Author: Black Dragon on the Rocks
Pairing: None so far, mentions of past Harry/Ginny and Steve/Peggy
Summary: Steve never thought being a good samaritan would reveal he had someone to anchor him, give him a purpose, and help him fit in the new world he had to live in. He had a son, a special 7 year old son, who was practically a mini him.
Warnings: NOT SLASH, AU for both Avengers and Harry Potter, Violence, Master of Death Harry, mentions of child abuse, child neglect, and mentions of sexual abuse of a minor (nothing descriptive), Parent Steve, De-Aged Harry, Molly bashing, Ron bashing, Ginny bashing
Timeline: Pre Avengers, Post Captain America: The First Avenger, Post The Deathly Hollows but no Epilogue (Gods I HATED it, since I am NOT a Ginevra fan).
Now according to the Marvel Cinematic Universe Wikia, Steve was born in 1918 and his father died in that year during the last of World War One. The battle of the Valkyrie took place on March 4 1945.
Steve was found on April 14 2012, regained consciousness on April 17, the Avengers met on the Helicarrier on May 3, and the Battle of New York takes place on May 4 2012.
As to the Harry Potter timeline, it remains the same for this story.
Author’s Note: I know, I know. I should not be starting another story when I’m still working on The Hidden Life of Steve Rogers. But I could not help it. I need to work on at least two stories at the same time to get out of the dreaded author’s block when it comes.
I have been in the Harry Potter fandom form many many years (and have written five stories, which are still unfinished), but I’m new to the Avengers and Captain America fandoms. I have not read the comics, and only seen the movies, which is where I’m basing anything I use for my stories, as well as info I find in the MCU Wikia.
I would really appreciate some feedback for this story to know whether you like it or not.
The young boy eyed the fruit and vegetables displayed outside of the bodega, mouth watering and stomach growling. His eyes took in the street, as well as the amount of people walking about. Enough to hinder persuit, but not too many as to make his escape impossible after he took what he needed to survive.
He hated having to steal, but he was left with not other option. At least not until he turned eighteen years old, and he was only seven. He was not going back into foster care, ever. He had already escaped five times in less than two and a half months.
“Well, time for breakfast,” he muttered to himself. Then confidently strode to the bodega.
A very tall, muscular, blond man was in front of him doing his shopping, and Harry saw it as a great advantage. He was dwarfed by him, so he could use him to hide while he pocketed a couple of apples, a pear, and two oranges. Then the man went to the vegetables and Harry followed, taking three tomatoes, a couple of carrots, one squash, and two large broccoli.
Probably ninety nine point nine percent of the kid population of the world hated the green stuff. Harry was part of the tiny percentage that not only liked it, he loved broccoli. Sometimes (most of the times) it was what was left over most at meals at Privet Drive number four. There was usually enough quantity to fill him up. His cousin hated it, but for once his aunt was firm, and Dudley had to eat at least one floret, usually two though.
He already had enough to make himself a soup, but added a coliflower as well. His young body demanded much more food than it had before he changed, and of better quality as well, and it was not always easy to obtain what he needed while living on the streets.
Tall, blond, and muscular had finished his shopping and moved to get things weighted. Without the man acting as a barrier, the store clerk caught him stealing a cucumber and putting it into his back-pack. He had been craving some proper cucumber sandwiches for a while, so he was not giving it up.
‘Shit!’ Harry thought alarmed. He still finished packing the cucumber in his back pack, and got ready to bolt. “Oops!” He exclaimed aloud.
“Hey! Tell your kid he has to have everything weighted before he can take it,” the clerk told tall, blond, and muscular.
“I don’t have kids,” the man told the clerk in a clearly confused tone. Then he turned to see who the man was speaking off and froze. The young man’s blue eyes opened wide in what was clearly shock and disbelief, mouth agape. “Good Lord! That’s… that’s NOT possible!” In his shock his voice sounded more like a squeak.
Harry too gaped at the sight. Before him was a man who could be his biological father’s twin, and of whom Harry was practically a miniature clone of; except for his emerald green eyes and his unruly messy hair. But it could not be. His father was dead, and he had had no siblings. Besides, his father was Killed-In-Action back in 1945 during the Second muggle World War. He had crashed a plane filled with bombs in the artic.
The young boy had been conceived in a petri dish, or whatever was used for In Vitro Fertilization. His adoptive father had been sterile, and his mother had wanted a child so much. It was his great grandmother who provided them with a donor’s sperm. It had been taken from his biological father without his consent so many years ago.
The man in question was Captain Steven Grant Rogers also known as Captain America. His great grandmother had known his biological father well, and she had not approved of the Strategic Scientific Reserve taking those samples. Great grandma Peggy had stolen them, and kept them safe from being used to create super soldiers even when at the time In-Vitro Fertilization did not exist.
