Wha… Who are you? How did you get in here?" Dr. Roper spat, stepping menacingly towards the man. The man raised one eyebrow, glancing incredulously at the him.
"Some idiot woke me up with all his shouting… And where am I, anyway? Last time I checked I was in Spain…" He murmured casually, as if waking up in unknown places was something he did rather frequently.
Darcy felt a shiver run up her spine as the man's eyes locked onto her. There was something seriously wrong with him…
"I must ask you to leave, IMMEDIATELY!" Dr. Roper shouted, grabbing the stranger's arm. The man's eyes narrowed.
"If you value your life, human, let go of my arm." An animalistic growl rumbled from the man's lips.
Darcy instantly tried backing away the moment she heard the word "human", however she found herself rooted to the spot, unable to move. Whatever he was, he wasn't of Earth. And he somehow didn't feel like an Asgardian.
Dr. Roper, however, did not seem to realise his danger and scowled, giving the man's limb a yank as he dragged him towards the door.
"Don't talk to me like that, young man!" The angry professor spat.
"I'll tell you again. Let. Me. Go. I'm not asking; I'm telling." The stranger snarled.
Darcy watched with wide eyes as he yanked his arm from Dr. Roper's grip, elbowing him hard in the gut.
"HOW DARE YOU!" Dr. Roper gasped. "I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED!"
Still not getting the warning, Dr. Roper lunged forwards, grabbing the stranger's wrists and pulling them behind his back, as if to cuff him.
Darcy blinked. The man thrust her head back hard.
A deafening crack echoed around the room as the back of his skull collided with Dr. Roper's face. Blood spurted from the older man's nose and mouth, a few teeth skittering across the floor in a smear of red. Dr. Roper slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Darcy gasped in a mixture of fear and astonishment. The man stood staring at the unconscious man on the floor, an amused look on her face.
"What… you, just…. Oh God! Oh God!" Darcy stammered, clenching her fists tightly against the table behind her, unable to look away from the grouchy old man lying unconscious on the floor. The strange guy snorted.
"He's fine. Just unconscious… I did warn him."
"Wha… but, who?" Darcy's eyes flickered over to the freezer the wolf was resting it, except… it was gone. Empty. And the man... "Great. Great! First Thor, then a giant Robot, then bug-aliens, then creepy elf-dudes… and now a werewolf?"
"I'm not a werewolf. If you don't mind… What's the date… and what happened to your face?" He chortled, taking a step closer to inspect her black eye.
"3rd of June, and I had a fight with a door. It won." She stated, her mind still whirling. She took a few steps backwards, towards the door. It seemed friendly enough, but who knew?
"Well, that was stupid." He smiled, taking a few steps, placing himself between Darcy and the door. Cursing mentally, she shoved her fear down, trying to act normally.
She carefully took a few steps forward and prodded Dr. Roper with her boot (which was still wet), frowning as her foot came into contact with solid flesh.
Dr. Roper snorted, but did not wake.
"Who are you? What realm are you from?" She stammered, glancing up to meet his eyes.
"Harry Potter. Or Grimm. It depends who you ask. And I hail from a realm much like this one… yet also very different. "
"And, uh… did you, really…?" She stammered, nodding her head towards the empty museum draw
The green-eyed man snorted.
"Come out of that cramped draw? Yes."
"So… Van Helsing, or Twilight?" She said, and then cursed her running mouth. The man, however, only smirked.
"Neither. I told you earlier; I'm not a werewolf."
"Then what are you?"
"Something too difficult for you to comprehend."
"Fine. Werewolf." She grinned. He shot her a light-hearted glare.
"I do not run around howling at the full moon. And trust me; I've met a real werewolf. I'm certainly not one of them."
"You keep telling yourself that… wait… are you wearing a set of black cleaning clothes?" She asked, incredulous. Although the entire outfit was black, it was an exact match for the uniform she was wearing. The man glanced down, seeming to notice it for the first time himself, before a slight hue of red appeared on his cheeks.
"It was the first thing I thought of. It's less conspicuous than robes, in any case."
"Robes? Who wears robes in this day and age?" She barked.
Darcy suddenly glanced back down at Dr. Roper, who moaned loudly, seeming to stir. A flash of fear ran through her. "We have to get out of here! I'm not supposed to be in here, I think I'm fired, and now that you've assaulted him… oh God, I'm going to be in so much trouble! Damn it! Where's S.H.I.E.L.D. and their get-out-of-gaol-free cards when you need them!"
It seemed that she was right, too; at that moment, the security guards, who had apparently heard the shouting, rushed through the door, spotted the unconscious man, and promptly arrested Darcy and the odd-looking alien not-werewolf.
