Thank you to all of my reviewers, and everyone else who has stuck by this story!
So, for those of you who haven't noticed, I've closed the poll. I did warn you that it wasn't going to remain open for long.
I'm leaving the results up on my page until next week, if anyone wants to look, but the top three are as follows:
3rd place, Jormungandr!
2nd place, Loki!
And, coming in 1st place…
The Lady Sif!
So, if I manage to write it in, we will have a Harry/Sif pairing to start with. I'm actually kind of pleased with this. It will be interesting to attempt, and, for my part, even though it will eventually end, I'm glad for Harry being with a woman first. It'll make it easier for him to explore his interests if he starts with something more acceptable (because no matter how much many of us try for equality, there will always be people who have a problem with homosexuality, just like there will always be racists and sexists).
Now then, while we're still on the subject, I have some things to say about the second pairing poll, when we get to it. For obvious reasons, certain characters will not be included in the second pairing. Severus, Bruce, any of the Weasleys, will not be on there. I may not include Loki. I have yet to decide. It just depends where the story goes.
If any of you feel strongly about it, I'm willing to include Muhammad, but I'd rather not.
I'm also on the fence about including any HP characters, but it is a possibility, because Harry will eventually have to return to the wizarding world for a period of time to deal with some things. What do you all think?
Also, before I forget, you're answers on Muhammad's individual activities were varied, though the most common one seemed to be that he's secretly a Shield agent. This is, definitely, something I feel should be explored at some point. One person suggested he maintains a spy-network, and, while I hadn't initially thought of it, it wouldn't surprise me. Another of you suggested he spends his time in bed. Which is true. Regardless of what else he gets up to, Muhammad is, secretly, a playboy. The real question is what's his preference? Women? Men? Both? Vampires? Veela? Not even Mitera knows for certain…
Now then, with that out of the way (my author notes are always longer than I intend), let's move on to the chapter.
Enjoy.
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They were still in the middle of nowhere the next night. They were somewhere in Pakistan now, and the road they were using was not the main highway, but rather one that was quite a bit less-traveled, and which had taken them some time to find. Harry wasn't sure they were even still on the road now, because there was nothing around them but desert (some sand-storm had long-since covered any sign of discernible path), but Severus was certain they were going the right way, and Harry (whose sense of direction was not particularly impressive) was inclined to trust him.
So they set up camp again, on a higher sand dune, so that they could see the world around them. It wasn't perfect, and it really wouldn't do them much good, because there was literally nothing out here but sand, but it didn't matter. This time, no one wandered off or went to bed right away, and Harry found himself sitting near the fire and smiling as Severus told them all a story about his own school-years when he had gotten into some trouble with Harry's mother.
"-had it coming of course, with the pranks he'd been pulling, but until then, Lily and I had chosen not to retaliate. She was so incensed however, she told me that enough was enough, and that we had to get back at them this time, or they were never going to stop. So, I brewed the potion, and she looked up the necessary charms, and we got the house elves to help us. The next morning, the elves spiked their pumpkin juice, all four of them, and their skin-"
Harry's attention snapped away as the wind shifted, and he snarled. Severus stopped his story, and all three of them turned to look at him, but he wasn't paying them any attention. He had taken off the glamours when they stopped, certain that no one would be around to see, and his lips were pulled back over his teeth in a decidedly inhuman way, his sharp canines gleaming in the light of the fire.
He was staring out into the blackness of the desert, the shifting winds having brought a strange scent to his nose that made everything in him sit up and pay attention in the worst possible way. Mitera was silent in back of his mind, and his instincts were screaming at him. His tail flicked back and forth, and he had moved from sitting to a low crouch very slowly. The slightest sound of shifting sand hit his ears and he began to growl, the sound low and dark and rumbling like deep thunder. He continued it, not needing to stop his warning noises to breathe.
"Harry?" He didn't answer Bruce, and he was vaguely aware of the others all standing up, and the sight of Severus pulling out his wand from the corner of his eye. He was focussed on the blackness. The smell was like a rotting festering thing that burned his nose. His eyes were strong, suited for the dark, but he could see nothing. The sands within his gaze were empty, so he kept his eyes on the top of the dune nearest them in the direction the wind was coming from, and shifted off his jacket and other things.
He had gotten the armor back while they had been in Egypt, and he took off everything but that and his various bits of jewelry (charmed as they all were to change sizes with him). He kept his movements slow and precise and careful; doing his best to make as little noise as he possibly could. He had just kicked off his boots, when something appeared over the top of the dune and his growls deepened, the strength of the sound making his entire torso vibrate.
