Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Either Harry Potter or the Avengers movie franchise

Excuse Me, I Don't Suppose You Know How To Time Travel

Chapter One

The day Harry Rogers had been taken from his mother's apartment had been a sad day for many.

For those who had fought beside his father, Captain America, during the war, they prayed for the child who had inherited his father's eyes safe return. There were those who thought America's deceased war hero's son and wife deserved better (perhaps that they, too, deserved better). And then there were those who simply believed a child should not be torn from his home, torn from the comfort of his bed and the warm arms of the people by which he was loved.

There was those, however, who were, simply speaking, thrilled with the babe's abduction. There was naturally the media, who could hardly produce the news quickly enough to appease the public, who desperately wished to know the fate of the child of the deceased hero, who had become in many ways a symbol of all the fathers who had never come home to their children, of all the widows who had been left to raise their children. There was next, of course, those who had scorned the idea of a widowed woman raising the son of America's hero, those who thought that the boy would be better off in a laboratory or training to be to take his father's place on the front lines rather in the comfort of his mother's arms.. Surely, they thought, this would not have happened if Margaret 'Peggy' Rogers, the Captain's 'wife', had not been so foolishly independent, the boy would have had better protection. Perhaps these men simply preferred not to think of how Harry Rogers had had ample protection, supplied by none other than one of the richest and brightest men in America. Then, there was those who were happy for another reason, for that they finally had the son of the super soldier within their grasp.

Even as the search continued, as the mother refused to cease her efforts despite the way the seasons changed and the police ceased theirs, refusing to believe that her child could so simply be gone. The man who had declared himself the boy's favourite uncle slowly began to find himself turning towards both the bottle and the search for the boy's father, as his hope for the child's return to began to crumble. Surely, Howard Stark often found himself thinking, surely if I find Steve he'll be able to fix this mess, to put things right.

Even as those who knew the boy, and those who didn't, prayed for his safe return, a man with a metal arm grew further away from them, carrying in his arms a child who he knew nothing of, besides it's annoying habit of occasionally struggling to breathe. Even as his son grew further away from those who loved him, Steve Rogers slept on, no idea that the child whom he had sworn to protect was slowly becoming closer to the organisation which he had sworn to destroy.

Some people seemed to know from the moment that they were born that they wanted to have children one day-, playing house with their friends before they could even begin to read. Steve Rogers had not been one of them.

Children, family, was not something he gave many thoughts to, the future only a far off concept, an eternity away, a family even further. It had only been after his eyes had begun to wander to the messy braid of one of the girl's in his classes, prompting the laughter of the boys' who noticed. It was only later, when they were throwing him onto the ground and taking the little food he had, that he found out why they had.

"Come on, Stevie, do you really think that she's going to like you? Do you really think that any girl is going to like a boy that they can step on?I mean, it's probably for the best, we wouldn't want any more of you in the world."

It might have been easier to not be hurt by the words if the girl had not passed then, causing the boys to call to her, her face becoming red at the words as she almost ran in the opposite direction. Their laughter, and the faint horror on the girl's face, was all he needed to know that they were right, no girl would ever want him, nor would he ever be able to teach a child how to play baseball, as he often saw father's teach their children in the park.

It was funny how you never realise you wanted something until you knew you couldn't have it. Or more perhaps, you always wanted what you could not have.

Whatever hope he had had for a miraculous growth in height died when he reached in puberty, many of the girls outgrowing him as his asthma only became more severe, and his list of health that issues grew by day. If his height somehow did not keep a girl away, the list of health issues longer than he was certainly would.

Then came Doctor Erskine, and with him, the super serum. Suddenly, where there had once been no women, there were many, all wishing to know the man who would become one of America's greatest heroes.

Peggy Carter though, she had known him before and after the syrum, but treated him no differently, the smile on her face the same no matter teh height. For the first time, he did not just want a girl or a family to prove that he could, but because he wanted to see children with her eyes and his hair, wanted to wake up and feel content in a way he never had.

The contentment had come with a price though-, another generation of Rogers who would be left with only a picture on the mantelpiece for a father.

"Steve, please, let's talk about this, we've got time. We can work this out."

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere, if I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die, Peg," he squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to rid them of tears, "I'm going to have to put her in the water."

"Steve, please. I'll get Howard on the line, we'll figure something out."

"Peggy," Steve paused, not certain of what to say, not sure how to express all of which he wanted, needed, "Please don't name it after me if it's a boy."

There was a short noise from the speaker, a mixture of a laugh and a sob, "I thought you said it was going to be a girl."

"No, I still reckon it's going to be a girl. I just think it'd be best to cover all options."

