Annoucement: Due to scheduling issues with work, nothing will be published for the next two or three weeks. So expect the next installment of this series the second week of April.

Untitled HP/Worm Crossover

Summary: Skitter starts to experience a second trigger during Leviathan's attack on Brockton Bay, but the process is interrupted when a higher power intervenes. Taylor Hebert has a new and unexpected ally sent by Death itself; unfortunately, it wasn't possible for Iris Potter to arrive with her own body. So they're going to have to share Taylor's.

Crossover: Worm/Harry Potter

Pairing: Undecided

A/N: I recently discovered wildbow's web serial Worm and absolutely love it. It's dark enough that it's definitely not for everyone, but I still recommend it. I've also read a bunch of fanfiction, some of which has influenced this story — the most obvious being I, Panacea by ack1308. If you aren't familiar with Worm, you'll probably have trouble following this. Unfortunately, I can't do much about that without including so much background that I'd end up boring readers who are familiar with that story.

This isn't merely a crossover between Worm and Harry Potter, it's a crossover between Worm and a series of Harry Potter fanfics that I've been writing: Witches of S.H.I.E.L.D. Those fics are themselves a crossover between Harry Potter and the Avengers. So is this a triple crossover? Or a combination of crossover and fanfiction of my own fanfiction? The Iris Potter here is the same Iris from the Witches of S.H.I.E.L.D. fics, far into her own future, but I don't think you'll have to read them to enjoy this.

It's common to describe this or that type of power in Worm fanfiction as "bullshit," but Potter Magic has the potential of being an entire order of magnitude more bullshitty. Is Lung getting cranky? Cast a Cheering Charm on him. Is Jack Slash threatening you? Transfigure his knife into a rubber chicken, then cast Muffliato on him. And those are just canon spells! So the trick is to make Taylor and her new friend strong enough to make a difference and shake things up, but not so strong that the story becomes one long curbstomp.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't own Worm, wildbow does.

Flobberworm 1.1

"I'm going to leave you wondering what happened to your teammate and what the big name capes are going to say to you. And do with you."

"Hey!" I raised my voice even more, desperate to stop Panacea. "Come back here!"

She turned her head to give me a dark look as she walked away. "I'd wish you good luck with Armsmaster, but I really don't care."

I was half a second from calling every cockroach, ant, and spider in the building and sending them after her when I heard a voice in my head.

That bitch!

I froze.

Granted, it sounds like you two have a history, and maybe you weren't very nice to her the last time you met...

I'd heard that same voice towards the end of the fight with Leviathan. It had screamed at me to move, but I had been too slow. That was the strike which had broken my back.

...but still, if she's going to play Healer like that, she has an obligation to treat patients better. It comes with the territory.

I had assumed that the voice was my subconscious — a warning that my conscious mind hadn't been fast enough to understand. But now...

No, I'm not your subconscious...

Now I figured I was going insane. What was it that Panacea had said before she healed my back? Oh, right — a brain injury from one of Bakuda's bombs. That was it. Apparently, it was worse than I'd realized. That, or Panacea had done something to fuck with me... but no, I was hearing the voice before. Split personality, then? Some consequence of my attempt to live a double life? A product of my guilt at hiding my powers from my father? At hiding my becoming a supervillain in my attempts to be a hero?

I'm real, dammit! I was sent her to help you!

How... how can you possibly be real? I asked in my head. And who could have sent you?

That's a long story, I'm afraid. I promise I'll tell you, but this isn't the time or—

Right. Of course it's a long story. It begins with Taylor suffering a psychotic break while lying manacled in a hospital bed, waiting to be arrested, and ends with her being locked in a padded room, visited on alternate Saturdays by her grieving father...

I sighed. I'd progressed from merely talking to myself to talking to myself about myself in the third person. What was next? Hallucinations?

I assure you that you're perfectly sane, at least as far as I can tell from in here. I can't rifle through your mind and memories — I can only see your current thoughts and reactions. But they all look reasonably healthy to me.

In here? You're seriously telling me that there's another person in my head? And that's supposed to make me feel better? If you're not me, then who the hell are you?

My name is Iris Potter, and I'm not any happier about this than you are. Like I said, I was sent to help, but I didn't know that I'd have to become a passenger in your head to do it. Regardless, it looks like you could indeed use the help right now.