Great grandma Peggy, whom Harry had never met even helped her grandchild to find a doctor to help her get pregnant. They had used Glamours to hide his true appearance, and told no one. For twenty-five years Harry had thought he was the son of James Potter, until Petunia was in her death bed and told him about the old Evans house.
The Evans house in Cokeworth had magical protections, and was also magically modified, so Petunia had not been able to sell it, or rent it. Not that she could have since it was deeded to Lily and/or her children. The most Petunia was able to do with the house was use it as storage space. It was where she placed many things which had belonged to Lily and her parents.
Petunia had kept the existence of the house from Harry out of spite, and jealousy. The Evans had been her godparents, and took her in after her own were killed in a car crash, but the Evans had never adopted her. To make things worse, she ended on bad terms with them because of Lily’s (who was actually their biological child) magic.
Magic offended her, and more than once Petunia demanded the Evans got rid of the Freak. She felt she should have inherited everything because she was older, never mind she was not really their daughter. Petunia got nothing, the Evans had given her a home, and love, but she had been an ungrateful brat. Only when she realized she was dying did Petunia accept how petty she had been and told Lily’s son what she kept from him.
It was at his Evans granparents’ house where he found his mother’s diaries and the truth about his parentage. He had thankfully told no one, and this was how he had managed to escape Ginevra, Ronald, and Molly after they De-Aged him in hopes of getting control of his vaults. They were also after his seats in the Wizengamot.
They had had it all planned (well, Molly did) since before he attended Hogwarts, but her plans were trounced because he never married Ginevra as they had expected. Hell, he never went back to dating her. He knew she had given him Amortencia to date her during his sixth year, so Harry wanted nothing to do with the obsessed fan girl.
The traitors had him trapped at Grimmauld Place number twelve, which was stupid, as Harry was the master of the house. The trio never saw the Glamours slowly fade after they gave him the potion, as they thankfully took about a week to fade.
The three of them had also been too busy thinking what they should do to become Harry’s guardians and obtain access to his vaults. Somehow the De-Aging Potion broke the Glamours his mother placed on him at his birth.
In the years after Harry learnt about Regulus Black’s fate, Kreacher had come to care about him. The old house-elf was loyal to him, and knew who was loyal to his Master. Harry had not understood at first why the elf disliked the three Weasleys so much.
His house-elf saved him, but Kreacher was too old and died after he transported him to New York City. Harry never knew why Kreacher chose to take him to the USA in the first place, but it had kept him safe from the greedy traitors. British magicals still tended to be too self centered, so it would never occur to then he would escape to another country.
The shock of seeing his father’s clone kept him frozen in place for an instant, then his survival instinct kicked in. Yes Harry did have one, although during his school years it went mostly ignored. He stomped as hard as he could on the tall man’s foot, then bolted down the street using every trick of Parkour he learnt when he was still in an adult’s body, to gain distance between him and the store clerk.
The blond recovered quite fast, and took off after them as well. He was surprisingly agile, and able to keep up with Harry even when the clerk stopped, too winded to go on. Harry was much smaller than his physical age average, and too skinny.
He had always been a scrawny runt as a child, but had recovered and gained a healthy weight after the war. Unfortunately, living on the streets of New York as a street rat for over six months took their toll on him. He had not always been able to find enough food.
Still, he was faster, stronger, and with better reflexes than many fit adults. His mind was mostly that of a child of seven, but thirty-one year old Harry was still there as well. Much like two people living in the same body, with the child being the dominant personality. On situations like this, the adult mind took over to ensure their survival, and he had been an Auror for a few years, as well as lived all his life being hunted.
Harry ran at top speed dodging the people walking down the street, and jumping over obstacles no child as small as he was should be able to with surprising ability. Unfortunately for him tall, blond, and muscular was equally nimble on his feet, and since he had the longer legs he was gaining up on Harry.
Taking his chances Harry crossed the street, not stopping, and jumping over cars to avoid being hit. He was not letting himself be caught and end back in the foster system where he was more abused, and starved, than he had been while living on the streets. The clone of Captain America kept up, jumping over cars, and barely avoiding being run over.
Harry groaned, by Merlin, but the man was persistent, and took off again. He turned back to see the blond was gaining too much ground on him, and did not see the truck coming out of a service alley too fast to stop in time. It hit him head on, sending the small boy flying onto the incoming traffic on the street.
He hit the pavement hard. It left him winded, and barely conscious. There were tire screeches, and the smell of them burning as cars braked. Then strong arms gathered him, and a large body curled up protectively around him instants before something large hit them.
The man took the brunt of the impact, which sent them flying a few feet. There was a burst of powerful Accidental Magic, which created an invisible shield around them, and cushioned their landing. Harry lost consciousness, as his mind idly noticed the man who protected him smelled of Old Spice after shave.