Strange Adventures of Harry Potter

Warnings: Graphic abuse/noncon of a minor, graphic violence, language, eventual slash of the ThorXHarry soulbond variety. Included pairings are Peter ParkerXHermione, and Frostiron. Dr. Strange will take a mentor role only. There will be smut, lemons, and lots of FLUFF.

Setting: This takes place in a universe that blends the hidden wizarding world of Harry Potter with the equally hidden superhero world. This takes place after the events of The Avengers movie and I'm calling into play TWT (Timeline What Timeline) because Harry is at the beginning of the events of HBP, making this the summer he turns 16.

Chapter One

A Wider Universe than Magic Reveals

Harry was nervous going back to the Dursley's. His friends noticed it. He refused to talk about it with them. The truth was that his guts were twisting in an unnatural way about it. They had told them about Sirius. And he knew that Sirius had been one of the few things that stayed Vernon's hands. At first he was afraid of Harry's magic, and then he found that Harry couldn't do anything with magic at home. But he feared Sirius by that point. So his friends didn't try to tempt him into conversation. They left Harry alone, thinking he was simply grieving for his godfather, and him wanting to do it alone. They had no idea the extent of the fear that was twisting in his heart, and how it had nothing at all to do with his beloved godfather's death. So it was with that heavy heart he bid his friends farewell, and walked toward his doom. At least, that's what he felt like he was doing as he trudged toward the beat up car that his uncle stood against.

"Hello, Uncle," Harry said, and was met with a hand gripping the back of his neck, making him flinch.

"Mouth closed, don't want to hear a word outta you," he growled in his ear and Harry wasn't sure what exactly was going on. He threw his trunk into the back seat and crawled into the front and realized the car was a mess. There was trash everywhere in it, and he had to be careful not to kick any out when he got in. He swallowed hard at the rising sensation that something was very wrong.

He was quiet when he sat there, and dared not look over to his uncle. Something was really, really wrong, and he was scared. He knew that they had sent a letter through muggle mail informing the Dursley's that Harry's godfather had died. And he wasn't sure what the reaction would be, but he was unnerved by the way his uncle sat stiffly, eyes focused on the road, and unspeaking. The drive didn't take long, and Harry did as he always did, removed his trunk and followed his uncle into his house. What he was met with made him stop and gape into the room.

The place, quite frankly, was a disaster area. There were broken bits of decorative vases in the corners of the room, one of the divan's had been ripped apart and stuffing was spilling out onto the floor. Picture frames were smashed and pictures ripped all over the place. The cupboard (his cupboard) had the door missing, and several rubbish bags sat inside there. There were empty pizza boxes and take out containers all over the living room, and clothes laid about as if his uncle had dropped them where they were removed. Harry blinked several times, and so focused on the mess, he didn't see his uncle move toward him and backhand him, knocking him flat to the floor. He looked up in shock.

"I don't wanna hear a fuckin' word, freak. She left with Dudley, so now you are gonna be my little housewife, understand? First clean up the fuckin' mess in here, and if it isn't finished by dinner, I'll show you what happens when you disobey me, and dinner better be done by seven," he growled, turning and going back out the door.

Harry sat on the floor, running a tongue over his split lip. Wonderful. This was going to be a just wonderful summer.

-Not that Far Away-

He was always fascinated by these wizards as they called themselves. They all contained a fraction of the power he himself drew upon, being in the familylines and blood, and he knew that it was also likely to have those with no family history show up with powers. He smiled as he perused wizarding London. It had been a long time, and he wondered again if he would find a worthy disciple among them. He sighed, thinking that perhaps it was a lost cause among these people. They had their own way of doing things, hidden from the non-magical beings of the world. He supposed that was well and good, but they were quite myopic, ignoring the rest of the wide universe, and threats that came from outside the earth that were perhaps more destructive. They also were mired down in bureaucracy. He perused several shops, amused by the things these wizards collected. Their wands, spellsbooks, they were all quaint, but nothing that could damage the threats he himself defended the earth against. But it was nice that he didn't have to deal with things that these wizards and witches could manage on their own.

