SHIT GETS SERIOUS
"I don't understand," Stephen Strange almost shouted, pulling off his cloak, which only proceeded to wrap around him again. Harry groaned, also frustrated, with the lack of progress, and also with the sentient cloak.
"Why don't you try again?" Harry suggested, trying to remember how it was to coach Dumbledore's Army back at Hogwarts. Maybe if he treated Strange the same way, he would respond better to his tutelage?
"I have, about fifty times!" Strange rubbed the bridge of his nose. Harry licked his lips then gestured for the man to sit. He did so, and focused his entire concentration on Harry. They had been at this for about four hours, trying to get Strange to do a simple wengardium leviosa, using his core magic, and not the universal magic, or whatever he called it.
"Look I grew up with magic inside of me. I didn't know what it was until I was told at eleven that I was a wizard, but I sometimes subconsciously used it when in distress or… well, mainly in distress. I hated a haircut I once got, and it all grew back overnight. My cousin chased me when I was just a kid and out of complete desperation, I apparated — a sort of teleportation — onto the school's roof. Maybe we have to incite emotion, and not just focus on will?"
"Have you considered that maybe we don't have the same magic, and therefore I may not be able to cast your spells? You seem to cast it directly from a centralised magical core that you were born with..." Strange mused. He began to chew his nails thoughtfully, but his cloak's collar slapped him; Strange actually looked offended at his own attire, reminding Harry how wonderfully peculiar the magical world was.
"I did," Harry replied. "But then again, I was able to cast that spell with... what do you call it? Sling Ring?"
Strange hummed in thought, then seemed to gather his wits, because he nodded to show that he was going to renew his attempts to pay attention. Harry hesitantly began to explain his magic as best he could. He had never been the best student at theory, but perhaps if he drew his teaching from all the practice he'd had battling Voldemort over the years...
"We have a spell called the cruciatus curse — essentially invisible torture — but can only be cast when feeling intense hatred… There's this other spell, called a patronus that can only be cast if you are feeling something peaceful or happy, usually when remembering an emotion. I think of my parents, how happy we could have been and… well I'm not even sure if what I'm thinking of is a real memory…" Harry trailed off,
"Your parents are dead?" Stephen asked slowly. "So you are really an orphan?"
They were drifting off topic again.
"I have my aunt and her family, but yeah, I'm all alone." Sadness swept across his face, soon replaced with a twinge of hatred. "But they're not exactly accepting of my magic."
Strange sighed. "Well, kid, I find it fascinating. So don't go beating yourself up for something you can't help. If they couldn't accept that, then they're the one's with the problem."
"Thank you, Strange."
"For God's sake. It's either Stephen or Doctor."
"You're not technically a doctor," Harry countered cheekily. Stephen rolled his eyes.
"I have a PhD," he reminded the wizard. Strange pinched the bridge of his nose and then refocused on the task at hand. Whilst their banter was amusing to both of them, they seemed to be wasting a lot of time on it. "You mentioned you use wands?"
"Yeah, we use wands most of the time for everything. I kinda lost my wand when I was transported here, so I've been practicing with wandless magic. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe it's just taking you longer because one, you've never used the muscle that is your magical core, and two you're attempting to do it wandlessly…" Harry mused, partially to himself, partially to attempt to elucidate the situation.
"Look, my mother… she died saving me, and it was her feeling of love for me that actually powered the spell that saved me. I know emotion actually often helps power certain spells... uh... do… you love anyone?" Harry felt somewhat foolish saying this, but even he used his friendship with Ron and Hermione to fuel his magic sometimes.
A strange look crossed Stephen's expression and he briefly looked away from the intense gaze that Harry was directing on him. Realising he actually had someone in mind, Harry nodded his head to the pigeon feather that he'd found on the pavement outside.
"When you're ready," Harry murmured and relaxed back into his armchair. It took a few minutes of silence until suddenly… the feather seemed to be picked up in a breeze which allowed it to zoom up into the air. It floated in front of them at eye-level before suddenly falling to the ground. Stephen released a breath he'd been holding an turned his elated smile on Harry.
"Teach me more!"
Harry gave him a small frown.
"Ah, you did say a spell for a spell," Harry pointed out. Strange frowned to, but then acquiesced, deciding to teach his first offensive spell.
