The Winged Wolf Chapter 1, a Harry Potter + Avengers Crossover fanfic

Chapter One: Rough Start and New World

A very wise wizard once said that "Death is just another path, one that we all must take", and like a certain wizard, I fell through fire and water to meet that path. Plane crashes into the ocean with burning engines will tend to give that effect, though unlike Gandalf, I had no Balrog to slay at my end. Though the next thing I know, I'm waking up and looking around myself to see a forest, silver light bathing the landscape, casting pitch black shadows.

Rolling over to try and get up I pause, seeing that as I look down, the hands of a child are what meet my sight, rather than my own adult hands. Yet when I think of my own hands, I realize I can't remember just who I am, my hearting beating like a drum in my chest at the realization.

Forcing myself to take a deep, shuddering breath I try to think back, to what I can remember and what seems to be missing. I remember the black and white keys of a piano, the soft cords of Chopin's etude Op. 25 No. 11, the Winter Wind making their introduction before merging into a passionate descending arpeggio. Fire running up my spine and lighting from my fingers as they played out Rachmaninoff's concerto no. 2, the orchestra crescendoing behind me. Music was a never-ending passion for me, piano my form of expression, and using my voice on the side as well, emotion given form. But my name? Like smoke long gone, not even a hint to what was. My family? My friends? Anything that could be about me, not even a whisper in a crowd, simply a void of what might have been. A child anew.

I know I loved to read everything from fiction to fanfiction, taking it all in, and living in a world of what could be. Harry Potter was a great love of mine, having read the books more than once and devoured fanfiction after fanfiction, but I read all kinds of stories, and watched a plethora of movies and TV, all of it being a way to bring color and fun to the world. A woman lost in music and fantasy, but through all of that, nothing could shed light on who I was, simply my passion and what I liked, bringing a hollow feeling to my chest.

Working to get up again I stumble slightly, the shadowing seeming to darken and crawl towards me, a black tar creeping forward, making the world around me spin. Falling again, I have to grab my head, memories of who I am now and how I got here filling my mind like a torrential flood. Potter. Harry Potter? No, Elizabeth Violet Potter, that's, that's who I am now.

I remember the Dursleys, being treated like their slave, tossed underneath the cupboard under the stairs like unwanted trash. Freak! Trash! Burden! Monster! All of these being hurled at me, used like a name, unworthy of a real one unless in front of others. The burn of leather on my back, the meaty of sweat covered fist of my uncle, the dull agony of broken bones, and coppery scent of my own blood permeating the air. Ah! Four years! Four years the slave and whipping girl of my aunt and uncle, my cousin learning from them, pushing me when he could. Vernon with his burning leather belts and heavy fists, Petunia with her toxic words and blatant loathing, and even Dudley, my cousin, learning along the way. My own faster than average healing doing its part to hide the damage after about a week, a curse and a blessing.

But where? How did I get here? But as soon as the question rang through my head, the answer surfaced, a memory tying to hide away, a beaten puppy shying away from the approaching hand. Vernon took us to Japan, his company looking into new and better technology to deal with their drill bits. Though complaining about not needing any foreign machines or the help of foreigners, he took us all to meet with the business in question. Soon after the meeting started the deal quickly fell through, Vernon's atrocious manners and obvious disdain of the Japanese man playing into that largely, but in the mind of the fat walrus, I was to blame.

ΩΩΩ

"You little freak! It's all your fault! If it wasn't for you and your freakishness dirtying this good family, we wouldn't be in this situation!" He ranted, his rage casting a red hue over his face.

"B-but…" I tried to say, but he went on, ignoring me.

"Dealing with bloody japs and asking for their help. British made should be good enough! But no. Even now, your freakishness is ruining my good name, making this deal fall through!" He raged, spittle flying from his mouth like rain.

"A freak, just like her no-good parents Vernon, we should never have taken her in" Petunia said snidely, her face scrunched up like she smelt something foul, or saw her own reflection.

"I will not have it! I won't have this freak with this family any longer! Not if I have anything to say about it" Vernon shouted, veins bulging, a vicious sheen building up on his forehead.

"Vernon?" Petunia asked, confusing marring her brow.

"I will not have this blight on this family any longer Petunia, the freak has to go!" he harshly whispered to his wife, a scowl plain to see.

She seemed to pause, hesitating before looking at my trembling form, looking at my bright emerald green eyes, like two jewels, at my pitch black hair that is slightly wild but beautiful nonetheless, a pretty young girl by any standard, the horrors of my life hidden underneath my clothes. Her eyes hardened, filling with foul loathing. "Fine!" she hissed out, "But it can't be leaked back to us. Just get rid of the freak, I'll look after Diddykins while you're gone."