It took a few moments as the creature stalked over the dune for him to see what it was properly, and something deep inside of him roared when he could see it clearly. It was a feline of some sort, longer than himself in animagus form, but a bit shorter. It reminded him of a leopard, with a similar build, and even a spotted patterning, but it was a sickly grey, and it's spots shone in the moonlight eerily. It was thin and bony, and when it looked up at him, baring its' teeth and making him snarl again, he could see that where the eyes should have been were torn, empty holes that reminded him so much of a dementor. He knew it wasn't blind. Eyes or no, it could see him.
He heard it growl, the sound carried over to his ears by the wind, and he was instinctively aware of when its' gaze shifted from him to one of his companions. He didn't know which (if any of them in specific) it was looking at, but its' snarl grew darker, more hungry, and that was when he snapped.
He was hardly aware of the sickening snaps and cracks as his bones altered and his body shifted, or even of when exactly he had begun his charge, but it wasn't important, because the other creature had done the same. Someone might have called his name, but he didn't hear them, all he was focused on was the other creature; the invader in his chosen territory that dared threaten his pride.
Every muscle in his body rippled when they clashed, bashing into each other with the force of colliding trains. They both reared up and Harry's roaring mouth, filled with deadly teeth came at the pale beast. It ducked and swiped at him with a giant paw, larger than his own; glittering silver claws extended fully.
He jerked back and reared up on his hind legs to swipe at it with his own claws, and it copied him. They batted at each other in a way that was anything but playful; the air filled with snarls and roaring. Harry was angry, rage was like an acid in his veins, burning all that it touched with painful fire, and he wanted to kill this creature, this trespasser, this threat.
He lunged again, trying once more for the throat, and then the other tackled him and he found himself on his back in the sand. He hissed, the sound like a cross between a pissed off cat and a threatened cobra, and wrestled with the other feline. Finally he got first blood, his jaws finding purchase in one of the other's front legs. It's blood tasted like curdled milk, and he let go almost as soon as he had made the wound; his stomach churning. It gave a yowl, and he roared with his own pain as it ripped into one of his shoulders; its' fangs powerful and leaving fire in their wake.
He pushed at it with his feet, forcing it off of him. It landed in a crouch not far from him, and he tried to move back to his own feet as it barreled at him, but faltered; the pain in his shoulder making it impossible to put weight on that leg. He managed anyways, and readied himself. It slammed into him, and they went tumbling and rolling through the sand. He ended up on top this time, and swiped at it, making long gashes across its' face.
It hissed, and then its' front legs were wrapping around him, and he yowled as claws sliced across his back. It took advantage of his distraction, rolling them so it was on top. Pain had him gasping out a ragged breath as the position forced sand into the newly made cuts on his back, and he tried to pull his paws up to protect his face as the other feline's paw came down; claws extended and glistening with his own blood and its' eyeless gaze glaring down at him with fury.
A roar, powerful and thunderous, and entirely unexpected made them both jerk in surprise, the other beast's attack faltering. Harry would have pressed the advantage, but he didn't need to, because something very big and very green suddenly slammed into the creature atop him hard enough to send it off. His body jerked with the motion, and he was sent onto his side; watching as the green creature and the cat-like beast went tumbling.
He pushed himself onto his paws, and watched with wide green eyes, pupils slit so thinly they were almost invisible, as the tumbling came to a stop with the green thing on top and he got his first look at it. It was huge and shaped vaguely like a man; with two legs and two arms, a torso and head. It was made of thick, rippling muscle, its' squared face with the flattish nose twisted into an expression of utmost rage and a crop of greenish-black hair atop its' head like the nest of a bird. He watched as it pulled back an arm as thick as the trunk of a tree, and smashed a fist into the beast below it.
There was a sickening crunch that made his stomach clench and the creature yelped like a kicked dog and scratched at it but it punched again, and then again, each fist impacting with a thud and the snapping of broken bones, and the clawing and the yowling and the struggles grew fewer and fewer until they stopped altogether; and the green being that reminded him a bit of a troll was left panting and huffing and staring down at the feline with a twisted expression of distaste and blood on its' fists. Harry shuddered. The beast had been a difficult opponent for him (unused to fighting in animagus form as he was, and battling without the usage of spells), and this thing, whatever it was, had killed it almost without effort.
He watched it warily as it stood and climbed off the beast, and then turned to face him. The being's expression, and the direction of the wind changed in the same moment. He breathed in its' scent even as he watched the thing's face soften a bit, and he relaxed. Because it was big, and terrifying, and oh so horrifyingly strong; but it smelled like Bruce, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bruce would never hurt him. His body shifted, cracking and creaking and shrinking until he was himself again, and it occurred to him that he might now understand why, exactly, Bruce seemed to be hiding.
