A/N: Welcome back to a new chapter! I really should stop trying to predict when I'm gonna update. I have next to zero self-control. And I can't have y'all hanging after the previous chapter!

We're going to go into a bit of the nitty-gritty hand wavy things now. So brace yourselves for anything that would either disappoint or surprise you. Especially to those leaning on the Marvel side of things (I've trashed HP canon since the start of this fic lol).

Chapter Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Thanos and his stuff, Hand Wavy EVERYTHING, Child Abuse?

ARC 1: CHAPTER 4
Eusebeia

-0-

When Harrhan took Thanos's hand, all he'd really thought about was that he couldn't let Gamora be alone in danger. Disregarding, of course, the meddling of the presence buried in his mind that now hummed with triumph and accomplishment. Harrhan still didn't know what to think about that.

Now, left alone in his new quarters (small and cramped but comfortable despite all it stands for—his new prison, cage, whatever) in the Mad Titan's ship, everything comes crashing down.

It didn't slam into him like a stampeding Hippogriff, per se, but rather the cold, numb feeling of ice running through his veins. It's the slow realization that echoes of disbelief and helplessness because it's been done.

He'd just willingly stood beside a murderer. He just went along doing nothing as if he was some coward who didn't know what was right or wrong. Yes, he felt bad, he felt guilty and angry, (and fear and trepidation and acceptance and many others that he shouldn't) but feeling wouldn't do anything for those people he condemned.

Harry Potter would have done something. He should have done something.

But.

He's jaded, he's broken.

He's tired and aching and lost and confused.

Harrhan might have been Harry Potter, but Harry Potter had died when his loved ones—his family—burned into nothing. Harry Potter died when he'd reaccepted Death, no matter his continuing existence.

And Harrhan—

Harrhan had nothing. He had his life as Harry Potter, his life surviving in the slums of Zen-Whoberi, and there was something going on with Shadom and Gamora. (But was all of that really something?)

In the end, Harrhan didn't know who he was anymore.

-0-

They call it the Sanctuary.

It's a huge region of space that Thanos reigns over. It's where he keeps his army, hidden from all the realms and other galaxies.

Supposedly, it's their new home.

Harrhan thinks of a stone castle in the scottish highlands.

The Sanctuary is different, but Harrhan had always proved to be adaptable.

-0-

Gamora clings to him.

Harrhan thinks it's desperation and the need to stick close to who you know in such a foreign place. It could also be that she remembers him protecting her when their planet was attacked—Harrhan, associated with the feeling of safety.

(Hadn't he been like that already? A savior.)

Whatever her reasons, Gamora chose to stay close to him, practically forcing her company when she used to passive aggressively put distance between them.

It wasn't a gesture that he likes.

Harrhan's life had always revolved around being alone and isolated. Sure, he had Hedwig and Hermione and Ron and Hagrid, but the majority was spent in solidarity. Zen-Whoberi rarely allowed positive friendships to fester, if at all. He craved positive touch and company just as much as another person, but only on his own terms.

So he doesn't exactly like Gamora clinging to him.

But he knows where she's coming from, recognizes the need for stability and comfort. Comfort just happens to be something familiar and the only familiar thing is Harrhan. He doesn't like it but he lets it be.

(If just for the memory of Shadom, he would do it.)

-0-

Ebony Maw is a creature that oozes slick confidence and grace. He stands with pride and elegance, something that Harrhan could only describe as the nobility in the world he lived in so long ago. Upon reconsideration, Ebony Maw reminds him of Lucius Malfoy and his arrogance with power.

Harrhan wants to reserve judgement (he'd already made that mistake, he doesn't want it to happen again) but is finding it hard to do so.

"You are here because our Lord has chosen you to be his children," Ebony Maw preaches, his words drawn out and melodic. He pins Harrhan and Gamora with a disdainful and expectant stare. "You would do well to recognize the honor of even setting your eyes on him."

Then he went on a tirade of the might of the Titan Thanos.

It was… well, it was frightening.

Mad Titan. Destroyer of Worlds. Champion of Death.

Voldemort was nothing compared to Thanos.

-0-

They were set to train.

Being a Child of Thanos, being chosen by him, they were expected to be the best.

Harrhan finds the punishing pace they were put on to be a nice distraction. With his body being worked through until he couldn't stand, until he throws up in exhaustion, his mind didn't have the time to tangle itself into a knot that didn't include how to defeat an opponent that was so much stronger than him.

Thanos has chosen many children, picking off one for each planet he places his attention to (like some sort of demented trophy). Not all of them survive long. Him and Gamora were simply one of the better ones, quickly claiming a place far above the truly desperate.

Mercy has no significance in a place like this. Not when failing to reach their impossible expectations meant losing a part of yourself.

So Harrhan thrives.

(He loses himself there, too.)