He stopped and stared into a shop window, running his hand through his black hair, scratching at the black goatee that he sported. He was lonely, he had to admit. He wanted someone to share his knowledge with, and he wasn't having any luck so far finding someone compatible with his teaching methods.

"Steven!" he heard a familiar voice call and he turned with a smile to see the person he'd arranged to meet. He turned to see the dour faced potions master that he often did business with coming toward him.

"Severus," he said with a bow. "Shall we have a drink while we discuss what I need?"

"Of course, come," Severus said, looking over the American. He shook his head at the muggle dress he chose to wear. Well, technically he was a muggle, he supposed, but that didn't matter.

Before long they sat at a quiet table having ordered some drinks and snack foods at one of the small pubs in Diagon Alley. Severus looked over his long time associate. As usual, he had impeccable bearing, and he looked the same save a little graying hair at his temples these days. He'd provided the self-proclaimed sorcerer supreme with potions on occasion. He wasn't sure what kind of magic the man held, but it was more powerful than anyone he knew could comprehend. He was just glad he chose not to interfere in the wizarding world.

"What brings you all the way to wizarding London this time, Steven?" Severus asked, sipping his drink, a cinnamon concoction with firewhiskey as the base.

"The usual, Severus. Need to refill my potion stocks, and still seeking a disciple. However, I doubt I'll find one among your kind. You typically keep your own close to the vest," he said, sighing over his own drink, something the wizard had ordered for him.

Severus nodded, picking at his chips. "Well, I could recommend a few students, but I'm not sure Dumbledore would appreciate having his students whisked away by someone over the summer…"

Steven nodded. "Ah, yes, that headmaster in that school. And why, praytell, Severus is there an aura of darkness around you these days?"

"Oh, that's…um…" Severus stammered, hand going to the dark mark on his forearm.

"Your old master returned, did he?" he said, sipping deeply. Severus had told him of his previous affiliation with the dark lord and was now regretting it.

"Yes, he resurrected himself last year," he said with a nod.

Steven nodded. "The aura is destructive; I see your death will come of it if you keep this path, Severus. Your death and many others…"

He frowned at the sorcerer. "What does it matter to you, Dr. Strange?" he sneered. "You don't bother with mortal and earthly affairs. I remember when I asked for your help before you said it was up to the wizarding world to deal with his threat."

Steven nodded. "Yes, I know that is what I said, but there is more to this now than there was then," he muttered, eyes going hazy for a moment. "I will have to check with the orb and see what I can find. Something is not right with this…something more than a simple problem in the wizarding world. Perhaps there is an outside influence that drew me here this time…"

"Give me your list," Severus said standing. "I have no more time for prattle."

He nodded, handing him a list of potions he was in need of this time. The potion master scanned it.

"One month to have them all ready. Will you stay here or return to your Sanctum in New York?" he asked, voice tense and curt now.

"I will remain this time. I'll meet you here in one month's time and bring the gold as payment per our agreement," he said, noting the stiffness in his companion.

While they were not friends by any means, he didn't like upsetting useful business associates. This was one of his few sources for potions, and some of which were not made by anyone else. He sat thoughtfully, thinking he would have to do some delving into this situation and this dark lord of theirs. Something felt wrong about the aura the potion master was projecting. It felt…familiar. Not of the Earth dimension. And if that was the case, his services would indeed be required. But until then, he needed to find a disciple.

He wandered through the alleys and places and heard a discussion between two young people, a red headed boy and a girl with curly hair in the bookstore.

"But you said he sent you an owl…and said he was okay…" the boy said.

"Ron, yes, but he said his aunt left his uncle, now's alone with that horrid man. I'm worried about him, but what can we do?" she asked, flipping through the book.

The boy sighed. "I guess we can ask mom, but Dumbledore said he can't leave there because of you-know-who being after him now…like really after him…"

"He said he used to hit him before his Hogwarts letter…but he's scared of magic, but now…" she asked, thinking about the situation.

"Mione, what choice do we have? I mean, the stupid muggle has to be scared of him, I mean he faced off with the dark lord and lived…" he said with a hushed whisper.

