Another "Harry Potter is adopted by someone else" story. In this case, it's Aunt May and Uncle Ben, guardians of the future Spider-Man. This is using the Tobey Maguire movies as canon. There will b...
“Good luck, Harry”, said Dumbledore from afar as his cloak swished in the breeze, and then he popped out of Little Whinging.
***************************** “This is Agent M in Surrey, England. I am with Agent R, and we are searching for the extra-dimensional entity known humorously in the official records as 'Barry the Bowel Eater'. We expect to capture said demon, and have him transported to his home dimension in under an hour, and, uh, everything should be all right by then.”
“Fantastic. See you tomorrow morning kids” replied Zed over M's cell phone, and his visage was cordially disconnected from it soon after.
“Good job, Mary.”
“No problem” was her answer as she pocketed the cell phone. “I really like Zed, don't you?”
“Eh, he's kind of a mean drunk sometimes.”
M and her partner were driving throughout the Surrey section of England called Little Whinging, using the latest in advanced magitech to locate any spatial and/or temporal irregularities. They were Americans, but arbitrary national boundaries meant little to the M.I.B(Men In Black) of Earth. Foreigners certainly didn't taste any different to the tongue's of invading aliens or demons that would gladly consume, maim, rape or terrify anything in it's path. Don't get me wrong, most aliens are no different in the grand scheme of things than you or me. They are simultaneously selfish and compassionate, spiritual and anti theist, moral and machiavellian. But of course, there are the rogues, devils, terrorists, demons, and complete monsters among them just as they exist too among ourselves. There had to be someone to maintain them, and to maintain order and law. Someone there to prevent reality from caving in on itself. That was the mission of the M.I.B, and M and R were apart of it's magic division.
This 'Barry The Bowel Eater' had been on the run from M.I.B for six months now, killing upwards of twenty people, all in perverse ways. It had gone undetected just as it's story had been lost in the annals of grimiores and legends, and in fairy tales and myths. No one knows exactly why it's story was lost, or even when it made it's first appearance. All that is known about it is that it is a distant cousin of the more famous Rawhead Rex, who also had a grisly but yet more short lived revival in these modern times a few years earlier, and that it was summoned by an Irish woman who severely messed up a ritual to summon angels from Heaven, something she had learned from a magician she met in Tibet.
“Park the car right here, Richard. I want to get some bagels afterward. It says right here on the screen that Barry is making his way towards a Privet Drive” said Mary. “Do you think we should just apparate there?”
“Oh, you mean teleporting?” asked Richard. “Yeah, whatever works fastest. Bring your noisy cricket side arm with you?”
“Yup, it's in my pocket. You bring the salt?”
Richard motioned his head towards the backseat behind Mary, where a ten pound bag of the stuff, already opened, was found cradled in a baby's car seat. Mary unbuckled her seat belt to grab the bag with her left hand, and then held on to her husband's hand with her right. She closed her eyes, and the two agents traveled through a magical form of hyperspace to the satellite image seen on Mary's phone. Electronics usually don't work around Mary's type of magic, but it was M.I.B tech.
Outside of Number 4, Privet Drive lay the gutted body of a large man with a bushy mustache. The demon nicknamed Barry had unfortunately already struck, and was in the middle of eating the man's intestines. In the completely demolished doorway of the house was a screaming blonde woman with a rather long neck, and two children. One was a husky toddler, the other was only an infant.
“Bzaorth. I demand that you stop eating at once, or we'll be forced to de-atomize you.”
The demon looked up at the sidewalk to see two agents, one male and female, holding weapons.
“You again” said the monster with a mouth full of offal. It was an inhuman voice, but was easily comprehensible.
“Ten second warning, Barry”
“Alright, alright. I'll go”, and then Bzaorth got up from his meal and raised his clawed hands and muscular arms in the air.
“Good thinking. You wouldn't believe how many times politeness has failed with you beings.”
“We're demons. We don't have any humanity in us. What do you expect us to do? Expect us to be like the pathetic shadows of us we find in your stories? The ones that can be tricked with appeals to our vanity?”
“Did you just paraphrase that last part from Manhunter?”
Mary chimed in to her partner with a whisper: “I'm sensing that he's stalling for time. He's about to do something magical”, and she discreetly showed him a small PDA device that measured magical build up in the area.
“Alright, bud”, continued Richard, still pointing his big gun at Bzaorth. “I'm going to throw the salt at you, say a few words, and off you go back home. No funny stuff, please. I'm disgusted enough tonight with news from magical beings.”
