Frozen in Death
This is a Harry Potter/Avengers Crossover by Frida Andreasson aka Kefalion.
When Harry received his Hogwarts letter in 1929 his best friend Steve Rogers was the first to know.
When Harry killed Voldemort, he knew that the war wasn't over.
When Steve woke up in 2011 Harry was there and now it is time that he explained a thing or two to his old friend, for a there is a new threat to humanity that they have to face, this time together with the Avengers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Captain America or the Avengers. That would be JK. Rowling and Marvel respectively I think; just having some fun with their creations here.
Warnings: Oh, what to warn you about? Possibly all that follows, although I'm not sure yet.
Violence, character death, swears, sexual situations, slash (as it is this story will most likely stay gen – no romance, or if so only on the sidelines), major AU, different timelines, SuperHarry!, MasterOfDeathHarry!, stupid spelling and grammar mistakes, OOC:ness, OC;s
I would also like to say that I know nothing about the comic books. I've only seen the movies. I'll be watching them again while writing and I'll been using as a bible (not to forget )
Edit: Chapters 1-5 were rewritten and reposted the 13th of May 2013
Chapter 1 – Waking up
Words: 4 778
Steve Rogers, better known to the world as Captain America woke up slowly. He felt as if he was surfacing from someplace deep; a place which had been dark and cold, very, very cold. His consciousness drifted gradually to the surface through a thick, white fog. The first thing he became aware of was sound. He listened intently trying to understand what he was hearing.
There wasn't much for him to hear. A low buzzing was a steady undertone in the background; he couldn't tell what was making it as it was mostly drowned by the sound of his own steady breathing and the pounding of his own heart.
The next sense to return to him was his sense of touch. He could feel that he was lying on something relatively soft, a bed most likely. Unconsciously he moved his hands minutely, feeling the structure of the sheets gliding against his palms.
Steve opened his eyes, blinking against the light. His vision was blurry at first. He saw unfocused shapes, only able to take in the colours; white, cream, soft greys and muted greens.
He blinked more and could progressively see clearer. He was on his back, looking up at a plain white ceiling. A fan was spinning lazily, trying to move the sultry air in the small room.
He rubbed his hand across his eyes, making the last haze over his eyes disappear. His limbs felt uncomfortably heavy, stiff and unresponsive, working against him as he tried to move.
The bed he was lying on, for now he knew with certainty it was a bed; was a standard iron-framed, white painted hospital bed. It wasn't the most comfortable bed he'd woken up on. Then again, neither was it the worst so he wasn't about to complain.
The environment appeared friendly enough. Still, the instincts Steve had acquired during his service in the war demanded that he shouldn't assume that things were what the looked like.
He sat up stiffly, groaning softly as he could feel the tendons in his back work against his muscles. Then he analyzed his surroundings, beginning with locating and memorizing the exits. After which he proceeded to search for any hostile objects.
Soft daylight fell in through the windows; lighting up the room, next to him on the bedside table sat a lamp and a pitcher brimming with clear water. Or at least he thought it was water, he couldn't be sure seeing as not that all see-through liquids are water.
His tongue felt like a piece of old leather in his mouth, and the innocent looking liquid was calling out to him, promising to sooth his dry throat, but that would have to wait. Better safe than sorry, and all that.
A light breeze made its way in through an open window to his left, making the drapes flutter slightly and a nice looking radio, all shiny, red tinged wood stood on an equally shiny bureau, it was silent.
The Captain took in everything. From the roses which were standing in a glass vase next to the radio, to the heaters under the windows. Things looked alright, innocent, normal and safe. But his instincts told him otherwise. Something was wrong and he was going to find what.
Through the windows he could see the cityscape. If he wasn't mistaken it was New York he could see out there, and that had to be a good thing. It probably meant that he was with allies.
Steve drew in a deep breath through his nose, trying to reconcile with the new environment, the silence, the gentle sunshine and warm wind. It contrasted greatly with the last things he remembered.