The girl shook her head. "Like that stops violence, Ron. Really, this is what happens when you're raised around wizards…"

Steven thought about the conversation as they left. A boy that faced this dark lord and lived? Interesting. Now, if he could find a disciple with that kind of power already…

-Back on Privet Drive-

Harry was sure that his uncle was trying to kill him. Little by little, he was sure of it. Almost a month had passed, and he'd sent his obligatory owls to Ron and Hermione keeping them updated as his uncle watched over his shoulder as he wrote. He had no privacy, and soon he found out his uncle was living on savings because he'd lost his job. The loss of his job had led to Petunia leaving him finally. From the shattered remains of the house, he understood. He'd become incredibly violent, and came home most nights drunk enough to barely stand.

Harry was trying to fix dinner without aggravating what he was relatively certain was a broken wrist. He'd wrapped it in a cloth to try and keep pressure off of it, but it wasn't working. His uncle hadn't been happy a couple nights before with his performance in dinner making and grabbed his wrist and slung him into the wall. The resulting snapping sound convinced him if not the overwhelming pain that nearly had him throwing up the contents of his empty stomach. He sighed and managed to finish the food, a nice shepherd's pie, he thought. He would hopefully be allowed to have some tonight. It had been a couple days since he'd managed to sneak some food without his uncle noticing in his drunken stupor.

The door banged open, and for once, Harry didn't hear the cussing that was usually accompanied with his return after a drunken binge. He smiled wanly as his uncle came in with a look on his face that he couldn't interpret. He swallowed nervously and served the table, putting out a plate for his uncle, but not himself. He returned to the kitchen to get a glass of wine from the table for him.

"Harry, have a seat and eat with me," his uncle said, making the boy start and stare at him.

"O-okay Uncle," he said softly, turning back to retrieve another plate.

He wasn't sure what to think but he knew better than to disobey him. The first week had left him bleeding and sore from being whipped across the back with a belt and covered with bruises everywhere else from his careless hits. He'd been forbidden to go outside, mostly to ensure no one saw how horrible he looked after his drunken uncle took his frustrations out on him. It was entirely Harry's fault he'd lost his job and Petunia left, of course, even if he hadn't even been there.

"And bring another glass of wine, Harry," he said softly.

Harry frowned and poured another glass, wondering if he wanted another for himself already. Harry was quite confused but returned and gave himself a small portion of the food and set the second glass down besides his uncle's wondering why he asked for it, since his was still full. He was watching him which was really disconcerting to Harry.

"Oh, Harry, would you get me the paper from the living room?" he asked quietly, tucking into his plate absently.

Harry nodded and got up to get it. He came back quickly and handed it over. His uncle smiled. "Harry, have your glass of wine," he said softly.

Now this was getting really weird. "Uncle? Sir, I can't drink…I'm not…"

"I offered you wine, Harry. Are you going to turn down such a nice offer from me?" he said, eyes hard as he looked up at him.

Harry shook his head. "N-no sir, sorry sir," he said, picking up the glass and sipping from it. It wasn't bad, fruity tasting white wine. He blinked and slowly ate his food. He sipped it a few more times and realized he was feeling dizzy. Surely such a small amount of alcohol wouldn't get him drunk that fast, he thought to himself, as he finished his food and took the plates to the kitchen.

"Finish your drink, Harry, waste not, want not," Uncle said with a smirk.

Harry swallowed and looked at the half full glass. Well, he supposed he should get it over with, since his uncle wasn't going to leave him be until he did so. He downed the rest of it, coughing as the alcohol choked him. He nodded as his uncle did the same and took both glasses to the kitchen. He started washing the dishes and blinked as his vision began to waver. He stumbled a second to the side, then shook his head. What was happening? He thought to himself. He felt his uncle grasp his upper arm and he found even surprised he couldn't pull away from the touch.

"Harry, you don't look well, you should go to bed, I'll wash the dishes tonight," he said into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Okay, Uncle…" he said nodding.

"Use my bedroom, Harry, the bed's much softer," he continued, steering him toward the stairs, his feet stumbling a bit.

He tried to shake his head but he found nothing was cooperating, and he felt so heavy. He thought that he must be drunk, but no, there was no way. He'd had wine before, and never…wait… oh no. His uncle had drugged him with something. That was the only explanation. He tried to pull away from him but he was dropped onto the large bed. It was so soft and welcoming, he felt like he was melting into it. His eyes fluttered almost closed but snapped open when he felt his clothes being removed.

