Standard Warning: I do not own JKR, X-Men, MCU, or anything that may crop up occasionally in this fanfic.

I open my eyes to the light of the sun bearing down on my body. I smile feeling the warmth on my skin and the air filling my lungs. Please tell me that wasn't a dream… Don't tell me that I just woke up on the side of the road from that crash unharmed.

I roll to my knees and look around at the charred remains of the crater around me with the trees still ablaze. I find myself slack-jawed as I realize another two things, one is I'm nearly naked (only clad in black compressions) while the other is that it's really damn cold.

I close my eyes and try to focus on my inner fire, what I find instead is the thunderbird. With a slight shock, I realize thunderbirds are more like phoenixes than I thought. Instead of being reborn in fire, they're rejuvenated in lightning and can teleport anywhere in the world by it. Works wonders for an offensive attack and as a flashbang from what I can tell. Wait… how do I know that? A hawklike call rings through my mindscape like a thunderclap, I can't help it when my eyes widen but the maniacal smile I'm sporting isn't something I want to try to control. I'm not just an animagus, I have the Thunderbird within me! Awesome! But I'm still really cold… I find the flame within and sigh in relief as my body stops quaking from the cold. Alright, now where the hell am I?

I close my eyes and sort through Harry's memories, with a start, I realize it's my birthday… my old birthday mind you and about eight years early. June 14, 1991, and I'm sitting in the middle of nowheresville Canada at two in the morning. I close my eyes and focus on my old home praying this works. With a pop, I end up in the middle of Mobile, Alabama. A mad grin lights my face when I look up to see a local sporting goods store in front of me. Walking over to the door I raise the ambient heat around the lock, melting it in seconds. I walk into the store and grab some very warm looking clothes, a large backpack to shove my loot in, including medical supplies, a ski mask, a couple of pairs of jeans, and an all-black outfit. I found a good, strong KABAR, some warm weather gear, a notebook and pen, and a pair of comfortable, black combat boots. With a cheeky grin I slap a note on the counter that says:

Yours, The Storm.

I walk out of the front door with the currently melted lock and stride into another alley. I stop and look around for the telltale sight of cameras, but there are none in sight. After looking around for a few seconds I don't even see a blip, and for a guy raised in the information age that's a bit more than disconcerting. I pop out to a place I know should be abandoned in June 1991. Death Valley, California.

With a crack of thunder, I landed in a completely empty area with damn near perfect temperature meaning I won't need the tent or sleeping bag I nicked. I sit down and cross my legs in the midnight air, letting my memories mesh with Harry's. But frown when I feel a gap in my memories, the Horcrux! Right!

I watch Harry's memories of his time with the Dursleys, seeing Vernon being a prick even the first time he saw me. Little did year and a few months old baby Harry know that less than two years later he would be sold to a Canadian research division that makes black ops seem as covert as a drunk beat cop.

Harry's training was as meticulous as it was brutal. This kid never had a childhood.

I had to fight not to let my jaw fall at the horrific memories of seven years of brutal physical fitness training, math that engineers would be scratching their heads over, and language of all kinds all while he fought day in and day out to keep his own mind. Most shockingly though was the day they strapped him down on a chair and placed a large silver helmet over his head. Strangely enough, it's reminiscent of Professor X's Cerebro. After that, his education seemed to quadruple in speed… No longer did he struggle with things that professionals should have problems with. Learning fighting styles were just natural to him now but he still had to work to get his body used to the moves.

His education was truly incredible. The machine was apparently a neural interface that allowed the Canucks to start their own magical spec ops division in a spectacular fashion.

The day his x-gene was activated though? The gloves were off, the dial was jacked to eleven, shit hit the fan, you name it and that's what these Canadian fucks were thinking. His new training regime included a crash course on espionage, personal fitness an Olympic gymnast would be jealous of, but most significantly the severe upturn in his martial arts training. They taught him Krav Maga, Judo, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Muay Thai, Kickboxing and the original version, and, most significantly to me, wrestling. They actually only gave Harry a brief overview of wrestling as a means of bringing an opponent down to use the grappling and submission techniques they drilled into him hour after hour every day whereas I have years of wrestling under my belt.

