Harry Potter: Avenger

A/N: There are a few changes to continuity made here. First, assume this takes place at a more recent time. Second: Hogwarts accepts students from abroad, provided they & their parents where born in Europe. Third: Muggles who are aware of the wizarding community can see through magical barriers & walk through repelling charms (if the caster wishes) Fourth: concerning the continuity of the Marvel universe, it's bits and pieces from the different universes combined.

On a final note, it is my intention to cover all seven books. But I will be skipping over large periods of time (namely 90% of the school year, with a few exceptions)

Privet Drive, Surrey.

Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America, was nervous. He had been thawed out of the ice a little over a year ago, and had since been searching out any surviving members of his family. Six months ago, he had found his first tangible lead. He had learned that Peggy Carter, a member of the British military that he had served with, had born a daughter before marrying a man named Ronald Rowling. The daughter, or Joanne, had grown up and married a man named Kenneth Evans

Further digging had turned up a death certificate for Peggy from about thirty years ago. That had certainly been a major blow to the hardened Avenger, after all, she had been the one thing that had kept him sane through the years of the war. Adding to the pain was Joanne's death. But he swallowed his pain and continued to dig, finding a record of the marriage of Joanne's eldest daughter, Petunia Evans to Vernon Dursley, who, as it happened, was the director of Grunnings. Apparently, Grunnings was a company which Tony Stark had somewhat regular contact with. With that knowledge in mind, Steve had politely asked his fellow Avenger to set up a business meeting, so that the situation could properly be explained in private. The meeting had gone over fairly smoothly, with only a brisk comment being exchanged at the mention of Petunia's younger sister, Lily. Apparently she and her husband had died in a car crash four years earlier.

But everything had been smoothed over, and Steve had even been invited to visit them and their son, who had been staying with Vernon's sister Marjorie while his parents where in New York. With no other leads, Steve had graciously accepted. Now, he found himself winding his feet down a finely-adorned street. Posh-looking houses lined the road, each with perfectly cut grass and trimmed bushed. Every car in each driveway had been waxed within at least a week, and there wasn't a speck of garbage in sight. A little to...pristine, he thought to himself as he approached the fourth house on the street. He gulped slightly as he approached the door, hoping his newly-pressed military uniform would be suitable. He wanted to impress, after all. He raised his hand to knock on the door, only to have it swing open, revealing Vernon Dursely, dressed in a sharp business suit.

"On time I see," Vernon said politely as he indicated for Steve to enter. Immediately, Steve found himself bombarded by a wall of cleaner fumes. The smell was nearly overwhelming, and it caused him to cough and sneeze as he walked through the foyer. Turning into the living room, he nearly tripped over a small toy truck that was lying on it's side, in the middle of the carpet.

"Dudley!" a woman cried out sharply, "I told you to pick up your toys!" the woman continued as she entered the room, followed by a round boy, who looked as though he was about seven years old. The boy was dressed in a tiny suit, but Steve could see small crumbs in the corner of his mouth. Steve also recognized the woman as his grand-daughter, Petunia. She had a extra-long neck and a hawklike nose. But even more disturbing was the knowledge that she was older than him.

"Make Harry do it!" the child, Dudely, snapped as he sat down on the floor. "I shan't!"

"Who's Harry?" Steve asked, half-mindedly.

"Nobody," Vernon said, reassuringly as he walked over to the fireplace. "Now, have a look at this, Mr Rogers." Vernon said with a proud smile as he motioned towards the fireplace, as if he was a salesman showing off a car. "Completely electric. Simply plugs into the wall! Got it for an absolute steal!"

"Really?" Steve said, mimicking interest in the hopes of getting off to a good start with a relationship with his surviving family. Even though he had no interest whatsoever in the fireplace itself. Never mind the fact that Vernon Dursely seemed to be a selfish prick who thought himself better than everyone else. "Fascinating. Is there somewhere I can put my Jacket?" Steve asked as he slipped off the heavy coat. If I have to put up with this man, he thought, I might as well be comfortable in doing it.

"Err..." Vernon began as he cast his eyes towards his wife. "Yes, upstairs. In Dudely's second room. Just hang it up in the closet...or I can..." He said as he grabbed the coat from Steve's hands before making his way to the stairs, leaving Steve alone with his grand-daughter and great-grandson, who had begun to play with the toy truck that Steve had almost tripped over a few minutes ago.

"So," Steve said as he looked about the room, free of the pompous man's attempt to show off. Now Steve found himself confronted with a wide array of pictures, many of which where of Dudley in different outfits. But none of Petunia's sister, which Steve found somewhat odd. "Did your grandmother ever-?"

"A little," Petunia replied uncomfortably, as her eyes flickered towards the staircase. But it was at that time that the merry chiming of an Ice cream truck came around the corner. Steve watched with half a smile as Dudely's face brightened. The little boy shot upwards with surprising speed and bolted for the door.

