Disclaimer: Anything you recognize does not belong to me. Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling, and the Marvel universe belongs to Marvel and Disney. I'm enjoying my time in their sandboxes and making no profits.

Beta read by the awesome Nyx the Author. Thanks a ton!

(Text in italics taken from "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" by JK Rowling).

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Chapter 1: After Erised

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.
"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

Harry wracked his brain to think of some way to delay his apparently power-mad professor, desperate for Dumbledore to come blasting through the curtains of flame. What could he do, wrapped in ropes and utterly helpless?
Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.
"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing — I thought someone was threatening you..."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.
"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions — he is a great wizard and I am weak — "

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped. He and his friends had been that close to Voldemort the whole time?

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly.

As his professor continued to monologue, Harry tried to review his options, but his primal instinct to flee was keeping him from thinking straight. He was listening with half an ear to Quirrell's explanation, and the thought of Voldemort being so nearby all year was making him panic. Had Voldemort seen everything Harry had done this year? Did he know about the invisibility cloak? Who all his friends were? His attention could only refocus as Quirrell's finally looked away from Harry to continue studying the mirror, completing his story.

…"He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..."

Harry, at this point, was mentally gibbering with fear. Yes, he'd known Voldemort was in some way close, but this was becoming all too real in a way no 11 year old should ever have to face. He wanted to get away, to be found by a teacher, to be anywhere but trapped in a room with a follower of his greatest enemy.

"I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it? Help me, master!"

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself
"Use the boy... Use the boy..."

Quirrell rounded on Harry.
"Yes — Potter — come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet. He wanted to run away screaming, but he knew there was no escape with the wall of fire standing in his way. "Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him slowly. 'I must lie,' he thought desperately. 'I must look and lie about what I see, that's all. There must be some way I can get out of this.'

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

His fear vanished. Standing here, this close to the polished face of the mirror and staring directly into his reflection, the overwhelming feeling of power overrode his terror. He'd felt nothing like this when he saw the mirror over the holidays. Something had changed. He stared into his own face, trying to see what might be different, and then…

His reflection winked. It reached into its pocket and pulled out a stone. Harry let out a ragged gasp, unable to help himself. This, this red unpolished stone was the source of the raw energy that now suffused the mirror. He couldn't take his eyes off of the gem, and it seemed for a moment that he could see movement inside it. A writhing, chaotic kind of life that threatened to burst out of the stone if left unchecked.

Before he could study it any more, his reflection dropped the stone back into its pocket, and as it did, Harry felt a heavy movement in his own pocket. Somehow, incredibly, he'd gotten the stone.

The entire exchange lasted less than 3 seconds, but Quirrell certainly noticed Harry gasp and loudly demanded, "What? What do you see?"

Mind racing, Harry responded with half of the truth, "The stone is inside the mirror… I- I don't know how, but it's inside. I saw you reach into it like the surface isn't even there."

Quirrell's face lit up with glee, but that unearthly voice called out again, "He's lying, you fool. Let me see him…"

Even as the professor began to protest, Harry backed slowly away, desperate to put distance between them. The wonder at seeing the stone was gone, replaced by that overwhelming terror again There may not be an escape at present, but for every inch he could move away, Harry felt that much better.

That feeling didn't last, as Quirrell unwrapped his turban and slowly turned around. There, on the back of his head, was a snake-like face, twisted and deformed. It sneered at Harry and said, "Potter. You see what you've done to me? I can only take form through the generosity of dear Quirinus, thanks to you. Now, tell me. How do I get the stone?"

Harry could barely form a clear thought any more. This monster, the same monster that stole his family from him, was directly in front of him, and there was no way out. His mind began to race faster and faster, desperately pleading for an escape.
Get away, get away, run, hide, please, no, getawaygetawayfleepleasenogetoutgetoutgetout…

Lord Voldemort, usually an expert at the art of Legilimency, was frustrated. All he could pull from the brat's mind was fear. The very sight of the Dark Lord seemed to have mentally unhinged him. While this would normally please Voldemort, it was now keeping him from his goal. Taking control of Quirrell's body, he stepped closer and bent his arms in an impossible angle, breaking them with terrible snapping sounds. He ignored Quirrell's sudden cries of pain. He leaned over Harry, locked eyes with the terrified boy, and grabbed his head, intent on taking the knowledge he craved.

It was at that moment that something unprecedented occurred. Three minds and two bodies became locked together in a struggle between souls, and it wouldn't end well for anyone. Quirrell, even after the agony of having his arms twisted unnaturally backward, became aware of a new blistering torment. His hands, no longer under his control, were beginning to peel and burn as they touched Harry, crumbling into ash in seconds. He began struggling for control of his body, trying to get away from this torture. Flee, escape, just stop this pain.

Harry, at that moment, was similarly focused on escaping from his plight. The scar on his forehead was pounding as it never had before, almost like a jackhammer against his skull. He wanted to get away so badly, unsure of where he could go, but sure it was NOT. HERE. Anywhere but here.

And Voldemort, blind to anything but his desire for restoration, continued to push his mental tendril into Harry Potter's mind, ignoring any discomfort in pursuit of his goal.