This new Weapon-X deal only gave the poor kid four to six hours sleep each night while draining him past the point of exhaustion every day, but by the gods do I appreciate it right now.

*We thought you would, beloved,* Chrona's musical voice floats through my head. I send her the image of a chaste kiss as I crack my back, appreciating the stars shining over my head.

Alright, what's my plan of attack? I sit down on a rather large rock and think furiously on what I have to do. Collect the Horcruxes, take out the Walrus, and (if possible) snag the Sorcerer's Stone, or is it Philosopher's stone? Eh, immortality rock works too, if it's real then I'll have an infinite source of wealth if it's not I lost nothing. And the last thing, expose Pettigrew to get Sirius Black free… Legally that is.

I take a breath in, dragging in lungfuls of air while I focus on what feels… different about my body. I gasp when I find my heavily muscled body that's practically built for speed. Every muscle in my body is hard as steel and my bones feel just as heavy. Obviously, that isn't natural.

I feel just as heavy as I was in my other body in a body that's 5'0" which is still taller than when Harry was measured at 4'9" this morning, guess that's my influence on him. I try to figure out why I feel so heavy until shock runs me over like a raging bull.

'Those fuckers didn't… I'm not even a teenager and they bonded adamantium to my entire skeleton!?'

Fury courses through me as I focus on Four Privet Drive, my thunderbird taking the wheel. Thunder crashes as I land on a single knee in the backyard of the house I've always hated. I look up as the bitch throws open the door with panic in her eyes. Her eyes land on me and they widen in confusion.

"Who in the blazes are you?" I can actually smell the fear wafting off her, wonderful I'm really Wolvy mark II. I can understand Petunia's fear though.

A lightning bolt slammed into her backyard on a clear day, she ran out to see what the damage was, turns out there was no damage but a black-haired kid that's built like an acrobat and dressed like a cat burglar while kneeling in your backyard. That has to be at least a bit unnerving.

"Why aunty," Rising off my knee, I pull myself up to my full height. My voice was rough from the screaming other-me did. Strangely I said that in the accent old me had, which is just a slight southern accent - I would have expected at least a bit of a Canadian accent. I stop my contemplation as I watch the color on her face drain in less than a heartbeat, "can't you see the family resemblance?"

She stumbles backwards toward the door taking in a breath to scream in unadulterated terror, not that I let her. Time seemed to slow down as I blurred forward to clap my hand over her mouth. I dragged her inside anyway, I need to have a little chat with my dearest aunt, "Aunt Petunia, we can't have you ruining the reunion with your dear nephew with the nosy neighbors now can we?"

She shakes her head with a jerky motion. I smell the acrid scent of piss wafting off her as I remove my hand from her mouth to take a seat at the table. I crinkle my nose in annoyance at the strange combination of the smell of piss and the sound the chair made underneath me.

Considering these chairs are able to hold up the fat ass and his spawn on a regular basis, it's almost scary that they creak under me. Obviously Petunia had the same brainwave as her eyes widened even further.

"Oh, you want to know why the chair creaks like that for me? Or maybe why your whale of a son and your fatass of a husband doesn't even make the others sag? Well, that can be explained later, or never. I'll be happy if I never see you again after today, I only need one thing from you," I motion for her to sit down and she complies immediately.

"What… what do you need?" She asks in a shaking voice.

"Where's that bull walrus you call a husband," she turns almost green at those words, "I need to have a heart to heart with him for selling me to that hellhole for seven years!" I growl at the horse-faced woman that looks absolutely nothing like her sister.

"Grunnings," she whispered, "he was recently promoted," her nose rises into the air as she begins to regain some of her previous coloration from the confidence she's gaining back.

"Has he put his affairs in order?"

"Excuse me?" And the color drains once more.

"Has he put his affairs in order?" She looks incredibly confused so I continue on, "after I'm done with the bastard responsible for selling me to the people who did this," I extend my claws in my fist out and realize there are only two there, on a hunch I feel for the one in each foot and find them. Oddly they aren't that same bright silver Wolverine and X-23 had, mine are black…

Petunia's eyes are the size of hubcaps as I keep them extended, oddly it didn't even hurt to extend the sharper than razor blades, "to me, he's only going to be a body to bury."

"What did they do to you?" she whispers in horror.