"Bruce?" He asked, meeting the green eyes; a poisonous sort of green, a venomous green that was so different from his own Avada Kedavra eyes.
"Hulk." The voice was deep, like a wave crashing against a boulder or thunder booming out from a storm miles away, and firm; unyielding.
"Hulk then." He nodded, and Hulk (Was it not Bruce? It smelled like Bruce.) took a couple steps forward, the heavy vibrations somewhat muted by the sand.
"Kitty hurt?" The voice was gentle, worried, even though it sounded a bit frightening with the way that it boomed, and Harry smiled to himself. Maybe it wasn't Bruce, but it wasn't going to hurt him; it was concerned for him even. He calmed.
"Yes. I'm alright. Are you hurt?" Hulk's nose scrunched and the look in his eyes was almost confused; like the very idea of it being hurt was so impossible it couldn't wrap its' mind around it. He wondered if it could even be hurt; the beast's claws had not so much as pierced the topmost layer of its' thick green hide.
"No." He nodded, and smiled, and tried to stand from his kneeling position; only to cry out as the wound on his back, and the bite in his shoulder once again made themselves known. There was a thumping in the ground and then Hulk was right next to him, a big green hand; the palm alone three times the size of his head reaching out, touching his wounded shoulder with surprising gentleness. "Kitty lie. Kitty hurt." He looked up and smiled sheepishly.
"I guess I am. Sorry."
"Harry?" He looked over his shoulder. Severus and Muhammad stood near, the former with his wand out an a wary gaze trained on Hulk, and the other seeming to decide all was well and already trying to light a cigarette. Hulk tensed, and he patted one of its' huge hands.
"It's alright." Hulk looked down at him carefully, then back at Severus, and then he nodded. He repeated the words louder in Severus' direction. "It's alright! I've hurt my back pretty badly though. There's a bite in my shoulder too." Sev nodded and ran over, his concern for Harry apparently overriding his wariness over Hulk, and though the green being tensed up, he calmed again when it became apparent that the potion master meant no harm. He cast something at his back, and Harry bit back a snarl at the sharp pains as the sand was magically pulled from the wound.
"You fix Kitty?" Severus looked up at Hulk from his place kneeling at Harry's side.
"I'll do my best." Hulk stared at him, and then, seeming to take him at his word, sat down on his butt hard enough to make the ground tremble and the sand all around them shift and flick up into the air in swirls of dust; watching Harry and Severus with his hands in his lap and a look on his face as though he was at a loss for what to do. Harry smiled at him, and tried not to let any pain show on his face as Severus went about patching him up with magic and a couple of potions pulled from Merlin-knew-where and shoved under his nose with an order to drink. They had to take off the top half of the harder armor, and pull the softer part down so it was pooled around his waist, and Harry held the bits of black armor in his hands regretfully. He would have to send it off again...
He swallowed down the knowledge that he might not be alive at all right now if he hadn't been wearing it.
After a few minutes, Muhammad came over and handed him a cigarette, then sat down on one of Hulk's legs like it was a big green couch. His feet didn't touch the ground, and Hulk blinked at him; though the young Arab himself didn't pay him any attention. Harry muttered a thanks, and after several seconds passed with no talking and nothing happening but Severus working on patching him up, Hulk seemed to decide to ignore Moo in favor of watching the potion master work.
"It's going to scar." Severus spoke quietly, breaking the silence that had descended.
"That's fine."
"Your shoulder will likely be sore for a few days, even with the potions. It seemed to have some mild venom of some sort; though not anything strong enough to make you ill."
"Okay."
"Kitty pain?" Harry looked up at Hulk and smiled, taking the cancer stick out of his mouth to reply.
"Only a little. I'll be okay." Hulk nodded and became silent again. Harry looked at Severus.
"What..." He paused, unsure how to phrase the question, but his father understood anyways.
"Bruce became more and more agitated after you transformed. He was clutching his head. I think he was trying to stop it, but he turned green and, well," He glanced at Hulk, then downwards, and sharply back to Harry. It occurred to him that Hulk was a great deal bigger than Bruce, and the Doctor's clothes would in no way fit the being... Thankfully, he hadn't really been paying any attention to that sort of thing, more focused on Hulk's face and immense size, and he firmly resolved to try not to look down now that he was aware of it.
"Ah." He nodded. "Is he... I mean, he said he's not Bruce..."
"Perhaps it is like a werewolf, each side having their own thoughts and emotions." He looked decidedly ill at the thought, his own fear of werewolves apparent, but Harry only nodded. Something about Bruce always had reminded him of Remus. It wasn't something he had thought much on, but now at least, he had some explanation.
