Hey folks, thought I'd start a new fic now that it looks like I'm going to be stuck inside for a couple of weeks with everything that's going on with this COVID-19, and I've had this idea for a crossover for a while now. This is my first crossover, so let me know if you think anybody seems OOC or could be improved.

I hope everyone's staying safe and isn't too affected by everything that's going on around the world at the moment, but as always enjoy the fic!

-Griff

1.

It was four years later, when he realised he hadn't aged a day, that Harry decided he needed to get away from Britain.

His friends had all grown up and moved on; married and had kids. They had been sympathetic at first, understanding that he would panic at sudden movements, not pushing him into being in crowded areas. But soon they moved on, forgot the war, and expected him to join the Aurors with them, expected him to continue being the saviour he had been.

Except he wasn't that saviour.

He was the orphaned child, abused from an early age, who had had the burden of an entire world thrown onto his shoulders, and had gotten lucky when it counted, defeating an evil dark Lord just after his sixteenth birthday.

But the two-year war had left its mark.

He still jumped at sudden loud noises; woke up with his wand in his hand, pointed straight out at an unseen attacker; wouldn't go anywhere unless he had a bag with the bare essentials in case something happened.

It was difficult to unlearn constant vigilance.

Mad-eye had drummed that into him, along with the tactics and skills he needed to fight in – lead – a war. His training had started the summer after the Triwizard tournament, anything and everything Dumbledore or Moody had thought he needed to know; hand-to-hand combat, Tom Riddle's life and history, duelling, mapping out exit points and potential blind spots in any given environment, occlumency, apparating, and of course constant vigilance.

Harry couldn't go out of the house without being hounded by three photographers, four reporters and deranged fangirls, and spent almost all of his time cooped up in Grimmauld Place, occasionally leaving to visit the Weasleys or his godson.

He had embraced his muggle heritage, and hired a private muggle-born tutor, and had worked through his muggle GCSEs and A-levels, then gone to university. He had shared a small flat with a deaf boy called Mark in Cambridge as he studied engineering and learnt some basic sign language, and had let Mark pressure him into getting laser eye surgery to fix his eyes.

All in all, he felt that a holiday was long overdue. Harry had gone through the Auror programme as he studied for his muggle exams, despite failing the psychological testing and skipping almost all of the training – he was Harry Potter after all, he didn't need to do three years' training to become qualified; six months would do it, or so he had been told – but more out of a sense of duty than because he wanted to, and he quit after less than eight months in the job.

Once he had convinced himself that he didn't owe the wizarding world anything more, Harry took his backpack he had used all those years ago whilst hunting horcruxes, and packed some muggle clothes, invisibility cloak, a few healing potions, some Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products, and his moneybag, tucking his old golden snitch into his pocket.

He scrawled a note to Hermione about what he was doing and left it on the kitchen table, and pulled his dragon-hide boots and cloak on, before emerging onto the top step of Grimmauld Place.

Although it was almost ten PM, there was a crowd of people standing around the square outside, mostly female and even a few dressed up like him, with lightning bolts drawn over their foreheads. Harry ignored their shouted questions, and apparated to the ministry.

He landed in the atrium, and stared resolutely ahead as he strode to a lift and pressed the button for the 6th floor. The lift was mercifully empty, and didn't stop once, the silence only broken by the female voice announcing his arrival at the Department of Magical Transportation.

Harry felt his steps slowing as he followed the signs down the corridor to an office marked 'International Portkeys', and stepped inside.

There was a single witch sitting at a desk by the door, and Harry coughed slightly to get her attention.

"Yeah?" She said rudely, then looked up from the magazine she was reading and flushed. "Mr. P-Potter. Hi! What are you doing here?" She flushed. "I mean – how can I help you today?"

Harry sighed. "I would like to get a portkey."

The woman stood up abruptly and Harry unconsciously took a step backwards, his hand going to his pocket. "Of course! Anything! I just want to say, thank you so much for getting rid of V-Vol-You-Know-Who."

"Er, no problem." Harry said awkwardly.

"You were so brave! The wizarding world owes you, Mr. Potter. If there's anything I can do... My name's Violet, by the way." The woman's eyes flicked rom the lightning bolt on his forehead to the thin line across his cheek and back again.

"Well, a portkey would be great." Harry said pointedly.

