Title: Harry Potter: Wizkid: Year Zero
Author: Joshua
Disclaimer: Marvel Universe will forever and for all time be the sole property of Stan Lee (and/or his Successor), while the HP Universe was written and created by JK Rowling, and since I am neither of those people, I don't get to make any money from this. I'm just doing it cause it's fun!
Summary: AU X-over HP / Marvel Universe. Harry Potter's a Wizard, Mutant, Student, and the Boy-Who-Lived. He has to deal with things from controlling his powers, learning magic, playing Quidditch, and keeping evil wizards, mutants, and aliens from killing him. Then his friends get involved, and things really get messy!
Author's Notes: This was inspired, partially, by the HP/X-Men crossover trilogy by "Harry Potter and the Children of the Atom by Classic Cowboy". A really good story worth reading, even if it goes so AU, I don't even bother reading it as anything but. Portions of this story also reflect my growing annoyance at everybody that immediately or 9 times out of 10 place Ron and the rest of the Weasleys as "pawns of Dumbledore" or "selfish, greedy purebloods that struck gold by being nice to Harry" and portray Ron as nothing but faults and Ginny as nothing but a slut. So, for a bit of flavor, I'm trying out the opposite end of the spectrum for once.
Year 0:
Harry James Potter was very sick the morning of the day that his life was changed forever. It wasn't the first time he'd been sick, in fact it was hardly surprising, since before he could remember, his Aunt and Uncle had put him in the cupboard under the stairs, and it wasn't exactly sanitary under there.
Still, he'd been having a nightmare, he couldn't remember what exactly, only that when he woke up, his scar had given him a few sharp pains, and his whole body felt like it was on fire, like the few times he'd had the flu over the years. Also, after the sharp pains had stopped, he was overwhelmed by a migraine-level headache that just did not go away. It certainly wasn't helped by his Aunt screaming for him to wake up and pounding on the door to his little cupboard.
"I'm up, I'm up!" he shouted through the door when she didn't stop immediately.
As always, in the summertime, after his Aunt had him cook them breakfast, during which he managed to sneak a piece of toast or a single strip of bacon, he was out in the garden weeding, mowing and taking care of the plants. The constant heat from the sun beating down on him certainly didn't help his migraine, but what made it really worse was both his Aunt and Uncle berating him, yelling at him, and doing basically what they'd done to him every single day of his life that he can truly remember.
His fat cousin Dudley added to the problem, but for the most part they didn't even bother talking to each other, and Harry was so little and scrawny, that he could often duck out of the way of his much fatter and all-around bigger cousin. In school, it was much worse, but they'd been out on "summer vacation" for a few weeks now, although for Harry, school was a much better vacation than it was for anybody else, since school at least got him away from the Dursley's for a a few hours a day.
Harry had finished all of the yard work, and was being watched through making them lunch, when the post arrived, and was rather rudely forced by Dudley and his Uncle to go get it for them. And that's when it happened. In sorting through the mail, not because he needed or wanted to, but because they would be shouting at him until Uncle Vernon had his paper, Aunt Petunia had her magazines, and the bills were all on the bottom. It was in this reorganizing of the stack that he came across a single envelope that stunned the young boy into stumbling a bit before reaching the kitchen. He held it like it was pure gold and would fly away if he let it go.
Mr. H Potter
The Cupboard Under The Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whining
Surrey
It was a letter addressed to him.
It was folded up in heavy parchment, not thin white paper like what most people used, and the writing on it was in a pretty green ink. On the back was a unique crest with a large H in the middle, and four animals around it on all sides. It was the most wonderful thing Harry had ever seen.
He was so stunned by what he now held that he did not really register the fact that he had continued walking and had already dropped the mail off in front of his Uncle and returned to his seat, quiet as a whisper. Dudley very rarely ever took his eyes off the TV while he was eating, so Harry was quite surprised when his fat cousin actually had enough awareness to grab the letter out of his hands and start screaming.
"Mum! Dad! The freak's got a letter!"
"Give that back!" Harry yelled immediately, a rage the likes of which he had never felt before tickling his insides. It wasn't too surprising, since he very rarely had anything for Dudley to take from him.