"Maybe." He looked up at Hulk. "Is Bruce there?" Hulk blinked at him, and tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question.
"Bruce sleep." He offered, tapping the side of his large head with a finger thicker than Harry's wrist. Harry hummed, and then began to feel drowsy.
"I feel tired. It that normal?" He asked Severus, but it was Muhammad who replied, speaking for the first time since this fiasco had begun.
"It is when you've lost a lot of blood."
"Okay."
"I'm done." Severus stood up. "Can you walk?" Harry would have replied, but Hulk intervened, standing and sending Muhammad stumbling off his leg.
"Hulk carry."
"Woah!" Harry flailed his arms around wildly as he was suddenly picked up in a huge green hand. He floundered for purchase, and then calmed as he was settled against a green torso filled with thick muscles, laying against a giant arm and feeling rather a lot like a baby. He sighed, and leaned against Hulk's chest as he was carried back up the dune to their camp; the sound of a fast, thundering heartbeat in his ears.
He fell asleep within the few steps it took Hulk to get him there, his last conscious thought being that he now had an explanation for why Bruce had been naked that day he'd found him in the mountains.
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When Harry woke up, it was to find himself in one of the tents, and Bruce, back to normal now, sitting cross-legged next to him and staring down at his hands; twisting them together nervously. Harry watched his expression twist and morph between several emotions, panic becoming the more and more prevalent one.
"Morning Brother." Harry's lips twitched just a bit when Bruce jumped and put a hand to his chest, staring at Harry and breathing harshly. Harry grinned, and the Doctor glared. Then his expression fell, and he looked back at his hands; subdued. Harry frowned.
Bruce didn't look up again while Harry shifted around and got into a sitting position, and came closer. Harry didn't think the man was even paying attention to him until he wrapped him up in a hug.
"You're family now, you know? Hulk or no hulk. Nothing will ever change that for me." He felt Bruce tremble, and then allowed himself a feeling of triumph when the Doctor hugged him back.
It wasn't like the Hulk was any worse than a werewolf after all, and Harry adored Moony.
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When they finally crossed the border into India, Harry was relieved; both because it would mean they didn't have to be stuck in a car anymore, and because he didn't want any more drama like what had happened with the feline beast (Metis had, somehow, slept through the entire event, and had then been furious when she learned her 'little brother' had been in danger). They were planning to travel slowly from then on, taking their time until they found some place that suited them for a stay of longer than a day or two. Harry needed to shop about in the magical districts for a proper rune teacher before they would settle in anywhere. He planned to drag out their time in this country for as long as he could, since leaving would mean parting ways with Bruce, and he was reluctant to do so.
He had grown closer to the man after the emergence of Hulk, and the Doctor's explanations regarding what he referred to as 'the other guy'. Bruce had told him about the gamma radiation experiment, and Betty, and her father, and how he had kinda-sorta broke Harlem and been on the run ever since, helping people wherever he went; and it had only made Harry all the more fond of him. They had argued for a bit when Harry told him how Hulk had acted; the man initially unwilling to believe that Hulk was anything other than a mindless rage-monster, but eventually willing to believe Harry when the young man demanded if the Doctor was calling him a liar. It showed trust, and he was rather pleased to know he had that trust.
Severus too, had been more comfortable with the Muggle after that, deciding that Bruce knowing about magic was perfectly fine in light of his own dark secrets. Harry was thankful for it, and Bruce himself seemed genuinely in awe of the thought that here were people who knew about the other guy, and not only weren't afraid of him for it, but really didn't care about it. It was a novelty to the man who thought himself a monster, and he was more at ease with them all now, and, maybe, more at ease with himself too. Harry understood the feeling well enough. It was similar to how he felt about Bruce and Severus and Muhammad, and the others, who all knew about his own less-than-human form, and loved him all the same.
The first night in the country, they wound up in a fairly nice hotel, and found themselves in the rare position of renting two rooms, each with two beds. For the first time in a while, no one would have to share, and Harry chose to stay with Bruce while Muhammad and Severus took the other room. They were fairly random in who stayed with who, but unless Muhammad or Severus demanded otherwise, he usually roomed or shared beds with his Father, or Bruce. He loved Muhammad to death, but he was still infuriating, and Harry rather liked to have some peace at night; something the young Arab wasn't much likely to give him, but which he gave to Severus and Bruce out of respect.
He settled in and flopped down on one of the beds. A chuckle had him looking up at Bruce, sprawled as he was on the other bed petting Metis, who was wriggling about on her back like a puppy begging for a belly-rub, and basking in the attention; letting out little hissing sounds of contentment that weren't really words.
"Tired?" Harry groaned. "I could flip off the lights now if you like?"