In his last memory he had been aboard that strange HYDRA aircraft, the Valkyrie, and he had deliberately crashed it. Things had gone black for him before the actual crash though. He could only remember seeing the ice rushing up against him, not the impact. He supposed he should be grateful for that.
In his last minutes he had spoken with Peggy over the radio. He had told her that Harry had jumped after that Grindelwald fellow, and that this man apparently was the brains behind the entire organization. Schmidt who they had through was the leader had only been Grindelwald's puppet.
Steve had told Peggy that they would go dancing.
"Don't you dare be late," she had demanded of him with a choked laugh, understanding why Steve wanted to talk about dancing. She understood that he didn't want to dwell on the situation he was in; about to crash, about to die. She respected and understood that he wanted to be happy in what was likely his last moments.
Steve had been thankful that the English woman had understood him. He didn't want to think about the image of Harry jumping through the hole in the hull of the plane that the cube had made. Though hearing Peggy's accent hadn't made it easier to put his friend out of his mind.
Steve thought back and wondered what had happened. He had no idea if Harry had survived or not. By all accounts he himself should be dead. No human should have been able to survive a crash like that. But he wasn't truly human any more was he? Even though it wasn't visible like it was with Schmidt who was accurately called Red Skull he had changed when his body accepted the serum.
The Captain propped himself up better on the bed, massaging his temples with sluggish fingers. He had a killer headache going for him which wasn't helping him as he tried to make sense of the situation. He was glad to not be dead, of course he was, but things were strange and it unnerved him.
Recovering his body would not have been a top priority. It shouldn't have been. Peggy, Howard and Harry, if he had made it, would undoubtedly have spent every resource at their disposal to find him; the thing was just that high command would have put a stop to it, giving them a bland refusal. As long as the war was still raging they were better needed fighting the battles. A dead soldier was nothing new and hardly something they should spend their energy on. So how had he been rescued?
But since he was here that might mean… no, he dared not hope.
Steve slumped back on the bed, pulling the pillow from under his head and hitting it in an attempt to make it fluffier, to try and get better support for his neck.
For now there wasn't much he could do, the next move was with the people who kept him here, whether they be allies of enemies. All he could do was to wait.
His mind was still not up to speed. He really wished his headache would dissipate so that he could think. His body wasn't feeling right either. His limbs sluggish, muscles turned into cement, tendons and joints cracking. If you were to have an attempt at escaping enemy holdings those conditions were anything but good.
He was tired even though he guessed that he must have been out for a long time and he realized that fighting against it would be futile. Giving in Steve put his arm across his eyes, blocking out all the light and succumbed to sleep.
Steve was woken by a sharp knocking on the door. He sat up, alert and ready, even though his back protested and he felt a throbbing in his head.
"Come in!" he called, his voice hoarse, but loud. As the handle of the door moved, his muscles tensed, adrenaline flowed trough his body, making him ready to attack at a moments notice if the person of the other side proved to be a threat.
The door glided open and Steve watched with a pounding heart as a man in a familiar green uniform stepped in, the badges showing that he held the rank of general.
The man himself was familiar. He was tall and muscular and he had the trademarked messy black hair and emerald green eyes.
"Harry," Steve breathed in disbelief, the relief was intense and he relaxed, a smile breaking out on his face. "You're alive!"
"Hey, mate." Harry said softly. "Glad to see that you're awake."
All of Steve's worries dissipated. He wasn't in some German Prison where the Nazis had tried to give him false security by providing him with a familiar environment. He was with allies and everything would be okay. Harry was here, right in front of him, looking just like he remembered.
Everything was familiar, from the old scar on his forehead to the raven hair and the British accent that had only grown stronger once he started going to that school in Scotland.
Steve could feel his smile turning into a stupid grin. Harry returned the smile, though it might have been a bit strained.
"How are you feeling?" the dark-haired man asked. "We've been quite worried about you. We began to think that you would never wake up."
