Before I start this chapter, go and check out the fantastic story, 'A Happy Accident: 70 Years,' by the wonderful Njchrispatrick. It is where the inspiration for this story came from. If you notice any similarities between the stories, I do have permission to use them

Harry cursed his bad luck. Right when he landed, he had to be met with a man who wanted to turn him into a bloody pulp. Add to that, he clearly wasn't open to magic, or in the know about it, so he was understandably freaked out. The lashing out, though, was different to most things he'd experienced before. That didn't matter right now. What mattered was that his wand was snapped, taking away any magical means of defending himself. To top it all off, he wasn't exactly the pinnacle of fitness and strength. Harry could already tell that if he didn't use his smarts, this was going to be a very one sided fight.

He only wanted to go to New York, not be greeted by a madman. Harry stood from his crouching position, very aware of the ruined wand in his pocket and his change in appearance. Now wasn't the time to be freaking out over that.

"What are you?" jeered the man, landing a punch on a struggling Harry. "First, you appear in a flash of light, and then you change your appearance? You're fucking weird, you know that?"

Harry weakly swung his fist, exhaustion from the glamour coursing through his system."You can't do this," he spat. Of course, that was never going to work on this man, who Harry suddenly decided to dub the man Brian. Why, he didn't know. It wasn't like there was time to consider his choice in name!

"That's where you're wrong. I can do whatever I want, this is a free country. And you're tiny." Brian sniggered. "What the Hell are you going to do about it?" Brian pinned Harry against the wall, knocking all the air out of him. Harry feet flailed, at least a foot off the ground. At least he wasn't pinned by the neck. That wasn't something he wanted to go through again.

"You're a bully." Brian struck Harry's face again, leaving behind a red, stinging mark in the shape of a hand. He tried to use the opportunity to get away, but Brian didn't budge an inch. "You're no more than a coward." Harry was so tired, all he wanted to do was fall onto the ground and drift off to sleep. Comfort be damned.

Brian sneered, getting up in Harry's face. His breath smelled worse than engine oil, all rotting food and stinking animal carcasses. Little bits of food were stuck in between his uneven, yellow and chipped teeth. Harry recoiled, but couldn't get any further away. "Wrong. You're the coward here, runt. You're not even fighting back." Brian let him go. Harry crumpled down into a heap, but quickly collected himself, raising his fists.

"I could do this all day." He spat the blood out of his mouth. The man swung a punch at him again. Harry sluggishly dodged, barely missing getting pummelled. His balance was off, so fell to the ground, all the air getting knocked out of his lungs, the man towering over him. He was at least six feet tall, which was very unfortunate for Harry, who happened to be on the shorter side of things.

"Hey!" A strongly accented English voice interrupted the fight. The man wheeled around. Harry saw a woman, wearing tidy, if not old fashioned, clothing and with short, grey hair, striding down the alley. He groaned. She look ancient. Now she was going to get hurt, too. "You can stop now."

"And how are you going to make me do that?" Brian snorted. "You're an old bag." Harry frowned. He found the remark to be very disrespectful. The frowning stopped when a heavily booted foot landed on his chest. Harry wheezed.

"Ah," the woman said, smiling condescendingly. "That may be true, this old bag has a bit of fire left in her yet." She pulled out a pistol, seemingly from nowhere, aiming it carefully at Brian. From her careful aim and steady arm, Harry knew she was very experienced with it. "I may not be able to pack such a good punch anymore, but I sure can pull a trigger. I've dealt with men who are far more threatening than you. To me, you're just a washed up punk with nothing better to do than beat up those smaller than you. So why don't you get lost, before I make you."

"How are you going to make me leave? It's not like you're going to fire it. I know your type. You're the kind of person who makes empty threat. You never carry through with it.

"And I know your type better." She cocked the gun with an ominous clicking noise. The bastard in front of Harry didn't move, clearly believing his previous words.

Perfect.

Harry used the opportunity to kick the man in the groin. Hard. Perhaps a smidge too viciously. Instantly, Brian's face paled and he fell to his knees, eyes wide from pain, groaning. Harry scrambled away, but not before landing a punch on his head. It didn't send him to the ground but it was good enough to send the man packing, cursing about 'bastards and bitches ruining his fun.' Harry didn't even bother turning around to watch him go, not wanting to even give him the pride of being watched.

"Are you alright?" asked the woman. "That was quite the beating. Well done on getting him. Your courage is admirable." Harry pulled himself to his feet and turned around, rubbing the side of his face where he'd been hit several time. That was going to bruise, he just knew it. When the woman saw his face, her eyes widened. "No...this can't be possible."

"I'm sorry?" She looked like she'd seen a ghost, her face all pale and hands shaking. "Have I done something wrong?" Harry felt like he'd seen her somewhere before, a distant memory, lost in a fog.

"No..no. You look like someone I used to know, is all." She put the pistol back to wherever it came from. Harry took a closer look at her face and recognition dawned in his eyes.

"You're Peggy Carter. Oh, I'm so sorry." She raised an eyebrow.

"What for?"