"Worse than what you would have if I would have stayed left here, you would have made me work for my keep. They made me into the perfect little weapon. This," I gesture to the claws jutting out of my fist, "is what composes my entire skeleton. The metal is nigh unbreakable, lighter than aluminum, and more scarce than gold. Once it's been melted and brought back to room temperature, it's melting point rises beyond even that of tungsten. On the other hand, it's base form requires a melting point similar to that of silver… I can see you're understanding the gravity of just what they did to me?"

She just nods dumbly with a horror-struck look across her face, "they had to inject you with the molten metal…" I nod at the statement and retract my claws letting her watch the skin on my hands.

"I wish you luck Petunia, if Dumbledore," her head snaps around with the look of a cornered rat, "yes, I am aware of the Supreme Mugwump, those asshats did kidnap me to be the flagship of a Canadian magical black ops force after all," I didn't know it was possible to tense and relax at the same time but she managed it, but I also know she won't scream at or run from me. "Good, that's better. I know that you hate magic and I don't blame you, I'm starting to hate it too. If the headmaster comes by looking, he'll know I was here and that's why I'm leaving but also," I focus on a spell that Harry was taught to use: the memory modification curse, "you won't remember anything after right now, Obliviate."

With a snap of my fingers, I see Petunia's eyes glaze over as I flash away to Grunnings, slipping into the building with practiced ease. How did I do it you may ask? I walked through the front door and asked the secretary if I could see Mr. Dursley at his convenience.

Vernon walked out of his office, saw me, and told the secretary he was going to have to go home early. I smiled at him but it's anything but welcoming, more like how a wolf would bear its fangs at an opponent. We walked out the door side by side, he pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked a small Volvo. He gestured to the car and I slipped in the backseat while he dropped into the driver's seat. He slammed the pedal to the floor and rocketed out of the parking lot to head as fast as he could back toward Little Whinging.

He pushes the car as hard as it can possibly go, I actually watch the RPM gauge go over the recommended limit. When I see a curve coming I tap the walrus's head with my finger dancing with electricity. Vernon tried to whip around to see what the sound was but it was too late. He slumped into unconsciousness just as I teleported away.

He died without a word being said between us - Petunia will get her due one day.

News stations around the country would be reporting as to how scientists were baffled as to how a man driving had the Lichtenberg Figures crisscrossing his head in the middle of a rather clear day. Officially his cause of death was a heart attack but under the layers of red tape, the British government wondered what could have possibly happened here.

Not that I knew about that small issue or, for that matter, cared. The first bastard that was responsible for me going to that hellhole is dead, now it's time for asshat number two to die. The horcrux hunt now has my full attention, first stop? Little Hangleton.

I flash to the Gaunt Shack, making sure to land just outside the wards on the property. I'm nowhere near ready to touch wards yet but maybe… yes, that'll work…

I flash to the front step of the shack and find the door locked but rotten. I roll my eyes and kick the handle with everything this rather well-muscled ten-year-old, (possibly) adamantium reinforced frame can muster.

The door flies open into kindling, immediately the thunderbird within me screams in revulsion and I quite agree. The feeling in the room is horrible, absolutely horrible. I feel where the thing is and wrinkle my nose in disgust. Kneeling down by the plank I feel magic itself screaming in pain. I pick up the loose floorboard and take the golden box within. I scrunch my nose at the feeling of rage, hate, and fear coming out of the box.

I shove the horrid thing in my backpack with my thunderbird still screaming at me to either get rid of it or purify it… Purify it? Something to look into later I suppose.

Part two of being here? Guess I should get rid of Tommy Senior's bones but that'll take too long and I don't plan on letting Voldemort live past '92. So, with that thought, I flash (really need to think of a better name for this teleportation deal) to a place from Harry's memories, a small alley in Muggle London off Charing Cross Road. Poking my head out of the alley I immediately saw the weirdest but most comforting thing I have ever seen.

The Leaky Cauldron.

I pull out a hat and a pair of jeans from my backpack and pull it low over my brow and over my leggings. I look just like any other muggle-born out there as I walk into the pub, "Oye, lad! How can I help you today!?" A loud voice calls out to me from behind the bar.

