Harry Potter and all characters, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling, not me.

The Incredible Hulk belongs to Marvel.

Harry's Ultra Large Kind – Chapter 2 – Metamorphosis

"Look into the mirror and tell me what you see," commanded Quirrel. Harry had no choice but to comply with the man possessed by Voldemort.

Harry Potter didn't realize it, but he wasn't anywhere near the Mirror of Erised, not even close to Hogwarts. In fact, he was in the most non-magical place he could imagine – lying in bed asleep at Number 4 Privet Drive, the home of the Dursleys, in Dudley's second bedroom.

He'd returned from Hogwarts only a week before. The first thing the Dursleys had done was to lock all his Wizarding supplies in the cupboard under the stairs that used to be his bedroom. His owl, Hedwig, was locked in a cage in his room, frequently making noise because she wasn't used to being locked up like a prisoner. She'd spent ten months in the Hogwarts Owlery, where she could come and go as she pleased. Now, Vernon Dursley couldn't understand why she was so upset.

Harry had been spending his days doing chores from sunup to sundown, getting meager meals that barely kept him alive before going to bed. He was currently reliving his last encounter with Voldemort, in his mind.

"Let me speak to him…face-to-face…." The voice came from underneath the Defense Professor's turban.

"Master, you are not strong enough," replied Quirrel.

"I have strength enough…for this…."

Professor Quirrel then unraveled his turban to reveal the face of Voldemort, and Harry felt true fear.

Suddenly, the slumbering figure's green eyes opened and began to glow. His skin complexion began to match his eyes before he began growing. It was lucky Harry had been wearing his cousin Dudley's castoff pants that were way too big on him, because otherwise they would've ripped to shreds. The old bed he was lying down on collapsed under the weight of the creature Harry had become, making a loud bang that woke up the house.

Upon hearing Vernon Dursley's screams from another room, the monster stood up and roared, flexing his huge muscles in front of him. No longer was Harry Potter a short, scrawny 11-year-old boy with messy hair and a lightning bolt scar. He was a seven-foot-tall green monster with messy hair and a lightning bolt scar. He looked around the tiny room he was stuck in and roared again before smashing the dresser and desk with his fists. He then punched a troll-sized hole in the wall with both hands and prepared to leap onto the well-manicured lawn.

Just before he jumped, the Harry-creature heard a loud screech and turned to see a snowy white owl locked in a cage. He took the cage in his hands and gently pulled its door open, saying, "Hed-wey," while easily breaking the lock the Dursleys had placed there. Without another sound, Hedwig flew out the window and out of sight.

The creature turned back toward the hole in the wall just as the bedroom door burst open, revealing Vernon Dursley in his bathrobe, looking mad as a hornet. His complexion was as red as it ever had been. He started shouting, "Boy, how dare…" before he saw what was in the bedroom. He paled faster than should be possible before turning and running away, leaving a wet trail behind him. The creature roared once more in his direction before jumping out the hole it had created and running off into the night. It didn't notice the snowy owl that followed at a safe distance.

-HULK-

The next morning, as Harry drifted awake, he knew something was wrong. He could feel that he wasn't lying on his bed – it felt more like grass –a bird was standing on his arm, and something wet was flowing down his forehead. His first thought was that the bird, which he hoped was Hedwig, had urinated on him, but the liquid felt thicker than that. He opened his eyes as his left hand wiped his forehead, causing the bird to fly away before Harry could identify it.

Through blurred vision, he saw that he was lying down in a field he'd never seen before and the sun was out. He was wearing the large pants he'd fallen asleep in with no shirt, socks or shoes. Worse, he didn't have his glasses, so he had to squint to see anything clearly, including the blackish-red liquid that was on his left hand. When examining it closely, he decided that it was a weird combination of blood and some tar-like substance. Whatever it was, he wiped it onto the grass as he got up, in hopes of figuring out just where in the world he was.

-HULK-

At the same time, Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and many other titles, was sitting at his desk at the school he worked at, preparing his annual newspaper listing for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As he dipped his quill in ink, the fireplace in his office flashed green and a familiar voice called his name.

"Albus? Are you there?"

As he stood up and walked toward the fireplace, Dumbledore replied, "Of course I am, Arabella. You know I spend most of my mornings here, even during the summer." He then squatted down to get a better look at the face of Mrs. Figg, the squib he'd planted in Little Whinging to look over the Boy-Who-Lived. "Is there something wrong with young Harry?"

"Maybe. I don't know," she exclaimed with a worried expression. "He's missing!"

"Missing? What happened?" he replied calmly, hoping the situation wasn't as bad as Mrs. Figg was making it out to be.

"There's a big hole in the side of the Dursley house where Harry sleeps. He's not there. The Dursleys told the police they think Harry used explosives to run away."

"A muggle-worthy explanation," he agreed, still sounding calm, although he really was beginning to grow concerned.