Violet flushed pink. "Right, yes, of course! Take a seat." She opened a filing cabinet behind her and pulled out a stack of parchment then sat back down at the desk. "Where abouts do you want to go?" She asked, dipping her quill in a pot of ink.

"I don't really mind." Harry said, dropping into a seat. "Maybe the US?"

"Uhuh." Violet nodded, scribbling on the parchment. "Any part in particular?"

Harry shrugged. "New York."

"Ah, the Big Apple." Violet giggled. "Are you going on holiday Mr. Potter?"

"Something like that." Harry said shortly.

Violet wrote something else on the parchments. "I think you deserve one after defeating a Dark Lord. And then all that stuff you did as an Auror! So impressive! Will you be wanting a return portkey?"

"No."

Violet beamed at him. "And when will you be leaving Mr. Potter?"

"As soon as possible."

"Well, I can skip a little bit of paperwork and get you one that leaves immediately, if you want it Mr. Potter."

"Great."

"Alrighty! I just need you to sign here, and here." Violet said, handing him the stack of parchment and a quill, and pointing at the places she needed a signature. Harry willingly scribbled his name and handed the parchments back. "And if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you mind signing this as well?" Violet said, thrusting a scrap of parchment at Harry, who took it with a sigh. Violet squealed slightly when he handed it back to her.

Harry stood up pointedly when the witch seemed to be happy just staring at the scrap of parchment.

"Right then Mr. Potter!" Violet said, standing up and walking over to a wooden box. She opened it to reveal a jumble of potential portkey items. "What can we get you?" She rummaged around in the box, blabbering on about how amazing Harry was, and he ignored her, until she stood up and turned to him, holding an empty coke can.

"Portus." Violet tapped the can with her wand, and it glowed blue briefly. She held it out to Harry. "Here you go Mr. Potter. I hope you enjoy your holiday!"

"Thank you." Harry took the can. "How much is this?"

"Oh, nothing at all for the Saviour of the wizarding world!"

Harry sighed but didn't push. "When does this leave?"

Violet glanced at her watch. "Roughly... twelve seconds. It'll drop you in a place called Java Lava."

"Why there?"

Violet shrugged. "It's an abandoned café, Mr. Potter, so no muggles will see you arrive."

"Right."

"Can I just say, Mr. Potter, what an honour this has been, serving you, after everything you did to serve the wizarding wor-"

Harry felt the familiar hook behind his navel, and had never been more relieved to take a portkey. His feet left the ground and the world disappeared in a howl of wind and swirling colour, his hand glued to the empty can.

His feet slammed back into the ground, and Harry fell forwards onto dirty vinyl floor. He hated Portkeys.

The first thing he noticed was the noise.

Although he was inside, he could hear people screaming, and there were dozens of different sirens, all competing to be the loudest.

Harry shook his head to clear it and looked around. There was dust and smoke in the air, and people were rushing past the window of the empty building he was in. In the distance, he could see explosions and flashes of light.

Harry could feel the death, the names of the dead imprinting on his brain at an alarming rate. Normally his occlumency barriers kept them at the back of his mind, but the sheer number of deaths occurring in the city meant names were leaking through into his consciousness, yet another consequence of being the master of death.

Adrenaline and habit pushed him into action, and Harry pulled out his wand and raced out of the door. The screaming increased, but it seemed that most of the action was happening further away. At least that was where all of the explosions were coming from, which tended to be a good indicator.

Looking up, Harry could see a bright blue light reaching from one of the tallest sky-scrapers up to a hole in the sky that led to space. Harry stood, mouth open, just staring at the hole, from which hundreds of tiny figures were flying through. A crash to his left made him dive for cover as a yellow taxi flipped over and landed where he had been standing in the middle of the road.

Harry picked himself up as a... thing on a flying metal chariot-like carriage zoomed down the road, a large weapon that was firing blue bolts of energy in its hands.

"I must be mental." Harry muttered, running in the direction the flying chariot had been heading, towards the screaming and explosions.

Hermione had always said he had a 'saving-people-thing', and so when he saw the dazed woman trapped in her car, he rushed towards her.

Harry vanished the glass in the window, then cut her seatbelt with the goblin-made knife tucked in his belt, not wanting to risk hitting her with a Diffindo.

"I've got you." He said, leaning through the window and pulling her out. He helped her stagger over to a small crowd of people supporting a man with a clearly broken leg. "Get somewhere safe!"

He ran off, grateful that the hood of his cloak kept his face hidden as he broke every single one of the laws in the International Statute of Secrecy.

