DISCLAIMER: I have not been granted use of the Intelligence Properties of Harry Potter nor any figures from the Marvel Comics Universe. All copyrights belong to their respective holders. I am simply telling a story, and am posting this story with no intent to make a profit off of these characters. Again, this is UNBETAED and fresh off the presses!

Uatu: Since time beyond your reasoning, I have observed Humanity throughout the Multiverse. Long have I gazed through the various timelines to see both the best and worst within a truly unique race. I have, in my time, seen you Humans ascend to great heights and sink to deplorable depths. One of the truly remarkable aspects of Humanity is that, when times are darkest, there always seems to be one who arises and shines bright enough to combat that darkness. One such individual is Steven Rogers. Most of you would know him as Captain America. Possessing an unshakeable sense of right and wrong, often I find myself standing in marvel at his resoluteness. Still, there are others who are called to pick up a similar burden when darkness threatens their world. In one such world, a young man is forced to shoulder such a burden because of the acts of his mother. A prophesy, given before his birth, lay the burden upon his shoulders. In most timelines this young man, a Harry Potter, is forced to struggle alone. In one timeline, however, he is found at a young age and taught the significance of what his role in this world is by one who also carries this burden. Yes, in one such timeline, young Harry Potter is taken in by none other than Steven Rogers. I present to you:

WHAT IF… Harry Potter was raised by Captain America. Or, as you humans tend to call such things:
Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Past , part 2.

3 miles outside Nuremberg. T-12 Hours until Assault.

The troops, such as they were, had assembled in the staging area that the Brits had managed to erect. All things being honest, it was a very nice staging point. That the German's didn't seem to see it only made Steve Rogers like it more. He had arrived with Bucky about 8 hours ago and promptly was sent to rack out. Now that he was awake, Steve decided to take a look around this rather miraculous staging point that the Brits had managed to toss together. Putting his costume on, Steve tries to wake Bucky up. Bucky, meanwhile, mumbled something about driving in a winning run and promptly rolled over and continued to sleep. Laughing to himself despite what he knew to be coming, Steve slipped out of the tent to let the boy get some additional rest.

Unlike the other staging points that Steve had experienced, this one actually seemed relatively relaxed. Walking towards where the mess was located, Steve watched the men assembled laugh and joke around, attempting to dispel the tension that was lying over the small force. Getting a cup of coffee and sitting down, Steve studied the men assembled for the assault. He counted about 30 men of British or American forces. Some of them Steve recognize, like Sgt. Fury and his group. There are a few who seem to be a bit misplaced. Why would anyone wear robes on a battlefield? Off in one corner, a group of about 5 or so fellows sits in a corner and whisper to one another. One fellow, clad in garish purple and orange robe directed the flow of the conversation. Something about that group was giving Steve an odd feeling, and it was more than the horrible robe that the one fellow was wearing. It was partially due to the horrendousness of that one fellow's robes that Steve failed to notice the arrival of a messenger.

"Excuse me Sir," the young British trooper says. It must be something about the British accent that turns 'sir' into 'sah', Steve contemplates.

"Yes?"

"Sir, it is time for your part of the briefing."

"Are you sure? I don't see them gathering the rest of the strike force."

"I understand Sir. I'm not at liberty to discuss anything other than the fact that you have some special instructions Sir."

"Alright," Steve says as he stands up, coffee half drunk. "Let's get this thing over with then, shall we?"

Following the young British trooper out of the mess tent, Steve can't help but wonder as to what this special briefing could be. He sincerely hoped that it was worth the interruption to his coffee. A mildly sadistic thrill hits Steve as he notices that Mr. Garish and his friends are also leaving the mess tent as well. Steve found himself walking towards a smaller tent, off to the side of what he had assumed was the Command Tent. Stepping into the tent, Steve had to allow a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness inside the tent.

The only light in the tent came from a single lantern that was hanging over a table that was covered in maps and other papers. From what he could see, once his eyes finally adjusted to the light difference, Steve couldn't make heads or tails of most of the other papers. It was a brief flicker of the oil lamp that betrayed the hint of a human form with him in the room.

War has been described as hours of boredom broken up by moments of absolute terror. It is the moments of terror, when the combat is happening, that turn long practiced skills into instinctive reactions. It is these reactions that allow a normal soldier to survive repeated combat encounters. The end result is that a normal human soldier responds to threats on a near instinctive level. Steve Rogers, however, is not the average human soldier. The Super Soldier experiment changed him on a fundamental level. Genetically perfect and with every cell maximized to its fullest potential, it should come as no surprise to anyone that Steve Rogers reaction instincts are greater than the average soldier.

Before the light had finished flickering across the form, Steve was already in action. In a singular motion, Captain America was dropping to his knees and bringing his iconic shield into position to be thrown. As his body drops, his torso gives a slight twist that not only will add momentum to the shield, but also roll him safely out of the way of any strike by whomever is in the room. Actions like this would be impossible for a normal soldier, but for Captain America they are commonplace.

A British voice gasping "Bloody Hell" from the other occupant of the tent causes the shield of Captain America to stay still. Rising cautiously back to his feet, the eyes of Captain America remain locked on the other person who was struggling to get the lantern to emit more light. As trembling fingers fumble with the lantern's dial, a British Naval Uniform comes into view. Captain bars shine as the light dances off of them. As more light is emitted, more of the mysterious figure is revealed. The Brit stands a little under six feet and his black hair is cut in a professionally severe manner. Cold blue eyes stare out of a face that is a little too hard to be considered traditionally handsome.

"Do you always enter a tent like that," the dark haired man asks in a surprisingly deep voice.

"Not always. Only when there is someone I don't know there. Be glad I wasn't Fury. He'd have opened fire."

