DISCLAIMER: I have not been granted use of the Intelligence Properties of Harry Potter nor any figures from the Marvel Comics Universe. All copyrights belong to their respective holders. I am simply telling a story, and am posting this story with no intent to make a profit off of these characters.

Uatu: Since time beyond your reasoning, I have observed Humanity throughout the Multiverse. Long have I gazed through the various timelines to see both the best and worst within a truly unique race. I have, in my time, seen you Humans ascend to great heights and sink to deplorable depths. One of the truly remarkable aspects of Humanity is that, when times are darkest, there always seems to be one who arises and shines bright enough to combat that darkness. One such individual is Steven Rogers. Most of you would know him as Captain America. Possessing an unshakeable sense of right and wrong, often I find myself standing in marvel at his resoluteness. Still, there are others who are called to pick up a similar burden when darkness threatens their world. In one such world, a young man is forced to shoulder such a burden because of the acts of his mother. A prophesy, given before his birth, lay the burden upon his shoulders. In most timelines this young man, a Harry Potter, is forced to struggle alone. In one timeline, however, he is found at a young age and taught the significance of what his role in this world is by one who also carries this burden. Yes, in one such timeline, young Harry Potter is taken in by none other than Steven Rogers. I present to you:

WHAT IF… Harry Potter was raised by Captain America. Or, as you humans tend to call such things:
Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Past , part 1.

Auschwitz, January 27th 1945

The remnants of battle still littered the field around what was once the most feared Nazi Death Camp in Europe. The smells of gunpowder and blood lay heavily over the underlying stench of the camp's renderers. They had been able to smell the camp miles before they had been able to see it, and explaining what was causing the smell had nearly broken some of the men with them. They had all heard the rumors, but it was still a shock. The smell of burning human flesh left a distinct aroma that carried for miles. None of the Joes wanted to believe that the Germans would actually commit that level of atrocity. Once that shock had worn off though, it had filled the Allied Forces with a grim resolve, a resolve that had turned to a righteous fury today.

It had been a remarkably short battle, taking the camp. Intelligence reports had stated that the German forces holding the camp would fight viciously to maintain their position, and they had. Command had also figured that reinforcements would arrive within hours of the beginning of the assault. Another major concern had been the belief that the Germans would be willing to use the remaining detainees as either human shields or kill them outright to prevent their liberation. Both had been wrong. One of the British Intelligence fellows, a Fleming, had mentioned something about a possible allied force within the camp. Fleming swore that the mole, codenamed Jar, would be able to shut down most of the German communications and keep the hostages safe. Given the condition of the other individuals liberated from camps similar to this, no one really believed Fleming's report until the fighting started.

Once the fighting actually started, the value of this Jar individual was proven. Minutes after the first shot had been fired; the German radio tower had blown up. Shortly thereafter, the ammo dump went up as well. By the time that the Germans had figured out what was happening, there were no civilians to be seen within the Camp. Still, the Allies had a tough go of it. The Germans were deeply entrenched and extremely well trained. Despite the fact that they were forced to fight alone, seemingly unable to even use the detainees as living shields, the Germans fought hard. It was akin to the fervor that the religious fervor that the Japanese fought with. The Germans were willing to die for their country, and the Allies were more than happy to let them.

As he became accustomed to the stench of the battlefield, one man sat down heavily on a bit of overturned fortification. Feeling a bit of disgust at himself for actually becoming somewhat use to the smells, Steve Rogers allowed his weary body to rest. This battle had been a major political coup for the Allied brass, shutting down what was commonly viewed as the worst of the Nazi Death Camps. All of the Brass had wanted to tie their name to this victory, and turn it into a statement battle for the war. It had been determined that the most effective way to make this statement was to have him, Steve Rogers—Captain America, at the forefront of the battle. It was a message to the German High Command, the Yanks were coming and no force in Germany could stop them.

