Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. For better of worse that belongs to JK Rowling. The Ultimates and everything within the Ultimate Marvel Universe belongs to Marvel Comics. Which I don’t own either. If I did I would retire at the age of twenty three.

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Project M.

Chapter One: Deep Dive

By: Water Mage

It was a Saturday.

Of course something was going to happen on the day he shouldn’t have been working. His life had never been a mundane one. Not for Harry Potter. Trouble flocked to him since he was a baby. Considering his parents lifestyle before they passed, it was more like trouble ran in the family. He gazed up at the sky, briefly taking in the moonless night making it the darkest of nights He sighed. How typical.

“Look alive, Potter,” Hawkins barked, frowning sternly.

His wayward thoughts grinded to a halt, and he nodded at the senior Auror. He gripped his wand tightly and followed his comrades through the dense forest. Their combat robes were black, and allowed them to blend easily into the foliage. Harry followed moving just as silent and stealthily as the rest of the squad.

It was too bad that his first time visiting the United States had to be under the current circumstances. He glanced at the green robed wizards flanking their sides. Got to give credit where credit’s due. The American’s had tracked down the fugitives with timely efficiency. He didn’t know how their American counterparts, “We’re Hunters, got it memorized”, would do in a fight, but it’s not like the Aurors could go in alone. On American soil the Hunters had jurisdiction although the actual arrest would go to the Aurors, since the fugitives were first and foremost British citizens.

Jameson, the Hunter captain, held up a closed fist and they all immediately halted. They moved near the white haired man, staying in the shadows to keep concealed. Jameson and Hawkins stood side by side, surveying the group. Harry stood shoulder to shoulder next to a surprisingly young faced Hunter. He had to be a rookie. There was just something about him. Too fresh, his stance, the way he even swallowed. Harry couldn’t be too much older than him, but he had lost that something that marked him as a rookie, even before he had completed the training program two years ago.

“The cave the warlocks are holed up in is less than a klick from our position,” said Jameson. His voice was quiet but intense, impossible not to take dead serious. “Hawkins and I will take point, and the rest of you lot will follow our lead. Abrahms and Marks will watch our six. Understood?” He looked around at the faces staring back at him.

Hawkins met Jameson’s eyes nodded, and then addressed the squad. “Alright, then. Move out.”

They marched behind the Hunter and Auror commanders, as they led the dark wizard catchers toward a cave.  Darkness swallowed them as they entered the cave’s mouth. Wands were lit wordlessly, and their dim glow provided enough illumination to see. He expected a few bats, maybe some rats and bears. The dry and dipping ceiling was a surprise, as they ducked down low to pass through, and then just as quickly were again walking upright.

“It’s a Cherokee cave,” muttered the “rookie” from earlier, noticing Harry’s expression. “It’s a dead cave. Dry, no growing formations. Usually—”

“Hendricks!” snapped Jameson, turning back to glare at the young man. “This isn’t a family vacation at Yosemite. Shut your trap.”

Hendricks mouth closed quickly with an audible smack. Harry offered a sympathetic smile. No doubt the kid wouldn’t be making the same mistake again after the dressing down. Hawkins and Jameson both signaled to halt, and they listened intently as a droning chant reached their ears, echoing loudly off the cave walls.

He watched those in lead closely. They signaled that there were a dozen men in the cavern ahead. Twelve against their own twelve. Sounded like a fair number, but these warlocks used the oldest of dark magics. What they dabbled in would give even Death Eaters a pause. Their dark magic could be described as the predecessor of the forbidden magic of today. With their primeval power also came a price. Their souls were dammed the moment they embraced what lay in the dark, and danced with powers that best lay behind sealed doors.

The fugitives tried to run, but they couldn’t hide. The trail of blood and bodies had led the Aurors over the ocean and to the states. Their standing orders were to capture and bring the warlocks back to England. Specifically warded cells at Azkaban already had their names on them, located in the deepest levels of the island prison. Weekend or not justice was going to be served.

Jameson flashed a signal and they moved as one. They stalked forward with their wands held high and ready. The cave opened into a huge cavern housing a dozen robed figures. The warlocks stood in a circle, hoods drawn, and hands outstretched as they chanted over a ring of glowing symbols painted on the floor. Paint that looked suspiciously like blood. He knew the substance when he saw it.