"So I pretended to be an Auror and asked them what really happened."

"What did they say?" he asked worriedly.

"That a large, green creature did all the damage. I guess it was a troll. Only Mr. Dursley saw that. He assumes that it took Harry and didn't seem the least bit concerned whether his nephew was dead or alive."

After a quick glance at one of the devices on his desk, Dumbledore assured her, "He is alive and well, wherever that may be."

"I'm glad to hear it. Anyway, they unloaded his trunk, with all his magical things in it, on me, saying I can give it back to Harry if he resurfaces."

"Send it through the floo. I'll see that it's returned to him."

"He also wanted to know if our kind was going to pay for the damage to his house."

-HULK-

Harry smiled with relief as he read the sign London: 5 kilometers in front of him. "At least now I know where we are," he said to no one in particular as he held one side of his raggedy pants to keep them from falling. He looked like a beggar. At about that time, he noticed a familiar owl flying in his general direction. "Hedwig!" he called, "am I glad to see you!" Even with blurry vision, he'd recognize his winged companion anywhere. The snowy owl swooped down from the sky and landed on his shoulder.

"I don't suppose you know how I got here?" Harry asked his owl.

"Hoot," the intelligent bird replied.

"You do, don't you?" the Boy-Who-Lived answered. "I just wish I could speak owl, then." Hedwig seemed to nod in agreement. Harry was sure Hedwig wished he were intelligent enough to learn the owl language. "I guess we should get to London." Looking down at his shirtless and shoeless self, he added, "I guess I need to get some new clothes. I hope Gringotts allows you to go inside without a shirt or shoes. Or access your vault without your key."

-HULK-

It was a very exhausted, not to mention sunburned, Harry that pushed open the door of the Leaky Cauldron. His feet hurt, as did his pride. As he made his way into London, he was naturally assumed by all the muggles to be homeless. Some of them gave him a little money. Others tried to persuade him to go to the police or an orphanage, but he managed to get away before they could do anything. His appearance wasn't the best it had ever been, but he was instantly recognized by someone.

"Harry! What are you doing here? What happened to you?"

Even with his unaided vision, he could recognize the person addressing him as the woman who'd shown him how to get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters nearly a year before. He couldn't help but smile at the plump woman. At last, he might be able to get some help. "Mrs. Weasley. It's great to see you!"

She immediately engulfed him in a hug before asking, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he replied once she'd let go of him, "but, as you can see, I don't have my shirt, glasses, shoes, or anything else. I don't know how I ended up like this. I woke up in a field and started walking."

"Dumbledore said there was some trouble at your home and you were missing, so he's having everyone search for you."

"What kind of trouble?" he inquired.

"Apparently, a troll busted the wall of your room. Are you sure you don't know anything about it?"

"A troll? No. Like I said, I went to sleep in bed and woke up in a field."

Sighing, Molly Weasley stated, "I'd better alert Professor Dumbledore that I've found you. He's got your things, by the way. Maybe I can talk him into letting you spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow, my house."

His face brightened up at the prospect of seven extra Dursley-free weeks. "I hope so."

She walked over to the fireplace and did something that Harry thought was very odd, but everyone else seemed to think was normal. She grabbed a handful of some black powder from the top of the fireplace, tossed it into the fire and shouted, "Hogwarts Headmaster's Office." The flames turned green and she squatted down, sticking her head into the fire.

He was too busy gaping at the strange sight to notice someone else enter the Leaky Cauldron from Diagon Alley and walk up to him. He did notice when a camera flashed in his face.

"Are you Harry Potter?" asked a small, blond-haired boy.

Harry blinked a few times and squinted at the kid. He appeared to be a firstie and was opening a book, obviously looking for something. He noticed a man in a milk delivery uniform walking up to the boy, accompanied by a woman. Harry assumed they were the boy's parents, and judging by their appearance, they were muggles.

"Colin! That was rude! You don't just go flashing your camera in random stranger's faces," the boy's father chastised.

"Apologize to him at once," Colin's mother demanded.

"Sorry about that," he said to Harry, "but I am right, aren't I? This book says Harry Potter can be identified by a lighting-shaped scar on his forehead."

"Yeah, I am. But don't believe all the stuff they print about me. I'm just…" At that moment, he trailed off as something was placed in front of his eyes. He blinked as the blurry world became clear again. He then turned to see Mrs. Weasley smiling at him while holding a shirt, socks, belt and shoes she'd obviously just gotten from Dumbledore. He surmised that she'd just placed his glasses on him. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

"Dumbledore is sending your things to the Burrow, Harry, but I thought you might want these to wear while we do a bit of shopping."

"All right," he agreed before turning back to his new acquaintance. "I've got to go…Colin, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Colin Creevey. See you at Hogwarts."

