Not My Magical World
Chapter 1
Harry James Potter knelt on a roof overlooking his target, the concrete rough on his fingers and the wind chilling his face as it sent his trench coat dancing out behind him.
Dilapidated buildings lined the street on either side of him, businesses, homes, and factories forgotten by time and replaced by newer and better versions. Their openings were now covered by plywood, and graffiti decorated every visible surface.
The scratching of claws across concrete and tiny squeaks sent a shiver down his spine. He coughed at the smells assaulting him, still not used to the air of this world.
It'd been a year since he landed on this earth after trying to help mutants escape from his world's version of Otherworld.
He just hoped his parents were still alive. He'd seen them in the tear that brought him to this world, but they weren't here when he awoke, and something about this place dampened his senses. He felt the weight on his shoulder at all times, pressing down on his power and making it hard to use.
Shaking his head, he focused on his target.
Flickering streetlamps briefly illuminated his target before plunging the streets below into darkness and leaving only a thin shaft of moonlight illuminating the building before him. Luckily, a bit of power in his eyes and the night was no longer an issue.
A long house sat in front and slightly below him. Nine windows decorated its wooden log front, a wooden deck with a log railing wrapped around the building.
While his powers were diminished, he could feel the pain of his fellow mutants, and a lot of it was coming from here. With a blink, a red aura surrounded the building like a second skin.
"So, someone magical is involved." This news surprised him. From what he had found out, the magical world was separate from mutants and didn't allow them in.
Another difference from his world, since its founding, the magical world of his earth and mutants had been intertwined, eventually giving birth to a new kind of mutant.
Leaning forward, Harry allowed himself to fall off the building. As the wind whistled by him, he vanished in a pale purple light. Appearing just above the deck, he stretched forth his hand.
"I hope this works."
Exhaling, he closed his eyes and then breathed in sharply, pulling on the energy surrounding the building. In his mind's eye, objects buried at the corners of the structure outlined in the same red power flared.
"Blood magic," he hissed through his teeth.
The red energy surrounding the longhouse stretched like a rubber band, the objects generating the barrier flaring like mini suns in his mind's eye. Suddenly, the outline of the objects cracked like glass, and the energy came rushing into him.
Harry jerked backward, curling in on himself as he hovered in the air. His body shook as sweat popped out on his skin. The energy burned through him like acid as he fought to convert it into something less volatile. Fighting to relax his muscles, he released a breath and shifted the pain to another part of his mind.
With the pain dulled, he shifted the energy from an angry red to a smooth black speckled with white moats. Red steam billowed off him as what couldn't be changed was expelled from his body.
Drifting forward, he dropped down to the deck with a light thump. The lock on the double doors clicked as he rotated his wrist, and they gently swung open as he curled his fingers.
–XX –
Entering the building, Harry released a pulse of power from his feet, creating a wireframe image of his surroundings in his mind. He was in a large bedroom; an armoire sat to his left, a small desk to his right, and a large four-poster bed in the center of the room.
As he moved deeper into the room, more things became visible, a nightstand sat on either side of the bed near the headboard, and a wooden chest sat at the foot of the bed.
Raising his right hand, the French doors he entered through swung closed with a click.
'I was expecting more evil Lib oratory, but this place is nice.'
Stopping before the door to the room, Harry reached out with his mind. Beyond the door was a long hallway. In the hallway, three more doors led to bedrooms like this one. A table sat in the space between doors, holding different decorative items.
Exiting the room, Harry moved swiftly down the hallway. As he came out of the hallway, he found himself standing at an intersection. A staircase wound to the lower floors before him, and another hallway led to more rooms to his left and right.
'What were they doing here?'
Moving down the stairs, Harry froze halfway down.
A man emerged from the shadows to the right of the staircase; a pistol clutched in his right hand. He moved methodically, his head constantly moving
Harry's eyes pulsed with a Violet light; he had come from a door leading to a basement level.
His target spun at the pulse, the pistol coming up.
He froze as purple energy outlined his body.
Moving swiftly down the stairs, Harry stopped before the man. Staring into his eyes, he slithered into his mind with the grace of a serpent.
This man's name was Mitchell Johnson, he was muscle for the outfit, but since the blood magic had been installed, he had been lax in his duties.
This was a small but lucrative outfit. They were very selective about their targets. There were only two here, a man and a woman, and both had physical enhancement abilities and lived in abandoned military tunnels beneath New York.
'They are smart, selling highly sought-after abilities, and going after people that wouldn't be missed or nobody knows about.'
Pulling out of his mind, Harry stared at the man before him.
"Now," he whispered, "what do I do with you?"