Harry grinned and leaned forwards, eager to learn. Oh, Hermione would be proud.
.
Snow crunched under his feet as he returned to the orphanage by foot — a long trek. But the subway had shut down for the night, so Harry was condemned for a very long walk which included a lot of sneaking around and away from police cars patrolling the streets.
Eventually, he managed to reach the doors to the orphanage and had to pick the lock — Ned had been very kind to show him how the mechanics of one worked, evidently not intending for Harry to learn how he could manipulate his magic to turn it. So when Harry quietly shut the door behind him and began to move in complete darkness, he was very shocked when he found the silhouette of the matron standing in the doorway. She flicked on a switch and instantly, the main hall was flooded with light.
Harry stood there, like a deer caught in headlights as he looked around for inspiration to explain his absence. The matron continued regarding him with a stern expression that bode nothing good.
Mrs. Burt continued to stare at him critically and only when Harry opened his mouth to speak, did she herself speak.
"Mr. Potter, this is unacceptable! What in God's name were you doing out of the orphanage at this time?!" Of course, she had to drag God into it; then again, this was a catholic orphanage of sorts.
"I was taking a walk," Harry said slowly. The matron continued to stare at him skeptically.
"I understand that this time has been rough for you; you are an orphan who can remember nothing about his life. You have had to adapt to a whole new culture… but this is excessive rebellion!"
Well, she was blunt. Harry opened his mouth to speak but again, she beat him to it.
"Your escapade to Boston also didn't go unnoticed; we excused you that time, as you were new, and you came back. But these late night escapades have become very excessive. I don't care if you're meeting God Himself, but you must be here by curfew. He can visit you in your dorm!"
Harry bowed his head, feeling not in the least sorry. She continued to eye him skeptically.
"You are grounded for two weeks: you will come here directly after school, sign off with Amanda, when go to your room and do your homework. You shall not leave the orphanage if not for school or an outing organised by the matrons. Is this understood?"
Harry gave a slow nod as he simultaneously thought of ways he could leave the orphanage that weren't the main door. Well, he'd always been a rebel, after all.
"Ma'am, it is Christmas next week—"
"Three weeks!" she interrupted. Harry shut his mouth before she could add on anymore weeks. She glowered at him, reminding him very much of Snape. A female Snape. Ew. Even her nose was hooked and her silver hair was greasy.
She paced for a moment, and Harry watched her without moving another inch.
"A gentleman came by today looking for you. He says that he's interested in adopting you." The 'of all people' seemed to go unsaid.
"Adopting me?" Harry replied incredulously. The only adults he knew in this universe were his teachers, Strange, and only briefly, Stark.
"The annual adoption meeting will take place on Monday. Potential adoptive parents come to take a look at their potential children, meet them and find out what their interests are. You will attend in your best clothes. You will be polite, and you will listen to what Mr. Barton has to say. Is this understood?"
Harry nodded slowly, still deep in his thoughts. Mrs. Burt gave him a gesture that said he could go and he scrambled up the stairs, eager to get away from female-Snape. He was almost in bed, when his phone rang — a cheap old thing he'd managed to get a second hand store.
Harry grabbed it, and jogged over to the nearest broom closet, unwilling to wake up his roommate, who already hated him enough.
"Hello?" he whispered into the receiver.
"Harry, thank God. Harry, you have to come quick—" Ned's voice whispered back, very urgently.
"Whoa, Ned, slow down," he murmured back, wanting to placate him, before the boy got even more hysterical.
"You have to help us! Please, come over right now."
"Ned, it's three am. I'm grounded, and I swear, if this emergency is something like getting tickets for comic-con—"
"Goddamnit let me finish! Peter's in trouble… he's not answering his comm, and Happy won't pick up. I tried to call Mr. Stark but—"
Harry straightened in the closet, posture straightening, mind sharpening, even through his exhaustion from his lesson with Strange. He felt an odd sensation of complete calmness and straightforwardness overtake him, much like what happened when he had stormed the Ministry with his friends.
"Ned. Calm down," he commanded quietly, but seriously. Ned instantly stopped rambling mid-sentence. Harry even heard an audible snap of his jaw.
"Where's Peter, where did you loose track of him?"