Suddenly, and without authorization, Mary pulled out her magic wand from her jacket and said “Stupefy!” at Bzaorth. This allowed her enough time to walk casually up to the demon, pour the entire bag of salt on his head, walk back casually to her partner and say:
“Sorry. He was stalling for time as I said, probably so he could invoke demonic magicks telepathically to bring back reinforcements. He was playing the flattery card with you by pretending to go easy. Time for the ritual.”
In Latin, Richard spoke an incantation that everyone in magic division had to memorize, while pointing his palm forwards at the entirely stiff demon, invoking the god of it's dimension to bring Bzaorth back home. Suddenly, a vortex appeared, and sucked the monster back to his prison. The vortex then disappeared, accompanied by a slurping sound that intimidated everyone.
The woman of the damaged home watched the incident with shock, occasionally looking down at the infant in the basket with a look of unfettered rage, as if he were to blame for her husband's death. Mary walked up to her and the children, with a look of genuine sadness and concern.
“I'm sorry ma'am, there's nothing we can do to bring back your husband. The most we could do is resurrect him, but that would likely make him a zombie, and zombie/human relationships tend to be awkward where intimate moments are concerned. Do you want us to try and resurrect him?”
“N-no. I-I, I”, and then she burst into tears again, squatting to hug her older child, who didn't seem to know what happened. Maybe he was in shock.
“Just, get away from us! Freaks!”
A cat that had been prowling around the yard suddenly morphed into human form, a woman with black hair that was tied into a severe looking bun, and a face that was looking just as severe.
“Who are you people, and was that thing really a demon? Explain yourselves!”
“Ma'am, I'm Agent M, member of a secret organization that monitors extra-terrestrials. Sorry, we don't make cards. Now who are you, and what do you have to do with this incident?”
“Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Judging by your wand, you may have heard of us?”
“I'm familiar with your school, yes. Could you tell me and my partner what happened?”
“The demon walked up the street, occasionally jumping into the tops of trees in what I presume were attempts to look inside citizen's private homes to look for meat. Suddenly, he jumped back down from a tree down the street, ran up to this home in a frenzy, as if he sensed something. He then smashed apart their door with one poke of his claw, went inside and came outside with a body, dropped Vernon Dursley out on the lawn, that's the deceased's name, and ate him.”
“And you did nothing to stop this?”
“I was in shock. Plus he moved so fast. I was brought here primarily to protect the baby.”
Mary looked over at the baby, and noticed that he had a scar.
“Was the infant attacked as well? He has a scar.”
“Yes, but the scar is unrelated to the incident. The thing noticed Harry, that's the infant's name, on the doorstep after he initially murdered Vernon, went over to pick up Harry, and seemed to be studying him. Then he put him down for some reason, and then Petunia and her son ran to the front door.”
“Who was the other attacker you mentioned?”
“You Know Who.”
“No ma'am, I don't know who. Was it another demon?”
“Yes, a demon of a sort. No, no. He was a human. For goodness sake, it was Lord Voldemort! He gave this child the scar. He murdered the child's parents earlier tonight after breaking into their home, tried to kill Harry, but the plan backfired and killed Voldemort instead . As a self respecting witch, even an American, you must have heard of him!”
“Uh, no, I have never heard of him ma'am. R, have you heard of him?”
Minerva looked over at the man.
“His real name is, or was, Tom Riddle Jr. He is/was the de facto leader of a small but influential wizarding terrorist militia called the 'Death Eaters'. He's a pretty nasty piece of work, M.”
While he was talking, the blonde homeowner asked for her son to crawl on the couch and sleep for a bit, and mommy would tuck him in his real bed real soon.
Mary continued. “You said that the baby was on the doorstep before the other two got here.” She looked over at the blonde crying woman and asked, “Is Harry your child, ma'am?”
“No! He was dropped off here. He's my nephew. She--” and she pointed her finger accusingly at this Minerva McGonagall, what a name thought Mary. “--she dropped him off here in the middle of the night for us to find. I just took Dudley trick or treating with my husband tonight, and we got home and went to bed early. Hours later, in the wee bits of the morning, my husband is dead, and I see a note asking for us to take care of him from some magical looney! Ahh! It's like the little brat put a curse upon this house.”
“He is no brat, Petunia Dursley” piped up the witch named McGonagall. “He is the handsome son of two excellent Hogwarts students. I'm sorry your husband was killed, but you must take care of Harry. Dumbledore demands it.”
“Fuck Dumble-whatever his name is!” cried Petunia. “My husband is dead! He's never coming back! My son will never have a father figure! We'll probably be out on the streets! And it's all your lots' fault!”
“Didn't you even hear me earlier? I didn't know what the beast was until these people in black came by!”
“I want nothing to do with my sister's kid! I'm glad she's dead!”