"Just need to get to Diagon, sir!" I say in a cheery voice, my eyes meeting his. The man's eyes widen momentarily but his smile grows even wider, "of course, of course! Right this way if you would!" He walks out from behind the bar taking a wand from his sleeve tapping the bricks in order, "welcome to Diagon Alley," his hand clasps my shoulder as me murmurs, "Mr. Potter."

By Loki, I love barmen. No questions, no hassle, just men doing their jobs.

*They are my favorites for a reason.* I manage to keep a straight face while mentally sending the image of a searing kiss to the deity, she responds in kind causing a goofy grin to spread across my face.

I stride through the barrier with that smile still on my face while Tom retreats back to his bar. Two steps, I made it two steps before actually stopping short at this Renaissance Actor's wet dream. Ducking my head again, I make a beeline to the doors of Gringotts. I reach the top of the stairs to see a guard looking at me like I have three heads, his hand gripping his spear a bit tighter. My hand goes for my hat, taking it off in one smooth motion before I use the snaps to lock it onto one of my belt loops. The Goblin nods sharply as he relaxes his grip once again. I walk through the bank to an empty line, which is surprising for the middle of the day in June.

I approached the teller who didn't even look up to ask me "how can Gringotts help you, wizard?"

"I need to speak with the manager of this establishment, I fear I have information on magic most foul held within this facility."

The goblin may be trying to play the uninterested card but he just pulled a joker when his eyes snapped up to mine after I said 'manager'. The rest of his reaction was just as golden with the widened to immediately narrowed eyes.

"If you are lying about this, it will be your last dealing with Gringotts, wizard."

"Lady Fate, Lady Time, Lord Reality, and Death himself have recognized this fact and ordered it destroyed, I'm sure you can think of a certain magic that would force Death himself to get involved," I raise an eyebrow at the stunned Goblin who turns sheet white as the revelation hammers into him. I pulse my inner fire to my eyes, his black eyes widened in terror. He immediately jumped down from his booth muttering something about crazy elementals while he motions for me to follow him.

We navigate the twists and turns of Gringotts until we come to a surprisingly small bronze door. The teller bangs on the door three times in some sort of signal. The door swings open toward the teller for a deep voice inside to call out, "enter."

The teller gestures to me to go in and I do. I enter to see a surprisingly young Goblin sitting behind an oaken desk. I stand in front of his desk at a perfect parade rest position.

"Sharpclaw, this is the boy claiming magic most foul in our halls?"

"Yes, Ragnok Bonecrusher, this is the boy."

"The boy with information on a Horcrux in your vaults," I deadpan.

The two Goblins turn an impressive shade of scarlet as Ragnok Bonecrusher (is that a first and last name or title and name?) starts barking orders into a button on his coat sleeve. He switches back to English and asks one question, two words: "Whose vault?"

"The Lestrange vault, the Horcrux is the Chalice of Helga Hufflepuff also known as Hufflepuff's Cup. It'll be a golden cup with a badger on the front."

Another torrent of Gobbledegook followed by complete silence. This lasts for a minute, five, ten, twenty, until forty-five minutes of silence later a Goblin comes sprinting in with disgust plain across his face and the golden cup in his hands.

The Ragnok stares at the cup in pure rage.

"This… abomination," the Goblin snarls the word out, "who does it belong to?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," I wave my hand in the air and focus on my inner fire, recreating that trick that Riddle did in the chamber.

The Goblins all pale rapidly before the Ragnok screams back into a button on his other sleeve, rage coloring every single word.

"Master Ragnok, I am in possession of another one of these artifacts, know the location of three more, and there's the one you have in your possession. One is in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, one is in a hidden room in Hogwarts, and one is hidden within the halls of the Blacks. Respectively the Diary of Tom Riddle, the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, and the Locket of Salazar Slytherin. I am in possession of the Ring of the Gaunts, Peverells, and however many families it has been passed through."

The Goblin's jaw drops like it's full of lead, "and how would you know this mister…"

"Potter," the Goblin actually leans across the table at the revelation of my name. Instead of the verbal answer he expects I just tap my scar. The Goblin gets the message and collapses back into his chair.

"And it's still inside you? How strange..." The Goblin chief, I assume that's what he is, looks like he wants to die.