"Bye." He then threw the shirt and belt on, sitting briefly to put on his socks and shoes. After that, he walked with Molly through the back door of the pub and then the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.

"I just need to pick up a few odds and ends before we go to the Burrow." He then spent about a half hour helping Molly pick up a new jar of floo powder, which he learned was the stuff she'd thrown into the fireplace, along with a few other items, before they returned to that very fireplace and she told him how to floo to her home. "Say the Burrow very clearly," she instructed him.

"The Burrow," he shouted a bit too loudly while tossing a pinch of floo powder into the fire, but the green flames managed to take him, anyway. He fell forward onto the floor, breaking his glasses in the process, before crawling out of the way, knowing that his companion would be coming through any moment now. Predictably, the fire went green again and Molly stepped out gracefully.

She looked around before spotting him. "It does take some time to get used to traveling by fireplaces. You'll learn," she explained sympathetically before offering him a helping hand. "At least you made it here."

Once he was on his feet, he looked around at the Burrow through his broken glasses. He saw some needles knitting a scarf by themselves. He noticed dishes in the kitchen washing themselves. But the thing that got his attention was a clock hanging on the wall. It was completely useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise very helpful. It had a hand for every member of the family that was pointing toward the activity they were doing. Molly's hand, for example, was moving from Traveling to Home. According to the clock, Mr. Weasley was at work, while Percy, Fred, George and Ron were at Home. Ginny, on the other hand, was Visiting a Friend.

"I've always loved that clock," Molly commented, almost reverently. "It lets me keep track of…"

BANG!

Harry jumped at the noise that was coming from above. "What's going on? Who's attacking…"

"No one's attacking us, dear, but I'm about to attack someone." Molly then started up the stairs, her hands on her hips. "FRED! GEORGE! WHAT IN THE BLAZES IS GOING ON?! I CAN'T LEAVE YOU BOYS ALONE FOR TWO SECONDS…"

While Mrs. Weasley was yelling at the twins, Harry decided to look around a bit. He ended up opening the back door just in time to see Ron violently tossing what appeared to be a tiny man over their fence.

"And stay out!" he shouted before noticing his observer. "Oi, Hello, Harry. I was just finishing up degnoming the garden. How long can you stay? You wanna play a game of chess?"

Harry tried to answer both his questions. "It looks like I'm staying for the rest of the summer."

"That's great! Maybe we can play some Quidditch later."

"Sure. I guess I'll play chess now, but answer me this: what is degnoming?"

They walked back inside while Ron was explaining his chore when Harry noticed Ginny's hand on the clock moving to Traveling. Ron sighed and sarcastically commented, "Great. I thought she'd be gone the whole day." After a moment, he said with a smirk, "She probably senses you're here."

"Me?"

"Yes. She's been talking about you all summer. A bit annoying, really. Anyway, she'll be back from Loony's house in just a few minutes."

"Loony?" Harry asked.

"Luna Lovegood. She lives pretty close by at the Rookery with her dad, the editor of a crazy magazine called The Quibbler. It talks about all kinds of made-up creatures and Luna believes it. Sometimes Ginny brings one home if it's just been printed."

"Well," Harry replied, for some reason feeling that he should defend this girl he'd never met, "I didn't believe dragons existed a year ago. Maybe those creatures are just rare or hidden or something…" he trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"Whatever. Let me get my chessboard." Ron ran off up the stairs where his mother had finally stopped berating Fred and George for trying to blow up the house again. After Ron returned, he and Harry set up the chessboard and began playing, telling their pieces where they should go. Ron was just a few turns from a checkmate when the door opened, revealing the youngest Weasley.

Ginny was wearing a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt, and carrying a magazine. Harry could make out that the title said it was the Quibbler that he'd just been talking about. He was a bit curious, so he decided to ask if he could read it. "Hi, Ginny," he greeted, causing the girl who hadn't been looking his direction to turn and then stiffen. "Could I borrow that?" With a trembling hand, she held out the Quibbler for him.

Once he had it, she about ran upstairs, although she did manage to say, "Luna said the cover story was just added because of something that happened last night," before she closed her bedroom door.

While Ron was chuckling about Ginny's reaction to Harry, he was staring at the cover. It had a drawing of a large green giant on the front, and a headline that said, Historically Unknown Lost Kreature Terrorizes Muggles. The article, which referred to the monster by its initials, said that the troll-like creature had been spotted in Surrey last night. The article claimed that descriptions given by muggle witnesses before they were Obliviated proved it wasn't a troll – just similar to one, therefore it was a new creature the Ministry was hiding that needed a new name. Mr. Lovegood said the K worked better with the HULK acronym than a C when he was coming up with a name. He promised to do his very best to get a photograph of the creature as soon as he could, "…provided that it's not as sensitive about having its picture taken as Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

"Checkmate," announced Ron, turning Harry's attention to a more important topic – the game he'd just lost.

-HULK-

Chapter end