Chapter 2: The Rousing of Alveus
Thirteen Years Later
June 8th, 2015
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Scotland, Magical Great Britain
Harry Potter was scared. No, scratch that, he was terrified. He was standing near Hogwarts' lake with his catatonic godfather; shaking as monstrous soul sucking fiends descended upon them to do what they did best, which was to turn healthy living beings into empty shells devoid of a soul.
He was standing straight, yet unable to move. With all sense of possibility snatched from his mind, his body no longer had the will to obey him. He screamed inside himself, yelling to run and save his Godfather.
It was torture. There was no other word for it. Less than half an hour ago, he had come as close as he ever had before to be with somebody he could truly call "family". Sirius had said that they could have their own house together. Sirius had said that they could be together. He had said that he wouldn't have to return to the Dursleys. He had been found, saved, and had been elated at just the thoughts alone.
Any hope had been burned out of him in the last minute.
He fell down on his knees, his eyes pouring tears and his mind racked with a combination of anger, fear, and depression.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He bellowed with all that he could. The dementors, though, took no interest in the feelings of a 13 year boy. They continued to advance on both of them, preparing themselves for a tasty meal.
He watched, helpless, as they came closer and closer. A little ball of light levitated out of the mouth of the only person in the world that he called family. With a jolt, Harry realized he was looking at his godfather's soul coming out of his body.
He stared on, unable to move, his legs frozen and his mind clouded with pain. Now desperate, he prayed, begged and cried, for someone to save them, at his own uselessness, and for what he had done to the only person who cared for him.
He gripped his wand tighter, trying again and again to cast a Patronus. He wailed in agony as it produced nothing more than a slight mist. There was nothing left for him, on this world. All hope, all light, gone. It was all hopeless, he thought as he watched a dementor descend and swallow the ball in one smooth motion. He had envisioned his death hundreds of times. Never, though, had he thought that it would end like this.
He gave a small thought back to what Albus Dumbledore had said about death. It was true, he realized. There is something much worse than death . . . dying alone with your world crumbling around you. Yes, that was true suffering.
At this, he slumped, unwilling to fight any further. It was useless anyway. If he couldn't save Sirius, what right did he have to live? The Dursleys had been right after all, he was good for nothing, a freak, utterly useless, a burden on the earth. Such thoughts overpowered his mind, pulling him deeper and deeper into depression, even as a fate worse than death glided closer with every second.
And then he felt it. As the dementors drew closer, as they laid waste to greater and greater parts of his mind, he felt something snap within. It felt as if a thousand walls that had surrounded his mind were suddenly pierced. They tumbled to the ground, shattered.
He could hear something inside of him crying in pain, agony, something beyond mutilation.
Through blinking eyes he saw a tiny black ball, diseased and mutilated, flow out of his scar into the mouth of the dementor closest to him. He tried to contemplate what it was, remembering that he had been told multiple times that some form of dark magic had been left on him by Voldemort. Was this it possibly? No matter, for that matter was trivial compared to what else was going on inside his body.
It seemed as though while his body had shut down, his mind was acting of its own accord faster than he had ever had it think before. The walls that had surrounded his mind were not the only ones that had fallen. He could feel other walls had fallen inside of him, but these were far different.
The ones around his mind were dark, scary, so cold. However, they were primordially primitive compared to the other ones.
These were ancient, impenetrable, and had the sense of total and absolute control in them. Yes, these were far more important.
As these were shattered, all he could do was shudder as suddenly, a rush of raw, undiluted, and otherworldly power ran through his body, coursed through his veins. It rose up from within, from his very soul.
Little did he or anyone else, know, these walls breaking had awoken something far more dangerous and deadly that the little piece of Tom Riddle's soul that had been stuck inside the lightning bolt scar.
Recognizing the power now in him, he could feel that same power swimming through his body, demanding his muscles to do its will.
Acting of their own accord, both of his hands flew up, pointed directly at the hideous black cloaked dementor still in front of him. And then, the power released itself.
