Dr. Harold Potter - PhD in both Physics and Chemistry - did not believe in magic. That is...until he falls asleep one night as a 45 years old Nobel prize winner and wakes up the next morning in the body of a 17 years old orphan with undiscovered magic powers, living in New York. Add in the fact that the Avengers are apparently real and not simply a part of Marvel's intellectual property and there exist an entire hidden society of witches and wizards and Harry is truly starting to wonder if stress hadn't finally gotten to him and this was just a mental breakdown-induced hallucination. But even in this new reality, Harry still maintains that science can explain away everything and he is going to prove it, no matter what it takes. No prophecy or dark wizard, or alien overlords is going to stop him. Slash. Pairings Undetermined for now.

Featuring: A genius Harry doing experiments with magic and trying to explain its inner workings using science.

Prologue

Magic

Hadrian Harold Potter was just 5 - and reading books more suited for kids three times his age - when the young curly haired woman hired to babysit him had asked him a very important question.

"Harry," she had begun, looking at him with a sweet smile, "Do you believe in magic?"

Upon hearing her inquiry, Harry had scoffed derisively - or as derisively as he could muster - and then replied with an eloquence that most five years old did not possess: "Magic doesn't exist. Magic is what idiots use as an excuse to explain anything they cannot explain."

She hadn't bothered continuing the conversation after that.

Hadrian Harold Potter was 15 - and already in possession of his first PhD in Physics from MIT - when a curious reporter from the local newspaper had asked him:

"Mr. Potter, do you believe in magic?"

Harry had forced a smile on to his face - the one his parents dubbed as his press smile - and had replied: "As a scientist, I do not believe that true magic exist, but I do believe that there are forces out there that science has yet to be able to explain."

Hadrian Harold Potter was 40 - and had just received a Nobel Prize for his ground breaking research on Dark Matter - when a graduate student attending one of his many seminars had asked: "Professor Potter, do you believe in magic?"

Harry hadn't bothered answering this time for he had already been asked this question enough times to last him his entire life.

Instead, he had stared at the student with serious green eyes and returned, "Do you?'

The student had smiled in the way young people did before societal rules turned them old and cynical.

"I do actually and I think you should too. I think you would have been a great wizard."

Chapter 1

Shockingly enough - and can't you just hear the sarcasm dripping from those words - working in science did not often attract a slew of tall, model-like women, all vying for your attention, no matter what TV and movies would like you to believe. In reality, working in science mostly involved being trapped in a barely adequately aired room with 10 other men - women, despite the many programs in place to encourage young girls to pursue science, were still a rarity in this field - for hours on end while a head huncho - masquerading as the lab's boss - yelled orders while his minions did all the work. Even Hadrian Potter - Phd in both Physics and Chemistry and recipient of a Nobel prize in both fields - did not have attractive woman visiting him at work, so when one did, he knew he had to welcome her in for a sit down despite not knowing who she was or whether she was a spy sent by an another lab to steal all their secrets.

"You're a hard man to find Dr. Potter," she began once she had taken her seat, crossing one long leg over the other. She refused his offer of a drink, claiming that she wasn't planning on staying long in the first place.

Upon hearing those words, Harry was momentarily taken aback.

Hard to find? Him? When you couldn't even search physics or dark matter on google without running across his name? How was he hard to find?

But since the woman was attractive and Harry really didn't want to come off as too arrogant, he simply smiled and answered: "Then I'm glad that you have found me then, Ms…"

"Alice," she twisted one long strand of hair around her finger. "You may call me Alice."

"Alice," Harry nodded and pushed up his glasses. "How may I help you Alice?"

Alice hesitated for one second before asking a question that Harry already heard three other times in his life.

"Mr. Potter, do you believe in magic?"

"Surely not," Harry laughed, knee-jerk and Alice looked at him with raised eyebrows, clearly showing her confusion. A beauty like her was probably not used to people reacting this way, no matter how ridiculous the words coming out of her mouth were.

"I don't see anything funny here." She even had the audacity to sound slightly offended by his snort, as if she was in the right and Harry was the uneducated dot. Normally, Harry would have made more of an effort to play along, but he was tired and already too fed up with these fantasy-obsessed maniacs to care.

"I don't believe in magic," Harry stared at her over his oval shaped glasses, as a Headmaster would stare at a misbehaving student; disappointed and exasperated. "I believe in science and its power to explain away anything that you might consider...magical." He said the last word with a snort of derision, his disgust with the concept of magic as clear as day.

"That's too bad," Alice bit her bottom lip before sighing a little, "So much potential wasted."

She didn't explain what she had meant and since Harry had already classed her as someone who had their head stuck permanently in fantasyland, he didn't particularly want to ask. She'll probably sprout some nonsense about prophecies or him being destined to be a great wizard like that one student did a few years ago.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"If there is nothing else, I'm a busy man so please show yourself out." A little rude, he admitted but straight to the point. He didn't want to give her any more encouragement to stay and say her piece.

Alice stood up then and left without another word.

Harry was frankly a little surprised by how easy it was, but before he could think more of it, the door the woman had closed behind her opened again and his assistant Jeremy walked in.

As he handed over a folder to Harry, he gave him a what-was-that look.

"Who knows?" Harry laughed, accepting the documents, "Another whacko I guess. Such a waste though."

"So close-minded Dr. Potter," the assistant laughed as well, leaning down to pick a few things that had fallen off Harry's overburdened desk, "And you call yourself an new-age man."

"No idea what you mean." Harry opened the folder and glanced over its content. "These are the questions from Times Magasine?"

"Yes, to prepare you for next week's interview," Jeremy replied somewhat distractedly. Harry looked up from his paper to see what had attracted his assistant's attention.

"What is that?" he asked when he noticed the young man holding an ancient-looking stone tablet.

"Don't know," he shrugged, "You visitor must have left it behind. Do keep it safe. It looks important and expensive. She may be back later to retrieve it."

"Sure," Harry accepted the item and put it in his briefcase to bring home. "Thanks. I'll ask the security guys tomorrow if they have a way to contact her."

He got up and stretched, wincing a little when he heard a few creaks from his weary bones.

"Get some sleep Dr. Potter," the assistant said before leaving, "You look like a zombie with those bags under your eyes. And stop stressing too much about the interview, it's just an Times Man of the Year piece; didn't you do that once before?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry waved his concern away with a hand, "Good night Jeremy."

He returned his attention to his computer once Jeremy was gone, the stone tablet already forgotten.

Magic, Harry scoffed later that night, lying in his king-sized bed when his mind unexpectedly wondered back to his female visitor. How utterly ridiculous.

TBC