He could leave him alive, but that would allow him to restart his crimes again, but he didn't want to leave a body behind either. He tapped his chin; maybe there was another way.
His eyes flared as he sent another tendril of power through Mitchell's mind. He stiffened, his eyes glazed over as the tendril of power took out every memory the man had. He would still know how to do math, feed himself, get dressed, and have any scholarly knowledge, but his sense of self would be gone.
His shoulder slumped, and his eyes drooped.
With a gesture, he floated over to a chair hidden in the shadows to the left of the staircase. Turning to the right of the stairs, Harry made his way to the door Mitchell came through.
According to Mitchell's memories, there were three others, plus the two mutants from which they made the mutant growth hormone. Releasing a breath through his nose, Harry moved forward, his back straight, his eyes hard as he prepared himself for anything he might see.
–XX –
Appearing in the room in a pale purple flash, Harry took it in at a glance.
Metal-reinforced walls reflected the harsh lighting.
The linoleum floor was covered in droplets of blood.
Two hospital beds sat in the center of the room, an IV in each occupant's arm as a machine pumped blood from their bodies.
Beside a woman's bed was a man with a clipboard.
He looked up at the flash of Harry entering the room, his eyes widening. The clipboard fell from his hands as he opened his mouth to scream.
Harry thrust his hand forward, purple energy outlining the man's body and freezing him in place.
The man was 5'8" tall, thin, and wiry, with a heavily lined face and thinning gray hair. Black-rimmed round glasses sat in front of dull Brown eyes.
Rising to his feet, Harry strode forward, glancing briefly at a computer beside the stairs.
The clicking of a gun caused him to freeze in place.
"I don't know who you are or how you got in here," a rough voice began, "but you've picked the wrong place to mess with."
The crack of a gun echoed through the space, and the world blurred.
When the world came back into focus, Harry was three feet from his original position, and a large man stumbled backward, blood leaking from a hole in his chest.
He was 6'4" tall, with broad shoulders, thick muscled arms, tanned skin, large hands, and thick fingers. The light shifted on his bald head as he fell to the floor.
Harry moved forward, reaching out with his mind to connect to the two men.
The man beside the bed was Henry justice, a doctor who wanted to make a quick buck and saw nothing wrong with using mutant DNA to do it. He was meant to keep them healthy and sedated enough to take blood from.
The man on the floor was Bruce Tannen, a former military man that got injured by shrapnel and was forced to leave the job he loved. He viewed mutants as a threat but thought their abilities could save soldiers' lives on the battlefield, so he picked mutants with physical enhancements.
Harry looked at the man on the floor. He had fought for freedom; he could respect that; he was trying to save lives, but he viewed mutants as cattle, something to be used and discarded.
"Because you fought for others in the past, you will live," Harry stretched his left hand forward, purple energy surrounding it like a second skin.
Bruce writhed as the bullet floated out of his chest, and the wound faded.
Kneeling beside the man, Harry placed two fingers on his forehead, "If you would've made better choices, I would've taken away all your injuries." His Emerald eyes flared as he removed everything that made Bruce who he was, leaving behind every skill that wasn't related to the military.
Bruce's eyes glazed over before slowly drifting closed.
Harry rose to his feet, his eyes locking on the frozen Henry Johnston, "Now, what do I do with you? A doctor who violated his Hippocratic oath for money," he glanced at the emaciated figures on the bed, "I normally try not to kill, I don't like leaving bodies behind, but maybe I can make an exception for you."
Thrusting his left hand forward, Henry Johnston vanished in a flash of pale purple light.
"Have fun falling into the sun," turning; he made his way into the other room.
Just as he was about to step into the doorway, something slammed into his chest, sending him flying backward. He slammed into the far wall, blood seeping through his dark clothes.
"When I felt my blood wards break, I thought that pesky Sorcerer Supreme found them."
Looking down, Harry found his shirt torn to shreds, and all the skin peeled away from the center of his chest, revealing muscle. Hissing at the pain, he raised his head to stare at his attacker.
Before him stood a creature 4'1" tall, it had a broad wrinkled face, a stocky, muscular build, slick back black hair, and yellow slanted eyes. It was dressed in a black suit, a red button-down shirt, and a black tie.
"So," Harry grunted, rising to his feet as his wounds began to heal, "you are the blood mage that put your protection on this place, but you're obviously not human, so what do you get out of it."
The short creature shrugged, "What else, money."
Harry flicked his hands forward. Lightning arced from his fingers, closing the distance between him and his assailant in the blink of an eye.
The creature raised his hand. With a snap of his long fingers, Harry's blood rose from the floor and created a barrier before it.