“Chiulsum, Ooterim, Inknocto, Mussemurum, Euniquit…”

Energy spilled out from the circle’s center, as the chanting grew progressively louder. The foreign power touched Harry’s skin and the hair on the back of his neck wanted to crawl down his spine. He gritted his teeth as the energy sparked the air, making it hum just at the edges of his hearing. Whatever the ritual was it was something extremely powerful. He could feel it down deep in his stomach.

“Freeze! Wands on the floor and hands in the air!” yelled Jameson, as the squad flanked his sides all wands trained on the warlocks. “Wands on the floor now!”

There was a long moment as both sides paused, each taking the measure of the other. Then it was over. The warlocks moved first and the air exploded with light and yells. Harry rolled out of the way as the wall behind him iced over, frost rapidly spreading from floor to ceiling. He came up on a knee, and stabbed his wand into the air. Mauve light flashed forward clipping a warlock’s shoulder, who almost managed to narrowly avoid the spell. The warlock rolled to his feet, his arm hanging oddly lifeless. It would take at least a half hour before the Paralyzing Curse lost effect. Harry slung another curse. That was more than enough time.

Ruinous jade light zoomed toward him. He flicked his wand and a boulder intercepted the spell. The boulder blackened rapidly, and then fell to dust in the blink of an eye. He grimaced and didn’t want to think about the consequences of the spell hitting him. His wand swished and scarlet light shot out in a glob of magic. The glob struck the warlock and grew to ensnare the man within the bubble shaped trap. Harry whispered a word, and the glob shrunk till it was the size of a marble.

Spells whizzed by and the cave rocked as magic collided with walls, shaking loose dirt and stone. Hendricks spun on the ball of his heel, bringing his wand around in a sweeping arc. Yellow light flung off the end only to encounter a hastily casted shield that covered two hooded warlocks. Retaliating, the warlocks moved in unison, and their spell blurred through the air in a combined attack. Harry conjured a shield before Hendricks, but it didn’t fully form in time as the black light bashed through his defense and slammed into Hendricks with a loud boom.

His head and most of the upper part of his body were gone in an explosion of red. Just gone. So quick. The scattered remains weren’t even enough to piece together. His dead body fell to the ground in a splatter of blood. So much blood. Gallons of thick red blood poured from the mess of mangled flesh. Spine peeked out from the gore still pearly white, and brain matter clung stubbornly to its end.  

Harry wiped at the drops of blood that splattered across his face. Anger throbbed deep in his gut like a caged lion. He took that feeling and wrapped it around him. Anger was good. It was better than the empty calm that lingered near like the flip of a coin. To kill without feeling was a dark path that existed within him, but kept under lock and key, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t like to journey down that road too often.

He lashed out with the ferociousness of an animal just unleashed. Snarling, his wand cut through the air and ruby whips of light rained from above. The shower of light burned where it landed and smoke sizzled from the impact points, and they howled as the first few rays hit true before they threw up a shield.

Shadows slithered along the ground merging with his own shadow. Harry looked down in confusion as dark tendrils shot up from his shadow and wrapped themselves solidly around his ankles. He groaned as ice ran through his veins, cooling his skin, and siphoning energy to grow stronger to spread further through his body.

His wand tip emitted a pulse of light dimly at first, growing brighter with each pulse like a revving engine, until it produced a strobe of light. Light poured forth in waves ploughing through the clinging shadows that were now leeched onto his midsection. The light blazed through the darkness burning the shadows into less than nothing.

Shadow magic was outlawed in 1899 for a reason. Harry rubbed at his chest. He would see to it that they rotted in Azkaban. His heart returned to its normal rhythm, as blood rushed unhindered through his body.

Fire raced toward him in a cyclone of thick flames before he could fully recover. He ground his feet and twirled his wand like a baton.

“Phoenix, child of flames, lover of death, protect me,” Harry whispered like a prayer, focusing his power into the core of his wand.

The spinning wand made a soft humming sound as it rotated, and then it grew louder morphing into a familiar trilling song that inspired courage and roused the heart into action. A transparent version of Fawkes appeared before Harry, shining wings outstretched as a defiant cry left its beak. The flames were swallowed by the apparition’s flapping wings in a stunning display. The songbird let out another defiant cry, and Harry banished the wand’s avatar.

He thrust out his wand and an invisible wave of force caught one of the warlocks in the gut. The warlock rocketed backward and slammed into the cave wall with a thud. He slumped to the ground in an unmoving heap.