"Nah. I'm not ready for sleep just yet."
"There's a tv." Harry sat up, eyes shining. He had rarely been allowed to watch the telly at the Dursleys, and even less so since his entrance into the magical world, and even his travels. He still considered it a treat when he was able to do so.
"Think you can find something in English?"
"I can try." Harry crossed his legs and leaned back against the rather fluffy pillows on his bed, eyeing the screen with a bright gaze as it flicked on and began to stutter through various channels at Bruce's command, only staying on one long enough to catch a word or two in Hindi. Finally, there was a word in English, and he stopped, Harry watching avidly. It was a news channel, so not the most interesting thing, but beggars couldn't be choosers. A dark-skinned woman was on the screen, looking out at them with a solemn expression as she spoke her report. They seemed to have found the channel rather near the beginning.
"-recently kidnapped during a weapons demonstration for the American Ministry while in Afghanistan. Reports say Stark's convoy was attacked, likely by one of the many terrorist groups currently fighting against the American troops occupying the country. Colonel James Rhodes, considered a close friend of Stark's, issued a statement regarding those killed and injured in the attack, and says that the Military believes Stark is still alive, despite the fact that no demands have yet been made for his return, and will continue to look for him. Obadiah Stane, acting as the current CEO in Stark's absence has issued a press conference for next week regarding the future of the company, in the event that Stark is unable to be rescued." Harry shivered.
"I'm glad we didn't have to travel through there on our way here." They had, in fact, initially planned to enter Afghanistan on their way to India, but had changed their minds after learning of the current war-torn state of the place. Harry was rather loathe to involve himself in another conflict so soon after the end of the war against Voldemort. Bruce hummed along to his statement. "Is this Stark person someone important?" The Doctor blinked at him. "What?"
"I- Well, he's pretty well known. I don't think I've ever met someone who hasn't at least heard his name before." Harry cocked his head to the side, listening.
"So he is important."
"Yea. He's the head of Stark Industries. It was founded by his father, but there's been even more advancements since he took over. They're most well known as a weapons company, but they make other things too. They supply most of the branches of the U.S. Military, and they make phones, computers, televisions, medical equipment, even cars... They're basically the lead in technology right now. They have been for the past fifty years or so. Stark's almost single-handedly responsible for all the technological advancements of the modern world. Supposedly the guy comes up with most of the stuff himself. He's supposed to be a genius, but I've never met him. Mostly I know of him because of all the scandals, but I used to read some of the papers he wrote back before the accident."
"Scandals?"
"He likes to cause a scene. He drinks a lot, and he's considered a playboy, and, well,"
"Ah, right." A rich-boy who liked attention. He didn't much sound like the sort of person Harry would get along with (though he had managed to get along with Draco in the end, so perhaps he shouldn't make such assumptions...), but he pitied him all the same. If he had really been kidnapped, and they hadn't killed him yet, there was no telling what he was going through right now.
It made Harry think of the prisoners that had been found and freed after Voldemort's defeat. Mum and Dad, and, surprisingly, Hermione, had written him about them, so while he hadn't been there, he knew as almost much as he would if he had been.
No one deserved that.
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Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of India, all in all. It was a beautiful place, thrumming with life and color, a wondrous mix of the old and the new not unlike Dubai. But there seemed to be only those with much money, and those with none, with nearly no in-between at all. At least to his own eyes. There were large, gorgeous buildings, some very old and some very modern, while the streets themselves were filled with little stands and ramshackle huts and other makeshift homes. It was wonderful here, but while his heart soared at every new sight of some art or architecture, it burned painfully with every child running by who looked just a bit too small, a bit too thin. He loved it and hated it all at once, and found himself at a loss. He knew there was nothing he could do for any of these people, and that made him want very badly to leave as soon as he was able, but at the same time, leaving would mean parting ways with Bruce, and he was not ready for that.
It had been easy to leave the man behind when he had to return to Bogdon, but only because he had known then that he was needed. There had been a great purpose awaiting him, and a duty he had to fulfill. Now, there was no such thing. He had nothing important pressing him on beyond his own wish to see as much of the world as he was able.
He took his time hunting down a teacher because of that, and before he found one, he found something that eased his fears considerably. The magical shopping districts in India were filled with all manner of things. Indian wizards seemed to be of the opinion that if they could make it, someone would want to buy it. He had seen dead fish under stasis that could record messages like tape-recorders, little balls of fluff that turned deadly when you threw them at people, books that tried to eat you (not like the monster book of monsters, but rather with sharp teeth rending flesh and making a very bloody mess), and frozen cats. More importantly, he found a stand selling pairs of what looked like old cell-phones. They were a bit blocky, and constructed of thick, hard to break plastic, and they matched up in pairs. Each one connected to the other in the pair, like radios, and they were powered indefinitely by magic. Distance and location didn't seem to matter, and because they connected through a system of tiny runes located where the batteries should have been (which was rather fascinating to him), rather than radio-waves or whatever it was that cell-phones connected with, anything that might have caused interference was useless against them.