"A bit drowsy, I suppose and very stiff," Steve answered honestly. He knew from experience that it was the best way to go about Harry. His friend had been lied to one too many times and appreciated honesty. It also reflected in how bad of a liar the man himself was, all the while keeping many secrets. "I also have a headache."
"Do you want something against that?"
Steve chuckled, the small laugh turning into a cough. "You know it won't work on me," he said wryly. "I can drown a fist full of pills and it won't make a difference, not that I need any pain killers most of the time. That serum was good for something. Though from time to time I wish I could get drunk."
"I remember," Harry murmured. "After Bucky it wouldn't have been so bad to escape reality for a while." He pulled a small bottle from one of his pockets and handed it to Steve. "However this stuff might just work for you."
The blond man peered suspiciously at the dark vial. He uncorked it with caution and gave it a hesitant sniff, scrunching up his nose in distaste. "This smells horrid."
"It tastes it too. Just swallow it in one. I promise it'll help."
"If you say so." He has always trusted Harry and he wasn't about to stop now. Steve swallowed the sticky substance, gagging at the taste and then his headache disappeared as if had never been there, his muscles relaxing. He felt nothing short of great.
"This is amazing!" he said peering at the vial as if trying to figure out the mystery it held "How does it work?"
"Magic," Harry answered and Steve wasn't sure whether it was meant to be metaphorical or not. "I see you haven't touched the water. Suspicious much?"
"Can you blame me?"
"No. I suppose that would be the pot calling the kettle black." Harry smiled. "I've missed you, mate. Not everyone understands to be cautious. They just dismiss me by calling me paranoid."
"But you are paranoid, Harry."
"Pot, kettle," Harry muttered, giving a half hearted glare.
Steve just grinned. "You've taken after that old teacher of yours, the one from the special task force. What was it he always said?"
"Constant Vigilance!" Harry boomed in a rough voice, imitating his teacher. "But you can drink the water. It's quite safe, drew it from faucet myself."
"Okay. Water doesn't sound half bad after that thing you gave me. It might work miracles but it tastes like poison."
"You do know that it's medicine that tastes like shit, many poisons on the other hand have a lovely taste," Harry commented as Steve drowned a glass of water, his mouth beginning to feel normal and the taste of that liquid Harry had given him being washed away.
The blond grimaced. "Right, it makes sense."
"Yeah, lulling you into a false sense of security, like a Venus trap, or a siren. Anyway, you were down for quite some time."
There was a pause before Harry answered; a pensive frown on his face. "Today's the third of March," he said.
"Oh." Steve didn't know what to respond. His mind was blank. What do you say when you find out that it's been over a month since you were awake the last time?
"That's not as bad as I thought," he settled on saying. He knew that he could have been out far longer than that, a month he could work with.
"Right," Harry said, but there was something wrong with his smile. It didn't reach his eyes and the chuckle that followed had an edge to it.
The suspicious Steve felt was fuelled. Something was funny here and it wasn't in the 'ha, ha, I want to laugh' sort of way. The Captain tried not to dwell on it, concentration instead on a question that had been on the forefront of his mind since he woke, since he saw that Harry was alive.
"How did you make it? After you jumped out of the plane, I mean. How could you survive that? Has it something to do with… you know?"
"Yeah." Harry drew his hand through his hair; it was a gesture Steve recognized. Harry would do that when he was nervous.
"Before the assault you promised me that you would tell me everything once it was all over. Is that promise still true?"
"Yes. I will tell you, Steve. I promised then and I promise you now. But I have something else to tell you first. Mind if I sit down?" Harry gestured to the bed, seeing as there were no where else to sit in the room.
"Sure." Steve scooted over on the bed, leaving room for his friend. And the room was needed. They were equally bulky now days. It was such a big change from when they were kids. Anybody who hadn't seen them since their teenage years would never have been able to recognize them.
Both had been the most pathetic of runts; scrawny and short, Steve with his asthma, wheezing as soon as he experienced any physical exertion and Harry with his horrible eyesight, forcing him to wear those bulky glasses.
"I don't want you to freak out on me, but there's more to the date."