In the span of about 10 seconds, all three individuals got their wish, though not in a way they wanted.

Harry, through his desire for freedom and escape that matched with that of his doomed professor, unconsciously created a backlash through the Dark Lord's mental probe, and everything that Tom Riddle had ever learned about escaping, running, or fleeing any situation immediately impacted into the young boy's traumatized brain. The shock of such a large amount of information being dumped into an untrained mind sent Harry Potter into a coma in a matter of seconds.

Quirinus Quirrell, his body now past the point of recovery, escaped his pain in death. As his soul slipped away, he could only feel relief that he no longer was trapped in his cursed half-life.

Lord Voldemort succeeded in obtaining the information he sought and left Harry Potter's mind, intent on ripping the stone from the now comatose boy's pocket. His glee evaporated as he felt his host's body disintegrate, and he let out a cry of despair and anger that faded into the night.

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Harry opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. It was too bright, and everything was blurry. A spot of movement in front of him made him flinch back, as he remembered the traumatic fight he had just been trapped in, but a gentle hand on his arm calmed his fears. The same hand placed Harry's glasses on his face, and the aged face of Dumbledore swam into view.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," he said kindly. "It is a great relief to see you awake at last."

Harry blinked confusedly and roughly cleared his throat. "At… at last, swir? Erm… sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled briefly and nodded. "Yes, Harry. It has been two weeks since I returned from the Ministry to find you unconscious on the floor."
Harry's eyes widened. "Two w-weeks? B-but sir, the stone! Vwoldemort, he w-was twying to get it from m-"

Dumbledore's hand squeezed his arm, stopping Harry from continuing. "Relax, my dear boy. You stopped Voldemort, at great cost to yourself, I might add. He does not have the stone."

"Then who does, swir? Augh, I m-mean sir! And why can't I talk wight?"

At this, Dumbledore grew more serious. "Your speech centers seem to be a bit damaged, according to Healer Pomfrey. Hopefully, you will recover in time. Your mind went through a great trauma down there, and it will not heal overnight. And in answer to your first question, I'm afraid I have had the philosopher's stone destroyed. Nick and I agreed upon it."

This last sentence brought Harry up short. No, it couldn't be. Loathe as he was to think it, Dumbledore was...lying. Something as powerful as that gem could never be destroyed, certainly not by one man. The raw energy that rolled off the stone just had to still exist. Even though he was not as intelligent as Hermione, he somehow knew that the backlash from such an object would have destroyed the area. Harry realized, however, that he should just play along. "B-but Nicholas Flamel, sir? W-won't he… you know, die?"

Dumbledore's face changed to delight. "Oh, you even know about Nicholas, do you? You did your research, eh? Well, Nicholas and I agreed it's for the best. He and his wife have enough Elixir of Life stored up to put their affairs in order, and then yes, they will die. I know it may seem extraordinary to someone young as you, but to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

Not allowing his distrust to show, Harry nodded and asked his next questions.

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As Dumbledore left the hospital wing, allowing Harry's friends to rush in to take his place, he reflected on what he'd seen in the young man's eyes. Confusion and pain, yes, those were to be expected. It was only when Albus had pushed ever so lightly into Harry's mind that he saw the issue. While a young boy's mind was usually disorganized and cluttered, Harry Potter's mind now resembled the impact site of a meteor, completely blown away by whatever had happened in the final room with the Mirror of Erised. Forget a small speech impediment, it was a miracle that Harry could still form sentences. Something would have to be done, but what? Where to start?

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When Harry was finally allowed to leave the hospital wing several days later, he staggered up to Gryffindor tower, leaning heavily on Ron to keep his balance. While he had improved quite a bit since first waking up, his body was weak and his mind was in flux. Ron and Hermione had worked with him daily, helping him speak clearly, and even though the speech impediment would still pop up occasionally, he was learning to ignore it. It was to some confusion, as Harry pulled back the curtains on his bed in the tower, that he found a leather bound book on his pillow with a cover that read, "Occlumency: A Beginner's Guide" by A. Druid.

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A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first time writing a fanfiction, and I wanted to let you know what to expect from this story moving forward.

1. This will not be a full recounting of all of Harry's time at Hogwarts. We'll start with a fairly detailed summer, but then expect snippets and snapshots as we travel through the mostly intact timeline of the 7 HP books. It's only after he's graduated and beaten Voldie that the story will slow down.
2. At the same time, it's going to be a bit of a slow burn until we get properly into Avengers territory. I'm keeping both timelines mostly intact, so the events of Incredible Hulk and everything after will be in the same place, chronologically. Harry will be an adult at the time of Iron Man.

3. This is not a God-like Harry story. Too many HP/Avengers stories have Harry show up and immediately magic away the problem. This will not be one of them. He's going to be specialized, and therefore a useful part of the team, but he won't be a deus ex machina.

4. All of the MCU movies will be respected, even if they're not mentioned, with one exception. If you were paying attention to the story, you can probably guess which movie will be completely erased from existence. Don't worry, we'll get there.