I looked down and pulled against the manacle that was keeping me in bed. Fine — can you prove that you're real and that I'm not having a psychotic breakdown?

I think so. If I were simply a product of your fraying sanity, I wouldn't be able to do anything that you can't already do, right?

I considered that for a moment. Probably not. Unless I had a second trigger event that gave me new powers.

Second trigger event? the voice asked. Oh... well, you might have been about to have one when I arrived, I'm not sure; but if so, then I think my presence stopped it.

I wasn't sure if I should be glad or upset about that. Not much was known about second trigger events, but they happened in the wake of experiences that were even worse than those which caused a cape's first trigger. So I'd had the terrible experience, but not the powers to help me through it. Great.

Ultimately, I think you should be happy. What you went through was horrible, but I think my presence is having a stabilizing influence on your mind.

Wait, are you reading my mind? ...OK, that was kind of a stupid thing to ask, if I was talking to myself.

No — like I said, I can't invade your privacy. I can only see or learn what you're actively thinking about. And for a moment there, you were thinking about what happened during the battle as well as what little is known about second trigger events.

Well, that was something, at least. Maybe. So, what's this about proof?

Even if you had a second trigger event, that would merely expand on your current powers, right? Nothing radically new and different?

That's the theory, at least.

And none of your current abilities comes anywhere close to helping you get these cuffs off, right?

I looked down again at the manacles, thinking about how I might use various bugs to steal keys and bring them to me. Unfortunately, there weren't any PRT officers close enough to do that. No, not directly, I admitted.

Well, I can get them off, and in a way that is completely unrelated to any of your powers. That should prove that I'm not you and that you're not talking to yourself.

My eyes widened slightly. If the voice was right, then that was both welcome and disturbing news. I was rather undecided about whether having a real person in my head was better or worse than a psychotic break. One benefit, though, is that it would prove that I wasn't being mastered by someone projecting their voice into my head.

How will you do that? I asked.

Magic.

I snorted aloud. Yeah, right. There's no such thing. Even Myrddin simply imitates magic.

Look...Taylor, is it? You live in a world where some people fly, others are invulnerable to physical damage, and still others shoot frickin' laser beams from their hands. And you're scoffing at the idea that magic might exist somewhere else?

She had a point. When did people shooting lasers from their hands become normal? You're from an alternate Earth, then?

You sound less surprised about that than about the magic.

Some years ago, a villain named Professor Haywire tore open a hole between our Earth and Earth Aleph. Travel is forbidden, but we've been trading movies and other media ever since.

Well, that's not where I'm from, otherwise I'd have heard of this world, she said. But it looks like I'm from some other alternate Earth.

Why are you offering to help me? I suddenly asked, setting aside her possible origin for now. Hardly anyone had ever offered to help me, and I wasn't feeling too trusting.

For one thing, what happens to you happens to me, and I don't want to get arrested, either. Based on your reaction to the possibility, I'm guessing that you don't expect to be treated fairly. I have some experience with sham trials, and I have no desire to repeat such experiences here.

I'm a villain, though. Doesn't that matter to you? I didn't like to think of myself as a villain. I didn't want to be a villain, but that was what I'd become on my quest to become a hero. Despite all my good intentions, that was how people saw me. I needed to know the motives of the voice offering to help me, because I didn't want her "help" to make things even worse.

Assuming that was even possible.

Of course it matters, but I wouldn't have been sent to help you if you were truly evil.

That word was like a splash of cold water. Was I evil? Was I becoming evil? I... I've done things. A lot of things. Things I'm not proud of. Some were necessary. Others... others had consequences that I never expected.

Do you regret them? The voice sounded a bit softer in my head. I tried to imagine a kind face — the face of someone who cared.

I don't know. I don't think so. Does that make me a bad person? I regret the need to do them, but I can't see any better alternatives. So I'm going to have to stand by them, however much I dislike them.

I know what that's like. Living with hard choices isn't easy, but you show a lot of maturity in being willing to stand by your choices like that. Maybe one reason I'm here is to create new options so you can do more things you're proud of instead of being forced into always choosing the lesser evil.