The remaining warlock made a slashing motion and Harry bit back a curse as a deep gash appeared on his arm, starting at the shoulder and ending at his elbow. He hissed feeling the blood drip down his arm in a thin and steady stream. Harry waved his wand and eight orbs of tightly packed electricity zoomed toward his opponent.

The warlock hastily threw up a shield. The first four collided. The fifth and sixth broke through, shattering the transparent barrier. He deflected the seventh orb and the eight struck him in the chest, sending his body into convulsions as the electricity disrupted every nerve in his system. Harry sidestepped the rebounded orb. He almost choked on the sudden power that surrounded him, like he was a small stone at the bottom of an ocean. The step accidently had him standing in the ritual circle. Merlin’s ghost.

Blood flowed from the gash, falling from his arm to land against the symbols covering the ground. He barely had enough time to recognize them as being Babylonian before the warlock came at him again. Harry didn’t think, he only acted. His wand came up and the air ignited with power, as a cord of magic met the fork of green light from the warlock. He grabbed his wand with both hands, fighting to control the coil of energy between them. Sparks fell from where their magic connected, showering the air in flashes of white light like fireworks.

His blood flowed steadily from the wound on his arm, mixing with the symbols adorning the ground, unintentionally joining with the blood that spread from Hendricks body. Blood of life, blood of death, combined with the unfinished ritual, and Harry’s eyes widened as he felt his power spark something within the circle.

Arcs of lightning, blue like the sea, struck the ground near his feet and buzzed around him. This wasn’t good, his mind screamed at him as his heart hammered in his throat. Too much magic, too many types, was mixing. Something that should never ever be done. It was a rule that was drilled into him and every first year that ever stepped foot within Hogwarts, since its doors opened in 974 AD.

The power didn’t just build up within the circle, it exploded. Harry screamed, staggering back as waves upon waves of overwhelming power pressed against him. He jerked his wand and cut the coil of magic between the warlock, attempting to stop whatever was happening by any method he could. Gravity pushed down on him sending him to his knees, as the arcs of lightning grew in frequency. Dimly through the roar of magic and power, he could hear his name being called over and over, and spells fizzled against the force trapping him.

Thoughts incoherent and fleeting flashed through his mind. Images, voices, memories all swirled together in a vortex of thoughts. He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth as his skin felt like it was on fire. He wanted to tear the flesh from his bones just to escape the pain.

He looked up meeting the frantic eyes of Hawkins. If this was how it was going to end then he was going to make sure his captain knew he didn’t fear death. He hadn’t for a long time now.

The air became thin as oxygen rapidly left the circle. Harry grabbed at his throat. His body lifted from the ground as gravity warped, carrying him up into the air till his toes scrapped against the stone floor. Lightning struck his side and then the other side, sending a soundless scream tearing from his burning lungs. A deafening explosion ruptured his ears, and his vision blurred as a force gripped his insides and sent him into unconsciousness.

-

Agony swept through him in waves, muscles throbbed, bones ached, and his skin burned. Burned so bad that he thought he was on fire. His head pounded and his ears rang with a nonstop ring. Harry struggled against the grip of darkness.

“He appears to have come through the phenomenon.”

“We’ll have to get him into a healing tank or he won’t survive the night.”

“Very well. I want guards and constant surveillance on this…thing.”

He tried to make out more but the voices faded in and out, as the ringing and pounding in his head overwhelmed him. Hands touched his body, prodding, searching. His eyes opened a crack and blurry forms hovered above him. Groaning he closed them again in pain. Darkness claimed him, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

-

Harry opened his eyes slowly. He was floating in a tall tank immersed completely in water. Tubes went everywhere, connecting him to various parts of the tank. A mask covered his lower face pumping oxygen into his lungs. Men in white lab coats gazed up at him, writing on clipboards as they stared at monitors before the containment unit. Harry struggled against the tubes, and not more than five seconds later his strength left him, exhaustion quickly zapping at his reserves.

What was going on?

He thought fuzzily before he succumbed to the bone weary tiredness and closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep.

-

Voices broke through the grip of blackness that kept him constantly under grip. He strained his hearing to pick out the voices. Why did he still feel so weak? It hurt to even think. Even being conscious caused discomfort.