"Looking like this," Harry said lamely. She snorted, a strange sound coming out of someone who looked so dignified and regal. There was a certain toughness around her, though, which made Harry immediately respect her.

"It's nothing you need to apologise for. I'm not so sensitive that seeing the face of someone I knew a long time ago will send me into a fit of hysterics." Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, I guess."

"What were you doing down here, anyway? An alley isn't exactly a place someone wants to go."

Harry fumbled for an explanation. "I thought I saw something, is all." Peggy clearly didn't believe him, but didn't press for more, which he greatly appreciated.

"Okay. Well, I'll take you back to my place and fix you up. You took quite the beating…" She trailed off, waiting for Harry to introduce himself. He obliged.

"Harry. Harry Potter." Peggy's eyes widened slightly, almost in recognition, like she'd heard the name before. "I'm sorry, have you heard my name before?" Harry asked.

"A long time ago. It was the name of one of my good friends. My memory is really getting rattled today, isn't it?" She chuckled slightly.

"I suppose so?" They walked out of the alley and into New York. Harry couldn't contain his awe. Peggy smirked.

"You look like this is your first time in New York."

"You could say that…"

"Do you mean it's more amazing every time you see it?"

"Yeah, something like that." Harry smiled. He was extremely lucky to have run into Peggy Carter. It was contrary to his usual fortune, a nice change in pace. What wasn't a nice change in pace was the snapped wand in his jacket pocket, which he was very aware of. He couldn't pull it out here, though. Not in front of a muggle, even if the muggle was especially exceptional and had experience with with supernatural. Without it, he wouldn't be able to change back his appearance or unshrink his luggage.

Great.

"You're beginning to bruise already."

"That isn't surprising."

"Do you get into fights often?"

Harry snorted. "More often than I would like."

"You're even more like my old friend."

"Steve Rogers, right?"

"I...yes, that's him."

Harry paused for a second, wondering if she should tell her the truth. She would want to know, even if it meant he would be put on a pedestal. He made the decision to tell her when they were in a private place, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Perhaps, the truth could be a good thing in this situation. Help him move on with his healing, which Hermione was always harping at him to do. When they got back to her place, which he was very thankful for, he would probably fall asleep straight away. He was totally exhausted, running on empty.

Eventually, they made it back to her house, an apartment near the centre of the city. When they stepped in, it was like Harry had been transported back in time to the forties. He didn't pay attention to any of this. Through his drooping eyelids, the tidy, practical couch in the lounge looked very inviting.

Harry yawned. "Sorry, do you mind if I take a quick nap?"

"After I patch you up."

"But⎯"

"No. Sit down. I'll be right back." Harry sat. She was just like all he'd read about her, strong willed and not taking any shit from anybody. She returned with a medical kit and put plasters over his cuts, not saying a word. She finished, packing it away. Harry had to admit, he didn't feel slightly less sore, even if it didn't stop Brian's bruises hurting like a bitch."Now, sleep."

Harry didn't hesitate. He was asleep before he hit the armrest.

He woke up to the brightness of day. Sometime during his sleep, a pillow had been placed under his head,a blanket over his frail body and his shoes and socks removed from his feet. Peggy was sitting on the other side of the lounge, leafing through what looked to be an old leather photo album. He groaned, causing Peggy to look up.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

"How long was I out?" Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. He then stretched. It was a good stretch.

"Well, you've been lying on my couch for two days. And you snore louder than a spitfire engine, I'll have you know. I haven't had a moment of peace since you drifted off." Even though she was jesting, Harry blushed a bright beet red, mind clearing. He knew what he wanted to tell her, what he needed to tell her. He needed to do it now, before he would choke on his words and keep it down forever.

"Miss Carter," he began, not feeling comfortable calling her Peggy, "I think there's something you should know about me.

"Yes?" She closed her album and looked up expectantly. Harry gulped down his fear, wringing his hands. Best to do it when he wasn't totally aware of what he was doing, right? While the fog mist that clouded your mind just after you woke up obscured common sense.

"This is quite important." Peggy nodded.

"Just say it, Mr. Potter. Holding your tongue won't be good for either of us."

"Okay, here goes." Harry took a deep breath, fighting off the urge to not say the words he'd been refusing to say since February. "Steve Rogers is my biological father." He anxiously glanced at Peggy, determinedly ignoring the horror at saying those words rushing through him.

Peggy smiled softly, knowingly. "I know."

Ooh, something slightly more important has happened. Something kind of big. This is what I like to call a bridging chapter, so is shorter by nature. I did enjoy writing it. Next chapter, some big secrets are revealed, so don't forget to tune in for that. Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and follows. It's dearly appreciated.

If anyone has any ideas that they want to suggest for this story, please do. I am kind of writing this as I go, with only the most basic ideas of a plot. I've set up a future arc in this chapter, but I do want some more ideas.

If you want to, you can join my discord server. You can talk further about my stories with me, if you like, and I give out previews to the next chapter around three hours before I update. Link is below and the server is about everything fanfiction. It's set to never expire, you just have to type it in.

/Kb9zJgV

Sincerely,
Mariadoria