Magical options, you mean? OK, then, start proving you're not me. Unlock these cuffs.

It's not that simple. I can't do it from in here. I need a body to channel my magic — your body, specifically.

"WHAT?" I said aloud, not caring if anyone heard me.

How do you expect me to affect the physical world without physical access to it?

Gee, I dunno... how about magic? I replied, biting back the "duh!"

Har-de-har-har.

Why can't I do it? Let me use your magic, or whatever it is.

Not possible. My best understanding is that magic is inherent in the soul, which is me. That's what's in here sharing your body: my soul. So only I can do it. But I need a physical body to channel my magic into the physical world.

Your best understanding? Not filling me with confidence here. This idea was looking worse and worse by the second. I shifted my attention to the insects around me, but still didn't find any PRT officers that I could steal keys from.

Magical theory was never one of my strengths. I've always been better with practical applications. Doing things. Theory was... Hermione's area of expertise.

I detected a deep sense of sadness and loss in those words, increasing my growing impression that the voice wasn't me after all. I ignored it, though, in favor of more pressing issues. I still needed to know more about who or what this was. I'm surprised you haven't tried to forcibly take control and do what you want.

I'm not sure I could, but I wouldn't even try unless it were a life-or-death emergency. We need to share this body, and we can't do that if we don't trust each other.

MY body, you mean, I retorted immediately. You're an unwelcome guest!

So, my help is unwelcome? You don't want my assistance in getting those cuffs undone?

I pulled again at the cuffs, and they were as solid as the past few times. How long are you here for, anyway?

Not a clue. Maybe until I've helped you do whatever you need to do. Maybe until you die. It wasn't exactly my choice to come here — I doubt I'll get to decide when I leave.

Oh, that's just great.

Tell me about it. I had plans. Expectations. I was... there was someone waiting for me, and now they'll have to wait longer.

You don't sound happy.

Oh, trust me, I'm not. Not in the slightest. However, I'm certainly not going to take it out on you. You're not to blame — the one who sent me is.

And who was it that sent you?

Like I said, that's a long story — and I don't think we have the time, do we?

I closed my eyes and sighed. I didn't want to do this, but I'd done much worse so far to others. Was I really such a hypocrite that I was unwilling to inconvenience myself in order to achieve my goals? "OK, do it," I whispered. "Just promise me that you'll give me back control when you're done."

I promise, the voice said, and almost immediately I felt a bit like I was floating. I could still feel my body, but the sensations weren't as strong. The aches and pains had lessened. Sounds were muffled. My eyes opened and I could see all around me, just like before, but the colors were muted.

I felt my head look down at the cuffed wrist as my other hand moved over top. It was so strange, watching my own hand move when I wasn't doing it. My mouth opened and I heard my voice say, "Alohomora!"

Even as the strange word was leaving my mouth, I felt a tingling sensation along my arm and in my hand, then the cuffs fell open and my arm was free. I was rubbing that wrist when the world seemed to snap back into place as sensations rushed back, color and sounds returning to full force.

The aches and pains did, too.

That felt... weird, I said.

I'm not surprised — I was a bit freaked out by being a passenger, too. I'm sure we'll get used to—

No, not that, I interrupted. Well, yeah, that was weird, too, but I meant the magic part.

You felt that? Iris asked. Yeah, I was definitely going to have to start calling her Iris. After that display, I couldn't maintain that I was talking to myself anymore. I still wasn't sure that actually having someone else in my head was an improvement over suffering a psychotic break, but I knew that I wasn't being mastered. Even Teacher only gave his victims basic thinker or tinkers powers — nothing like this.

I guess so, I answered. Shouldn't I have been able to?

I don't know. This is as new to me as it is to you. But it does strike me as odd. I never feel anything unless I'm exhausted or I'm casting heavy-duty spells.

I picked up the now-open cuffs and examined them. Weird or not, I conceded, it was pretty damned cool.

I know, right? she said, and I could feel her enthusiasm. Magic is awesome!

I slid out of the bed and gingerly stood, careful about using my newly healed back. I looked down as I moved my legs around and discovered that most of my costume had been ruined in the fight. I was very happy that I'd been under a sheet, because more of my skin was now exposed than covered. I wasn't sure what I should do next — frankly, I'd be less embarrassed walking around naked than how I was now.