The barrier steamed as the lightning slammed into it, and the creature inheld the steam.
The creature cocked its head to the side, "I'm not the only one that's not human. I haven't tasted anything like your blood before; what are you?"
Harry said nothing as the wound on his chest finished healing. This was bad; whoever this guy was, he now had some of his blood, which meant he could hurt him anywhere he went. As much as he wasn't trying to leave bodies behind, he couldn't allow this guy to leave here alive.
He shot forward in a blur of motion, the world around him slowing. He'd closed the distance between them in a moment, his fist rocketing toward the creature's head.
The creature raised his hand, flexing his long spindly fingers.
Harry felt his movements slow as a force messed with the blood in his body.
The creature leaned his head to the side. Harry's fist blurred right past his ear, leaving a small nick that dripped blood onto his hand.
The creature backed away, his hand rising to the cut on his ear, "Now, this surprises me. You could still complete your attack after I took control of your body."
Harry ignored the thing talking to him, his mind racing to find a way out of his predicament. Even though he now had some of the creature's blood, he had never studied blood magic, so he couldn't use it. He'd have to remedy that, so he wasn't caught like this again.
That only left him with one option, but he needed a minute.
He reached out with his mind; if he could find the third person that was supposed to be down here, he could take control of them and use them to distract the creature long enough to enact his plan.
'There,' he thought. Without a second thought, he sank into the woman's mind, absorbing everything he could.
Her name was Andromeda Artemis Tonks née Black. She is a blood member with the ability of potion and chemical manipulation. She used these abilities to create a version of the mutant growth hormone that lacked the addictive side effects and lasted longer. She hoped to one day make a permanent version and use it to get revenge on her family for killing her husband, Theodore Edward Tonks.
'Who are you?' A feminine voice asked, 'what are you doing in my mind? Get out!'
Harry's mental self grunted as the woman pushed against him.
'You can feel me?'
'Of course, I can, Harry. Now get out of my mind.'
'Not only can she feel me, but she's also running back along our connection to learn more about me, impressive.'
'Complements will get you nowhere,' Andromeda spat, pushing against him again, 'now leave.'
'Sorry, but I can't do that, this creature has my blood, and I need your help getting free of it.' Pushing her aside, Harry sank into her body.
–XX –
Opening Andromeda's eyes, Harry flexed her fingers and looked at what he had to work with.
She was 5'9" tall with wide hips, a large bust, and dark hair that was piled in a messy bun. Dressed in a black blouse, khakis, and a white lab coat, she would look quite attractive if she smiled, but the frown lines on her face let Harry know that didn't happen often.
Striding forward, Harry felt Andromeda's magic rush through her veins. He was lucky that his telekinesis allowed him to do something similar to her abilities, or he would have to wing it.
Curling her fingers, he caused liquids to rise into the air from nearby beakers. With a glance, they broke down into their component parts. Moats of liquid flew through the air as he allowed her fingers to dance.
Before long, a pale green liquid floated in the air with black stripes running through it. A thought shifted the liquid into an arrow.
Moving towards the door, Harry pressed Andromeda's body against the frame, guiding the arrow around the corner.
A dark gray eye watched the creature, which he now knew was Rust Blood, a goblin blood member hybrid, circle around his body.
Like in his world, the Blood are a race of humanoids who could naturally manipulate the rivers of magical energy running throughout the universe without calling upon any outside source.
It was comforting to know that the race still existed here even if they had a different history.
Rust Blood's voice drifted over to where Andromeda hid.
"Now, what am I going to do with you? It would be a shame to kill you. After all, your blood gave me so much power."
When Rust Blood stopped in front of him again, Harry released the arrow he had created. As the arrow flew through the air, poised to hit rust blood between the shoulder blades, he released his control over Andromeda's body.
–XX –
A hissing echoed through the room, and Rust Blood's back arched, a primal scream exploding from him as Harry's concoction ate through his suit and skin before seeping into his blood. Veins bulged out along his skin, slowly turning a pale green.
Seizing his opportunity, Harry leaped forward, disappearing in a pale purple flash. He appeared behind Rust Blood. Grabbing the man's head, he twisted and pulled, tearing his head from his shoulders.
Crimson liquid fountained from the stump of his neck as the body fell to the floor, covering him from head to toe in the life-giving liquid.
"Who are you?"
Harry turned, finding Andromeda standing at the door to her small lab.
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, he grinned, showing her red-stained teeth, "Don't you know, you were in my mind like I was in yours."
Andromeda took a step back, "I didn't see everything," she answered, a slight quiver in her voice.
