A/N: A reviewer asked if this story takes place in the same dimension, and the answer is 'No'. The Avengers and the Harry Potter gang are not on the same Earth, so the Marvel world and HP world are separate. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews guys!


Harry's eyes opened to blinding white, a sharp sting that urged him to immediately draw them close again. The sensation was similar to seeing the raw light of day after wandering so long in the dark that it took some time to adjust. With caution, he allowed his gaze to steadily open once more, and a room with glass walls greeted him. So foreign was his surroundings that confusion settled heavily on his brows. His mind was a whirlwind of images as he tried to recall what happened.

Green light… mirrors crumbling… the discovery of a prophecy… and… and… Sirius!

A gasp fell from his lips as his memory solidified in clear strokes. Harry quickly went to stand up, but what he ended up accomplishing instead was a stumbling fall, landing on his bottom. And it was in that instant that he finally took a good look at himself.

Incredibly long legs met his sight. Legs clad in black leather, appearing completely misplaced on his body. Swallowing nervously, Harry was about to touch the unfamiliar limbs until his hands came into view. Hands, so pale and slender, cruelly mocked him where they shouldn't belong. Realisation crashed down upon him that this was not his body.

Harry noted belatedly that in his panic, he had forgotten to breathe. Air rushed back into his lung as soon as he took deep, full gulps. Given the chase through the Department of Mysteries, the intense standoff with Malfoy and now this, calm was certainly a difficult state to achieve. Nevertheless, he tried to think through the sheer anxiety and crawling dread.

Then one thought flashed into his mind to quell the buzz of panic: the Polyjuice Potion. This must be the result of the Polyjuice Potion. The potion was the only explanation for his strange, new body. Once he came to that understanding, relief flooded his systems. It should eventually wear off so there was no need to worry, though the reason for the potion in the first place was still unknown to him.

Having now calmed himself, Harry gingerly stood up and finally took another look at what he presumed was his prison. He stilled instantly when he saw the form of a woman behind the glass.

Despite his typical inattentiveness in school lessons, Harry blamed his disorientation entirely this time for not noticing her sooner. Yet he couldn't see how that should be possible when she was standing only a few feet from him. The woman was observing him with a quiet intensity that almost bordered on disturbing and seemed to be waiting for something. He realised a second later that she was waiting for him to react.

Harry took a few wary steps back, yet that did little to ease his nerves. He had no doubt the death eaters have managed to capture him after he was knocked out. And she was probably a death eater like Bellatrix Lestrange. She wore some kind of black outfit that hugged her figure tightly, which was an odd choice that appeared more muggle than wizarding. Though the woman was beautiful, she exuded an air of danger. Unbidden, the image of Professor Sprout's flesh-eating plants came to mind; the ones that were lovely and delicate but would readily devour you once your defenses were down.

Harry felt small under her stare.

"Where —" he paused briefly at the sound of his voice – so smooth and deep. "Where are my friends? What have you done to them?" His stomach twisted like an overwrought rope about to snap, knowing this whole mess was his fault and that everyone could be hurt because of him.

"Friends?" Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "You were alone when you arrived… and I highly doubt you're referring to the men under your forced control."

Now it was his turn to gaze at her in befuddlement. "What 'forced control' are you talking about? And my friends came along with me willingly, so what did you do to them?"

With a frown, the woman said, "We don't have your… friends."

Harry hoped she was speaking the truth, and a part of him was thankful that his friends had possibly escaped. "If that's true, then what are you going to do with me? And why am I polyjuiced as another person?"

In response, she gave him a look as if he had just declared himself a goblin. "Did you sustain any injury to the head?" she asked bluntly and murmured to herself, "Perhaps that was why you collapsed earlier."

Harry scowled at her. Falling on his arse when he just woke up did not count as 'collapsed'. "I don't know why you even bother with all this," he gestured down the length of his body. "Your master already has what he wanted, and I don't see any use keeping me here."

"Director Fury is our leader," she corrected, still staring at him oddly, "and you won't be going anywhere until we get the Tesseract back, Loki."

Everything about that last comment halted him in his tracks, but it was what she called him that caught his attention. "That's not my name."


"Loki. That's not my name."

The woman regarded him with disbelief. "But it is your name."

"Um… no, it isn't," he replied, backing further away from her and quite concerned that she was perhaps as mad as Bellatrix. "Who are you anyway? And what is this place?"

This time, the woman pierced him with her sharp eyes, seeming to dissect his words. After a long stretch of silence, she said, "I think you may be experiencing some memory loss."

"What? There's nothing wrong with my memory." Harry could perfectly recall everything up to that point quite well.

"That would explain a lot actually," she continued, ignoring him, "about your abnormal behaviour and why you don't remember me."

"I don't remember you because I've never met you before!" Harry nearly shouted and shook his head angrily, tired of going in circles. "I don't know what game you're playing at, but you won't get away with this. Dumbledore will stop you."