I can fix that, Iris announced. Temporarily, at least.

I grimaced, knowing that I'd have to give up control of my body again, but it wasn't like I had much choice in the matter. That had become the story of my life over the past few weeks, and I had a feeling that it was only going to get worse.

Once again I felt like I was floating, and I watched as my hands ran down along my body as my mouth moved, saying "Reparo!" My hands tingled as the tattered remains of my costume twisted and stretched. Tears disappeared and gaping holes filled back in. I was so entranced by the sight that I didn't even notice when sensations returned to normal. I just kind of gaped as I ran my hands up and down a costume that felt as if it were brand-new again.

Tick-tock, Taylor — less basking in how awesome my magic is and more fleeing from the police.

My head snapped up as I heard several loud voices coming closer. I took a chance to peek out through the curtains, and saw lots of people walking around, none of whom seemed to be paying close attention to me.

Now I'm wishing even more that I could have come here physically. My invisibility cloak would be really useful right about now.

You could make yourself invisible?

I had several options for achieving that, but I didn't bring anything physical with me, and I don't think I'll be able to do any of those spells without a wand.

We are going to have to have a long, long talk about your powers, I said. Is there anything you can't do?

I can't bring back the dead — not really. At least, not in a way that any sane person would approve of. I can't create true love. I can't conjure real food or precious metals. Other than that, I'm only limited by my knowledge, morals, and imagination.

Fuck me!

That would be... difficult in our current circumstances. Not impossible, I suppose, but difficult.

I shivered as my mind threw up a series of images and memories that I really didn't want to think about just then. I heard her chuckle at my discomfort before she returned to business. Grab your chart. If we can find one of those long, white lab coats, you can pretend to be a technician or something.

That will mean taking off my mask, I pointed out as I followed her instructions. I'd be exposing my identity.

It's a risk, she agreed, but if people assume you belong here, they won't look at you twice. Sometimes the best place to hide is right out in plain view.

You sound like you have some experience with that, I said as I slipped under the curtain to the next bed over. There was no one there, but there was a deep, red stain in the bed that gave me pause.

Infiltration, espionage, you name it, Iris confirmed.

I'm sure it was a lot easier with magic.

For a long time, I used as little magic as possible, so I came by my successes the hard way. There's a lot I can teach you, even without your being able to do magic, though there's probably even more that I'd rather you never have to learn.

That sounded ominous. Despite the circumstances, I couldn't stop myself from asking, Have you ever killed anyone? Almost as soon as the words formed in my mind, I regretted them.

There was a long pause as I slipped under the next curtain and again encountered an empty bed. Yes, she finally answered. She didn't elaborate, though, and I decided not to press her on it. Maybe she would be able to help me deal with my choices. Or help me make better ones.

Judging by her words earlier, she sounded older than me, and I had been coming to the realization that I needed the help and advice of someone more experienced. A friend, maybe, but an older friend. Like an older sister, or even a mentor. I'd never get one in the Protectorate or PRT — I didn't even want to think about getting one from any of the villain gangs. And there was no way I could talk to my dad about these things. That didn't leave me a lot of options... at least, no options from my Earth.

Before I continued on, I saw a white lab coat draped over a chair. I hesitated, but decided to follow Iris' advice and put it on. It was a bit big on me, but that simply helped conceal my backpack. I removed my mask and slipped it back into a compartment. I took a deep breath before moving on to the next bed. Without my mask I was exposed — more exposed than I would have been if I hadn't let Iris repair my costume.

But she was right about the value of anonymity. People wearing masks and costumes weren't unusual in this hospital right now, but if they were looking to arrest me, then Skitter walking around free would quickly attract attention. A random girl in a white coat, though, would be ignored. And as Taylor Hebert, I was used to people ignoring me. I'd gotten good at keeping my head down, moving anonymously through a crowd. I could usually avoid Madison, Emma, and Sophia, so long as they didn't see my hair bobbing along...

My hair! I exclaimed.

What about it?

My mask only covers my face. It leaves the back of my head exposed. Someone might recognize my hair!

Not the smartest decision...

I like my hair! And I did. I hated the rest of my body, hated that I physically looked more like a boy than a girl, but that was why I liked my hair so much. It was my mother's hair, and it was the most feminine thing about me.