"Wha…Un…cle…wha…" he muttered, frowning deeply as his uncle pulled him up into a sitting position and yanked the large t-shirt off his head. He realized he was completely naked now, but he didn't even have the energy to blush at the fact he was splayed out on the bed completely starkers.

"Shh, Harry, shh. No need to be scared. I'll get you nice and ready before they get here…" he whispered into his ear and Harry's heart beat a rapid rhythm despite the drugged feeling. "I'm afraid I don't have much choice, dear Harry, I owe the wrong people, and when ya owe them, you do what you can to save yer neck. So you get to be a good boy and help me out," he said, and Harry jumped as he felt hands trail down to between his legs. "You want to help old Uncle out for being so nice to ya don't ya?"

"N-no…" he said, shaking his head, and willing his magic to work, but it wouldn't. Whatever had muddled his brain was stopping him from reacting in any way. A picture frame shattered nearby, but that was it. "S-stop!" he tried to yell but only a whisper came out.

"I'll make sure they don't hurt you…too much," he said, and Harry's eyes went wide to feel two large fingers slip into him. He let out a strangled sound, the sensation of burning pain ripping through him despite the cold liquid on the fingers. "Shh, don't make too much noise, or they'll really hurt you, this is just practice though, so that's okay," he said, flipping him to his stomach and hitching his hips up.

Harry just wanted his body to work, or his mind, but both were sluggish and bogged down and he couldn't even scream when his Uncle forced his way into him, the pain ripping up his spine like a wave. He cried though, tears falling into the duvet cover underneath him. Finally, his uncle finished, and cleaned him with a cloth.

"Only a little blood, my boy, you'll be fine I think," he said softly, and then he felt more of the cold liquid being pushed inside him by his uncle's thick fingers as he whimpered at the intrusion. "There, now, all ready, what a good boy you are Harry."

He was laid on his back, his limbs still not cooperating as he heard the doorbell then. He swallowed hard, trying desperately to summon something, magic or strength. He managed a call to Hedwig, but it was dim, faint. He imprinted her with his need for help, their relationship more than wizard and pet, more along the wizard and familiar route, having read up on it with Hermione this last year. He hoped it had worked because the door was opening and his uncle was showing two tall men into the room.

"As agreed, my dear nephew. Young, nubile, and all ready for you. This…this covers the debt, right?" he said, eyeing the dark haired man thoughtfully, then the blonde one. With his fuzzy brain, he honestly couldn't tell more about than that. That and the fact that his uncle had taken his glasses.

The dark haired main gave him a lecherous grin. "Oh yes, indeed. This will do nicely. Either once a week until you pay, or perhaps we can even come to a better agreement…perhaps I could simply buy him off you for good, huh, there Vernon?"

The fat man nodded vigorously. "Of course, when you're done, come down and we'll discuss it, if you want," Vernon said, turning to fix Harry with a grin. "That would be ideal."

The blonde frowned at him. "Yer quite a piece o'work, there Dursley. Selling yer own nephew like this. How do ya sleep at night?"

Vernon grinned, pudgy eyes squinting. "Oh, I sleep well. Even better if ya take him with ya."

Harry's heart was pounding as he shook his head as one of two men began to remove his clothes. He wanted to scream, to fight, but found himself quite unable as they sat down beside him. He whimpered as he felt hands on him and the blond sat beside his head, absently petting his hair like a child. And right now, Harry had never felt more like one.

"He's quite a bit lovelier than your last boy, sir," the blond said, still petting his hair in what Harry supposed was a soothing fashion.

"He is, I think I'll take him home with me after all, what do you think, little one?" he said, settling between Harry's legs and leaning over him.

Harry shook his head despite the effort. "N-no, please…"

The man smiled and cupped his face. "What a sweet thing you are, so innocent; he said he's sixteen later this year, what a lovely age."