“Subject M’s brainwaves appear to jump, and spikes in bioelectrical energy are registered whenever the stick found with him touches his flesh—”

“…The X gene doesn’t appear anywhere in Subject M’s DNA—However, his genome appears to hold genes not present in human DNA…. Gene sequencing in some parts of DNA are ordered unnaturally, and can be attributed to evolution of the subject’s species—”

Harry fought against the smothering blackness willing his eyes to open. His body didn’t respond no matter how much he tried. Something was covering his face again, forcing gas into his lungs. His thoughts fogged over as the gas increased in volume.

“If the tests are correct then the stick is some type of focusing tool for the being’s energy. Ready Operating Room two. Time to begin phase one.”

-

Harry’s eyes opened and he blinked at the harsh light. He moaned, rubbing at his eyes trying to clear the spots that danced behind his eyelids. His throat was dry and scratchy. His thoughts were muddled and fuzzy and some places. Where was he? He racked his brain thinking about his few recent memories. So he wasn’t dead. That was always a good thing.

He looked around the room. Calling it a room was being nice. The walls were dark and bare, a toilet rested in the corner, and the hanging light was far too bright. He swallowed. Yeah, room was being way too nice. This was a cell. He sat up in the cot and rested his feet on the ground. His muscles thankfully didn’t protest the movement like he feared. How long had he been here for him to have healed so much? He had been on death’s door the last he clearly remembered.

He looked down. He wore only a pair of thin gray pants and a white shirt. Idly scratching at his forearms he tried to piece together his puzzled memories. Think, Potter. Think. What happened after he had blacked out in that cave? All that magic mixing together with him at its center—theoretically every piece of him should have been scattered across the four corners of the world. So why was he alive, and where in the hell was he?

Harry cleared his throat again, and brought his hand to massage it. His fingers encountered a metal collar that brought him up short. What in the name of magic. He tugged at the collar growling in frustration when it didn’t budge. This was not good. Really not good. Proves that whoever was holding him didn’t have the best of intentions in mind.

Too bad that he wasn’t some useless muggle. These guys should never try and trap a wizard. It never worked. Harry stood up and spun on the ball of heel reaching beyond, into the space-between. He waited on the familiar lurch and pop, but it didn’t come.

“Not possible,” he whispered in disbelief, panicking for the first time.

Harry fell back on the cot. He was sure these people were muggles. The technology he witnessed was stuff wizards wouldn’t dream of employing. So where had his seemingly muggle captors learn to cast anti-apparation wards?

There was a click and the door slid open. Harry tensed as a man stepped into the room. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his lab coat, and his auburn hair was peppered with gray. He looked at Harry behind thick black glasses.

“Good, you’re awake,” noted the man, his tone and face neutral. “I’m Dr. Ward.”

Harry didn’t care about formalities. “Where am I?”

“We found you after you came through an unnatural anomaly. You were hanging between life and death, and we fixed you up...” Here he paused. And Harry didn’t like it. “You’re unique physiology has interested quite a few people. You will prove a valuable asset to this institution, and this country.”

The casual way the man spoke didn’t stop the uneasiness Harry felt deep in his gut. This man wasn’t to be trusted. Everything that he was warned him to be wary. Harry stood up and the man stepped back. So the good doctor realized that he had just backed a lion into a corner. Point for him.

“You will let me out of here,” demanded Harry, his voice deceptively soft. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Dr. Ward took a step back just as Harry stepped forward. His hand came free of his pocket and in his grip was a remote device that he pointed at Harry. A tiny smile tugged at the edges of his lips.

“Take one more step, and you’ll find out one of the nastier effects of the collar besides preventing you from using your powers.”

There was no such thing that could contain a wizard’s power. He weighed his options and took a chance. Harry lunged forward. Pain took over a millisecond later sending him stumbling and crashing to the floor. He glared up at the doctor, convulsing as the feeling of hot pokers stabbed into his brain. Abruptly the feeling cut off, and he shook from the after effects.

“I daresay it would be in your wellbeing to not try that again,” said Dr. Ward, his neutral tone turning edgy and sharp. “We know you’re not from this world. It doesn’t matter where you came from. We only care about what you can do, and what you will do for us. You are now the property of the United States government.”

Harry interrupted the speech, reeling from the applications. “I’m still a citizen of England, and people will come looking for me. You don’t know what we’re capable of. What I’m capable of.”

He wasn’t completely sold on the alternate world bit, but the doctor was dead serious. He couldn’t argue the possibility of its truth. That magic had been raw, untamed, and chaotic. Magic that different had never before been melded together to the best of his knowledge.