"My name is Harry Potter," he bowed at the waist. Straightening up, he waved a hand down his body, pulling the blood off his clothes with a bit of power. Condensing it into a baseball-sized orb, he glanced at her, "I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but after hijacking your body, I don't think you would believe me." Closing his hand around the orb, it dispersed in dark red smoke.
Andromeda's eyes widened, "That's impossible; the Potters are dead."
"Maybe in this universe," Harry began moving around the room, "you don't know where the safe is, do you?"
Andromeda crossed her arms over her chest, her eyebrows coming together as a scowl twisted her lips, "How do you know there's a safe?"
"I can't imagine this operation was legal, was it?" He raised his hands, "You know what, I'll find it myself, but first," he moved over to the two mutants on the beds, placing a hand over each. His mind was starting to feel foggy, and his energy levels were running low, but he couldn't afford to show weakness in front of a potential enemy.
White light billowed from his hands, washing over the two mutants.
Andromeda's eyes widened as she watched the emaciation of the two mutants vanish as muscle and fat were restored. While healing them, Harry reached out with his mind to find out who the two were.
The woman's name was Callisto. She was the former leader of a group of mutants called the Morlocks but was betrayed by those who wanted to take a more active stance against mutant persecution. It was her old friends that sold her to this operation.
"They must've really been specific on the mutant powers they were looking for if they didn't attack the mutants dropping this one off," he mumbled, "or maybe, they didn't have the numbers. Well, if you count Andromeda, there were only four of them, but she didn't seem like the type involved in straight combat, maybe assassinations, given her abilities."
Shaking his head, he focused on Callisto again, taking in her features.
She was 5'9" tall, 130 lbs., slender with a small bust, black hair, and blue eyes. An eyepatch sat over her right eye, and scars ran down from the eye along her cheek.
It was the only clothes she had on, the rest having been stripped by the people that took her.
"At least they weren't rapists," his fingers twitched, part of him wanted to restore her eye, but it wasn't an injury caused by her kidnapping. Though he would be trying to help, he would do without her permission, so he suppressed the urge and moved on to the man.
This man's name was Carver; he was also a Morlock. He was the leader that took control from Callisto and was captured with her when they dropped her off. A sedative took him down, according to his memories.
Harry turned to Andromeda, "I take it you're the one that made the sedative that took these two out?"
Andromeda looked away, "Yes."
Pulling out of Carver's memories, Harry took in his features.
He was 6'3" tall, bald, with Brown mutton chops curling down his cheeks, and his broad shoulders were packed with muscle. His arms and legs were as thick as a man's thigh.
Unlike Callisto, Carver still had clothes, a pair of dark green cargo pants with many pockets.
"They may not have been rapists, but they were perverts."
Removing his hands from above their bodies, Harry stared at the two pondering what to do with them. He could send Carver back, but if her old friends sold her, he couldn't do the same with Callisto. He glanced at Andromeda before shaking his head, "it looks like I'm taking her with me."
Harry raised his hand and concentrated on Carver's memories of the Morlock tunnels. The man disappeared in a flash of pale purple light.
Turning to Callisto, he flexed his fingers; the sheets over her body conformed to her curves, transforming into a white T-shirt and a pair of panties. Glancing at the sheet on Carver's bed, Harry flicked his right hand, guiding it to cover her lower half. With some concentration, it transformed into a pair of gray sweatpants with a pull string.
Nodding, he turned only to find Andromeda staring at him, "What are you? That wasn't magic."
Moving past her, he began sending pulses through his feet, "I come from a different earth. Maybe my magic is different."
"Maybe," Andromeda said, but she didn't sound convinced.
Stopping beside the computer next to the stairs, Harry grabbed the table the computer sat on and pulled. The table and a section of wall came away with the sound of metal grinding along the floor.
Inside were stacks upon stacks of money and some loose papers. Whoever they were selling this growth hormone to paid well.
A pillowcase pulled off the pillow from across the room and flew towards Harry's outstretched hand. Harry began throwing the cash into the pillowcase with quick, precise movements.
"You're robbing us."
Harry glanced at Andromeda, "Well, you're the only one of your operation left. You got this money by kidnapping people, but," his eyes flared with purple energy, "you're more than welcome to fight for it."
Picking up the last stack of cash, he threw it to Andromeda, "There."
Rolling up the loose papers, he stuck them in the inner pocket of his trench coat.
Rising to his feet, Harry made his way back to Callisto. Laying a hand on her wrist, he glanced back at Andromeda. "If I were you, I would leave as soon as possible," he nodded to Callisto and the empty bed, "these two might come looking for payback."
Andromeda said nothing, watching Harry disappear in a flash of pale purple light.