With no other preamble, he snatched his hips upward and thrust himself into Harry, causing him to arch and scream, though what came out was a low keening sound. He was much larger than his uncle, and he felt something give inside him, and warm wetness began to leak down onto the bed below him. The man grinned, and went at him harshly, causing intense pain to shoot up his back, and down to the very arches of his feet. He wanted to pass out, but no matter how many spots danced in his vision, it didn't seem to happen. He begged him to stop, he knew that, and the man at his head continued to run fingers through his hair, and Harry had no idea why he kept speaking soothing words to him.

In the room another picture frame shattered randomly, getting the blonde's attention. Harry's magic was bubbling just under the surface, fighting to break through the fugue that had filled his brain. There was a crack and a wooden shelf dumped its contents to the floor. Harry's eyes had rolled back, barely fluttering open now and then as tears fell down his face and he tried to distance himself and turn the magic inward and destroy himself. Before he could, the dark haired brute above him finished, shooting a stinging pain through him as he groaned and finally succumbed to the tempting darkness.

The dark haired man looked around and grinned at the blonde. "You see that? The uncle said he was a 'freak'. Think he's a mutant?"

The blonde man nodded. "I saw. The uncle said he'd drugged him so he wouldn't lash out, you think that's why?"

"Certainly, his uncle so kindly took the boy before I got here. I imagine something that pig has wanted to do for a while by the looks of him." He leaned forward and ran a hand over the pale face, tracing over the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. "That's not a natural scar," he said, smiling. "A mystery…"

He spent a few more minutes examining the boy, stopping to look at the swollen wrist and other obvious injuries of abuse on him. He sat thoughtfully for a time. "I'll take him with us. I'll arrange with that leech of an uncle. Or rather…I'll kill him before I leave. No reason to pay when I can just take such a sweet morsel on my own. Put some clothes on him, I'll return shortly."

The dark haired man hummed happily as he went down the stairs to find the fat man sitting at a kitchen table nervously. He smiled at the man, genuinely happy he'd found a new playmate in the man's nephew.

"I'm taking him, such a good little one you have," he said, standing to his full six foot five height, dark eyes flashing at him.

"Good, so, what…" the fat man began, but never finished. He was dead before he hit the ground, a knife expertly embedded through his throat, severing the spinal cord from the front.

He stared at his work and felt some sort of…well, magic. He shook his head. It was like something that sorcerer he'd met used; it was some sort of warding. But it was pitifully weak. He went up and saw that his companion had put him into a way too big t-shirt and shrugged, telling him that was all he found. It was long enough that it hit his knees.

He carefully gathered up his new prize, smiling as he walked outside, the warding on the house sending out some sort of alarm. No matter he thought and he felt eyes on him. He turned, Harry in his arms and looked at a woman standing in her yard, hand to her mouth.

"Do not make a fuss, dear," he said, looking at her. "I prefer not to kill anyone I don't have to today."

"What are you doing with Harry?" she asked, finding her voice, finally, her eyes on the mop of black hair in in the man's arms.

He smiled at her. "Oh, he's a pretty thing, isn't he? I mean, his uncle was far too much of a bastard to enjoy such a sweet thing. I think I deserve him more. Been a while since I've found myself a pet as nice as this one," he said kissing the top of the mop of black hair. "Young, pale, and I'm a sucker for green eyes. And such an innocent one!"

He then slid into the back seat of the car, the blonde into the driver's seat, and the fancy and expensive care pulled away, leaving Arabel Fig speechlessly watching. Moments later, there was the pop of apparation nearby and Kingsley, Tonks and a couple other red robed aurors stepped out, coming forward. The questions began, and a dead Vernon Dursley was found inside. In a few minutes, another pop signaled new arrivals and Dumbledore himself arrived with Severus.

"Severus, can you try and get the recent memories from the house?" he asked, watching the potion master.

"If it is very recent," he said, and not waiting for an answer entered, seeing Tonks looking over the body.

Severus kneeled down, ignoring the pointed glares that he was used to getting and touched the dead man's head. He hated accessing the memory before death, it was only the last fifteen minutes of life, but it was always cold feeling, unlike using legilimency on a living person. He closed his eyes.