He could feel millions, tens of millions of particles fly from his hands in a continuous stream. To an outsider, it would look as if a jet of sand was being directed at the creature. Harry, though, could feel what they really were.
It was weird. Very weird. He somehow knew that the millions of particles were part of him, and yet, they seemed almost . . . infected. As if something else had taken control of them.
Whatever it was, the particles launched themselves at the dementors, blasting straight into it.
In a split second, the particles had imbedded themselves into the dementor, which had cried an unearthly shriek. Harry watched, in awe, as the particles literally seemed to disintegrate the dementor in front of him before either he or the creature could react.
The millions of whatever they were had enveloped the dementor and then seemed to progressively tear matter from the dementor all in the space of time it took him blink. The clock, the black mass on the bones of the dementor had unraveled themselves, tearing from each other until they were nothing more than thousands of specs of dust.
The haunting dementor that had stood in front of him had been reduced to ashes. On the ground was nothing more than black and burned chars of the clock and the bones that the creature had been made out of.
It was different from any magic he'd ever cast before: Older, purer, and a times deeper. And with the power, came clarity. He had felt something inside of him take over. It had certainly not been him to unleash such power upon the dementors.
At the moment, though, he didn't care. His godfather was dead and nearly a hundred lethal dementors were flying around over him, feasting on the meal of happy memories and all forms of hope. Mustering his last bit of energy, he gave a deep breath, and surrendered himself. He knew he stood no chance. If whatever it was inside of him had the power to overcome and save him from the dementors, he would not waste time fighting it.
Yet, as he felt himself retreat within his conscious, he felt that suddenly, instead of just not being able to control his body, he was now feeling like life itself was being squeezed out of him. As final thoughts of loss and feelings of pain ran through his beaten self, the entity inside him seized its chance.
Inside him, the mysterious power cried, but not in horror or fear. No, no, it cried in joy!
With a roar, the entity extended itself, flooding the boy's body with his parasites. In just a few seconds, he had could already begin to feel himself taking control, the body functions and thoughts all his now.
Sweeping throughout the body, he experienced the feeling of operating a host body for the first time in thousands of years. Opening the boy's, now his, eyes, a smile curled up on his face.
He had returned.
Extending its control over the body's mind and other functions, he began to methodically erase and eliminate any trace of the small boy's life force from his new host.
Seeing his parasites flying through his new body, he chased down the poor boy's soul, wiping it from existence, leaving behind nothing but a hole of knowledge and memories. The entity immediately grasped onto them and absorbed them into his own mental database.
The entity felt no qualms with killing the boy. Reviewing the memories in a fraction of a second, the entity felt that the boy was most likely glad to have his horrid and unfair life ended. In the end, though, he cared not. He had nothing against the boy, no, not at all. It was just the fact that Harry had been in his way, and he had always counted his own survival above anyone else's.
He remembered that night twelve years ago when he had been forced to save to boy from some spell designed to wipe out the consciousness soul. He thought the spell had been very basic and weak, but from what he could understand later it was the ultimate "evil" curse. It had taken relatively little effort on his part to protect the boy. Since his parasites were already intertwined with the boy's soul, no amount of that weak killing magic would have come close to harming him.
No, though, he had broken out of the bonds that had kept him trapped for so long. First thing was first, he thought, and that was to assimilate the memories and knowledge of the boy.
Struggling to process all of the new information left behind, the entity focused to what it had identified as a priority to ensure his survival. He was unsure what effect a dementor swallowing his soul would have on him. Theoretically, he could simply overpower and take a dementor as his host. However, that would be far too inconvenient and his own plans made clear that he had to be a human, at least for his opening moves.
Never mind, he smirked, using his new host's mouth for the first time. It would be fun to let this be a demonstration of his great power, now that he had finally returned.