Dr. Ward raised one dark eyebrow, unperturbed by Harry’s outburst. “Are your arms and legs giving you any trouble?”

Harry remembered the uncomfortable itching sensation he felt earlier from his forearms. He glanced at his arms, and then snapped his head toward the stoic doctor.

“What did you do to me?” growled Harry.

The doctor ran an eye over Harry’s bare arms critically. “There isn’t even a hint of scarring. Interesting.” He looked Harry in the eye. “The stick found with you we determined amplified the energy emissions detected within you.”

Harry’s eyes widened as realization settled deep in his gut. “You didn’t—“

“One piece of the rod went into each forearm and the same with your legs.”

Horrified, he stared at his arms. There really was no scar. If it wasn’t for the weird itching he wouldn’t had suspected. He swallowed heavily. This was wrong, all of it was wrong. He wasn’t some lab rat. Some type of experiment. He was scared, but overall he was angry. At the core of all fear there was anger and he grabbed that emotion and held it tight. He refused to show any fear to people who weren’t humane enough to treat him as a human being.

Dr. Ward nodded at the dark look Harry leveled him with. “That anger is good. That’s exactly what we’re looking for in our weapons. Forget what you were before. We own you now. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Subject M.”

-

Then the training started.

They came for him the next morning testing his reflexes, his stamina, his strength and abilities. The battery of tests would have made Professor Snape proud. They were more like sessions of torture than anything else. They pushed him to the limit, and experimented on him the way they would an animal.

His favorite was when they held his head underwater to see how long he could go before he drowned. It was the easiest test since it gave him time to think. Under the water he had time to order his mind, and brace himself for the rest of the day’s horror.

The days blurred together in a stream of pain. Pain from fighting, training, tests. All were worse than the last.

How long had he been here? A month, a day, a year, or years? He didn’t know, and a small part of him almost didn’t care.

He took a seat in the chair that had become as familiar as his old Firebolt. They strapped him in and attached the wires to every portion of his skin, clamping them on with quick and efficient movements. The helmet was last. Its bulky weight didn’t bother him anymore. It covered his entire head extending down as far his neck.

There was a distant static that clicked and then the images came. His eyes were assaulted by violence. People killing people in the most brutal and effective ways possible, some scenes involved weapons, and some just used their bare hands.  His muscles twitched as the device sent learning impulses to his nerve endings, writing the combat into his muscle memory.

They had attempted to brainwash him, but the years of Occlumency had given him a resistance that surprised them and partly him as well. So they had to make do with trying to break him, conditioning him, molding him into a new man, a weapon.

Red painted across his vision as a soldier unloaded a full clip from a machine gun into an enemy’s chest.

For hours it went till he couldn’t see straight, till his eyes burned, yet still he sat in that chair. Watching. Learning.

-

“Okay, M, you know the assignment. Complete the simulation to the best of your abilities. The collar’s suppression on your powers will be turned off for the duration of the simulation. Any attempt of subterfuge and the collar activates. And you know what happens then.”

The voice drifted from the observation room above. Harry clenched his fists and nodded. It’s not like he had much choice. If he did manage to apparate from the facility, or touch the collar then it would detonate leaving him a bloody mess on the floor.

He felt the switch as soon as the collar stopped repressing his powers. His magic washed over him like a warm wind, comforting and reassuring him that yes, he still was a wizard. Harry reveled in the sensation, in the magic.

“Simulation starting now.”

The space in the room rippled like heat waves in the desert replacing the circular gray room of before. He stood in a city that looked like it had seen better days. Buildings were destroyed, fires ravaged in small clusters, and there was destruction as far as he could see. He could even smell the smoke and ash in the dank air.

The ground rumbled and he barrel rolled out of the way, as from the ground rose up a mechanical construct. Lasers shot out from the device, and Harry conjured a shield to deflect the shots. He ran to the firing device, dodging the red beams as they struck the ground near his swiftly moving form. A strong Blasting Charm tore it from its support.

A car lifted up on its own, rocketing toward him as if thrown like a paper weight. Harry waved his hand and sent a conjured ball of condensed air at the car. The globe of air had enough speed and force behind it to stop a speeding truck in its path. It struck its target and the car was flung back, crashing into the store window of a clothing store.

The sound of whirring gears reached his ears a split second too late, and he snapped his head up. The servo assisted piston crushed him into the ground. He screamed as his ribs cracked, and his head pounded harder than anything he could remember as the weight pressed him into the cold concrete. Gathering his strength and sucking up everything he had, Harry pushed with a growl full of passion and determination. The gears of the piston whirred loudly as the machine was pressed the opposite way.