Bucky had been a concern, Steve admitted to himself. True, almost all of the regular GIs were barely 18, but Bucky wasn't even out of high school. Still, the youngster stood side by side with Steve as they faced off against the darkest things that have crawled forth from the human soul. A large part of Steve wanted to keep Bucky away from today's fight, if only to spare him from the horrors that Intel reports indicated that they would find. In fact, when Steve had tried to tell Bucky not to come along the boy had countered with the numerous times that the pair had already faced off against the likes of Zemo and the Red Skull. Today would bring nothing that the boy hadn't already experienced. Thankfully the boy had stayed back at the start of the battle, only rejoining Steve once the entry to the camp had been secured. Once the war was over, Steve planned on taking Bucky to a ball game, even promising the boy that it would be a Yankee's game. Why couldn't Bucky be a fan of a good team, like his good old Brooklyn Dodgers for example? By the end of the war, Steve intended to convert Bucky to the Dodgers. It was a worthy battle…

So lost in his own musings, Steve failed to notice that one of the detainees walk over to him from where the rest of the GIs were organizing the survivors.

"Ahem."

It was a proper throat clearing, designed to not only free the said passage from obstructions but also draw attention to the clearee. It was a sound that was produced in such a polite and efficient manner that the producer could only be British. No other nationality that Steve knew of could manage to be that proper while making that noise.

"Excuse me Sir?" the individual with the now clear throat confirmed his identity as British right there. The tone and inflection was straight out of London, if Steve guessed properly. Even the Sir, sounding like Sah, carried the British politeness.

Deciding that there would be no more time for musing, Steve looks up at the man in front of him. In front of him stands a man who, despite his surroundings, seems to carry an aristocratic air about him. The shorn head, with black stubble growing in, and the tattered prison uniform did nothing to distract from that air. Standing a bit above average height, the Brit in front of him stood ramrod straight, almost in quiet defiance of the oppression of the camp. Seeing that he was noticed, the Brit snapped of a picture perfect salute, which Steve rose to return. Once the courtesies had been reciprocated, the Brit gives a cheeky grin and offers his hand to Steve.

"Leftenant Charlus Potter, at your service. I am told that you are the Yank responsible for all of this," he says with gestures indicating the liberation of Auschwitz, "Control told me to look for a Captain America and report to that Yank. I would dare say that you are that fellow. I am the, in the words of your Major over there, the infamous Jar that you blokes have been seeking."

"You would be right about that. I'm Captain America," Steve says as he clasps the man's hand. "How did you end up in this place?"

"End up Sir? I worked quite hard to get myself here. It took me a fortnight to just find the right group to get captured by. Once I arrived they shaved my head and deloused me, instead of being a proper host and offering me a spot of tea. I have been sorely disappointed in the Tea Service here, and I shan't recommend it as a stay for any of my friends. In fact, I am rather happy to see it shut down! Bloody rotten room service as well! I still would love to find a good cuppa Sir. You Yanks wouldn't happen to have a tin of tea laying about, would you?"

Unable to suppress the chuckle that the Brit's mini-rant brought about, Steve just shrugged. Tea wasn't usually included in the K-Rats but Steve was relatively sure that at least one of the officers had a small tin of tea somewhere in the supplies. The next hour saw Steve, Charlus, and recently found Bucky wandering around the recently established camp attempting to find tea and a 'proper kettle'. Throughout the hunt (which managed to net a decent tin of tea and a passable kettle but no milk or honey, much to Charlus' consternation), the Brit regales the two Americans with tales about the Germans as filtered through the Brit's dry wit.

"…and so I said, that is no place to leave a scone!" the Brit finished, leaving his two American companions in near tears with laughter. Taking a sip of his freshly brewed tea, Charlus savored the long denied beverage…even if it had been a bit lacking.

"Mr. Potter," Bucky began, wanting to ask the man something.

"Now lad, I figure that since we are all mates here, you can at least call me Charlus or Charlie if it pleases you. Would you care for a spot of tea?"

"Uhm, well.."

Bucky never would get a chance to finish that statement. As soon as he opened his mouth, Charlus was actively pouring a tin cup of tea for the young boy.

"I dare say old chaps, that as soon as this minor issue has resolved itself, you two shall come to my home for a proper tea. I mean with real tea and honey and milk. Proper china cups and not these tin things. Oh, and biscuits the likes of which you have never seen!"