He had been worshiped by the dementors when he was still free, but that was then, and this was now. As they said:"Change of time brings with it a change of allies,"
Reaching out with all of his senses, he counted exactly 113 dementors surrounding him. He exerted a bit of his own aura of power into the air, challenging the creatures for his soul. As he expected, the dementors responded to the call. All swooping down to take a piece of his soul into their hideous mouths.
Then the entity let fall the mask that maintained the former dazzling green eyes of the boy and covered his own.
They were cold, calculating, old, dark, scary, limitless.
Shocked and frightened, the dementors halted their descent and stood still hovering in the air for a second, unsure what to do.
Building his own power inside of him, the dementors could feel the new soul's aura threatening to entangle all of them in its grasp. The entity pooled all of his rage and anger into his power base, preparing to throw it all at the hooded creatures in front of him. With his power at a breaking point, having the possibility of burning his new host internally from power alone, he exploded.
As he had done before, the entity thrust his arms forwards, pointed at no dementor specifically, but in the general direction.
From them, dozens of streams of his parasites flew from his fingers, reaching out and hitting the dementors in full force. Like the one before, they all started to die. Their bones seemed to internally crush themselves into a thin powder, the clocks fell to the ground in ripped miniscule pieces, and they heads melted leaving nothing some black fluid on the ground.
One by one, the dementors were hit, each of them falling apart as their remains fell slowly into the lake. Dusts and fluids seemed to be being poured from the sky.
In turn, the dementors screeched, their horrible cries giving cause for the entity to truly smile.
What sounds! He had not heard them in so long! He took enjoyment at watching an entire dementor battalion being obliterated in front of him.
The dementors not hit immediately broke away from the one sided struggle to try to flee. As they did though, the entity let loose his full aura, linking with each of the creature's cores, pulling them back into the angle of fire.
Realizing that their situation was hopeless, the dementors screeched out. They had expected to be able to feast on a soul or two tonight before being sent back to Azkaban where the Sovereign Power of Magical Great Britain kept them. Instead, though, they were now being torn apart from a power none of them could have images. They had seen nothing like it before.
They knew only of Patronuses, which could hold them back or cause them to flee. In their entire history, there had been few able to defeat or even seriously harm dementors. One specific family line had always had the ability, but their family had become extinct hundreds of years ago: the Peverells.
Even so, they could all sense that the opponent they faced was far more powerful than they remembered any Peverell being. They had been able to kill or even torture dementors, but this enemy fought at a level completely above that of the Eldritch family of death.
They had heard rumors, from the elders, of the long forgotten tales of the Great One. Of course, none were still alive that had experienced him with their own eyes, but the tales and stories had been passed down for thousands of years.
They all knew that they had one been living pieces of flesh, whishing only to die. The Great One had helped them find their purpose and their new lives after the twisted experiments done onto them. Praying that to was indeed the Great One, they begged for forgiveness.
"We beg forgiveness, lord of darkness. Spare us, we beg you."
Forgiveness; such a wonderful word … such a pathetic lie… they had done nothing to help him when he was imprisoned. They had all sat back and feasted upon all the happy memories of people. What had they done to deserve his forgiveness!
Turning his attention to the last stragglers of the battalion, the entity launched more jets of parasites at them, watching gleefully as they crumbled into the air they occupied.
He stayed there, still, unmoving, his mind returning to his visions as he gazed upon the destruction before him. All was quiet, except for the few odd sounds he could hear in the far distance up near the castle.
Before him lay the remnants of the dementor battalion. Actually, remains would be a better word, as there was nothing left of them. The only evidence that they had ever traveled the earth was the dust and ashes that now covered the ground and the lake where they had flown above.
If the entity had been a human, he might have felt just the slightest twitch of remorse. He had indeed provided guidance and direction to the poor lost souls all those thousands of years ago.
And yet, he was not human. That particular quality of him had been lost when his DNA had been rewritten. Him, and all the others who had had to suffer through the experimentations. He was lucky at least. The formula that they had been working towards was successful for his trial.