"No, it was… assimilated, I believe would be the correct word, into my own soul. I have all of Tom Riddle's knowledge until the day he died," or I will at least, much easier than saying: 'nahhh I kinda died and it was ripped out of my soul with Harry Potter, I'll get the knowledge later! Right now I'm working on memories I have from my home reality where this is a set of children's books!'

The Goblin starts to regain color and steeples his fingers under his chin oblivious to my mental tirade, "I assume you have a plan for these?"

"Yes, I would like to place the soul pieces in a vault under the Fidelius Charm," I say simply as the Goblin immediately gets to his feet with his mouth open, I raise my hand and glare at him, "I want him dead as much as you do, but I have no idea what would happen if we decided to destroy all his horcruxes with him not having a body. Would it kill him or would we have to figure out how to kill a wraith?"

The Goblin's mouth clicks shut but then he grins again, "then let's get that thing a body."

I look at him like he's insane but I feel something pushed into my mind when we lock eyes. My heart almost stops at that... but it could work.

"Okay… we'll do that but we have to be quick and we have to be vicious if we want this plan to work."

"Mr. Potter, I believe you just described the Goblin race in just a handful of words."

He reaches his hand out and I do the same, smirking slightly as our fingers clasp.

"Another piece of information, master Goblin, I am the godson of Sirius Orion Black, as such would I have access to the ancestral home of the Blacks?"

The Goblin scratches his chin in deep thought, me? My insane little mind just clicks something that the inner Marauder Harry had deep within him trying to get out… I unleashed it in full.

"Kreacher!" I call out to the void and with a small pop an elf that's supposed to be an offensive, oddius, foul little creature who is currently staring at me with an air of confused disgust.

"You are not the bad master Sirius… Who are you?"

"Harry James Potter, godson to Sirius Black." Kreacher actually howls in protest, wailing about filthy half breeds, mudblood filth, and a bad master.

"Silence!" my voice thunders in the room much to the Goblin's amusement and the House Elf's shock.

"Mr. Potter, it would appear that Mr. Black is the Lord Black if you, as his Godson and sole apparent heir, are able to command the elves of the Black estate without blood of the main line."

I nod slowly as Kreacher looks at me with pure hatred mixed with a mutant form of curiosity.

"You have the locket of Salazar Slytherin," the Elf has a deer in the headlights look as I continue on, "the locket was given to Regulus Black by the Dark Lord Voldemort, originally placed in a cave. Do not ask me how I came by this information, simply know that I know. You are going to get me that locket and it will be destroyed. Is this acceptable?"

The elf disappears and reappears in literally three seconds holding the locket out to me. I palm the wretched object and kneel before the elf, "thank you Kreacher, if there is anything you would ask of me I would grant it."

"Thank you, master… Kreacher wants to watch when good master Reggie's locket is destroyed," he actually looks like a child with that little head down, feet moving thing he's doing.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, now I have one more question," the elf looks at me with narrowed eyes as I come to my knee in front of him , "since Narcissa is a Black, would it be possible for you to penetrate the wards at Malfoy Manor and retrieve a diary for me? It will feel similar to this," I let the locket swing from it's chain as I rise to my feet once again.

Kreacher disappears and reappears instantly but with company this time, "NASTY HOUSE ELF WILL NOT COME NEAR MASTER'S MANOR AGA- Harry Potter?" The little elf's excited voice asks with awe completely filling his voice.

"Yes, you wouldn't interrupt my new friend Kreacher here on a little errand I sent him to run, would you?"

"Mr. Harry Potters sir, I has to tell master that the bad-bad elf came intos his manor… Dobby is sorry…" he slams his head into the table and I grab his shoulder.

"Dobby, you are not my elf so you are not bound to me. You don't work for me so you don't have to punish yourself over me, do you understand."

"Yes, great master Harry Potters sir!"

"Good!" I smile at the excitable elf while catching Kreacher's eye, I nod and his eyes widen as he disappears without a trace, "now Dobby, do you know what Kreacher was looking for?"

"No, mister Harry Potter sir…"

"Then allow me to enlighten you," I hold the locket up from where it was hanging at my side, "this is a horcrux-"

Dobby actually hisses at the thing in my hand, "it's foul!"