Mary interrupted both of the angry women for a minute and asked Petunia, “Just to be clear, you don't want your nephew Harry living with you?”
“You must!” said McGonagall. “To protect Harry. You must!”
Agent R walked forward with a pair of sunglasses on, and motioned for M to put hers on.
“Ms. McGonagall, would you mind looking here for a moment?”
“What? What is that?”
A bright flash from Richards neuralizer went off, and he informed Minerva that everything she saw related to the demon attack tonight never happened. She will not visit this home again until further notice.
Mary had just done the same thing to Petunia, minus the “don't visit this home” part. Petunia was told to believe that her husband was killed by a drunk driver tonight, presumably someone who drank of a cup of spiked apple cider at a Halloween party. Mary then looked up Petunia's and her dead husband's mutual bank account on her PDA, and transferred conciliatory money from a private bank account fund in cases of accidents like this. It was set up by Zed himself, where widows, widowers and orphans of alien related incidents who had been neuralized can get monetary help. Mary also told Petunia to always love her late husband, but to try and move on and to find a new father figure for her son.
Mary then motioned for Richard to grab a hold of her so they can apparate back to the car, but Richard glanced at little Harry and said:
“Give me a second, Mary. Let me take his photo and run it through the database of known citizen's in the WW.”
Richard squatted down, took out his own little PDA out of his jacket, saved a photo of Harry, and tapped in to M.I.B's database of Wizarding World residents. Contrary to what the wizard's and witches thought, there were in fact muggles who knew of their presence that they didn't “give permission to”. The C.I.A, the S.I.S , the Men In Black, S.H.I.E.L.D, and many other data gathering agencies all around the world knew of and kept tabs on them. Even the Fraternity of Assassins knew about wizards. Then he tapped in for facial recognition of Harry to find his parents.
“Ah, I found them. James and Lillian Potter. They live in Godric's Hollow, which if I'm not mistaken is where the current dean of the Hogwarts school hails from.”
“So you just want to check in with the authorities there to see if Harry can find a proper home?”
“Yup. You heard the woman. She doesn't want to take care of the baby. And given the circumstances, I don't blame her.”
“The money should be enough, shouldn't it?”
Rich then started singing the lyrics to “Money Can't Buy Me Love”. His voice was actually pretty decent.
Mary laughed in spite of the tragedy's of tonight and said, “OK, hold my hand.”
Richard held on to the Moses basket that contained the baby, and off they went to his home, after a few detours to get bagels and something for the baby of course. When they got there, Godric's Hollow was swarming with wizard's and witches who had just heard of Voldemort's downfall. They were taking pictures of Harry's house where Tom Riddle blasted a hole through the Potter's living room wall. They socialized, toasted, and did anything but pay attention to the two people dressed in muggle clothing. There were however a few aurors mixed in with the crowd of gawkers, and they immediately questioned what these strangers were doing with the Potter child. Since Mary was a witch, she was accepted when she showed them her wand, and since Richard had an encyclopedic knowledge of the Wizarding World both from his C.I.A training and from asking Mary little things here and there since they got married, he was thought to be a squib. They addressed themselves as a magical couple who just happened to witness the incident in Little Whinging with Dumbledore.
“He was left on the doorstep of a 'muggle' household that did not want him. We would like to put this young fellow in a proper household” said Mary.
The auror's seemed to agree with the assessment that no muggle home was suitable for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Harry was handed over to the Auror Department to be put into an orphanage. One auror claimed that anyone with the galleons would pay top dollar to be the parent of a modern day hero, and that the Ministry is “sitting on a potential gold mine”.
The two agents just looked at each other, as if realizing they had both made a mistake.
Richard and Mary visited the Ministry of Magic the next day to visit Harry. In the magical day care center, there were flying toy dragons to play with rather then toy planes, and malleable building blocks that somehow were made to have extra dimensions. Harry sat, and cooed as he saw the two black suited people he saw but a few hours ago. He remembered that they had treated him nicely, and gave him some milk.
“Looks like you're going to have a home after all. Yes you are!” said Mary as she cradled the baby in her arms.
They had of course, reneged on their decision to leave him here. Richard spent all night with intelligence, and was told that Harry's likely fate was either being murdered by a rogue Death Eater, or being made a tool of the wizarding government. No child should be brought up in such a bigoted and technologically backwards society, thought Richard. Harry was going to be raised in a regular household, and would be told all about his abilities without the fear of having to keep it a secret from his family and friends. Unfortunately, he couldn't live with Richard and Mary. M.I.B has a “No Child Policy” while on active duty, for life is fraught with constant dangers in the life of secret agents that try to avert the Apocalypse every single day . Plus, what would home life be like when there was no home to go to? Agents only had quarters. Magic division was even worse, since they had to deal with demons and monsters, beings which had no moral compass whatsoever rather than just...well, aliens with an alien form of morality. So they chose the next best option.