The ones who had turned into what were now the dementors had been less fortunate. They had undergone experimentation earlier, during the opening stages of the program. What had been left of them afterward resembled walking death.
One might have considered his attack upon the dementors brash and irrational. No, far from. Being trapped and encased for millennials on end allowed one the time to think and plan, and the entity had been doing nothing but that.
He was unsure of the new world he had been released into. He did not know anybody, or anything. But what he did know, was that humans, of any time and of any place, always reacted to power. They might react negatively, they might react positively, but they always reacted.
He had also seen something in the boy's memories that he assumed the boy had probably not. All except for a few of the people the boy had encountered were naive idiots, ready to believe the first one that came and declared whatever they wanted to.
He knew nothing of this new world, but he knew for sure that he would provoke a significant reaction, good or bad, for wiping out over 100 dementors.
The next few days would have to be played carefully and cautiously. He was a God, yes, and he was immortal, yes, but he would never risk anything for his own overconfidence.
He took his last actions as a free man, well entity really, as perfect examples. He had thought himself so clever to trick the Eldritch thirteen while he had hidden himself inside one of them. How did that plan turn out? He had unexpectedly encountered the self-sufficient soul protections running through the veins of Acheron, and had been trapped ever since.
Until today.
With that thought, he looked over to the ragged and disheveled looking man a dozen or so feet away from him. Running a mental scan through the mind of his new host, he recognized the figure: Sirius Black.
He searched more deeply, looking for emotions, memories, attachments whatever might be useful. His host's godfather? Now that was interesting.
The man had been accused of being the betrayer of the boy's family to some dark lord called Voldemort.
He would have to look more deeply into it later and see if the man's death had had any impact on anything.
For now, he thought of himself as a small parasite flying through the wind without a direction. He would need to find a direction, and ground himself in the wind.
With a creepily disturbing smile on his face, he turned to look at the far off battlements of Hogwarts Castle.
Soon, it would be him, Alveus, controlling the wind, and it would be unstoppable.
Hey guys, so here is chapter 2! From now on I am going to be putting story notes and information at the beginning and other random stuff and some polls at the end as well as some posting information.
Basically, the chapters are going to progressively get longer. The first chapter was just over 1k words and was just a Prologue. As the chapters get longer, the time in between their posting will also become slightly longer. I am currently a student, and so my schedule is always pretty tight, but I will try to write as much as I can.
While the story says that it is a HP and Agents of Shield crossover, it will eventually expand into the entire Marvel Universe as well (although I am not sure about incorporating Guardian of the Galaxy and Thanos)
If you are at confused on who Alveus/Hive is, then I strongly suggest you read the following page online: wiki/Hive
Agents of Shield stuff will probably be introduced in Chapters 4 or 5, because Alveus needs to figure out what is going on in the world and what his plans are going to be.
Also, please note the dates on the settings. I know that Harry's third year is supposed to be in 1994, and he is supposed to be born in 1980, but this fanfic is set in another time. In order for this story to correlate with the Marvel Universe. The dates are important!
Some people I have showed this to are wondering how the two universes fit together in a logical sense. Trust me, I have spent hours planning this out, and it fits together surprisingly conveniently. It will be explained in the coming chapters.
Some quick notes on Alveus himself. Unlike the TV show, where I thought he was actually really foolish and rash, he is going to be a master manipulator but also cunning and a strong leader. For example, he will not be instantly turning his back on and murdering all of the remaining HYDRA leadership. While he cares significantly more about inhumans than humans, he will recognize that having a wealth of resources and assets, no matter where they come from, is good for him.
Also, in terms of the M rating, it might not seem like one now, but it will definitely become one. If you know anything about Alveus, remember he is still bloodthirsty and does not give shit about the people he kills or tortures. Some of violence will be graphic in the coming chapters.
If you ever have any questions about the plot or about the characters, please review or just PM me and I will try to respond within the day.