The blond man didn't follow. "What do you mean?"
Harry sighed, once more running his hand through his hair. "I never mentioned the year, did I?"
"Harry, what aren't you telling me?" Steve became wary. He didn't like this. Not one bit. He had never been the sort of person to take enjoyment out of saying 'I told you so.' Learning that his instincts had been leading him right, that there was something seedy going on gave him no satisfaction what so ever.
Harry hesitated, feeling his friend's growing agitation. "It's not 1945 any longer."
"Are you trying to tell me that I haven't been out for a month but an entire year?" Steve asked, frowning.
"I don't know how to break it to you, mate."
"Tell me what's going on. Please. Has the war gone bad? Are we loosing?" Steve could feel himself starting to hyperventilate as his mind conjured up one horrible, bloody scenario after another; cities in ruins, battlefields with soldiers lying dead everywhere, Hitler in the White House.
"Steve! Calm down! The war is over! We won!"
"We won?" Steve asked weakly, trying to breath normally again.
"Yes. We won the war. Hitler killed himself in May '45. The allied armies and the Russians were advancing on Berlin and he knew it was over. He didn't want to be taken alive so he committed suicide in his bunker. The German forces were scattered, HYDRA defeated, there was no way for them to continue."
"It's over. The war is actually over." Steve was trying to grasp what he was hearing. The war which had ruled his life had come to an end. The war which had driven him, had changed his body and mind, had given him opportunities, reunited him with his old friend, and made him lose another was over.
"Yes, it's over," Harry whispered, grasping his shoulder.
"That's great!" Steve exclaimed, somehow keeping the cry to nothing more than a whisper.
"Yeah, yeah it is." Harry didn't look happy though, not at all and Steve remembered that there was something Harry had not told him yet.
"You still aren't telling me something. So it's 1946 now?"
"No." Harry had a pinched look on his face.
"No?" Steve stared. "Harry how much time has passed? 2 years?"
Harry shook his head.
"3 years? 4? 5?"
Harry kept shaking his head, staying mute and refusing to meet Steve's gaze.
"Harry, come on! It couldn't have been that long!" Steve insisted. "You look just like the last time I saw you!"
"You're forgetting that you're not the only one who's… special," Harry murmured, studying his cuticles with great interest.
"I don't age, Steve." There was a hard edge to Harry's voice, which reflected in his eyes when he looked up from his hands.
"You. Don't. Age." The blond man repeated the words one by one as if they would make more sense if he got to hear them again.
"No, and you haven't aged either. You were frozen in the ice for a long time. The world moved on without you."
"Please quit stalling. Just give me the year. I can take it."
"Are you sure?"
"Tell me the year, Harry!" Steve snapped, growing irritated, something which wasn't easy to accomplish.
Harry was still hesitating.
"I'm not joking around, Potter."
It was hearing his last name coming over Steve's lips that finally made Harry spit it out. "Fine! The year's 2011."
"No." Steve could feel his brains stopping. He couldn't process the information. It was impossible. It couldn't be possible. He couldn't accept it. It hadn't been one year. It hadn't been five years or ten. It had been nearly seventy years. Seventy years! He had been frozen in ice for sixty-six years.
"No," he said again. Harry was gazing at him with pity in his green eyes, not that Steve noticed. All of his thoughts were concentrated on trying to reconcile with this new information.
He had crashed on a glacier in the middle of nowhere. That much he knew and when he had woken up the first time, he did have a feeling of having been very cold.
"No, it can't be."
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered his hand a steady, warm weight on Steve's shoulder. And Harry looked sorry too, tired far beyond the years he appeared to have lived, coinciding more with the years he claimed had passed.
The Captain was unable to sit still. Restless energy was surging through his body. He jumped up and started pacing agitatedly. "If this is your idea of a joke I'm telling you now that it's not funny."
"Do you really think I would do that to you?"
"No." Steve's anger deflated and he had to steady himself against a wall to keep on his feet. "Please tell me you're lying," he begged in a strangled whisper.