With that he pulled me into the rented car and started driving, me shivering in the seat next to him as we drove and drove and drove, eventually passing a sign, the name Aokigahara written underneath the Japanese writing at the top. After a two-hour drive and thirty minutes going off road, delving deeper and deeper into the forest he pulled to a stop, getting out and pulling me with him soon after.

"Taking you into my home out of the goodness of my heart was the worst mistake I ever made" he muttered, pulling me along with a firm grip on my arm. "But no more! No more of your freakishness, and no more blight on this family" he said, glaring down at me, a pale silver light over his face, casting the shadows of his scowl all the deeper.

B-but, uncle V-verno-" I tried to plead, but was interrupted with a harsh slap in return, seeing him pull out a small knife from the pack at his waist, ice filling my veins at the sight.

"Die here and maybe you can finally do the world some good, freak" he said, thrusting the knife into me right after, pulling it out with a grunt. Seeing me fall to the damp forest floor he muttered a "good riddance" before walking away.

As I lay there, looking into the night sky, I wondered why it didn't hurt besides the first sharp stab, now feeling just a deep cold filling me. The beautiful symphony of light above me a small comfort as the chill and shadows pervaded my body, my eyes dropping as a bone deep tiredness filled me. So deep was the weight of sleep upon my eyes, that I didn't even notice the freely weeping wound suddenly close up at an astonishing speed, the dark already claiming my mind.

ΩΩΩ

So, he tried to kill me, I recalled, the shock chilling my body for a moment, just as it washed over my mind, tears freely falling, but no real shock as well. I guess I came to a world with one of the worse iterations of the Dursley's, and considering everything they put me through, I can't feel to much shock at what he did, though some surprise that he was willing to go that far still whispered through my mind. And it was to me, that everything happened, because I have some bone deep surety of that.

I feel like this is my life, that it all happened to me, rather than feeling like I took over the life of someone else. At best, I can guess reincarnation with what memories I have now awakened after the attack, though the how or why still alludes me. But I remember that stab clearly, I can still remember that pain before the bone deep coldness of shock and blood-loss, but I feel fine now, better than I have felt in a long time actually.

Looking down at where the wound should have been, I see unblemished skin, though stained crimson from the attack. Looking over the rest of my body, I don't see any of the old scars or new bruises that should have littered me like Jackson Pollock painting imagined by a cenobite. Though outside of something like accidental magic, I can't figure out how I'm healed, and seeming in good health for once in a long time. No longer looking like a starving five-year-old, I look like a normal one, albeit a short girl at maybe three foot two inches.

Yet if accidental magic was the case, I don't know why it didn't help more before, outside slightly faster healing, but maybe it wasn't pushed enough? For now I put the thought to the side, not being able to find any answer, and more memories start surfacing, memories of my dad and mom.

I remember by dad holding me close, dancing around the house, prancing with pride at me, having already turned his hair pink with a short burst of magic, even so young. I remember seeing his form blur, enlarging into a great stag, much to my awe and giggles at the time, watching him strut around the yard before turning back and picking me up with a smile.

The warmth of his smile as I make my toys float and fly on the obstacle course that was our room on the small toy broom my godfather Sirius got me. The stinging hexes my mom cast at the both of them, showed she found the ordeal far less amusing.

And my mom, holding me close, the heat of her body enveloping me, the soft melodic hum her lullaby (N1), making my eyes heavy and my heart feel safe. The wave of her wand, showing a shower of colorful harmless sparks and waltzing toys, even as the scent of brewed potions and cut herbs cling to her hands and hair. How she carried me around the house, holding me close, all the while trying to hide the worry behind her eyes at her family being targeted by the worst Dark Lord in history.

How she always gazed at me with warmth in her eyes, even as she held my dad close, whispered conversations holding hints of stress and fear. Yet through it all, they showed me in an endless love, filled with honeyed words and flower like kisses, doing their best to keep the approaching evil of the world away from me.

The easy and mirthful smiles of my godfather every time he visited, happy to swing me about the room or cuddle close to me in his grim form. Bashful and small smiles from Remus as he carefully held me from time to time, as if I was made of the most fragile glass in the world. But they both were family to my dad and mom, the Marauders together facing a deadly war, and doing their best to keep its hungry maw away from me. I loved them all so much it hurt, because they were my world, my everything, they were mine, my pack.

Even as the sniveling rat worried in the background of it all, consumed by fear and jealousy, the silent poison infecting my family, bringing death. A man who grew up with them who was supposed to be their friend, betraying it all because of the fear poisoning his mind, the rabid jealousy of the friends surrounding him doing so much better than he could, even as they helped support him. Thinking of it all, I am pulled down into my memory like an unfightable ocean current, ready to drown in the pain that's to come.