The name rolled off her tongue as though it was a new flavour, unfamiliar and unusual. He didn't like the sound of it any better than their current conversation. "Dumbledore and the Order will fight back," he went on. "Whatever Voldemort is planning won't work."

The women did not respond. Instead, she turned away from him and touched her ear. "Tell Thor to come to the prisoner's holding cell immediately… yes, I want him here now." With one last glance in his direction, she strode towards the door.

"Wait!" Harry called. "You still didn't tell me anything yet!"

The woman didn't bother to turn around. At her blatant dismissal, the frustration and fear he held back after waking up now started to build anew like a fiery inferno. In addition to that, the concern for his friends and anger at his own stupidity also wreaked havoc on his conscious. Then gradually without his control, he felt his magic react, reaching out to the woman.

Surprised with his accidental magic, Harry could do nothing but stare. He saw it slowly changing her until the effect was finished. Despite the sudden magical display, she continued to walk away, none the wiser. It was also in that moment that Harry finally saw the weapon strapped to her thigh.

With all the insane incidents today, the only thought that came to him was, 'Why is a death eater carrying a muggle gun?'


Outside the room, Natasha waited for the other super powered being to arrive. Her talk with Loki didn't go exactly as planned and now she was left with a possibly amnesiac god. Yet there was something about this that didn't fit. One minute he was cold and demanding, and in the next it seemed as if he was a different person altogether.

What she couldn't comprehend though were his eyes. They emitted honest confusion and strong defiance all in one breath; and that did not match the profile she compiled for his personality one bit.

Just then, the bulky form of Thor ambled down the corridor, the heavy footsteps heralding his presence. As soon as he saw her, the Thunder god stopped abruptly and gawked with wide eyes. His mouth opened and closed quite unattractively like a broken window shutter against the wind.

Chucking it up as an Asgardian thing, Natasha spoke up first. "Thor, there might be something wrong with your brother."

As if water had been doused on him, his expression turned grave at once. "Did Loki try to escape?"

"No," she said quickly. "But he's not behaving like himself."

"How is my brother not himself?"

With a soft exhale, she tried to describe the encounter and throughout this, Thor listened with a stern frown. When Natasha came to the end of her story, she asked, "So, do you think this could all be an act?"

"It's possible that he could be lying," said Thor. "This would not be the first my brother has weaved such tales to deceive people."

"Then how about the people he mentioned? Do any of those names sound familiar to you?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied apologetically. "The name of Dumbledore does not hail from any of the other realms. And I do not know of any Order or Voldemort."

Natasha tried not to let the disappointment show on her face. It was easy to discard Loki's change in demeanour as a ruse on his part, but her instincts were telling her otherwise. Then she recalled another peculiar detail.

"Thor, I need you to confirm one last thing. It's about Loki's eyes – were they always green?"

His head tilted to the side inquisitively. "Aye, my brother's eyes has always been that shade."

"But when he was brought here, they were blue," she revealed, "and only recently have they turned green."

"You must be mistaken."

"No, I'm not. Did you not notice his eyes when you spoke to him?"

Thor was about to speak but then paused, reconsidering the answer. "I confess there was much that consumed my mind at the time. Hence, when I first lay my gaze upon him such a detail may have escaped me."

She conceded to his reason with a nod, understanding their brotherly reunion was hardly a peaceful one.

"Even so, you must know that Loki is skilled in illusions; changing the colour of his eyes is child's play for him," Thor reminded her. "You must not be tricked by his methods, Agent Romanoff."

A scoff almost passed her lips at the very notion. "You don't need to worry about that."

"Perhaps not," he answered. "But for now, I shall have more words with my brother."

"If you believe that's a good idea, go talk to him then," she told the Thunder god. "And you can meet us back in the lab later." Natasha needed to report to the director right away about this. Hopefully, the man could give some insight into the situation.

She was already heading off when the sound of Thor's hesitant voice held her back.

"Um, Agent Romanoff."

Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"My brother – did he…?" the Thunder god began tentatively, uncertain how to continue before pointing to her hair. "It is the colour of the sea."

"Excuse me?"

"Your hair, it is not the same."

With an ominous feeling, she swiftly ran to the nearest locker room with a mirror. Thor followed behind her as they entered one near the end of the corridor. Standing before the full length mirror, Natasha finally saw her reflection.


Her hair was blue. Gone were her red curls and in its place was a monstrous shade. It was not even a deep, gentle blue but an outright hideous blue often worn by troupes of performing clowns; it was not a colour she was particularly fond of.

The image of Loki flitted through her mind, the only person to have done this. With quick rage, the mirror cracked under her fist, and she swiveled around to glare at the perpetrator's brother.

Thor shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Ah, I shall go speak with my brother now." With that, the prince of Asgard rushed away in as much a dignified manner as possible, which wasn't much based on his frantic footfalls upon the floor.