"I wish I was. I hate to be the one to tell you this. But you need to know. It's the truth and you will have to live with it."
"Harry…" Steve trailed off. "I, I just don't know what to say."
Steve stood there, leaning against the wall, his gaze trailing until he was looking out the window.
"The city looks the way it always has," he said in what he knew was a futile attempt to make things understandable. He pointed at the view and the familiar buildings. As far as he was concerned that was all the evidence he needed. The cityscape would have changed over the course of seventy years, and things were as they had been the last time he was home.
"It's just a poster," Harry murmured. "It's not real. We're in a government facility. All of this is staged. What you see isn't real, the view, the furniture, the room, my sadly outdated uniform."
Harry snorted. "It was so that you could be eased in. I never thought it was a good idea. I thought they should have left me in charge, but Fury has his ideas. Anyway, I simply played a long so that I'd get to be the first one you met. Seeing a familiar face could only be good for you. Not to mention that I really wanted to see you. I'm so glad that you're awake and that you're alive."
"Yeah, me too. It's just a lot to take in."
"I get that. I'll help you as best I can. You're not alone, mate. You'll never be alone."
"You've got it."
Still Steve longed for something he could understand, and the shiny radio came to mind. He walked over to it and turned it on.
Music that was like nothing the Captain had ever heard blazed through the speakers. A man was screaming, while bangs and something resembling heavy machinery played in the background.
He stood there, staring at the radio, stunned. He felt certain that his eyes were large as saucers. This couldn't be music could it?
He turned it off, turning to look at Harry, desperate for an explanation. "What was that?"
Harry's green eyes sparkled with mirth and a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Welcome to the twenty-first-century," Harry deadpanned, before breaking out into laughter, no matter the situation Steve's horrified face was priceless.
"Does all music sound like that?"
"Nah, there's still music like you used to know it."
"Are you ready to face the new century, the new millennia?"
"Do I have to?" the blond man asked, mock whining. Right now he just felt like stalling. He needed a few more moments to compose himself. He was a soldier and he had seen some weird shit. Facing the unknown shouldn't scare him, but he'd lie if he was to say that it didn't.
"Yes," the man in the uniform said with exaggerated strictness, managing to almost tower over his friend while being seated on the bed. "If not today then you have to do it tomorrow."
"Tomorrow sounds good," Steve muttered.
"I know all of this is hard to believe, and I know that it won't be easy for you to adapt. To some extent I've been where you are now. Never for this long, but I've missed a few years and it can royally screw up your life. It's hard to accept, impossible to grasp now that all you've seen is this room, but it is the reality of things." Harry sighed, his hand once more finding its way into his hair.
"You've been asleep too?" Steve latched on to that bit, realizing that Harry had lived seventy years. He couldn't be exactly the same man he had known. Things would have happened and he hadn't been there to see them.
"I guess you could say that. Not that I was really asleep, but yeah. I'll tell you all about it later, promise."
Harry got up from the bed and walked up to Steve, enveloping him in a tight hug. "I've missed you a lot, Steve. You have no idea how much. It was hard losing you. I've lost so many people. It'll be good to have a friend who knows what it was actually back then."
"What do you mean?"
"Most people don't remember because they weren't born yet. And those who were, well there aren't too many left. We lost so many during the fights and now they are passing away from old age."
"What happened to you? I've missed so much. How are you? Are you married? Do you have children?"
"I never married. I couldn't. Not after…" Steve nodded, remembering, "and then when I noticed that I wasn't aging." Harry sighed. "Can we take this a bit later? It's a long story."
"We will talk though, won't we?"
"Yeah. Come on; let's get you out of here."
"You said 2011. That's 66 years. Everyone I know is probably dead, everything I know is changed. You're still here, but do I know you?"
"You know me Steve. It'll be alright. Things may have changed, but in everything essential things have remained the same. I'm still me. People will always be people and some from back then are still with us. Peggy is a stubborn old lady, I'll have you know."
"So Peggy's alive?"
"She is, 92 years old and still going strong. I think she's trying to outlive me, just to prove a point."