I was warm and happy in my bed and that's when I heard it, the door downstairs exploding as my mom was tucking me in.

"Lily, take Elizabeth and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" I heard my dad yell, before hearing a quick exchange of spell-fire.

"Avada Kedavra" Voldemort spoke hearing my dad falling soon after, his heart still.

'No! No! He's mine! You can't take him!' I scream inside my mind as I look back at what happened.

My mom comes close to my crib, tears in her eyes, but a resolute look hardening them all the same, like a blade drawn and ready to protect me.

"Elizabeth, you are so loved. Mama loves you. Dada loves you. Elizabeth, be safe. Be strong." My mother whispers to me, the tears finally falling from her eyes.

'No! Please No! He can't take you mom, please!' I cry out inside my head, tears pouring from my eyes, sorrow constricting my throat like a vice, knowing I can't change the past, but feeling the raw pain of loss like a salted wound, still fresh as the memory replays in my mind. These memories chocking me and crushing my heart.

"I wove you" I say, and she smiles, such a beautiful smile full of love before the door to my room explodes and she turns around, standing in the ritual circle hidden by the carpet.

"Not Elizabeth, not Elizabeth, please not Elizabeth!" my mother cries out as Voldemort points his wand at both of us.

"Stand aside you silly girl!" Voldemort yells at her, giving her an unsaid choice to live or die.

"Not Elizabeth, please no, take me, kill me instead" my mother cries out, making my eyes burn with tears and my heart break.

"Fine. Avada Kedavra" Voldemort says and laughs as my mother drops to the floor.

'You killed her. You took her from me. She was mine! My mother! Mine! And you. Took. Her. From. Me!' I say, rage and hatred burning inside me like the strongest acid at the memory. She was the only mother I knew, she loved me, took care of me, and he took her from me.

My crib shaking from my magic as Voldemort points his wand at me. A sickening smile spreads across his face as he looks at my shacking crib, already starting to crack, knowing he made the right choice in choosing me to end.

"Avada Kedavra" he says, before his eyes widen in shock as the green spell shoots back at him after hitting me, destroying him, and causing a wound on my head, unbeknownst to either of us, burning away the ritual circle hidden away. But as soon as the spell hits me my magic lashes out, my will, and desire for my mom fueling it, touching her soul and tethering it, filling me with warmth and love.

If magic can rip and tear a soul, locking it away into an object, why can't accidental magic tether a newly released soul? If Voldemort did something before the attack, preparing to make another soul anchor, that magic could help prepare the way even more to connect me and mom together.

When Voldemort screams in agony and fear for a moment before being vaporized, I feel some kind of connection through my magic with my mom. At that moment a black wraith of Voldemort manifests before fleeing with a scream of terror, and a small shadow breaks from the wraith and heads toward me. But my mother was closer, and her soul takes the place the wraith tried to go, and it dies screaming as my magic holds the soul of my mother close.

ΩΩΩ

Coming back to myself from my memories I find myself on my damp knees, my throat and eyes momentarily sore before the feeling quickly fades. As I open my eyes, I see my hands on the ground, fisted from the rage and sorrow I felt coursing through me, but more to my shock, I see two blades from each hand sticking out from my fists, a slight pain just now coming to me at their exit.

"What the hell?" I say, shock taking place over my previous rampant emotions, as I look down at the four blades below me, glinting a dull silver as they protrude from between my knuckles, an empty space between them. Having felt that same dull sting in my feet, two blades piece the ground behind me as they jut before my feet, coming out between my big toes. All of them look to be about six inches in length if I had to guess.

"What the hell!" I repeat, an almost high pitch whine ringing through the air at my incredulity at what I'm seeing. I relax my hands and feet slowly, feeling all six blades slowly retracting back into me, sheathed inside my limbs, a sharp cutting pain following in their wake. Though after everything I have suffered already, the pain was largely ignorable, even if noticeable.

Getting up again I make my way to a tree near me, my back cooling with the wetness of my shirt as I lean against it. Bringing my right hand in front of my face, I make a fist, flexing new muscles in my forearm and wrist, slowly pushing the two blades out again. Seeing their metallic shine, a finger from my left hand quickly healing as I test their sharpness before putting them away again.

Looking into the night sky, glowing lights strew across the dark like diamonds, another quote from Gandalf occurs to me. Seeing the beauty overhead, I think silently, "Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life-age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I have been sent back, until my task is done." Fitting I have to think, having been given a new start for some reason, even if most of my old life is lost to me.

This is going to be one hell of a new life for me, in a brand-new world.

Note 1: The Lullaby that is being sung here is from Pan's Labyrinth, called a Long, Long Time Ago.