Ned told him the location; a small industrial building on the outskirts of Queens. Peter had been stalking some sort of chemicals manufacturer, the father of a friend of his from Comiccon. A kid called Harry too. Harry Osborn.
"Meet me just 'round the corner."
Harry cancelled the call, took off his shoes and tied the shoelaces together. He slung them over his shoulder and began to discreetly and almost soundlessly dance around the creaky bits of the hallway. If he was going to go into a dangerous situation, he had to preserve what little magical strength he had managed to retain after his lesson with Strange.
When Harry finally reached the end of the hallway, where the fire-escape was, he channeled his magic into it and with some intent, the lock cracked open. He wondered what the purpose of a locked fire-escape could be.
He managed to slip through the open glass door, managing to just not trigger an alarm of sorts, and again quickly climbed down the fire-escape. Reaching the pavement outside, he glanced at his phone and realised that Ned had sent him the location. Modern technology was fantastic.
Using all of his might, and some of his magic to boost his adrenaline and physical performance, Harry jogged all the way to the place that Ned had indicated. It wasn't close and it took him almost twenty minutes to get there. When he finally did, he found Ned already waiting.
"Ned!" Harry whispered, but at this time of night, a simple whisper was almost as loud as a shout during the day. The boy instantly spun; he was carrying a tablet of some sort and there was a head-set attached to his ear. He tossed Harry the earpiece he had requested. He instantly put it in.
"Peter's in there?" Harry poked his head around the corner and viewed the building critically. It was one of those steel industrial buildings and it looked somewhat abandoned.
"I lost contact with him. They seem to be blocking all signals."
"So this will be basically useless," Harry said gesturing at the earpiece. Ned nodded grimly.
"Unless you manage to get rid of the dampener, yes. But I thought it'd be useful anyway."
"Right," Harry murmured before taking another glance around the corner, casing the place. He could see a man pretending to be a drunk sitting next to the door. But he had a large bag and was evidently holding something within. A gun, probably.
"You were right to call me, Ned." He took a step back.
"I couldn't think of anyone else… I don't want to go in alone."
"Oh, you're not going in," Harry said drawing his eyebrows together. The boy stared at him.
"Look, I'm going to need you out here. If I don't get out in the next fifteen minutes, call the police. Understand?" he said sternly, using that tone that allowed him to command Dumbledore's Army. Maybe this was what Hermione called his leadership-skills. Ned nodded quickly, confirming this.
"B-but… how are you—"
"Ned, I'm going to have to ask you not to tell anyone about what I can do."
"What can you d—" Ned was cut off when Harry disappeared into thin air. Harry had only intensely wished not to be seen… and suddenly he wasn't, but to Ned, he supposed, it looked like he'd simply disappeared.
"…Harry?" Ned asked, seemingly into thin air.
"I'm right here," said the wizard, startling Ned, who actually jumped in shock. "As I said, I have abilities. I'm not completely helpless. Stay alert, keep trying to get Happy."
Before the teenager could reply, Harry had rushed off. He walked around to the other side of the building where he found a window without bars of some sort. Unlocking that with his magic, he managed to fit through. It was a tight fit, but he supposed this was the first time that the Dursley's maltreatment to him had actually come as advantage.
He crawled out into what looked like a garbage room, with chutes and carts full of… string? Had this been a textilefactory at some point? Harry took the nearest steps and silently cracked open the first door. Instantly, his small corridor was flooded with light.
The main room was completely lit up: they had boarded up the windows in an effort to conceal the fact that anyone was here.
This warehouse, or factory, had been converted into a sort of base centre of operations. Everywhere he looked, Harry could see muggle weapons, metal boxes with the proper padding for more fragile and explosive objects. Harry peeked over one such case and immediately crouched back down so as not to be seen.
The scene that had revealed itself to him was not been pleasant indeed: standing around Harry were four men. Three of them were obviously the henchmen to the fourth one. They stood to his attention like Death Eaters did to Voldemort; it was quite unnerving. As Harry watched, the remaining, the leader, looking as though someone had changed all the colours in him to their mirrored negative, pranced forwards and nicked Peter across the forearm.
As for Peter… well, he seemed unconscious, although it was hard to tell as his mask was still on. His head had lolled to his side and the only thing keeping him in his wooden chair was a rope tied around his wrists, and another one around his ankles.