He had always been good with fights, always been good at thinking on his feet.

(He'd been born to fight, been raised as a puppet. Gained purpose in war, death, then survival.)

It makes him think of quidditch, of the exhilarating feeling of flight and the rush of adrenaline in his veins. It also feels like falling hundreds of feet from the sky, his broom out of reach and with no one to catch him.

-0-

There's another little girl with them, Nebula.

Her skin is a pretty shade of blue that could rival Proxima Midnight's if given the chance to develop nicely.

Harrhan rarely, if ever, talked, so he can't say he knows her. She's a skittish little thing, eyes darting around in a never ending bid to see everything, sending suspicious and distrustful glances at anyone who comes near. He recognizes another desperate soul, clinging to what she perceives to be salvation.

(He'd been like that, once, when he'd discovered Magic and been swept into a fairytale, convinced an old man had been his savior. That betrayal still stung and ached like a fresh wound that wouldn't heal.)

Thanos, if anything, knew who to choose in the planets he destroys.

Except, maybe, Gamora.

Gamora has a ferocity that burned deep inside her. She's stubborn, headstrong, and knows what she wants. And what she wants is revenge. Harrhan could easily see the steel that has grown and molded over the gaping maw of loss. Perhaps that had also been what Thanos saw; her strength and will.

But she's still young. Gamora still had the naivety that comes with youth and a short lifetime of being cared for and loved. Harrhan had lost count of the times he had to cover up her mistakes born of stubbornness and lack of insight. (It's fine, that's fine. Harrhan was used to punishments. Let his pain be the lesson Gamora needs to learn rather than her own.)

Gamora clings harder when that happens.

(He remembers Ginny. Beautiful, wonderful Ginny and her fierce protectiveness and strength—remembers Hermione and Luna and Padma and Parvati and Lavender and Cho. Mrs. Weasley and Minerva McGonagall and Narcissa Malfoy. Faceless, but there.)

So when Nebula came, Harrhan pushed them together, pushed Gamora away because a part of him will always think he doesn't deserve anyone to be close with; recognizes that having this dependence on him will never allow her to flourish into what she can be. (He ignores that part still filled with hope and desperation. Ignores the loneliness and abandonment.)

He lets himself be the villain he used to be in her eyes.

"I don't need you," Harrhan whispers, smaller body pinning Gamora on the floor in their first spar against one another. Then he shoves the blade into her shoulder, spilling blood and winning their fight. He'd already broken her arms and thigh, but what they need is blood. He sees the pain, sees the utter betrayal on her face, the anger and that fire that ran through her veins. "You prove yourself nothing."

Harrhan smiles. It's broken and brittle, but sinister to the one he's aiming it at.

Maybe he'd destroyed what little innocence she has left. Maybe he'd destroyed the only positive hope she'd held close.

She needed it to grow in this twisted, forsaken place.

Compassion for compassion.

(I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry.)

"I have seen enough."

Harrhan pulls away and dutifully stands to the side, head lowered out of forced habit and shame at what he'd done.

Thanos doesn't move from his throne, staying in his seat like a king watching his subjects. Harrhan knows he'd watched with sharp eyes, focused on analyzing their movements and looking for weaknesses. The stakes had been high on this fight. No one said a word but Harrhan knows this had been one of those duels that end with one of them without another part of themselves.

"Take her away," Thanos says dispassionately, disappointedly.

Harrhan's eyes flicker to Gamora, watches as they drag her away without care for her injuries. His lips purse, suppressing the flinch at her screams.

At the corner of his sight, Harrhan sees Thanos rise, steps surprisingly light in spite of his size. Here, in this throne room and the entire Sanctuary, Thanos doesn't wear his battle armor. It doesn't detract anything from his presence. Thanos knelt down in front of him and forces him to look at his eyes.

"You have done well, my child," The gleam in Thanos's eyes matched the pride in his words. Harrhan tries to ignore the flicker of delight that lit up at the praise. (Had anyone ever praised him before?) "However, you seem to have been holding back."

Eyes wide and feeling himself pale, Harrhan swallows the no that wants to escape out of his mouth. He can't lie, not in front of the Titan. So he says, "Yes." instead.

Because he had been. Magic was an unfair advantage even without having to rely on the paltry tricks he can manage thus far. It can still make him stronger, faster than what Gamora can handle.

"Next time," There's a hint of warning in Thanos's tone, "You do not hold back."

Next time.

Harrhan doesn't know what to say, so he nods, following it with a soft "Yes father," when Thanos looks at him expectantly.

Thanos pats his head, stroking with—pride? Affection? Threat?—something gentle. (Harrhan fails to hold himself back from leaning into the touch.) There's a smile playing on his lips too, one that Harrhan couldn't read. "I'm sure Maw would take kindly to having another magic user in our family. He has been restless in this lull of peace."