"I want Ice cream!" he shouted as he opened the door and ran down the street, prompting his mother to follow him, only after grabbing her purse from the hook on which it was hanging from. Now Steve found himself completely alone, as Vernon could still be heard upstairs. He took the time to examine the pictures more closely. Noting how each one looked so staged, even ones of seemingly ordinary events, like riding a bike, or a birthday party. But Steve found his train of thought cut short by the distinct sounds of someone crying. Even to his untrained ear, Steve could tell that it was a child, no more than six years old. At first he assumed it must be Dudely, crying because he hadn't gotten any Ice Cream. But a quick glance out the window confirmed that this wasn't true. He could see the bundle of energy bouncing up and down beside his mother as they waited in line. But what was even more interesting was the fact that the crying child seemed to be inside the house itself. Wondering if perhaps someone had left a television on in the kitchen, Steve strode into the hall, only for the sound to get louder as he passed by a shoe-cuboard that was under the staircase. That made the Avenger pause, forcing him to kneel and press his ear against the door. He could hear the sobbing as clear as day, so he opened the lock and swung the door open.

Inside was a scrawny child with jet-black hair. On his nose was a pair of thin glasses that appeared to be broken and repaired with tape. The boy also wore tattered clothing that was to large for him, bearing several holes.

"Hey," Steve said in a warm voice, "what's your name?"

"...Harry..." the boy replied, extremely softly as he cast his eyes downwards, refusing to look at the Avenger. As the boy spoke, Steve recalled Dudely's earlier statement about who should clean up the toys.

"Do you live here?" Steve asked. Harry nodded in response. Taking into account the boy's facial features, Steve guessed that he wasn't Petunia's son, or Vernon's son. But there was something about the color of his eyes. They where bright green, just like Peggy Carter's had been.

"Where are your parents?" he asked.

"They died," Harry replied, "in a car crash. I live with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia now."

"And do they treat you okay?" Steve asked as he extended a hand, lifting the boy's chin upwards. In the process, he revealed a nasty bruise on the boy's cheek. "When did that happen?"

"I spilled Uncle Vernon's coffee this morning," Harry replied softly, as Steve heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the staircase, signalling Vernon's return from the upstairs. With new emotion running through his body, Steve got to his feet and assumed a confident stance, allowing him to watch the moustached man's face as he saw the open door to the shoe-cuboard.

"Question," Steve said sharply, "You said your son has a second bedroom, correct?"

"For his toys..." Vernon stuttered as he tried to regain his posture. "But Harry likes it-"

"Now, I'm not familiar with child laws here," Steve cut in sharply as he took a step forward. "but I know that in America, this would be considered child negligence. Now, is he your nephew?"

"I..." Vernon stuttered as Petunia and Dudely re-entered the house, with the latter holding a large ice cream cone in his hand. "He's Petunia's sister's...very disturbed child...strangers upset him, so we k-"

"Kept him locked up under the stairs?" Steve barked, causing the family to back up slightly. "And strike him when he spills a drink by accident?"

"I...Do I look like a man you can intimidate?" Vernon said, almost as a challenge. A challenge which Steve was more than happy to match with equal aggression.

"Yes," Steve replied as he strode for the door. "Don't bother with my jacket. I'll be back in about an hour. With the police," he finished as he exited the house and walked down the street, somehow more relieved than when he had entered. In no time, he found two officers out on patrol. An hour later, a worker from child services had been summoned to the station. She didn't require much persuasion to be convinced that Steve's story was true, and that he should be given full custody. And less than three hours after leaving the Dursley residence, Steve found himself wrapping his military jacket around the bespectacled child.

"You're gonna come with me," he said to Harry. "You're gonna come with me to live in New York, okay?"

"Okay," Harry replied as he stroked a lock of his thick black hair aside, revealing the most peculiar scar that Steve Rogers had ever seen.

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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Headmaster's office.

Albus Dumbledore whistled a merry tune as his aged eyes absorbed word after word from the day's issue of The Daily Prophet. He smiled to himself as he sat quietly. He knew that at this moment, many of the professors of Hogwarts where busy preparing for the start of term. And some of them took the time out of their day to criticize his habit of reading the paper.

"When you should be getting ready," Professor Kettleburn had told him once, as he hopped along on his wooden leg.

"Professor Dumbledore!" the voice of the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor house, Minerva McGonagall said as she opened the door. A woman in her mid-fifties, Minerva moved like a much younger woman, and Albus knew of her well-deserved reputation as one of the strictest, yet kindest teachers of Hogwarts. "Urgent news from Aribella Figg!"

"Ah!" Albus said as he set the paper down and crossed his fingers, indicating that she had his full attention.

"She sent a letter by owl," Minerva continued, as her chest heaved. Apparently this news is very urgent, Albus thought to himself. "She says that a man dressed in an American military uniform has-"

"He is the boy's great-grandfather," Albus said as he raised a hand, indicating that she remain calm. "Steven Rogers, of the American armed forces in World War two," Albus continued as he got to his feet. "Recently thawed out from the northern Atlantic. I had hoped for as much."

"But-" Minerva began, only to be stopped by Albus's hand once more.

"He will be safe with the Captain," Albus smiled. "He will be loved. Captain Rogers is a good man, Minerva, I trust him with my life."

"You don't mean to say-" Minerva began again.

"He is Lily Evans' grandfather," Albus smiled, "and as such, he carries her blood, Harry's blood, in his veins. Harry will be protected with him. He will be safe," Albus finished as he stroked the back of Fawkes the Phoenix.

"So...you know the Captain?" Minerva asked softly.

"Yes," Albus replied.

A/N: Please Read & Review