Harry happily bought a set, and had them charmed unbreakable and strapped to cords that could alter size (he did so thinking of his animagus form) and that could only be removed by the person it was placed on. Then he shrunk them and went back to the hotel, and put one around Bruce's neck, gave him a small instruction on how to use it, and told him to never ever ever take it off. He put his own on, and left the Doctor at the hotel staring after him with a combination of bemusement and something that reminded him of those times when the daily prophet had been going around telling everyone he was insane.
But Harry didn't care and he returned to his search for a rune-teacher with a smug grin, because now he would never be out of touch with Bruce, so when they said goodbye, he would have a way of making sure that it wasn't a forever-goodbye, but more of a see-you-later-goodbye.
And that made him happier than he would ever willingly admit.
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He finally managed to find someone willing to teach him; the only problem being that the woman did not speak English. Still, with the clever use of a combination of magic to create little scenes to get meanings across, sign language, and the fact that the woman was knowledgeable enough in the use of European runes, and could thus make comparisons with those; they managed to set up enough of a system that Harry could understand the gist of what she was trying to teach, and more or less puzzle out the rest on his own.
Sometimes, when he was really having trouble, Bruce came to the lessons with him; the Doctor knowing a handful of Hindi words and being able to translate them for Harry to help. The rest of the time, the Doctor went about helping people in the little town they were in with wounds and illnesses; doing whatever he was able. Severus seemed to have found a temporary job working at an Indian potion shop and learning foreign potions from the owner; who he said was pleasantly skillful in Severus' chosen art. He had said that he felt it would be worth his time, because he was certain they would be in the country for awhile.
Muhammad, suspecting the same, had told them he'd see them in a few days, and run off to nobody-knows-where, and they hadn't seen him for a bit. Harry let him go without argument. He had grown steadily more and more quiet lately, and it had occurred to Harry that Moo was fiercely independent, and likely unused to travelling with other people this way. He imagined the young Arab could use some time to himself.
He came back after a week or so, in a much better mood, and all in all, they wound up staying in that little town for over a month before the woman had taught Harry enough for him to be able to learn the rest himself and they moved on; travelling leisurely through India before stopping in Kolkata. It was a huge place, with large sections of modernity and many outcropping places of poverty; with little impromptu towns made up of anything and everything in every available space, and tiny ramshackle little huts too small to stand in built up near all the rivers. There were so many many people, and after catching sight of the first little child sitting on a cobblestone road and begging for food (which Harry provided) his heart broke, and he decided very firmly that he didn't want to stay there long. It pained him too much.
They wound up staying only a week, but when they decided to leave, Bruce told them he was staying.
"But-"
"I told you already that I was only staying until India. We both know the only reason you haven't moved on yet is because of me." Harry wilted. It was true. There was nothing keeping him in this country anymore.
"I just..."
"I know." Harry sighed, and looked up at Bruce. They stood outside the hotel they had been in this past week, bags packed, and were planning on going right now.
"I'll miss you."
"You talk like we're never gonna see each other again." Harry blinked at him.
"I-"
"I found a place to stay, and I'll probably be here for awhile. There's a lot of good I can do here." Bruce grinned at him. "I don't know how magical travel works, but I don't think it would be too difficult to come visit me, would it?" Harry beamed.
"I'll be back next week."
"Harry-"
"Next month then. And once a month at least every month from then." Bruce eyed him, and then smiled gently.
"Alright." Harry grinned.
"And you'll use the phone?"
"Of course."
"Every day."
"Harry."
"Every other day?"
"How 'bout once a week?"
"Deal." Bruce chuckled.
"Harry," He turned to look at Severus. "We need to go." He said gently, and Harry swallowed, and looked down, then back up at Bruce. The Doctor held his arms open, and Harry hugged him hard, knowing now when the man hugged back just where that strength came from. He realized for the first time, that he could count on one hand the number of people he had hugged in his life, and that he seemed to get more and more of them as time went on. Bruce was in the winning for numbers, though.
"Stay safe." He whispered.
"You too, little brother." He backed away, and they both smiled. Severus came up and shook Bruce's hand, and Muhammad waved. Then Bruce walked away, waving over his shoulder with a grin, and a 'see you later'. Harry watched until he couldn't pick the man out of the crowd anymore, and then they left.