“Dick, how good to see you! Is that another baby for us to take of? Why didn't you tell me that Mary was pregnant again?”
“Actually, this is an orphan. His parents were killed not one week ago by a maniac in a small town in the U.K.”
“Oh my. Sounds like something Sherlock Holmes should investigate.”
“Indeed. If only he had taken the Infinity Formula like Doctor Sternberg had asked him to.”
Ben laughed and said, “Oh boy. I wish I had an exciting life like you, Dick. Want to come in? Where is Mary, anyway?”
Richard didn't want to tell his older brother that she was in the car silently crying to herself, watching a PDA feed of her son Peter in his room reading “The Billion Dollar Brain” by Len Deighton, borrowed from the library.
“She's back at headquarters.”
“Peter's such a good kid” said Ben to his brother as he walked inside Ben's Forest Hills home. They both sat down on the couch. “He's going to grow up to be brilliant at whatever he wants to do. A real Michelangelo.”
“Well, little Harry here has the potential to be a little David Copperfield. He's already an orphan like I said.”
“Ah, so he's like Mary then?”
“Yup. Except that magical culture in Europe is pretty archaic. That's why we brought him over here. Do you know that European magic folk don't even know what a lightbulb is?”
“Figures, I guess. Magicians don't need electricity.”
“No, no, they don't. It just really irks me is all. They've been culturally stagnant since the 12th century, and there is no sign of improvement.”
Ben retorted, “Well Dick, humans have been around for 50, 000 years according to Peter. We haven't scratched the surface of what we're really made of either.”
“That's true. This is yummy cake. Give my regards.”
“I will” said Ben.
May Parker soon came home.
“Ben, what's that black car doing down the street-oh, it's your brother!”
“Hey May, how are you? Great cake.”
“Thanks, I'm fine Richard. I see you have a baby on the coffee table?”
“Yeah, um. I just got through doing a job, and I found this child. Name's Harry Potter. His parents are dead. Serial killer named Tom Riddle Jr. in a little English surburb murdered his parents and then took his own life on Halloween night, leaving the baby the sole survivor.”
“Oh my” said May in exactly the same way Ben had said it. “What are you going to do with him?”
“Well, that's one of the reasons I came over here. I'd like you to take care of him. Any money I make already goes to you, no questions asked.”
May looked at Ben, who looked at his brother, knowing that Ritchie really couldn't take care of a stranger's child let alone his own in such a dangerous work environment. May thought he was still working for Central Intelligence.
“We have plenty of room, May” said Ben. “Plus, Peter has been pretty anti social lately. Maybe a baby brother would cheer him up a bit.”
“Oh, I don't know about this...” said May as she gritted her teeth.
Predictably, she became transfixed by the baby's piercing green eyes. And the scar on his forehead. Would foster parents really be good for him when he found out what his past was? Might he grow up to be embittered and resentful like so many abandoned children?
“I guess... I guess we could find room.”
“Great!” said Rich. “I can pull some strings, and he would be yours. I'm not dropping him off, just so you know. I also have reason to believe that other people might want to hurt Harry where he lives. He lived in a real...poor area. Gang violence and everything.”
“But just how did you involve yourself in this case, anyhow?” asked May.
“That's confidential, the great deux ex machina. I'd tell you, but it might compromise my job.”
Richard thought that this was a terrible lie, but he couldn't think of anything else. He was caught somewhat off guard in what was his closest thing to home, with his own family here right with him.
“Ah” said May, thinking she understood everything. And maybe she did on a fundamental level.
Richard spent a little more time with his brother and sister in law, while Mary waited patiently in the car. Peter hadn't come down stairs once all day except for breakfast. He had been working on a list of tools he would need to build his on little arc reactor, at six years old. In the mid afternoon, Richard said his goodbyes, and went to meet Mary.
“It's all taken care of.”
“Why do we care so much about one kid? We see unfortunate people all the time. Why this one kid?”
Richard sighed. “Maybe because no one else would take care of him.”
Mary said, “Peter is building an arc reactor.”
“Oh, you mean like what Howard Stark did? Cool. Maybe humans aren't the ass-wipe's of the galaxy like we're thought of to be.”
“Yup” said Mary. “That's just superstition.” She sighed, and began to drive back to headquarters.
Aunt May and Uncle Ben later told Peter of his new brother, and showed him the adoption paper's that would take only a spell to be taken care of.
Harry cooed at the three of them.