Casting an even stronger disillusionment-type charm on himself, Harry took his first experimental step forwards. None of the criminals even looked at him.
The leader had stepped forwards and was collecting a dribble of blood seeping from Peter's would. What in the world…?
Harry continued sneaking towards Peter and eventually managed to sneak up behind his friend. He held his breath, trying not to make a single shift in the air-quality. Up close, the leader was even more terrifying than he had previously thought: there wasn't an ounce in him that made him look human… except for the vaguely human body parts. His skin glittered with a silver-grey sort of quality.
The three henchmen all looked alike and stood with a zombie-like attentiveness, as though they were under an imperio.
Harry licked his lips nervously and then began untying the ropes. Making sure that the henchmen hadn't seen the action, he continued to hold them in place, but untied, so as to fool them for a second longer. After all, it would look rather odd to them if the roped just suddenly dropped from Peter's hands.
Then in one fluid motion, he cast three petrificus totalus in quick succession. They dropped like flies. Their leader stalked over to Peter, but Harry was quick to pull his friend off of the chair; he cast an invisibility charm on him too, making it seem like they had disappeared. Casting another charm on Peter to make him less heavy than he was, Harry proceeded to run out of the place.
In panic, he ran directly back to Ned. Somewhere along the way, his magic failed, unable to sustain an invisibility charm on himself and Peter, and simultaneously make him lighter. After all, he had only just started to develop his wandless magic.
"Harry!" Ned called around the corner. Harry slung Peter over his shoulder. Suddenly, he didn't seem so light. That charm seemed to failing as well.
"Ned! Ned! Ned! Please tell me Happy's here!"
Speak of the Devil, Harry thought just as a car pulled up to them; a window rolled down and Happy's face popped up.
"So, what's the emerg—"
Harry and Ned exchanged a glance and the latter threw open the back door. Harry threw Peter in and then dragged himself and Ned right in behind the Spiderman.
"Drive, Happy. DRIVE!" Ned shouted. At this moment, Harry saw the figure of the leader pop out of the house, via exploding-a-window on the ground floor.
"What the hell!?"
"JUST BLOODY DRIVE!" Harry hollered, causing the man to jump in his seat and unquestioningly put the car into first gear, then quickly shift upwards in gear as the car gained speed.
As they left this warehouse behind, Harry turned his gaze on Peter. Ned had removed his mask and was putting pressure on the wound on his forearm. Harry bit his lip, feeling a deep sense of foreboding as Peter's eyes fluttered open, revealing a hazed, and zombie-like gaze.
IM EVIL.
NED KNOWS, PETER IS... well, not gonna tell just yet... HAPPY WILL HAVE QUESTIONS... and well everyone will fear Aunt May's wrath.
Harry's magic is steadily strengthening and improving. Necessity is the mother of invention, after all :)
Comic book fans will hopefully recognise our villain as Mr. Negative :) I've decided to change around some details, because some things in comic books just don't work well in prose...
I set up a poll... if you read some of my other stories, you might be interested in taking part, because I shall pander to the audience this one time :)
As a side note, I'm a slight bit behind my year mates where computer skills are concerned, so I am spending (and will continue to spend) a massive amount of time on learning how to use VectorWorks, archiCAD, autoCAD, Sketchup, etc. So if my eyes are red, and my hands hurt, I will not write that day... (and I tend to write a few paragraphs most days)
Anonymous reviews:
Guest: I know exactly what bespoke means and it is used correctly in the chapter, I checked, just for you :)
victoria: Well, Loki and Banner is technically tied up with Thor on that random planet tryna get the hell out of gladiator fighting. In any case, thank you so much!
Spiderparkerpete: Thank you!
Guest 2: Yeah, I always have problems with serious relationships between characters when they're like 14-15. Harry's only 15 in this story and tbh, I don't think relationships are on his mind... not in his own universe or this one. In any case, thank you for understanding!
Aki: hahahahah thank you!
M: haha yes, I was really interested in their contrasting magic-types.
HonestPuck: (is your name a reference to shakespeare :)?) Thanks! I really love Peter! Has been one of my fave in the MCU for years (yes, even Tobey Maguire...!). Stark is excruciating to write, though! but thanks!
Guest 3: ...how... am I this predictable?! Is this story so cliche?! *has existential crisis*