"Yes it is. This is a shard of Voldemort's soul," Kreacher pops in as Dobby the house elf becomes Dobby the sailor. The three other sentients in the room watch with wide eyes and open mouths, I wince at a particular line about tossing Lucius to a fyreworm… Note to self, buy a book on fyreworms.

"Dobby…" the elf's tirade slows to a trickle as he looks at me with so much bloodlust I think the Goblins may be fighting to get this elf in their army, "are you okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Harry Potter sirs. Dobby is fine, but Dobby is going to be feedings bad master Lucy into a fire mountain infested with fyreworms!"

"Please do Dobby, I would buy tickets to see that, but I believe you should be going but before you go… Ragnok, could you memory lock Dobby?"

"Yes, I believe that would be prudent Master Potter," I whip around in surprise. According to fandom, being called a master by the Goblins is one of the highest compliments the Goblin Nation can give. I nod to the Goblin who's waving his hand over Dobby.

Dobby disappears to Malfoy Manor without a second thought with a slightly hypnotized look across his face. I look at Kreacher and nod at the little elf.

"One last errand Kreacher, I need you to go to Hogwarts."

Kreacher's alabaster skin changes to a pallid gray as he shakes his head rapidly, I place my hand on his shoulder gently.

"His last shard is in Hogwarts, my friend. If you get that last shard we can kill Voldemort tonight."

Kreacher's tennis ball sized eyes water briefly before he nods slowly… "The object is hidden in the room of hidden things, the room of requirement, the come and go room, whatever you like. The thing you are looking for is the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. It has been placed on the statue of a warlock next to the Vanishing Cabinet of Hogwarts. Can you do this Kreacher?"

"Yes, Master Potter, the Diadem will be brought back."

"Thank you Kreacher."

I sit down in the chair and look at the Goblin across from me as we begin the start of Voldemort's downfall.

An hour and three courses of action discussed later, a filthy Kreacher pops back into the room with a rather disturbing smile on his face and the diadem in his hand. He holds it out to me, I take it placing the tainted object on the desk with the Diary, the Locket, and the Cup. I unsling my pack to pull the ring out to put it alongside the other four.

"With the rest of Tom's soul and what was in me, these are the last five to destroy. I believe Tommy boy is in Albania but if we wait I know he'll have possessed a man by July thirty-first." Bonecrusher nods thoughtfully and I pull my trump card, "the man he is going to possess goes by the name Quirinus Quirrell. He will attempt to rob the bank on the same day mentioned in a search for Nicholas Flamel's immortality rock," Bonecrusher turns white and nods slowly.

"And how did you come by this information, master Potter?"

"Lady Fate herself. Turns out Lady Fate and Death have a bone to pick with Tommy boy," I give the goblin a feral grin and he returns it in kind.

"Then I believe we shall see you on the thirty first of July, master Potter. The vault you requested shall be opened for a small fee of fourteen knuts… to be taken out of Lucius Malfoy's vault." I scoff as the Goblin says that, but he continues on, "of course, this is only the cost of opening a vault to protect the assets of an ennobled house, like that of Malfoy, the cost increases to fourteen galleons. Mere pocket change for Mr. Malfoy, but the charge for a fidelius sealed vault? Well," he takes a dagger off his belt and sharpens in a threatening manner, "there are reasons no one has heard that we offer said service, and far less who can afford it. We here at Gringotts endeavor to keep it that way, am I clear Mr. Potter?"

"You are, Ragnok Bonecrusher."

"Good," he sheathes his blade and extends his hand, "may your gold grow evermore."

"May your blade stay sharp and bloodstained, master Goblin," with a small smirk I leave his office to the sound of marching boots and shouted orders.

"Master Potter," A goblin Sergeant appears in front of me, "we are here to escort you to exit the bank. We would like to thank you for bringing our attention to the black magic within our vaults. Good day sir."

I nod back to him and fall in step with the rythmic thumping of marching boots, steps one complete, step two in motion, step three to be completed another day, step four… well that will come in time.

I exit the bank before heading back out to the Muggle world before stopping for a brief moment and turning on heel toward an abandoned alley. I focus on my magic and with a crack of lightning I appear in front of vault 713.