"What's this?" Uncle Vernon grabbed the letter from his son and stared at it, frowning. "Who would send you a letter...?" The man's voice trailed off as he went startling pale, staring at the crest on the back of the parchment. "P-p-pet... Petunia...?"
She walked over, somewhat alarmed at her husband's reaction, until she saw the letter the same as he and looked like she was about to faint, vomit, and scream herself hoarse all at once.
"That is my letter! Give it back!" Harry yelled, knowing from experience that logic never worked with these people, so hoping if he made enough of a nuisance of himself, they would give it to him just to shut him up. So far, it didn't seem to be working.
"Get out!" Uncle Vernon screamed at him. "Everyone, OUT NOW!"
Dudley, always able to recognize the danger signs of when he was about to get in trouble, left immediately, taking his food with him to the living room to watch TV in there. Harry, who would have been glaring his uncle down until he was either given his letter or shoved out the door, instead was clasping his head in pain, as his migraine had just jumped from 'bad headache' to 'actual migraine' and it was all he could do not to moan out loud.
He marshaled his reserves however, and managed to glare back at his Uncle, his anger and rage driving him on. "Give me back my letter!" he screamed.
"I SAID GET OUT!" the large man made to shove the boy down and drag him out, but just before he could touch the small boy's body, he was shocked by something, like static electricity. "OW! What...?"
Harry was trembling now, all in an effort to keep from exclaiming his pain. The aching pins and needles he'd felt since this morning flared up to a whole other level, making him wonder if this is what it felt like to be burned alive, but that didn't matter so long as he could still stand up. His anger and mounting rage at his mistreatment at the hands of these so-called relatives, drove him further than he'd ever thought he'd go before. The fact that the migraine made almost everything else white noise helped a bit.
"GIVE ME MY LETTER!" he screamed, moving closer to his Aunt and Uncle, holding out his hand.
When they retreated a step, he wondered what would make them do that, until he caught something out of the corner of his eye. A spark. No... an electric arc, like that lightning ball that Dudley had, when you touched it the lightning touched your fingers. Only... it was coming from him?
It didn't matter, they still hadn't given him his letter, and Harry was, quite frankly, so used to weird stuff happening around him that he waved it off as nothing for now. He took another step and he noticed that everything metal or electric or able to hold a charge sparked and shot a bolt of electricity towards him. He didn't feel anything but the pain of his body and the white noise in his head. He also began to notice that a bluish-white haze began to appear around him. It still didn't matter.
"GIVE! ME! MY! LETTER!" he screamed so loud that it echoed back at him.
The bolts of electricity that didn't hurt, shot at him again, only this time the haze around him became a wavy aura that kinda looked like flames, or 'electric fire' he'd seen one time in a documentary at school. Despite the odd and emotional circumstances, his mind chose then to recall that such phenomenon was not actually electricity, but a low-level, natural occurring form of what's known as plasma.
So he was surrounded by plasma, his head hurt, his body ached, and his relatives were making him angrier and angrier the longer they denied him. Although the looks of sheer terror on their faces was very pleasant to see, he had to admit.
"I said," he growled darkly, "GIVE ME MY LETTER!"
Suddenly, Uncle Vernon's face twists from terror and fear, to the same rage and anger Harry was feeling, and then he did something he really shouldn't have. He tore the letter in half.
Stunned, Harry just stared, unable to move, to think, to do anything but just stare at the one thing that had been given to him freely by somebody he did not even know... and now it was... gone. Destroyed by the tormentors of his life. He glared back up at Vernon Dursley, never again to call this man his Uncle. The physical pain was gone, not that it even held a candle's worth against the emotional pain that was tearing through him right then.
The plasma surrounding him went from 'electric fire' into a blinding blue-white flame that Harry surmised is what real plasma is supposed to look like. Everything electrical around him suddenly exploded, the air grew hot, the floor beneath his feet starting to scorch and smolder. Vernon and Petunia Dursley cowered, hiding their eyes from the blinding light, and crying out at the heat and smell of the air. Harry couldn't see or hear any of that. All he felt, all he knew was the pain of having everything taken away from him by the people that should've loved him and taken care of him!