A girl is what he'd been silently praying for at least, a girl who would be easier to keep away from the terror of the battle field. Hopefully, either he or she just didn't inherit either of her parent's-

"James then, James Rogers," Peggy's voice stated.

This time Steve couldn't help but laugh, "Bucky's head would have exploded if we named the baby after him," he waited a few seconds before continuing, "Not the first name, not after someone who died during the war, Peg. Let them be their own person, don't give them a ghost for a name."

Steve ignored the way that he could hear Peggy's voice break as she spoke, and the guilt that followed, "Harry James then, Harry James Rogers."

"Harry James," Steve couldn't help the grin that spread over his face, even as the tears fell down it. "I like it Peg, I like it a lot."

Peggy laughed, sounding almost relieved, "What about a girl then?"

Steve paused for a second, "My mum's name was Sarah-, she was one of the strongest people I've known-"

The words 'like you' were on the tip of his tongue before the reminder of his current situation set back in, the icey wall that would become his death approaching him, a reminder that no matter how much they avoided the matter, he wouldn't be around to see their child grow, that the closest he would ever know was the slight rounding of Peggy's stomach.

"Peggy, I'm sorry," his voice broke as the words came out. "I love you."

"Steve, please no," Peggy sounded close to breaking apart, sounding to Steve like the first time something capable of breaking, and not for the first time he wished there could be another way. "Steve no, please don't leave me, please don't leave us, please Steve-"

"Peggy, please tell them I love them, I-"

After that, Steve Rogers knew nothing, nothing except how cold, and how sorry he was.

Lily Evans couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she had heard the name Harry Rogers, as far as she could remember, he always been there, something you were not supposed to talk about, but yet were endlessly curious about, just like his father, Steve Rogers, and her own father's time in the war. A reminder of a time past, a painful one of which they were not allowed to speak.

Lily's father had been a good man, a war torn one, but nevertheless, a good one. His time working alongside Captain America as a Howling Commando may have left him permanently scarred, both mentally and physically, but it hadn't hurt his kindness and sense of humour, always a good man, a good father. He had always fought for what he had believed in, done right by his wife and two daughters, unlike many of the other men who had come back from that war. Sev-, Snape's father had come back from the war with the idea that violence was the answer to everything, while her own, Timothy 'Dum Dum' Dugan, had come back resenting any form of it.

Obviously, though, she had not inherited that kindness, Lily pondered as she thought back on the situation that had led to where she was now. She and half of her fiancee's friends, half of the Marauders, had stood watching the hidden building which they were meant to soon invade for what felt like hours, when it truly began to click what they were doing, how wrong it truly was. Here they were, three friends who had barely reached adulthood, about to bring a likely brainwashed assassin, who perhaps in another would have been like a cousin, into a war that there was a large chance he would soon be killed in. If it was anyone one else, they'd probably get the kid, not kid, she reminded herself, a grown man, most definitely a grown man by now, a cup of tea, assuming that was, he didn't attempt to kill them. But they needed help, and if a brainwashed assassin was the only help they could get, so be it, she had decided, her mind full of the images of James lying in a hospital bed at Saint Mungo's, and her father's remains littered through the streets where he had once felt safe enough to raise a family.

"Come on," she had spoken suddenly, the sudden interruption scaring herself more than her two friends, "We may as well get it over and done with."

Sirius nodded, "Yes, let's get straight to kidnapping the already kidnapped assassin then."

Despite the reluctance in the animagus' words, he had already begun to stride towards the almost hidden building, Disapparating with a loud crack a second later, leaving only silence in his wake.

"Well then," sighed Remus, after the silence continued to drag, "We better go after him before he gets into too much trouble."

In all fairness, when Lily Evans, daughter of a war hero, had devised a plan to defeat Voldemort with the assistance of a brainwashed assassin, she had expected brainwashed assassin, as horrible as it sounded. Only a few confoundment charms should have had them a brilliant fighter for their cause. When she had informed Dumbledore of her plan, she most certainly had not been expecting a child to the one she found when she had muttered 'Point me, Harry Rogers'. She had most definitely not been expecting to bring a child into a war, most definitely not a child who did not appear to have aged in over thirty years. But it only occurred to her now, she thought as the child that by all rights should have been older than her struggled to wrap his hand around her smallest finger, neither of them really had a choice. It seemed now, that this tiny little thing, this Harry James Rogers, would soon be fighting a war.

Harry Potter was seven years old when he first prayed for Captain America to save him.

The only reason he knew of the hero, as anything more than a legend, was his hearing heard his Aunt Petunia telling stories of the hero to his cousin, something which he would have usually ignored. Something in the tales sounded familiar though, like something he should almost remember, which was the reason why Harry Potter had remained listening to the story, despite knowing the risk.

