Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Legion, and it is unlikely I ever will.
Harry drove down the road paying very little attention to the road for the simple reason that no one else was on it. It had been an odd few years since Voldemort's defeat at Harry's hands, and the war that had decimated most of Harry's classmates, but for a number of Dumbledore's Army who had been lucky enough to survive. After the war, everyone had looked to Harry for leadership, and he had done his best, but outside of war, he was an average leader at best. Still, he had tried, and had managed to get Amelia Bones installed as Minister, the ex-auror having a fierce reputation, as well as being known as somewhat of a stickler for the rules, but fair nonetheless. What had convinced Harry that she was the right choice was that she survived an assassination attempt from Voldemort himself, and Harry was content that she would be a strong leader. Since then, he had travelled the world, exploring new forms of magic he hadn't heard of before as he expanded his spell repertoire beyond what it had been in the climatic final fight against Voldemort. He also did something he had never done before, and was currently travelling through America, simply enjoying himself as the wealthy, young man that he was, content in the knowledge that his two best friends, Hermione and Ron, were happily married in England, his vast financial portfolio was in safe hands with Griphook, and that, for the first time, he didn't have a care in the world.
Currently, he was travelling through the Mojave desert, his keen eyes scanning the horizon for any change from the monotony of sand, all the while absentmindedly bobbing his head to the sound of Nickelback's latest album. Such a change came in the form of a billboard declaring the upcoming service station, Paradise Falls, was the only service station in the upcoming 50 miles. Harry flicked his eyes down at the petrol gauge of the car, and saw the tank was about half full. Grumbling to himself, he turned his car into the service station, said car used to be a mint green Buick Skylark, whereas it was now more of a grimy yellow car thanks to the fact that what appeared to be all the sand in the desert rubbing up against the car during the journey, and then sticking to it..
As Harry got out of the car and stretched to remove the kinks in his muscles that had come from driving the past 7 hours in a row, he looked down and spotted this monstrosity that had attached itself to his car. Grimacing, he bent down and rubbed at the bottom of the car, his face twisting into a frown when the yellow showed no willingness to remove itself from the car. Slowly, he stood up to his full height of 6 foot and walked around the car to begin the arduous task of filling up the tank.
When this task was finished, he walked around to the front door of the service station so that he could pay, unwilling to simply steal the petrol. As he entered, he noticed the service station was quite empty, with only a single family consisting of 3, a cook and a waitress, as well as another black man who was waiting at a seat. He glanced at the family who were sitting at the table directly beside the door, and noticed they appeared to be a typical middle class family, nice clothes, even if the mother's jewellery reminded Harry somewhat irritatingly of Aunt Petunia. The mother was a relatively attractive woman in her late 30's, the father appeared to be slightly older, although it was obvious from his looks that he had been quite attractive in his youth, and still retained some of those looks, and the faint wrinkles beside his eyes gave him a friendly air as though he was someone who enjoyed a laugh.
He flicked his eyes past the duo to where their daughter was sitting in the corner. She was very attractive, long black hair that framed her face, a pretty face with a beautiful smile as well as wearing dark clothes that only served to accentuate her curves. Right now, she was smiling flirtatiously at Harry, something that was eerily familiar to Harry as it was something that happened to him quite often. According to accurate sources, i.e. Hermione, it was with good reason. He stood 6 foot, and was lean, but muscled in the way that dancers and swimmers were. His black hair was still untameable, but was slightly easier to manage now that it was a bit longer, and his emerald green eyes were no longer obscured by glasses, LASIK (or laser eye surgery as it was more commonly known) had taken care of that, and twinkled just like Dumbledore's had. His infamous scar was no longer as visible, but there were a few others across his face, the most obvious being the one that cut vertically through his cheek, stopping just short of his left eye. His clothing was pretty standard fare, unlike the rest of him, a pair of jeans, black T-shirt and a jacket which, thankfully, had no traces of the two handguns and wand he always carried around with him, said guns being very helpful against the pure-blooded Death Eaters who looked down upon muggle technology.
As Harry turned away, he noticed the girl's mother glaring, most likely annoyed for checking out her daughter. He was approaching the till when the blonde haired waitress stepped forward to motion him towards a seat. "Sit anywhere and I'll be right with you." As Harry nodded to her, he took in her appearance and noted that she was heavily pregnant, and also quite beautiful, reminding him slightly of Lavender Brown, probably because of the blonde hair, before Lavender's untimely death at the hands of Fenrir Greyback.
He took a seat and nodded to the couple. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter." As he spoke, he was reminded of one of the reasons why he left the wizarding world; anonymity. No one showed any signs of recognising the name.
The woman spoke up, "I'm Sandra Anderson, this is my husband Howard and my daughter, Audrey." She pointed to each person in turn as she said their name.
"Are you British?" she asked, to which Harry responded.
"Yeah, the accent?" responded Harry, to which Sandra nodded.
They fell into a short silence which was broken before it became uncomfortable by the waitress who approached.
"What can I get you?" She asked genially.
"I'd like a burger please, plain." Harry replied, smiling at her.