And Harry told himself he would see Bruce again, because he would; he would make sure of it.
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Since Severus had made himself very clear regarding his thoughts on Harry going on walkabout in Australia, they decided to save the visit there for another time. Instead, they headed directly to South Africa. The country was rather similar to India; with the very poor making their own homes where they could out of what they could get their hands on, and those with money living far beyond their means. He didn't like it, and as they travelled he pushed into staying in only magical or sparsely inhabited regions.
Africa was a beautiful country, and those places where there was little more than sprawling plains and the animals that inhabited them filled him with awe. It was the cities that he found himself hating. Even if he were to give up every penny of his fortune, it would do nothing. He couldn't help these people, and he felt guilty for it; and so avoided them.
They passed through a handful of rural villages, and these places, he was much happier with. Oh the people there lived humbly, fighting and working and hunting for all they had, but they were happy enough, and Harry bartered for their stays in people's homes with work; getting them a roof over their heads for a night or two through the sweat of his brow and the strength of his back; rather than the gold in his pockets.
He was happier that way; feeling as though he was properly earning his keep, and Severus and Muhammad worked too. It was a strange thing, the first time he saw his father in only pants; his black hair pulled up into a knot atop his head and his torso pale and scared. He had always held the image of the intimidating potion professor in his mind; dressed in billowing black robes and seemingly untouchable. Even after growing to know him better, and travelling, that image hadn't wavered by much. But then, here Severus was, torso bare and sweaty, hair tied up, face set in a resolute expression as he strained to help several dark-skinned men hold up a large beam of wood; the center-pole for a new home in this village.
Severus looked, not happy, but content; glad to work this way, just as Harry was. The young man knew now, no matter his profession or manner; like him, his father was no stranger to manual labor. He shook off the thought, and ran to help carry more beams of wood; his unnatural strength coming well in handy now.
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Harry hadn't been entirely certain what it was he was looking for, knowing he hunted knowledge but not what specifically, but he knew immediately when he had found it. They crossed over the wardline of a space of land that only magical people could enter, and found themselves in another small, tribal town. The people looked at them curiously, but mostly left them alone. They didn't live very differently from their muggle counterparts. The village was led by a shaman, or at least he believed it was a shaman. No one spoke English, they had, in fact, met very few English speakers while travelling off the beaten path. But when the man, adorned in feathers and beads and red paint on his face came out of one of the little ramshackle buildings, his brown eyes meeting Harry's green ones in a steady gaze; he knew this was it. There was so much knowledge there, and he felt humbled, Mitera's presence strong within his mind.
The man was old and wrinkled; his hair turning grey and his skin a darker color than Harry had ever seen on a human being. It was very nearly black, darker even than his fellows. He came towards them, eyes on Harry, and smiled at him in a way that a parent might smile at their children when they had done something silly; and Harry, no matter the things he had been through, felt so awfully small, like a mouse before a giant. It reminded him of that time he had found the heart room, and had looked around himself with an overwhelming sense of humbleness; knowing that what he was looking at was so far beyond him and being so very awed by it.
He swallowed and dropped his gaze, his shoulders shaking. He could feel Severus and Muhammad tense as they saw his reaction, but then the shaman was there, and he reached out a hand painted with streaks and spots of white paint to tilt his head up. The old man grinned at him, his teeth rotten, and said something in his own tongue, but Harry didn't understand it, and simply stood still. He let go of his chin and touched a finger to the long scar along Harry's face, his smile dropping in favor of a sad sort of look, and then he touched the lightning bolt scar.
"Radi." He said, and Mitera's presence sent forth the sound of thunder, and he knew that was what the word meant. Then the shaman nodded and stepped back, and gestured and spoke at another man, who came forwards and began to lead them about the village; showing them around and babbling at them in his tongue though he knew they didn't understand.
Harry looked back over his shoulder as he was sent away, at the shaman who was still smiling, and he felt a combination of feelings in his stomach he would never be able to describe.
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"What's it like there?"
"It's not as hot as India, and we've been keeping to the smaller places so it's not as crowded either. I like the small villages. Everyone's wary of us, but they're really nice, and they seem to respect us once they see we're willing to work for our stay."
"You mentioned a shaman?" There was the sound of shifting, and Harry smiled into the phone, wondering to himself what his brother was doing right now. He straightened his legs out on the boulder he sat on. It was high up, and a bit away from the village; though he could see it and the people within clearly from his vantage point.
"Yes. He... He makes me feel small. It's like I'm an ant rather than a man."
"He puts you down?" He could feel the frown in Bruce's voice, and his smile grew. A breeze ruffled his hair, making the ponytail flick up over his shoulder. He pushed it off to hang back against his neck.