Family.

Harrhan felt a pang of longing that he can't shove down with his unwanted feelings.

-0-

Ebony Maw doesn't take too kindly to it, but he's good at what he does. The best at what he does.

He wouldn't be one of the Black Order, one of Thanos's generals, if he wasn't.

It leaves Harrhan completely exhausted and always on the verge of his body giving up, but the ability to use his Magic, to break down the wall he himself had made that had been keeping them separate, was well worth everything that he had been through.

("You are too focused on your past," Ebony Maw reprimanded only with slight derision, contempt having been drained away the first few dozen of meetings they've had, because even he had his limits, "Leave that pathetic notion behind. You are here with our Lord, being given power you could have only dreamed of. Power you could wield as you see fit, to make the difference our Lord wants. Thanos is generous with his chosen."

There's a pause, Ebony Maw seeming to struggle before he snorts and pins him with an intense stare, "You have the strength. You have come far from the whelp you had been, Harrhan of Zen-Whoberi. Thanos favors you clearly, and I see why. Continue as you have and you will lose what goodwill I have of you."

It was as much of an acknowledgement as he can get from a prideful creature like Ebony Maw.

So Harrhan finally addresses his issues, spends more hours awake than he should, accepts what happened and what is happening. Because this had been his choice, and he had forgotten that fear wasn't enough to stop him.

It still hurts, still burns him with sorrow and guilt, but he doesn't let it consume him anymore.)

There's a hint of approval when Ebony Maw finally presents him to Thanos.

"My Lord, the child has proven himself worthy."

And the smile that painted Thanos's lips was nothing short of satisfaction and pride.

-0-

He doesn't see Gamora anymore.

-0-

Thanos took over his training.

He's leagues above Harrhan's capability, makes Ebony Maw seem like a bug compared to him. He's gentle and ruthless at the same time, holding back and pushing him to his limits and beyond.

Harrhan never wins, never manages to land a hit on the Titan, his days ending with more injuries than what he could survive. (Healing had been the first enhancement he had been through.)

But it's not hatred that burns through his veins, not shame or anger or frustration.

It's adrenaline, the thrill of the battle. With how many times he'd stared Death in the eyes, with how many times he'd felt he has fallen, this singular focus on becoming better, of becoming the best that he can be felt more fulfilling than anything else.

And in those moments, in those long and painful and bloody moments, Harrhan forgets who Thanos is, instead basking in the praises the Titan sends his way.

The Champion of Death and the Master of Death.

Harrhan feels the excitement of the long dormant presence buried underneath his mind.

-0-

Harrhan knelt before the massive throne, taller and years older than when he first stepped foot in the room. His body had reached the equivalent of what would have been the age of puberty for humans, long-limbed and deadly.

It's an odd concept, his body aging much, much slower than his human one had.

Harrhan had lived in this life for far longer than Harry Potter had ever been allowed to breathe.

Has it really been so long?

"Death clings to you, child," Thanos says instead of telling him to rise from his position. "Like a mother desperate to shroud her babe. I saw it, felt it, when you walked with me and your sister. It called to me and appealed for my protection until you are able to be yourself. I heeded its request. I trained you, gave you back the spark of life you have lost."

Harrhan raises his head at a gesture from the Titan.

(Obedience. Harry Potter had found it hard to be obedient, but he was—did—anyway. Harrhan finds it easier.)

"I think it is time, my son," Thanos presents him a scepter, elegantly curved and crafted beautifully in gold, a gem nestled between sharp blades, projecting to anyone sensitive to the subtle energies of Magic and seidr the power it holds. "To prove yourself to the world and what lies beyond."

Harrhan had nothing, hadn't known who he was.

Until he gained something and given who he could be.

He accepts the staff reverently, feeling everything in him sing with the power it held melding wonderfully with his, and the gem glowed brightly with the ever changing color of his Magic. The presence coos, made itself known to the power of the scepter and purrs with contentment. It feels familiar and foreign at the same time. Welcoming and cold, his yet not.

Mind, the presence whispered.

And Harrhan Knows what he'd been given.

"Rise, Harrhan, son of Thanos, and do me proud."

Harrhan smiles, a bright, genuine one that had never graced his face before, "I will not disappoint you, father."

Eusebeia - (Eὐσέβεια), spirit of piety, loyalty, duty, and filial respect

A/N: Ooooohhh.

Yeah.

That happened.

So.

The Mind stone. That's 90% me having no self-control and 10% an epiphany for plot purposes. I swear this isn't some overpowered shit (tho I mean, yes Harrhan's overpowered, but who cares ahahhahahuhu).

Just shouting out to victoria the guest reviewer! I can't pm you so I'm thanking you here. And to everyone too, thank y'all! Ily3000!