"Anything to drink?" She queried, and Harry answered,
"Just a water." The waitress, Charlie according to her nametag, nodded and walked away. Seconds later, the cook moved to the stove and began to, presumably, make Harry's meal, and as the cook moved, Harry was all to aware of the fact that he was missing a hand.
"So, Harry." said Howard, speaking for the first time, "What brings you this way?"
"I heard that Scottsdale have a great golf course, so I'm going to go and check it out." replied Harry, who had become a golf enthusiast since being introduced to it by Hermione's dad after he defeated Voldemort. "What about you's?" asked Harry, nodding his head at the man's family.
"We're moving into Scottsdale actually, I just got transferred there." replied Howard, but before he continued speaking, the door opened and in walked a man who turned to Sandra and Howard and said, "He's about this close to wrapping it up." holding his thumb and forefinger millimetres apart, before looking at the TV which Harry noticed was showing only static. Groaning, the man walked up to the TV and stood on a chair so he could reach it, and once he had, he muttered, "What is wrong with you today?" before hitting it.
The cook turned to him, "I told you to get the satellite TV, but you didn't wanna listen."
"What the hell do I need that crap for?" responded the man angrily.
"The history channel, man." came the cook's response, his voice upbeat.
"I got all the history I can take." answered the man, a note of annoyance in his voice.
Harry snorted quietly, they were bickering with each other like an old married couple. Harry turned his attention away from the conversation, which now included the waitress, and looked outside. He saw nothing but sand, but something didn't feel right to Harry's war-honed instincts.
A high pitched noise interrupted Harry's musings, and he looked at the TV. On the screen, there was the words, "This is not a test." They were words that only heightened the ominous feeling Harry had, and the cook, who appeared to be a genial, outspoken black man, verbalised the thought going through everyone's mind, "What the hell's that?"
"It's one of them test things." responded the man.
Harry laughed, "Sure looks like one."
Before the conversation was continued, the black man who had so far been pretty discreet, approached the man who appeared to own the station. "Hey, man, I need to use the phone." As he spoke, he quite obviously handed the man a 10 dollar bill.
"In the back, past the kitchen." responded the man.
"Excuse me." said Sandra. "But if this were an actual emergency, wouldn't they be giving us instructions on what to do?"
That was a fairly good point, thought Harry, but the man, instead of answering her, turned to the cook.
"Percy, why don't you check out that old radio of yours, see if there's any news about the TV?"
The cook...Percy acquiesced and walked over to a radio that looked like it had been bought from an antique store, and fiddled with the knob. As he did so, the high pitched noise that had been emitting from the TV grew louder and higher. Harry glanced around the room, everyone's attention was fixated on the TV, and honestly, Harry couldn't blame them.
"Maybe there was an earthquake?" asked Howard.
"Did you feel anything?" responded Harry snidely, to which Howard shook his head.
"So then why is the TV out?" asked Sandra.
"Maybe it was terrorists?" responded Audrey wryly, making her mother and father glare at her.
"Obviously." remarked Harry. "Who needs bombings and suicide attacks when you can turn off a TV in the middle of the Mojave desert?"
"Oh, come on." said the owner of the station, attempting to act as a mediator. "There's no use speculating. I'll just call my brother up, he'll probably know something."
"I don't think so." answered the black man who had just re-entered the room.
"What?" responded the owner, apparently seeing some threat in what had been said.
"I was just on the phone. The shit cut off in the middle of my conversation." the black man replied as he walked around the counter, before demanding, "I want my money back."
As Sandra began to complain, Charlie approached Harry with his burger and glass of water. "Sorry for the delay."
"Hey, hey, hey." exclaimed the owner, cutting off the Sandra's complaints, "Everybody simmer down." He was trying to play the mediator again, and as he turned off the TV, he spoke again, "It's nothing to get excited about. They're probably working on the lines. Besides," he continued, looking at Sandra and Howard, "Jeep's gonna have your car fixed up quick. Then you can be on your way."
"I could be wrong, but don't you normally get warning if they're doing work on the lines?" asked Harry. The man didn't respond immediately, and anything he might have said was cut off when the door opened and in walked an old woman. She was extremely old, and despite her smiling visage and the walking frame she used, Harry got a bad feeling about her.
The old woman sat down and asked for a rare steak and a water, while making small talk with Charlie who had come over to serve her. Harry looked across the tables at the old woman, feeling very uncomfortable for some reason, but disguising it as he ate the burger he had been given, finding it very filling, as well as delicious. At that moment, the old woman called across to Sandra, "Hello. I'm Gladys, Gladys Foster."
"Oh, hello, Gladys." called by Sandra, an obviously fake smile on her face. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm Sandra, and this is my husband, Howard."
"What a nice looking young couple." responded Gladys, making Sandra laugh politely. "What brings you up to these parts?"
"We are on our way to Scottsdale." answered Sandra primly. "But our car broke down, and we're stuck here while it's getting fixed."
"What a nuisance." replied Gladys, shaking her head in disgust.