"We have biscuits here," Bucky offered.

"No lad, THOSE are digestives! A proper biscuit is a sweet thing, like my Dorea."

"I'm confused." The youngest member of the group replies.

Not directly answering, the Brit digs around in an opened K-Ration and holds up an object. The object in question is a wrapper that reads 'One Standard Issue Cookie, Sugar'.

"This, lad is a biscuit. Though, I am not sure how proper of a biscuit it is. Given what I see you Yanks eat, I have doubts about the properness of it."

"That's not a biscuit! That's a …" Bucky begins, before being cut off by Steve.

"Just let it lay Bucky, just let it lay. I don't think we should let this discussion turn into another football debate."

That thought sent a shiver down both American's spine. It had taken about 15 minutes for the three of them to discover that they were talking about two different sports. Even once that realization had been made, the three of them continued to speak of their own sport as the 'real' football. No ground was won or lost in that particular battle. It ended in a stalemate once the kettle finally hit a boil. It was only the promise of the long awaited tea that maintained the armistice that all three currently enjoyed. Deciding to change the subject, Steve takes control of the conversation.

"So, Charlie, you mentioned a Dorea. Who is that?"

"Dorea? She is my sweet angel, my betrothed who is awaiting me once things are fixed here on the mainland. She isn't quite keen on me being involved, but she is quite insistent on having a holiday in France once we are married. She simply refuses to learn German, so I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."

"That's very…" Steve manages to get out before being cut off by Bucky.

"Whipped. "

"Bucky!"

Meanwhile, Charlus laughs and finishes off his tea. "I do hope I get to introduce you two to her. She's quite the little firebrand I'll let you know. Still, I am sure she would love to meet the Yanks who got me out of the mess that MI6 put me in."

"You work for MI6," Bucky asks.

"No lad, I'm Sports and Social. I just occasionally help the MI6 blokes out. Ah! I think that someone from my little section of this war has finally decided to show up for me. Ta!"

With that, Charlus Potter, Leftenant, got up and walked away.

"Sports and Social Cap? Why was there a guy who works in entertainment behind German lines?"

"It's not what you think Bucky. The MI6 guy, Fleming, said that Sports and Social is what the SAS refer to themselves as."

"So, we may see him again?"

"Eventually Bucky, eventually."

As they settled into the last of the tea, Steve and Bucky both notice as Charlus Potter is lead off by a few members of the British forces that had come with them. They wouldn't see the Brit for another two weeks. When he returns to the Allied Forces, he looks much more hale and hearty. Even his hair had managed to grow back into an untamable mass of black that crowned his head. Even his hazel eyes had managed to regain a mischievous sparkle that not even the horrors of what he had been through could completely negate.

It didn't take Leftenant Potter (Chuck as he insisted the Yanks call him) long to prove his worth. Twice in the drive towards Nuremberg, the young Brit managed to save the lives of several times through some nearly miraculous stunt. It didn't take him long at all to be accepted by all the guys in the trenches. Even a mission with the Howling Commandos netted the Brit a "He's not half bad", from Sgt. Fury. High praise indeed, given that Sgt. Fury rarely thought anyone outside his Howling Commandos was anything remotely near competent. A friendship born of blood and tempered in the fires of battles springs up between Steve and Charlus.

Nuremberg stood as the final bastion of Nazi power before the final strike at Berlin itself. Steve had known for quite some time that Red Skull used the prison fortress as his personal dominion. The disturbing rumors were that Red Skull was not alone in holding court in Nuremberg. No one knew for certain who this shadowy figure was, but Intelligence reports stated that two of Hitler's top advisors shared the location, somehow combining their abilities to make the location nigh unassailable. The usual group that Steve and Bucky had been travelling with had been reassigned to another location. Meanwhile, the two of them received orders to head directly to a secret location that was being used as a staging ground for the assault on Nuremberg. Driving off on their motorcycle, neither Steve nor Bucky noticed the silly grin on the face of Leftenant Potter .