Heeeeyyyyy!
WARNING VERY SLIGHT SWEARING
I DON'T OWN THE AVENGERS OR HARRY POTTER!
THIS STORY IS SLASH AS THOSE ARE THE ONLY VOTES I HAVE AT THE IS UP UNTIL THE END OF JANUARY, PEOPLE!
So, to those who have asked why I hate Wanda, it's because she worked for HYDRA for YEARS, was planning on torturing and murdering the Avengers, and messed with their minds. After all of that, everybody was just like "meh, whatever, you said sorry, so you can join us" and the Avengers all act like she's about 3 and can't make her own decisions! I'm 15 for God's sake, and I'm more mature!
Rant over.
So, for the votes, we have:
Loki/Harry: 16
: 1
Harry/Peter: 1
Harry/Bucky: 1
Loki/ Steve: 1
Loki/Tony: 1
For people who have asked why there is even a pairing, it is because the pairing is a side note. This story's second half will be about Loki and Harry healing, with their love interest helping them along the way.
Story of the post – Tricksters and Gods by sakurademonalchemist. It's a Harry Potter/Avengers crossover.
Thank you to TinyFox2 for pointing out grammatical errors in my story - if you see any, please correct me - I'm only 15! (Updated 15/02/2019)
On with the story!
Chapter Two: In Which Death Is Harry's BFFL
The battle was over.
The war was won.
Harry walked amid the wreckage, unseen under Death's own cloak.
The desolation and rubble of the battle were already being cleared away, the walls of the beautiful castle repairing. Yet nothing could bring back the dead.
During the Horcrux Hunt, Harry had come to realize a few things – such as what a conniving bastard one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore really was.
He'd handed Harry the keys to his own death. He had sent Harry to live at the Dursleys, even if he was not 'as well-nourished' as he wanted – meaning that never mind the fact that there were other, more powerful Wards than Blood Wards, Harry was sent back to the Dursleys to be starved and abused time and again – moulded into Dumbletwat's little pawn.
It was times like this that Harry wished that dear old Dumbletwat wasn't dead – so that he could kill him himself.
Unable to remain with the dead anymore, Harry apparated away, through the shattered Wards of Hogwarts.
A wild gale was blowing on the cliff top, the pop of Apparation barely distinguishable as Harry appeared – still under his Cloak.
When he couldn't hold it in anymore, Harry screamed.
It was long and loud, full of pain and agony and despair, his magic fluctuating around him in distress.
He just wanted it to be over.
But then he laughed wildly, the note containing more than a little hysteria. But he couldn't fucking die, could he?
In the Way Between Worlds, he had been filled with a sense of knowledge – the Curses that Ignotus Pevrell had placed on the Hallows had been broken, and his title was less Master Of Death, more that person that Hel gossips to when she's in a particularly bitchy mood.
When he had awoken after the battle, he had been unsurprised to find the Wand in his hands, the Stone – now beautiful and glimmering – on his finger, and the Cloak around his shoulders, visible because he willed it to be.
Even unsurprised, though, he was slightly creeped out. How the hell had they even gotten there?
As the weeks went on, the world repaired itself. Harry, however, didn't, and an unsettled seed began to grow.
Hogwarts wasn't his home anymore. And the time would soon come for him to leave.
As months passed, the seed grew to a burning itch in the back of his mind, an itch that could never be soothed.
So he obeyed the urge.
After creating an Undetectable Extension Charm on a runner's wrist wallet (so much more conspicuous) Harry packed his things and placed it on his wrist, the Hallows safely within.
On Halloween, Harry knew that it was time to go.
Solemnly, he donned the Hallows, as they had been when he had awoken. He had no goodbyes to say, for they had already discreetly been written, left on his pillow at Hogwarts dormitory.
He Apparated to the cliff top that he had let his emotions out on, so so long ago.
He smiled, and then fell forwards, Cloak rippling in the wind caused by his fall.
And so Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James, Master of Death, greeted Hel as his BFFL, and was never seen again.