Phoenixes could lift heavy objects many times their weight, as was their way, and now so could Harry.  The abilities of the phoenix existed within him, pumping through his blood as if it were his own natural gifts. A primal roar left his lips as he lifted with every ounce of strength, and there was a great crash from above. The piston broke apart from its servo, and Harry threw the metal cylinder up and away. It crashed into the ground, skipping once, and knocking up cement as it skidded along the street.

The ground shook again. This time it wasn’t a constant rumble. It had a rhythm. Footsteps. Something was coming. Something big. Not something. Someone. Harry tensed, watching the giant man walk down the desolate street, taller than some of the buildings.

When he first got here he would have been frightened. Hesitant. Not anymore. Hesitation got you hurt, whether by the simulation or those in charge. Harry sized up his opponent. The giant had muscle on top of muscle. He was dressed in a one piece brown suit with a matching cap that left his face bare, but covered the rest of his head. A pair of dark goggles hid eyes from view.

He cracked his knuckles. This was going to hurt. For the both of them. Harry dodged the truck the giant kicked at him. It whizzed by missing him by only inches. Harry ran forward swiftly. If he could knock out the legs then it would be easy to finish this up.  

Harry cried out as the massive foot caught him in the back. He flew off his feet into a nearby car’s windshield. He landed with a heart wrenching crash. The giant laughed and picked Harry up, his body dangling like a rag doll. He groaned as broken bone, and cut skin screamed at him by sending his waves of pain through his body. The giant jerked his arm and launched Harry up into the sky.

Up and up he went. Harry gasped as the air sped past his face. His eyes watered, and he could barely keep them open as the wind rushed over him. Then he suddenly stopped in mid air as the throw reached its maximum height. The negative g force pulled at him, and he fell this time under the effects of gravity.

He was better than this. He would not lose to a simulation. He turned his body maneuvering so he was facing the ground. Harry clasped his hands, incanting under his breath. His fists took on a golden glow. The strength enhancement charm was the same one the Mongolians used to conquer the eastern world in ancient days. His strength grew and amplified greater than even his phoenix graced ability allowed.

He came down like a comet, bright and fast. The ground rushed closer by the second. The giant man looked up only to get smacked across the face, as the glowing fists hammered home. A gold shockwave hit, enveloping the entire area. The giant fell back, dazed and winded, and he crashed into the building behind him. The building caved around him as he laid back in its broken foundation. Harry landed on the giant’s stomach, moving quickly before the man regained his bearings. He ran up the fallen body moving with inhuman grace and agility, till he got to the nape of the neck.

Most people don’t know that there’s more than one jugular vein. There are two sets consisting of an external jugular, and an internal jugular vein. The internal one is larger than the external one, and pumps more blood from the brain back to the heart. Cut the external one and a person could die within five minutes, cut both of them good enough including the carotid artery, and a person could die in about one minute.

Harry flexed his fingers above the giant’s neck and focused all thought. Sectumsempra.

The cutting curse burst from his palm tangible and invisible to the eye. Blood erupted from the incision in a geyser of red. Instead of leveling out and cutting off, Harry focused more power into the attack and the spell doubled and refocused. He dragged his hand wide, and the curse moved like an invisible sword, tearing through the neck like butter.

When the human body bleeds out pints of blood spurts, and then eventually seeps out. Gallons of blood spilled out from the slit throat like a broken water main. He jumped off the body as the giant’s hands flew to his throat, his whole body shaking from his choking and gasping.

Harry landed on the ground in a crouch. He rose up and watched detached as the life rapidly bled away from the giant man. Nails dug into his palms painfully. He kept his mind on that pain. That was only the real thing in this place. The pain centered him and kept him focused from being effected by the loss of life. He couldn’t show emotion. He was too far along in the program to make that mistake.

The room rippled taking away the dead giant and derelict city, revealing the room’s true plain interior. The doors to his right slid open and two guards appeared in the doorway.

“Take the subject back to his cell. That’s all for now.”

A sensation of wrongness settled over him, running down the back of his neck. The collar had been activated, dulling his magic till he couldn’t even feel it as a dim echo in the back of his head. He knew that feeling far too well. He let them lead him to his cell. As usual he kept his eyes open and head up. If the collar ever malfunctioned or truly died then he would take that chance, and break out of here. Knowing the layout was the key to that scenario.