He saw Vernon pacing and glancing up the stairs. There was the crash and shattering of glass. "Freak and his freak magic, can't even stop it doping him up," he muttered, causing a shiver to run up Severus' spine. There was a louder crash. "I swear if he fuckin' broke anything important I'll really give it to him when they're done with him…"

Severus was confused as to what was going on. Soon enough a dark haired man came down the stairs slowly, fixing his clothing, buttoning his pants and tucking in his shirt. He had a broad grin on his face. Vernon looked up at him expectantly.

"I'm taking him, such a good little one you have," he said, standing to his full six foot five height, dark eyes flashing at him.

"Good, so, what…" Severus flinched out of the memory as the knife connected with the body too fast even for Severus to catch.

"What in Merlin's name…" he muttered, looking up at Dumbledore's blue eyes. "He…I don't know. I need to go upstairs."

Severus headed up the stairs and opened the locked door, sensing that it was cold and unoccupied recently. The next room was almost empty, and the last he opened and was overwhelmed by the smell of sex and fear. "Oh gods…" he muttered as he moved forward, Dumbledore on his heels. He looked back at the headmaster and saw the wide eyed look.

The sheets on the bed were soiled with blood and semen, and Severus closed his eyes touching a different part of the bed, his head flooded with the images the second he'd finished the chanting for the spell. After a few moments he stepped back, blinking.

"They weren't wizards," he said, looking toward Dumbledore. "They didn't know Harry was a wizard. He was drugged by his uncle, his magic did this when he…" he said pointing to the exploded frames and shelves. "They saw it and thought he was a 'mutant'. He decided to take him, killing the uncle so he didn't have to 'pay' for him."

There was a shocked silence. "What do we do if it wasn't a wizard?" Tonks asked softly.

"Then perhaps you should ask someone who isn't a wizard," came a voice behind them. No one had seen him, but there stood a man with black hair, gray at the temples, with Hedwig sitting on his shoulder. He wore a cape and somewhat normal muggle clothes, a heavy amulet around his neck. He hovered inches above the floor.

"Steven," Severus said, glancing at the owl. "What are you doing here? And why do you have Harry's owl?"

The new arrival dropped soundlessly to the floor. "Imagine my surprise when I was wandering London proper when this white beauty came sailing out of nowhere and landed on my shoulder excitedly telling me her wizard needed help immediately."

Severus frowned. "You understand owls?"

The man rolled his eyes. "I'm the sorcerer supreme of the earth dimension, honestly, understanding animals isn't that difficult for me. Yes, Hedwig, I see he is not here, please, stop reminding me," he muttered the last, scratching the owl under the chin idly as he looked around the room.

Dumbledore looked at Severus expectantly. "Ah, Professor Albus Dumbledore, this is Dr. Steven Strange. He is…a sorcerer of the muggle world."

Steven nodded but smiled. "I wouldn't consider myself a muggle, I have access to the 'magical core' that you do, however, my abilities are augmented otherwise."

"Why are you here, and how do you know Severus?" Dumbledore asked, frowning.

"I find he is one of the best potion masters in the known universe. So I seek him out when I am low on things I normally keep on hand. I just happened to be on one of those shopping trips today when this lovely lady found me. I am unsure what drew her to me…" He stared at Hedwig and nodded. "Ah, I see. She says that my aura is similar to the aura of this dark lord. Interesting. Is your dark lord extra-dimensional?"

Severus and Dumbledore exchanged looks. "I am unsure what that means?"

"I deal with beings mostly from alternative dimensions, spaces, planets, rarely do I deal with things that are entirely of Earth's origin. Your lot tend to have that well in hand that I rarely have to intercede unless it is of mutant origin, or some of the others that ask for my help," he explained. "But for now, let us find your boy."

Steven nodded, and placed a hand on the bed. "Ah, this is complicated. He's been kidnapped by mutants of my world. They've returned to their home. Seems they are American, New York. At least I have my Sanctum there. I believe it best we find your young wizard before they can do more damage to the boy…"

Severus was always amazed at the ability to read things so clearly that he had. "What do they want him for?"

Steven stood up and gave a sigh. "It seems their intentions are to use the boy for their own recreation, as they've done here already. However, since they are taking him to their hide-out in New York, I'm unsure what will happen once there, and if their recreation will be limited to what happened here, or if they have something else in mind. I recommend speed to deal with the matter."