"Sounds like Peggy." Steve half-smiled as he though of the strong-willed woman he had known and slowly come to love.
"She's had a good life, but I think she would fight death as long as there was the slightest chance that she would see you again. Just like I and Howard she never stopped hoping that we would find you."
"Oh." Steve was touched. It was an amazing feeling to know that you had never been forgotten, even when more than half a century had passed. "And Howard?"
"He's dead. It's been almost twenty years and I wasn't there…"
Steve could feel a lump forming in his throat. "How did he die?"
"It was a car accident. He and his wife Maria died instantaneously."
The blond didn't push any more; he could see that remembering their mutual friend's death wasn't easy for him, and he himself was full of disbelief. He was beginning to wonder how much more he would be able to take without snapping.
Harry begun to speak again. "Still I think I can consider myself lucky. My friends back in Britain age more slowly than other people. I am very thankful for that, and I'm dreading the day when Ron and Hermione are no longer with me. What keeps me going is the fact that I've also made a few new friends that will be around for a long time. This universe is larger than we thought."
"Does that have anything to do with…?" Steve left the sentence unfinished, as he always did when it came to all the strange things in Harry's life that his friend refused to explain.
"Yeah. The community I belong to are full of special people with extraordinary abilities. I'm just more special than the rest. Forever the freak." The last word was said bitterly, eyes downcast.
"Hey! Don't say that! I thing I got you to stop thinking that when we were still kids."
"But it's the truth. I'm a freak."
"No. It. Is. Not. The. Truth!" Steve said each word with emphasis. "The Dursleys were horrible people and you know it. You are special, out of the ordinary, one of a kind, maybe. But never a freak."
Harry smiled, looking up. "Thanks. I supposed I needed to hear that. It's hard to forget what you are told for years as a child, and it's not made easier when there's something to it."
Steve sighed but didn't call Harry out on once again saying that him being a freak wasn't such a foreign concept. "We stood together then and we'll stand together now. We can be freaks together. God knows I'm even weirder than I used to think if I could survive being preserved in ice for that many years."
Harry smirked slightly, and the blond held up a hand to stop him from saying anything.
"Yes, now I'm the one calling myself a freak. Get over it."
Harry chuckled. "Alright I won't say anything."
"Thanks." Steve sighed, copying Harry's gesture of running a hand through his hair. "You'll help me understand the world, won't you?"
"Of course I will. I still consider you my best friend. I'll help you in any way I can."
Harry backed up a bit, straightened his back, assuming an air of authority which had the soldier in Steve standing at attention. He was curious as to what the other man was up to.
"Now are you ready to face the world, Captain?"
"Yeah, I suppose I am."
"Are you ready, Captain?"
"Yes, I am, General." Steve saluted, understanding what Harry was up to. Falling back into his military role was a comfort. He had a superior and all he would have to do was to follow. It was easy. It was understandable. It gave him the security he needed.
"Thanks," he murmured.
End Chapter 1
AN 7th December 2012: So I started a new story… again. That's not very good of me, but I have to write when inspiration strikes and if my inspiration yells AVENGERS at me I will listen.
This is my try at a Harry Potter/Avengers Crossover. I've read most of those that are up on by now, and the other day I finally took the time to watch Captain America. While I was watching it I was thinking. I have a new favourite Avenger Character (my other favourites would be Tony Stark and Loki). That is why Steve Rogers has such a huge part of this, at least to begin with.
Anyway I hope you liked this first chapter!
AN 13th May 2013: Today this chapter was completed in its new form. It was rewritten. The changes mainly being focused on words and sentences, but a few minor plot related items also changed. I, and I quote my beta, added more foreshadowing and deepened the relationship between Steve and Harry. I also learned that the events in the Avengers took place in 2011 not 2012 as I formally believed, the dates have been changed accordingly. Plot wise this chapter is also shorter, as I cut it earlier, and despite that this version is longer than the original.
This chapter was beta'd by ihategoodbyes. Thank you!