A red and gold blur was zooming through the sky, and appeared to be shooting at the aliens. Mark had pinned enough posters up in their flat that he recognised Iron man. No doubt he was the cause of the hole in the sky.

He saw a group of teenagers crowded around somebody on the floor, trying to lift a metal beam off her legs.

"Move!" Harry cried, racing over to them. "Wingardium leviosa." The beam lifted, and two boys dragged the girl away, helping her to her feet and supporting her between them. She screamed as an alien came flying at them, but Harry destroyed its chariot with a well-placed reductor curse. "Get out of here." He said, then raced off as the teenagers hurried away towards a tube station, or whatever they were called in the US.

He saw three more monsters flying towards him, and banished a large piece of debris at each one. Two of them were thrown from their rides, but the third shot a beam of light at him. "Protego!"

The force of the impact made his arm buckle, but the shield held. The alien however kept coming, and he was forced to lower the shield, dropping to one knee. "Sectumsempra!"

Harry carried on down the street as a shriek and a crash told him he had hit the alien, looking around for trapped civilians.

At that moment, a large jet up by the Stark tower caught fire, and started spinning towards the ground. Whoever was flying the thing was doing a good job stopping it from crashing, but it was knocking into buildings on either side of the street, causing them to collapse.

Harry wheeled round when a child's screams coincided with an unusually loud crash.

He rounded a corner and saw a woman and her son standing outside of a partially collapsed building the jet had just hit, trying to pull at the rubble. Harry could see the bright colours of broken parasols and metal tables under the debris.

The woman's face was grey, and she had a large gash on her arm that was bleeding profusely.

"You've got to get out of here, this is going to fall down even more." Harry said, trying to drag the woman away.

"My daughter!" She wailed wailed, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

Harry glanced at the building. "She's in there?"

The boy nodded, close to hyperventilating. "She's two."

The woman gave a large sob.

"Okay." Harry took a deep breath and knelt down next to the boy. "What's your name?"

"H-Harry." He replied.

"Really? That's my name too." Harry pushed his hood down and smiled.

"Are you a superhero?" The boy asked.

Harry laughed. "Sort of."

"Cool!"

"Harry, I'm going to need you to be a superhero now though, okay?" The wizard said, looking up at the child, who nodded. "I'm going to lift up these bricks, and I need you to crawl in and get your sister, okay?"

His mother rounded on Harry. "You can't make him do that!"

"He's the only one who's going to be small enough. I won't be able to lift this much enough to let you or myself in." Harry said. "I don't want to, but that's the only way."

"I can do it mom." The boy said, grabbing her hand.

The woman sobbed again, but nodded, pulling her son in for a hug.

"Ready... three... two... one!" Harry flicked his wand, and the rubble lying in the street lifted a few feet into the air. He watched as the child reached inside.

The building had clearly been a café of some kind. The front wall had collapsed outwards onto the metal tables and chairs outside the door.

Harry strained against the weight of the rubble as the young boy picked his way through the maze of parasols and metal, finding his sister underneath a buckled table. Miraculously, the table had taken the weight of the majority of the rubble, protecting her from most of the collapsed wall but trapping her. Harry could see a gash across her forehead.

He dropped the levitation as soon as the children emerged, Harry cradling his sister to his chest. He handed the unconscious toddler over to his mother, then clutched at his now bleeding legs. There were cuts and scrapes all over both knees, and Harry cursed for not thinking about the broken glass that would have been all over the floor. He tapped the boy's legs with his wand, and messy bandages wrapped around them. "We need to get out of here." He said. "I can give you a piggy-back."

The boy nodded through his tears, and Harry pulled his hood up, letting him wrap his arms around his neck. "Hold on tight." He said, then turned to the boy's mother. "I can carry her as well. You don't look so great."

The woman reluctantly handed over her daughter and followed after Harry and he set off down the road, staggering slightly and clutching her arm tightly to her chest.

Thankfully, the perimeter the police had set up was only a few blocks away, and Harry handed the toddler over to an officer as a paramedic wrapped her mother and brother in blankets.

"Thank you, thank you." The woman sobbed, grabbing Harry's hands.

"It was my pleasure." Harry said, gently disengaging himself so he could return to where he was most needed.

"You're not going back there?" The police officer asked incredulously.

"I can help." Harry said, then turned on his heel and disappeared with a crack.