"Say, Gladys, you know, the lines seem to be down around here." mentioned Sandra casually, "You know, the phone and the TV, and I was wondering if you might have heard something on your way up about what's going on?" At this, most people in the service station sat up a little straighter, paying a bit more attention now at the chance to find out more about what was happening.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, sweetheart. It'll all be over soon." replied Gladys, a hint of glee in her voice as she spoke that creeped Harry out a lot, and from the looks on Howard's and Sandra's faces, it creeped them out as well.
As Gladys finished speaking, the door opened again, and a muscular, young, and somewhat dour man wearing overalls walked through. Presumably, this was the mechanic, who Harry vaguely recalled as being called Jeep, that was fixing Howard's and Sandra's car. He walked into the back and spoke to the owner of the station, who was presumably his father based on their resemblance.
"Hey, so what are we looking at?" asked the owner, his voice barely drifting to Harry's ears, but he heard it with ease.
"I don't know. There's probably something wrong with the computer but we don't have the gear to test it." responded Jeep, making his father curse.
"They're gonna be pissed." answered his dad.
"Tell them we'll call and have it towed to one of those dealerships in Harding."
"Well, that's not gonna happen. The phone's out." Harry was interrupted from his subtle, and unintentional, eavesdropping when Charlie walked past with a plate of rare steak on it, picking up Harry's plate as she did so. She put it in front of Gladys, who thanked her and said,
"How far along are you?"
"Oh, just about there." smiled Charlie in response.
"The father must be very proud." answered Gladys, her entire posture screaming gentle old lady.
"I wouldn't know."
"He's..." asked Gladys, her smile falling from her face.
"Out of sight, out of mind." responded Charlie, nonchalantly.
"I see. So I take it you're not married?" queried Gladys as Charlie discreetly waved a few flies away from the raw steak.
"That's too bad."
"No," shrugged Charlie. "I prefer it that way, I don't need a man telling me what to do."
"But what about the baby?"
"I got it under control."
"But it's gonna burn." responded Gladys, a smile on her face as she deliver the condemnation.
"What'd you just say?" asked Charlie, shocked.
"I said, your fucking baby's gonna burn." At this louder condemnation, everyone's attention was brought to Gladys, who simply smiled.
"Go to hell, lady." responded Charlie as she stormed off past the owner of the station and Jeep, who stepped forward slightly in front of the counter.
"All those little babies are gonna burn." laughed Gladys evilly. Harry who had been watching silently, spoke up.
"Hey lady, what's wrong with you?"
Sandra joined in, and said, "Gladys." before the old woman interrupted her.
"Shut up, you stupid, fucking cunt." Gladys exclaimed, glaring at Sandra. "All you do is complain, complain, complain."
Despite the morbidness of the situation, Harry had to struggle to contain his shocked laughter as such obscene words spewing from the lips of what appeared to be a sweet old lady.
"What?" said a shocked Howard, before standing up, "What, what?" he exclaimed as he got up, ignoring his wife's objections to such an action. "I don't know who you think you are, but I'd like you to apologise to my wife."
Suddenly, Gladys changed, his face getting darker as sudden bags underneath her eyes became apparent, and her face became a much more ominous thing, something more suited to a monster, but before anyone could react, she leapt up and actually bite Howard in the neck, before spitting out some of flesh as Howard stumbled backwards.
"Howard!" cried Sandra, as most of the station froze in shock.
"What the hell, old lady?" shouted Harry as he stood up angrily. Gladys leapt at him, but battle trained reflexes kicked in before Harry had even comprehended the situation, and he rolled to the side, grabbing a chair as he rolled, and standing, chucking the chair at the old lady as he did so.
"You're all gonna fucking die!" shouted Gladys as Howard fell to the ground, and she dodged the chair and ran at the corner of the room, where Audrey was, who, fearing the worst, jumped away. Percy hit her on the head with a thrown frying pan as she ran, and she fell to the ground before standing, blood covering her face, both her's and Howard's, and Harry noticed a piece of bone sticking out of her cheek. She leapt into the corner of the room, and began to climb the wall like some locust as the owner of the station pulled out a double-barrelled shotgun, firing several times at the old woman who was now crawling along the ceiling.
Gladys leapt to the floor behind the owner and landed a back hand to the face, sending the man flying. Harry absently heard Percy shout, "Bob." and realised that he must be referring to the owner. Gladys turned to Jeep, who had picked up the shotgun, and spat the words, "You will never save her."
Jeep lowered the shotgun slightly, before the old lady began to slide along the floor towards Jeep, who raised the gun and shut his eyes. A number of resounding bangs echoed around the station, and all eyes turned to Harry after the old lady fell to the ground and died. Harry was standing, two small handguns raised, both still smoking, and no hint of shock at what he had done.
"Someone had to do it." he said in answer to the shocked looks pointed his way, before he put the guns away as he rushed to Howard's side, offering what aid he could. Inwardly, he was thanking himself for not drawing his wand, he didn't feel comfortable breaking the Statute of Secrecy even after the people saw an old lady crawling across the ceiling.
An appropriate ending point, I was dismayed after seeing this film, and the lack of good fanfictions afterwards, so decided to write my own, but with the addition of Harry. Not really expecting much of a reaction seeing as how there is only one other crossover of this nature, but still review and let me know if I should continue this story.