"Yes, I have read his profile. Quite a colourful lot you Yanks are. Not only do you blokes have your Howling Commandos, and a Star Spangled Super Soldier, but one fellow actually claims to be in a haunted tank! "

"At least we introduce ourselves Captain."

"Right, where are my manners? Fleming, Ian Fleming. Captain in His Majesty's Naval Intelligence service. I've been the one who has been coordinating most of your recent efforts Captain Rogers. And before you begin to panic about how I know that particular piece of information, it was given to me when I was assigned to provide intelligence analysis to your unit. Don't worry, the information was given as need to know only and came directly from Eisenhower himself. Please have a seat, I have some very important information that I need to disclose to you before the rest of your assigned group arrives. I fear it shall be quite world shaking."

Steve is skeptical, but he sits down. There is almost nothing that Steve can think of that can top what he has already faced from Baron Zemo and the Red Skull. Based on what some of that stuff did, Steve wasn't completely sure that Zemo and Skull didn't listen to American Radio dramas like Buck Rogers. Giant Robots, strange hybrid creatures, death rays, and the likes of which never appear in the real world. If it wasn't his life, it would make one hell of a good comic book.

"Why don't you tell me a bit more about how you know who I am, " Steve asks with his eyes narrowing," All I have ever heard about you consisted of you being an intelligence analyst who was responsible for the breakdown of our assault on Auschwitz. Thank you for that, by the way. A lot of good men were able to walk away from that battle because of the work you did. Still, my identity is classified TOP SECRET. How did you manage to get access to it?"

"Right, I joined His Majesty's Navy about 10 years ago, straight out of university. I entered the Intelligence field straight away. Since the war's start, I've had a couple of assignments. First I worked with a group on a small cryptological device we called Enigma. Next I spent about a year running around chasing a woman named Mata. It was after that when I was recalled to provide Intelligence Analysis for your group once Auschwitz was determined to be your target. I was chosen because I was one of the few people in His Majesty's Service that is fully aware of the abilities of all the assets. I was assigned to Joint Command and immediately ordered by the higher ups to engage in an information exchange with the American analyst, a Major Lionel Coulson. Your identity was what was what Major Coulson gave."

"I guess this is where the rest of your briefing comes in. After the successful liberation of Auschwitz, Joint Command stepped up the analysis of the remaining German strongholds. It was quickly discovered that the Yanks were operating under different information than we were. Both sides of Joint Command had identified Nuremberg as a significant target for very different reasons. The major focus for you Yanks was this group called Hydra. Yes, they have their headquarters there, but that isn't the only issue there."

Fleming took a deep breath and found himself wanting a martini (Shaken, not stirred) before continuing.

"We Brits were actually more interested in the other group. I know you have heard stories about the Reichmagus during the war. Most of you Yanks tend to blow such stories off and being nothing more than a fanciful tale told around the kettle to pass time. I genuinely wish that was the truth. "

"You mean to tell me that there really is a guy who thinks he is a wizard?"

"No. I mean to tell you that there are Germans who are actual wizards. The one they call the Reichmagus just happens to be one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Don't worry, we have wizards of our own."

Steve just continued to sit there and look at Fleming like he had just told him that magic was real… which he just had.

"If there really are wizards out there, why hasn't anyone heard of them," Steve asked.

"Well, to be honest with you that is a bit of history. Back during the Dark Ages, and no I am not sure exactly when, a concave Magicals gathered up to try and do something about all of the witch hunting that was going on. I shan't bore you with the details of the Conclave, but the end result was that it was decided that all Magicals would hide from the rest of the world. They called it the Statute of Secrecy. It's been in effect ever since."

"And you know this how? Part of your Intelligence work?"

"No. My mother was magical. I am what the Magicals term a Squib; A child born to a Magical parent without the ability to use Magic. As I grew up in a household with magic, I am thankfully exempted. That is why I was chosen to handle Auschwitz. In fact, it was your actions leading up to and including the Auschwitz battle that has allowed us to break the Statute of Secrecy for you. You are going to be assigned to the team of wizards that is going directly after the Reichmagus. It is believed that he provides the greatest threat to the war effort. That and we believe that he will be directly blocking the path to the Red Skull. We aren't sure what is being worked on in Nuremberg, but we do know that it is a combined effort of Hitler's top two men that is eating up a lot of resources. "

"You are going in with the team of wizards and your job is to disable whatever it is they are working on. The team of wizards will be there to help you with the magical side of it."

"And," Steve says, "I'm there to smash the non-magical parts?"

"Exactly! That and to assist with taking down the Reichmagus. It is believed that he has some mystically enhanced bodyguards in addition to his cadre of wizards. Most British wizards are rather pants in a fight that doesn't involve magic."

"You keep mentioning British wizards, where are the ones from the States?"

"I believe Coulson said they would be working in the Pacific theatre. The Japanese Magicals are quite numerous and from what I hear, that is what is causing the war effort to stall out. It is hoped that once the European Theatre is resolved, Allied Forces can direct more magical attention to the Pacific Theatre and turn the tide on the islands. This will also give us a good trial run to see if the British wizards can work with elite units. There is some concern given how *AHEM* eccentric our wizards are."

"Eccentric? You mean those robe wearing guys? They didn't seem to want to associate with anyone."

"Yes, but not all of your team is like that. In fact, you have already worked with one of the wizards on your team. He should be arriving right about… now."

As soon as Fleming says 'now', the tent is filled with a loud crack and a third person is standing there. A shock of untamable black hair and laughing eyes look back at Steve.

"Well, what do you know. Guess what Steve, I'm a wizard," says Leftenant Charlus Potter.