"No. He's very kind. It's just... It's his magic. Or my magic. I don't know. I can tell he knows much more than me. He's like a sage and I'm just a little kid who doesn't know anything at all by comparison."'
"Ah. I see." There was a hint of confusion in the Doctor's voice, and he knew that Bruce didn't see; but he had no way of explaining himself properly to someone who had never felt magic's touch and influence.
"How are you?"
"I'm good. Mostly. I like helping people here." He sensed a 'but', though it never came, and he knew better than to press.
"You better be alright. I'll be coming to visit in a few days to see for myself." It had taken some work, but the African magical government (spanning over all the continent and standing well together despite the brokenness of its' muggle counterparts) wasn't so picky about portkeys as other countries. All he had needed was to specify where he wanted to go and when, and give his name and basic information for the records. He had a mutli-portkey that would take him to India for a couple days, and then to England for a few more than that to spend the days before Christmas with the Weasleys. Then it would bring him back here, to spend Christmas itself with Severus and Muhammad. They hadn't celebrated it last year; being trapped in some tiny Russian town in the middle of a blizzard at the time, and not even aware it had come and gone until they had stopped in a city for several days a month later and the owls with Christmas presents (and a hawk from Mahdi) had finally caught up with them.
"I know." Bruce chuckled. "I've... I've been making progress." Harry grinned, already knowing what he was talking about. After learning about Hulk, Bruce had told him how Mahdi had been trying to teach him control and balance. The Arab man had wanted Bruce to accept Hulk, but the Doctor had been unable to get past his view of his alter-ego as being anything more than a monster; so they had done the next best thing in teaching how to control his transformations and keep them at bay outside of life or death situations. Now, after learning how it had saved Harry, and even spoken, he had been trying again, to accept Hulk.
"That's great." Harry's voice was happy and genuine; because it was a wonderful thing. Hulk wasn't evil, and one of these days he wanted Bruce to see that well enough to accept him; and be at peace. There was a scrambling on the other end; like rapid movement, and Harry heard someone's voice blabbering out sounds that had an urgent tone.
"Ah, I gotta go. See you when you get here?"
"Yea. Go save the world brother." Bruce chuckled.
"I'll try." There was a tone sound, and Harry clicked the button to end the call. He stared down at the magical phone for several moments, feeling uncertain, and then tucked it away. He sighed to himself, and then turned back to the village.
It was daytime yet, and there was still more work to be done.
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So, Harry knows about the Hulk, there was a random unplanned fight with an unknown creature, and Bruce is in India now, as he was at the beginning of canon-Avengers.
I don't really have much to say about this chapter, so I'll move on.
One of my real-life friends found this story, and found out I wrote it when she looked at my Author's page, and so has officially become the first person I know personally, who not only knows I write fanfiction, but has also read something of mine. She drew a picture of Harry, also, which is pretty good, so whenever I manage to get my hands on a scanner, I'll upload it to Deviant Art and link it to my page.
She also asked me a question, about how I go about writing. She wanted to know if I plan out my stories, and, really, I don't. Or rather, I just started to. I have a vague outline for the events to come in Parts 5 and 6, but there are a lot of blank areas, and Parts 1-4 have all been played by ear. There's a lot that could have happened, that didn't.
Loki or Snape could have been Harry's real father instead of Sirius, and his mother could have been a Stark (Stark Sr's secret love child) rather than a Malfoy, with Tony being his Uncle.
Voldemort could have been an anti-hero, and made a truce with Harry, or Harry could have been a Dark Lord. (Beware the Dark Lord Potter, er, I mean, Black!)
Harry could have been very close to Hermione or Ron instead of the twins, but not both of them.
Harry could have met Black Widow first, or Fury, and become a Shield agent.
Harry could have wound up travelling with Muhammad, Remus, and, believe it or not, Percy (had he lived), and created a sort of pack/pride that would have later included Wolverine as their leader.
Had the above occurred, Arthur would have died by the werewolves in Percy's place, the event thus effecting Harry much more strongly than it did.
Luna, Bill, and even Dumbledore, were also considered as travelling companions.
Muhammad could have been a cross-dresser, or transgender (having been born female)…
… And a million other possibilities, many of which I started to write, and then deleted after changing my mind.
The only constants that have remained since I typed the first word of this story, was Harry screwing up the animagus transformation, with his form being a Mishipeshu, and this story being an HP/Avengers crossover. That's it. That's the extent of my initial planning.
Yet here we are, many chapters later, and you all seem to love it, so I suppose I must have done something right.
*Raises glass*
Here's to (hopefully) many more chapters you love.
See you all next week.
Sincerely,
Mr. Hate