"Mummy, I want a bedtime story," were the words that prompted Harry to first hear of America's hero, a demand from his cousin by which would eventually change his life.

Harry could almost remember almost feel his aunt's glee at the request, even as he had attempted to walk down the hall, attempting to silently pull along a basket of laundry.

"Well then, Diddykins, which one do you want to hear? The one abou-"

"No mummy, I want a book. One that tells you stories, not a boring one that you have to read," Dudley whined, "I want it now."

"Well then," his aunt replied, "Of course, my darling boy, reading will make you even smarter! I'll go to the bookstore tomorrow. Which one do you want?"

"I want one about Captain America, and I need it now, mummy! Everyone else at school knows who he is mummy, they were playing a game today at school. I didn't know who he was, it wasn't fair!"

Harry knew the signs, as obviously did his aunt Petunia. He attempted to drag the laundry quickly, before the storm which was his cousin's temper became a hurricane.

"Oh darling, there's no need to upset," his aunt comforted his cousin, she too afraid of his cousin's temper. "Those nasty other children shouldn't be so mean as to make you feel dumb, Diddykins. I'll have you know, you can go to school tomorrow and tell them that your grandfather, my father, worked with Captain America during the war! More than just worked together, your grandfather was a Howling Commando! He was friends with Captain America!"

Dudley's sniffles had ceased upon hearing the news, as had Harry, who instead of attempting to move soundlessly down the hall had collapsed next to the door, desperate to hear anything about his family, family which wasn't the Dursleys.

"Mummy, tell me about Captain America then! You must know the best stories then!"

"Of course darling, but don't want to hear about your grandfather?"

"I need to know about Captain America! I don't care about him, I need to know about Captain."

Harry almost sighed upon hearing the request, pausing only at the last second. Of course, Dudley didn't want to know about their grandfather, he obviously would much prefer to learn about some famous hero than the man who was the reason they were both alive. Maybe though, he wondered, if I knew about Captain America the other kids wouldn't mind being friends with him, maybe they'd want to be friends with the grandson of Captain America's friend. So there he remained, crouching on the floor, eventually becoming as involved in the story as his cousin was.

"Captain America would bash those evil soldier's heads in, wouldn't he mummy?"

"Of course darling, and then-"

Time continued, and Harry became completely embroiled in the tale of a little guy who refused to sit back down, despite that being what the entire world was telling him to do.

"When I'm older I'm going to be Captain America!" Dudley declared.

"Well darling, if you continue to grow as you are I'm sure you can be! And tomorrow, you go to school and tell all those mean children that they shouldn't mess with Dum Dum Doogan's grandson, otherwise Captain America would come after them! And that Captain America does not like bullie-"

"BOY!"

Harry fell from where had been crouching, staring at where his uncle's livid, red face had appeared from the stairs.

"What do you think you're doing! Planning on going in there after my wife is done, ha! Going to steal my Dudley's homework and claim it's yours, again! Well not this time!"

The door of the bedroom swung open just as Harry was pulled to his feet by his hair, dragged towards the stairs and the prison that was underneath them.

"I was just listening to the story, about Captain America!" He protested as he got pushed into the cupboard

"Ha! Freaks like you don't deserve stories, and I'm sure the good Captain would agree with me if he didn't die trying to stop freaks like you!"

The door slammed, once again leaving Harry in the dark.

The following day did not improve for Harry, who upon reaching the school which was so often his safe haven from the Dursleys, found himself being volunteered by Dudley to play the villain from the stories of the night before.

There were some muttering complaints from the other children as Dudley declared himself Captain America, which soon ended as Dudley look at them.

"Commandos! Let's go catch the bad guy!"

Harry barely had a chance to run before the first punch landed, but for once thankful for his small size, slipped under one of the taller boy's arms and began to run, the others following soon behind him. As his breath tired the other students gained the punches began to land once more. Eventually, the disturbance drew the attention of a teacher, but as he continued to try to get up Harry Potter silently prayed for help, for Captain America to miraculously appear and for him to throw the other children off Harry as he told them that he really didn't like bullies.

I just have a few things to say, but feel free to skip them as they are not necessary to the story.

Ok, for starters, this is going to be based off the movies, not the comics. Though I'll try my best to keep it comic accurate, I've never read a comic which had a Captain America in it in my life (actually, that's a lie. I think I read one and he was in the background looking pretty, but I can't help but feel that doesn't count.)

Title from Radical Face's 'Wrapped In Piano Strings'.

I'd really appreciate it if you'd review, just so I know people are genuinely interested in this story, and reviews do encourage me to write so I'd really appreciate them.