Harry was going to get hit by a car. Which was odd, considering how just a moment ago Harry was standing in a white mist that was extremely reminiscent of what Neville went through when he was hit with the killing curse – though instead of talking with Dumbledore like Neville did, Harry had an argument with a small child.
The child had worn a black cloak, her skin was pale, and she looked like Harry around the age of 10, except Harry doesn't have black eyes nor does she look like a corpse come to life. Harry couldn't remember what the argument was about, but she could remember herself asserting "My name is Harriet Rose Peverell and I have the cloak to prove it."
A moment before the argument, she had foiled Johann Schmidt's plan, which would have been nice if it hadn't been for the fact that it had happened too late. At least ten people were dead because of Schmidt and she was unable to prevent even one of the deaths. She may have stopped Schmidt from accomplishing his goal but she was counting the whole case as a failure.
Her first failed case and it ends with her being hit by a car. She wasn't surprised by the turn of events – her luck was terrible, though the car was new; normally when things went wrong in her life she had to face a troll, or dementors, or a couple of Death Eaters, or any other magical thing that likes to kill people.
The car slammed into her at full speed, her appearance too sudden for the driver to slow down. Her body rag dolled, her head slammed into the hood of the car and then her entire body was thrown several dozen meters down the road. Harry was unconscious before she hit the ground.
Harry woke up to an alien attack – an honest to Merlin alien attack. Granted, she was in a hospital room away from the actual attack, but that didn't stop her from sitting in her hospital bed watching as New York City was attacked by an army of aliens.
And she wasn't the only one watching the attack as it happened live on the news. Doctors, nurses, patients, janitors, everyone who wasn't comatose was watching in awe, horror, and panic as the fate of the world rested on six people in crazy outfits.
Six people in crazy outfits fighting against incredible odds – it was a story Harry was all too familiar with. She just hoped they had better luck than she and her friends did.
She had woken up during the attack, so no nurse or doctor had come in to check on her, though her roommate – an elderly woman – and her family were watching the TV as Harry slowly came back into consciousness. Harry had let out a small involuntary groan as she woke, drawing their attention away from the attack and onto her. They had helped her sit up in bed and handed Harry her glasses so she could actually see what was happening.
They told her she was lucky to have survived the accident. Apparently the car was going over 60 mph when it rammed into her and all she got from it was a couple cuts and bruises.
"Yeah, lucky enough to have survived to see an alien attack," she replied, nodding towards the TV. She knew her magic had protected her from any serious damage from the accident, and it was just her luck that she woke up to aliens.
They fell silent after the exchange, the muggles were stunned into silent disbelief while Harry tried to think of possible reasons to why she was having problems thinking – which was a difficult task when paired with the constant distraction of the TV. It took her far longer than she was willing to admit to find the IV located in her left arm, and took her even longer to remember that muggles have pain medication that can severely affect a person's brain functions.
She was high on pain killers and New York City was going to get bombed.
Harry contemplated whether she should pull her IV out when she was interrupted by a loud cheer that erupted from her roommate and her family. Harry looked up in time to see the aliens drop dead. The attack was over.
The euphoria was infectious and Harry could hear celebrations happening outside her room. The family was cheering as if their team had just won the Quidditch World Cup: they jumped up and down, they cheered their exuberance, and embraced each other with smiles on their faces. Some of them broke out into applause, and one of them hugged Harry, though it didn't last long on account of the fact that Harry tensed at the contact. It all reminded Harry of the Battle, and how everyone celebrated when Neville finally killed Voldemort.
Everyone celebrates except for the people who end the fight.
Harry resigned herself to the fact that she would probably not see her doctor for a couple of hours and instead she focused on the news. There wasn't much the news could report on the event except their disbelief that such an event had occurred and their relief over the fact that it was done. Much of what was being discussed was "what should happen next" issues such as cleanup of the city, and rescue efforts for trapped civilians, and etcetera. The news anchors also kept referring to something called 9-11, which if Harry understood everything correctly was something that had happened to New York and was just as devastating as an alien attack.
In all honesty, Harry was growing bored by the coverage and how those on the TV knew just as much as Harry herself did. She was just about to ask the others if she could switch the channel when the news cut to a live feed coming from the site of the main fight, where swat cars and men in full combat gear and guns were surrounding seven people, one of whom was handcuffed while the other six stood around him.
Their body language was telling; the one in handcuffs put on an air of defeat, though Harry didn't trust that he was completely beaten, and the six surrounding him were on high alert, six coils ready to burst into action at the slightest bit of provocation.
Harry stared at the seven in disbelief and she started to laugh.
The seven people on the screen – she knew them.
"…-side Stark Tower where Tony Stark and …"
Harry's laughter rang out in the room which caused the family to smile. They thought she had gotten over her shock and was finally expressing her jubilation at the victory. Except Harry wasn't laughing out of joy, she was laughing out of disbelief.
They were dead. Two poisoned, two stabbed, two hanged, one beheaded. Five of the seven she had only seen in pictures – still bodies against moving backgrounds. Loki, the man in handcuffs, Harry had met in person, though at the time he was an inferius sent by Schmidt to kill Harry.
The only one of the seven she had actually talked to was Tony Stark, a young wizard in his mid-twenties who was constantly rebelling against his pureblood-loving father by immersing himself in the muggle world. His wand had been hornbeam, his obsession had been machines. Tony had picked the muggle world over the magical one and it infuriated just about everyone he knew.
The last time Harry had seen Tony was when he was beheaded by Obadiah Stane, Howard Starks' business partner and Tony's godfather. Now she watched as Tony Stark, who couldn't have been over twenty years older than the last time she had seen him, interacted with the others on the TV and all she could do was laugh.
She laughed because the alternative was to cry.
Schmidt's plan had been to travel to an alternate universe in order to gain power. The universe he wanted to travel to would have magical items that, when united, would make the possessor invincible. It was one of the dumbest things Harry had ever heard, but Schmidt believed in the stories with conviction; so much so that he uncovered an extremely dark ritual that would send him to any universe he wanted. The ritual required sacrifices, seven to be exact, and the sacrifices had to be of people who were ordinary in their own world but extraordinary in the world the person wished to travel to. And unlike most rituals it required that the person who wanted to travel must not be the one doing the killings.
Harry didn't think Schmidt's plan would work.
But it did.
Except instead of Schmidt it was Harry who ended up in the alternate universe. And Harry had no idea how to get back home.
All she knew was that Tony Stark and his friends definitely fit the definition of extraordinary.
Title of story based on the song "Red Like Roses Part 2" by Jeff Williams. I highly recommend giving it a listen.
Feedback is appreciative.