A month before the events of Luke Cage

As per usual, the comments are open for suggestions on other hp/marvel crossovers I should do. Also, I will be continuing some of these drabbles as full stories. You can help me decide which ones by commenting.

Harry held his breath as his feet shuffled forward onto the hardwood flooring. The jingle of the doors bell set his hair on end. Sudden noises still provoked that response in him, and he hated it. It was a leftover piece of worse times, times that he wanted desperately to forget. The war had ended only a few months ago. Clean up had started smoothly, but slowly, as it progressed, some of the survivors started having flashbacks, their reactions put people in danger. On one notable occasion, a block of Diagon Alley was wiped off the face of the earth when a student who fought in the battle of Hogwarts had a reaction to a flashing green light. A muggle born ministry worker recognized the signs of PTSD, and suddenly, the community was hyper aware of the signs. The community came together for them, taking over their share of the work, trying to care for those who had suffered, finding therapists and clinics that could help them.

At that point, Harry tried his best to disguise what he was experiencing. He couldn't hide it thoroughly enough, however. Charlie Weasley approached him about it, saying that if he couldn't talk to a therapist about it, he should get out of the damage, away from the reminders, and to someone that he could talk to.

So, Harry went to New York. He went to his family.

Now, walking into Pop's barber shop, he wasn't too sure if this was the right move. He wasn't even too sure if he was welcome. He hadn't written ahead, he hadn't written in years. He couldn't, not without risking exposing his family.

But no, with five sets of eyes on him, he had no choice but to move forward.

His thoughts were interrupted by a grizzled voice, "You need a trim?"

"No, no cut. Just looking for someone." he murmured. He glanced at all of the faces, and not recognizing any of them peered from under his bangs and asked, "Is Carl here? Carl Lucas? I tracked him down to this place." his shoulders hunched forward, his too-large T-shirt swamping his frame.

The young eyes that had been trained on him turned away, but their ears were left wide open. The older man that had offered him a haircut raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "There ain't no Carl here. You might have the wrong place."

"Look, he's my brother. I'm just trying to find my brother."

Pops set down his razor and looked at him straight on. "Look, kid, I'm sorry, but there's no Carl here. I wish I could help."

Harry's brow furrowed. "But I tracked him to here. He has to be here." he murmured under his breath.

He jumped and spun around when the bell jingled for the second time. Harry knew right away that that was who he was looking for.

"Carl!" His posture relaxed and he darted forward to the stocky man.

"Luke?" questioned Pops. All Luke did in response was swing the young man up into an embrace. "Oh goodness, Harry, you look like hell." He placed him back on the ground, brushing his bangs back from his eyes. " Are you sure you're 19? You are tiny, man. I know mama taught you to eat better than that."

"It's been a rough few years." Harry's smile was vibrant, but worn thin.

Luke frowned briefly. Then, deciding it wasn't worth it to ask what was happening right then, he redirected his attention to Pops. "I hope you don't mind if I take the afternoon off?"

With a perpetually raised eyebrow, Pops waved them out the door.

Bobby threw in his two cents, "Those two related? Big black man and a skinny white kid. They make an interesting pair."