The cell at the police station was cold and dark. Through a single door, Darcy could hear laughter and chattering, however sitting alone in the cell – apart from the strange man sitting on the bench beside her – she was starting to question what was worse – the fact that she was bound in hand-cuffs, with a one way ticket to prison (or, at least, an enormous fine or costly court case), or the fact that her boots were still soggy and her was sure that her feet would resemble prunes by now.
At least she didn't have to worry about her false identity being found out; S.H.I.E.L.D were the master of cover-ups, after all.
"You never told me your name, you know."
Darcy jumped violently.
"Dude! Don't do that!" She yelped. He grinned.
"Sure. Now, what's your name?"
"Darcy. Uhh…. What should I call you? I mean, I could just call you Fido, or Space-Dog, or Alien or something but… is just Harry, ok?" She rambled. He stared at her with an odd expression for a moment, before nodding.
"Just Harry. Just Harry is fine."
They sat in silence for a few moments, before Darcy's mouth ran off again.
"Ok… well, say that you are a shape-shifter alien thingy… how long ago were you alive? If that makes any sense…"
"It's kind of confusing." He frowned, chewing on his bottom lip. "I have been through many worlds, many universes, and each is slightly different. I die all the time, and am reborn. Sometimes in the same place, sometimes in another world. Sometimes I'm a baby when I awaken, sometimes an adult… though physically, I've never made it past the age of about twenty-five midgardian years, even if I live a few hundred without dying. Sometimes I awaken and it's present day, sometimes it's in the past, others, the future. It's confusing. I've done it hundreds of times, and I've done it only once. I can't explain it."
"Ugh… yeah. You're giving me a headache just talking about it." Darcy grimaced, trying to wrap her head around it. "So… you die, but you don't? Every played dumb ways to die?" She snickered. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Not deliberately, but some are rather amusing, I suppose. I get killed by things all the time, but then wake up a few days – or weeks, or years, it varies – later, generally in awkward places."
Darcy watched, unsure what to do, as the woman placed her head in her hands.
"Um… right. So, you've lived through… well, all of history? But you haven't" She snorted. He raised an eyebrow.
"Not all of it, but quite a bit of it, in different lives, bodies and universes."
"Ok…" She fell silent for a minute, but her mouth won, as usual. "… Did you meet Jesus?"
The man short her a dirty, exasperated look, scoffing lightly.
"Seriously?" He said, pulling a face at her.
"What? It was a serious question!" She laughed. He rolled his eyes, looking away from her. She figured that was the best answer she would get.
"So, what are you going to do now, considering we don't get locked up in prison?
"… Are the Avengers, in this world?" He asked. Darcy's eyes widened.
"Yep. Considering we're talking about the same Avengers. You do mean Spangles, Iron-Pants, Spider-Woman, Robin Hood, the giant Grinch and God of Pop-tarts, right?"
Harry let out a quiet laugh.
"Yes, those Avengers. I fought with them, at the battle in New York… though my presence didn't make it into the news, fortunately!"
"So, you know about the whole S.H.I.E.L.D debacle, then?"
"Not quite. Care to enlighten me?"
"Nothing much to tell. Idiots kept secrets, secrets attracted more secrets, secret secrets attracted back guys and now the whole operation is compromised and I'm stuck undercover until more idiots create new secrets to cover the old secrets up." Darcy said all in one breath.
"Right…"
"And how'd you get involved with the Avengers, anyway?" She asked.
"I worked for shield for ten years before Loki arrived."
"Seriously? Huh. Never saw you; and I saw quite a few when they stole my iPod." Darcy muttered. The man looked at her oddly for a moment.
"So? Van Helsing, or Twilight?" She said suddenly. He sighed.
"I told you, I'm not a werewolf!"
"Then what are you? Not human, obviously!" She smirked. He groaned, tilting his handsome head backwards against the cell bars.
"It's a long story. And you probably won't understand most of it." He said.
Darcy huffed, laughing almost manically.
"Well, thanks to you, I think we're going to be in here for a long time."
"Fine." Harry sighed, running his fingers through his hair once. "I'll tell you a bit about my life. Though you probably won't understand most of it, but you need a bit of background to understand what I am."
"We're going to be here for a while, so why don't you add in how you came to work with the avengers for good measure? You owe it to my anyway, considering you got me arrested, Sam!"
Harry's eyebrows creased.
"Sam?"
"Yeah. You know; from Twilight. Big black wolf! Probably not my best reference…" Darcy mumbled, "Was going to say Jacob… but oh well!"
Harry rolled his glowing, green eyes.
"Alright. Whatever. It all started in a normal town, in a normal suburb, on a normal street, at a normal house, on a normal doorstep owned by the most normal family in the universe, called the Dursleys. Mr and Mrs. Dursley and they son, Dudley, of number four, Privet Drive, were perfectly normal, thankyou very much. However the boy who was left on their doorstep was probably the most un-normal being in the universe. He was the boy, who was friends with the Grimm Reaper."