"!" Harry cried inarticulately in rage.
Outside the home, the neighbors had heard the screaming, and while it was rare, they'd heard it all before. Now, however, something was different. When they saw flashes of light coming from the kitchen, they wondered. When the flashes turned to a blinding strobe that came out of every window of the house, they grew concerned. When the kitchen blew up and the back half and side of the house exploded, they called the police.
Elsewhere
Professor Charles Xavier opened his eyes. He was sitting in the private room dedicated to the completely unique computer known as Cerebro, having been connected to it for a little over an hour now, just running diagnostics mostly, but also keeping an eye out on things. Cerebro, you see, was the only computer in the world that can identify every single mutant on the planet, but even then, only when linked with the mind of the most powerful psychic on the planet.
Known to his X-Men as Professor X, he quickly removed his helmet and placed it back on its stand before turning and directing his specialized wheelchair to take him out of the room. Already, he was using his mutant gift of telepathy to contact those he needed to meet with as soon as possible.
'Phoenix, Cyclops, Wolverine, Beast, Banshee, Nightcrawler, Shadow Cat, Colossus. Meet me in the War Room, at once.'
'What is it Professor?' Jean Grey 'Phoenix' Summers asked back in the same method.
'I'll explain shortly. Also, prep the jet for supersonic flight. We don't have much time.'
By this point, he had already made it down the hall and entered the War Room himself, the fully-equipped tactical and command center based in the underground home beneath the X-Mansion. When he felt that all his 'students' were on their way, he began pulling up the information he'd need from Cerebro onto the tactical map, a holographic piece of technology lent to them by some friends.
Once most of them were in the room, the Professor answered Jean's original question verbally for the sake of those that were uncomfortable with telepathic communication.
"I've discovered a new mutant with Cerebro, one who just manifested. He's powerful already, and barely even 11 years old. His psychic signature was powerful enough that, despite the fact he's an ocean away, I was able to pull many details of his life from his mind during his... tantrum," Charles explained.
On the holographic map, it was zooming in on England, just outside of London. Thanks, in part, to the combined efforts of Beast and Shadow Cat, they were able to combine maps and radar read-outs with live satellite imagery, so when it zoomed in on 4 Privet Drive, they weren't seeing a dot on a map, but the current status of the house, and how the back half of it had been turned into a blackened crater.
"Tantrum, huh?" Wolverine grunted while taking a drag from his cigar. "My kinda kid."
"Needless to say," Professor X continued, "he's extraordinarily powerful, both in his mutation and mentally. If even half of what happened to him that I gleaned from his mind when his powers manifested here is true, he has been through enough without having to deal with the blame for something like this. As you can see, the police are already on their way, and after his... display, the boy was knocked unconscious, so he's still there. We can deal with the complications later on, but right now we need to get to him."
"Banshee, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Shadow Cat, I know you were just here for a few days, but right now this must become a priority. Go with Beast and Wolverine. Stop off at the Avengers, and pick up Scarlet Witch. Wolverine, in accordance with our agreement with the Avengers at times like these," everyone knew he was referring to the 'International Incident' from a few days previously that had the Avengers on High Alert and all active members ready to deploy at a moments notice, "you'll be staying in Wanda's stead on their team."
"Excuse me, Charles," Hank 'Beast' McCoy interrupted, "but is it truly so necessary to take Wanda with us? If it's just retrieving the boy so he does not come to any harm, why not just send Kurt and Kitty in a jet?"
"Unfortunately, I can't explain my reasonings just yet, as I have several things I must confirm first," Charles answered. "Mostly, this is just all precautionary. Furthermore, don't bring him back here, take him straight to Muir Island. I'll be contacting Moira right after you leave so she'll be expecting you."
"I'm sorry, Professor," Scott 'Cyclops' Summers spoke up. "But I just don't understand. Why are you so up in arms about this one mutant? Just how powerful is he?"
"It's not all about how powerful he is, Scott," Charles replied. "Though that most certainly is part of it. This much precaution actually comes from who this young man is."
"Who is he?" came the expected question.
"Harry Potter."
TBC...