But once again, Iris was right. Leaving it exposed and thus identifiable hadn't been smart.

Maybe I can do something about that, too. Human transfiguration won't be possible without a wand, but a simple glamour charm might stick long enough to get us out of here.

Do it, I said, and this time I didn't hesitate to relax and relinquish control. I felt my arms rise and my hands sink into my hair before the words "Como Colovaria!" came out of my mouth. Iris seemed to wait for a few seconds before she returned control to me, and I immediately pulled a lock of hair in front of my eyes.

Red? I asked. Won't that attract attention?

It's my own hair color. Or was, I guess. It's the color I'm most intimately familiar with and thus the easiest for me to do.

I shrugged. I doubted that I looked good as a redhead, but I couldn't deny that it was nothing like the hair people associated with Skitter.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

I whipped my head around at the shouting, recognizing Armsmaster's angry voice. I didn't waste any more time slipping under the divider and into the next patient area, but that was when I froze at the sight of the unconscious form in front of me.

It was Sophia Hess.

Sophia fucking Hess.

What the hell was she doing here? I blinked and looked again, and it only took me a second to recognize her costume.

Shadow Stalker — one of the Wards here in Brockton Bay.

Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker.

I almost instantly reviewed every encounter with her over the past year and a half. I now understood how and why she, Emma, and Madison had managed to get inside my locker so many times. I'd thought that they'd simply kept figuring out my combination, but I'd been wrong. Sophia had used her parahuman powers as Shadow Stalker to reach in and steal my homework. Steal my books. Steal... my mother's flute.

I felt my jaw clench as I reviewed my interactions with teachers and Principal Blackwell, too. I'd thought that they'd refused to believe me because Sophia, Emma, and Madison were popular girls. Because Emma's father was a lawyer and Sophia was a track star. But that hadn't been it, had it? The adults at Winslow High must have known that Sophia was a Ward. They had protected her from my complaints. They had chosen to sacrifice me so they could keep her record clean. Keep a Ward in a school that suffered from gang activity.

I had been a fucking sacrificial lamb to them. My suffering had been deemed irrelevant. They had let her destroy my life. They had let her get away with stuffing me in my locker, trapped for hours in rotting, insect-ridden filth, just to—

Taylor! Iris shouted.

I shook my head as my train of thought derailed. What? Distantly, I realized that I'd been unconsciously drawing bugs towards me, and I quickly let them go.

What is the matter with you? You've been standing here, staring for nearly a minute...

This... this piece of shit, I started. Do you have any idea what she's done to me—

Since it all just flashed through your mind, yes, Iris interrupted. And I also have a good idea of how the adults at your school handled it. Believe me, I'm as angry as you, but now is not the time.

But... but...

Now is NOT the time, she repeated. We have to LEAVE. We'll take care of Sophia later, but to do that, we need to be free.

"Promise?" I whispered.

Her and all the rest of the assholes who thought that the life of a lonely teen girl was worth sacrificing to protect this bitch, Iris said, and an image of glowing green eyes flashed in my mind.

I believed her.

"She can't be far." Armsmaster's voice was closer than it had been before. "I am detecting a large number of cockroaches in the area."

"Shit!" I hissed. I took a deep breath, looked down at the chart, and stepped out from Sophia's curtained area. If I kept looking at the chart, ignoring everyone else, maybe everyone would ignore me.

Just keep looking at the chart. Just keep looking at—

I got maybe three steps before I collided with someone big enough to bounce me back a step. I cringed when I looked up and realized that it was Grue, accompanied by Regent, Tattletale, and Bitch. We all just stared in surprise at each other.

Regent started to say something, but Tattletale elbowed him before narrowing her eyes at me. That was the last thing I needed just then — Tattletale's undivided attention.

"You, Undersiders! Stay where you are!"

Correction: Armsmaster's attention was the last thing I needed.

Luckily for us, Tattletale was quick on her feet. "Run interference," she whispered to Grue as she pushed him towards the oncoming heroes. I refused to look in their direction, lest something in my eyes give me away, but I could tell that Armsmaster was accompanied by Miss Militia and Legend at the very least. "Remember," she continued as she pushed Regent and Bitch to follow, "we haven't seen Skitter since the organizational meeting before the battle."