They dropped him in the middle of his cell on the floor, and promptly walked out without a word. Business as usual then. Harry picked himself up moving so he could rest his back against the edge of the cot.

The throbbing pain in his body had settled to a dull ache. It was a matter of time before the ache faded taking his injuries away with it. He healed with more than human speed, but it wasn’t instantaneous. But it was better than suffering through terrible pain while his wounds healed human slow.  The phoenix traits in his veins accounted for some amazing abilities he had to admit, but was it worth it? Never.

Too many times after implanting pieces of his wand in his body had they cut him open, flayed his skin, burned him, choked him to the point of death. Each time recording how long it took him to recover, measuring time against the inflicted damage.

He glared at the steel door. How many times had he banged on it, bloodying his fists on its surface, doing anything to get free? Eighty nine.

Help wasn’t coming for him. Not then and not now. He knew that Dr. Ward was right. He had come from an alternate world. The consequences of all that magic mixing that night were endless. If it had propelled him into a different Earth, some type of alternate universe, it was surely probable. It explained why he hadn’t been rescued. People would have come for him by now. The British Ministry of Magic and even its muggle counterpart would be searching for him. That was a fact. No way would they just let him disappear. The Prophet had named him a national treasure after receiving his second Order of Merlin, First Class.

He sighed. That didn’t matter here. In this place he was little more than an animal. They had called him it for at least a month. These days he was better known as Subject M, sole test recipient and prisoner of Project M.

He must have mumbled something about magic when he fist arrived here, fever ridden and delirious. They knew about his magic somehow, and they were determined to twist it and him for their goals. They wanted a perfect solider, an assassin, a weapon.

He had heard snatches here and there about a Weapon X program, and more often than that, Project: Rebirth. What any of those had to do with him he didn’t know. He picked himself up and laid out on the cot.

All he had now was time. He just had to wait for the moment till he could free himself. If you had enough will there was a way. Sirius had shown him that. If his godfather could survive Azkaban for twelve years and break out, then Harry could eventually reenact his own great escape.

-

Alarms blared through the complex.

Harry’s eyes snapped open. He shot up in bed standing up lightning quick, months of training coming instinctively. He hadn’t even registered moving. He braced himself, only slightly rocking back on his heels as the ground shook.

His mind went through the possibilities. It had to be a bomb. He knew what an explosion felt like. His training had seen to that. The ground quaked again as well as the building itself. Harry heard yells outside the door followed by a staccato of gunfire. There were thuds. Then silence. Something hit against the door. Harry tensed up, sliding into a stance as blood pounded loudly in his ears.

There was a wrenching noise that sounded like metal against metal. The door was ripped from the wall and heaved to the floor. A figure appeared in the doorway silhouetted against the light. Harry squinted his eyes trying to make out the form. His hands balls up and he pivoted, ready to strike as the figure stepped forward.

It was a man dressed in a blue suit. His boots and gloves were red; the same color as the red and white strips that ran vertical down his midsection. A white star blazed across his broad chest. The letter A adorned his blue cowl that extended from the neck of his suit to cover his head. His belt included pouches that looked meant for weapons. He was dangerous. He would be a fool to not think this man was a soldier through and through.

“Relax, son, I know what they’ve been doing to you,” said the man. “We’re going to get you out here.”

Harry didn’t relax, but he couldn’t stop the ray of hope that swept through his chest. “Experience has taught me not to trust grown men in masks. Who are you, and who is we?”

“We are the Ultimates,” he answered, blue eyes bright beneath the cowl. “And I’m Captain America.”

___________

I’ve been reading my Ultimates comics since Ultimatum is coming up soon, and I got this idea in my head about doing this crossover. I’ve seen a lot of stories with Harry joining the X Men, and even a few Iron Man crosses too.  They all either take place in the movieverse or the regular marvelverse. But I’ve never seen a Harry in the Ultimate Marvel universe before, and actually joining that universe’s version of the Avengers – the Ultimates, instead of the X Men.

This will be my first time writing a story that crosses with a comic book, but I hope to do it justice. For those that don’t read comics, and have no idea what Ultimate Marvel is its pretty simple. It’s basically a marvel universe with the same characters, but all have different origins and there’s less baggage than with the regular marvel continuity. So it will be easy to follow along with, and readable to people that don’t read the comics.