"Whatever," Bitch muttered, and for a few seconds, I was alone with Tattletale.

"Something happened," she said. It wasn't a question.

I nodded.

She cocked her head slightly, then grimaced. "I'm trying to figure out what it is, but it's making my head hurt."

"Don't," I insisted. "Don't get a migraine on my account. You won't be able to work it out. Even I'm not sure what this is."

"But you're OK?" she asked, and I didn't doubt that her concern was genuine. Despite my break from the team and the hard feelings that had produced, Tattletale still cared. She was still... my friend? I hoped so.

"I don't know, but I think I will be," I answered.

She frowned, but we both knew that our time was up. "Don't be a stranger," she whispered. "Contact us." She then turned and joined the team around the corner in their argument with the heroes.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that you haven't seen Skitter?" Armsmaster demanded as I headed away from them.

Keep moving, Iris said. Don't look like you're paying any attention to that conversation. Real emergency workers in a situation like this are tired and focused on their jobs, Resist the urge to hurry, and definitely don't run.

"Not since the start of the fight, as I'm sure the others already told you," Tattletale answered.

I was sure I could hear him grinding his teeth. "The lie detector in my helmet says that isn't completely true. But it also says that it's not a lie."

"How can that be?" Miss Militia asked.

"Tattletale is a manipulative Thinker who likes to play head games," Armsmaster answered. "Nothing she says can be trusted, not even when she's telling the truth."

"I'm flattered," Tattletale replied as I stopped in front of a door. A door with sunlight coming through the window.

"And that reads as a complete truth," Armsmaster practically growled. "If you know anything about Skitter's whereabouts, it will go better if you tell us now."

I had already grasped the handle to open the door, but I paused when I heard that.

What are you doing? Iris asked. This is the exit!

"Is that a threat?" Grue asked. "If so, you'd be violating the truce."

"Not if you violated it first," Armsmaster shot back. "I found you standing outside this patient's bed area. I have to wonder if you looked in, trying to discover someone's civilian identity." I heard cloth rustle. "It's a Ward, too. Unmasked. This definitely looks suspicious. Too suspicious to be a coincidence."

"What the hell?" Grue exclaimed. "We were just walking by!"

Those are my friends! I raged at Iris. Or they were. I don't know if they still are or not, but I can't let them get railroaded!

"Maybe you were, maybe you weren't. We'll have to let an investigation determine that." He paused meaningfully. "Unless, of course, we find ourselves too busy with Skitter to take you four into custody..."

Miss Militia entered the conversation, saying. "Armsmaster, are you certain—"

"If they've violated the truce, or have been helping Skitter violate the truce, we need to know," he interrupted harshly.

Can you and your four friends take on those heroes, even assuming they don't get reinforcements? Do you want to get into a fight here, among all these wounded people? Iris asked. No? I didn't think so. If you want to help them, we'll help them — but we need to be free in order to do that. And freedom is on the other side of that door, not back the way we came.

"Speaking of violating the truce, I noticed that an awful lot of capes died in your area at the end of the battle, Armsmaster," Tattletale said. "All villains, too. Coincidence?"

"Armsmaster?" Legend asked as I opened the door and felt the dawn sun warm my face. Had I been unconscious that long? I tried to ignore the conversation and focus on getting away. Tattletale was obviously trying to buy me time, and I'd be an idiot if I wasted it. If it caused them to be arrested, then I'd find a way to help. I owed them that much, at least.

And I'd have help, now, too.

"I told you, she likes to play head games," Armsmaster spat as I stepped outside and the door slowly closed behind me. "But maybe she and the rest of her gang would like to hear about how Skitter approached me with a plan to infiltrate the Undersiders. How she wanted to be a hero by going undercover and getting the dirt on them. She wanted to make a big name for herself by bringing them all in..."

The door behind me slammed closed, cutting off further sound. Not that I needed to hear any more, I knew exactly what he was telling them, the bastard.

Suddenly the sunlight didn't feel nearly so warm or inviting.

Keep going, Iris said softly, almost gently. We'll figure this out.

"Promise?"

Promise. And I always keep my promises — the good and the bad.