Harry Potter/Deadpool/(possibly spiderman) - HP/Marvel
Hell Entry #1
Welcome, traveler.
The first forbidden scroll of Drabble Hell rises from the ash. It is unpolished, unedited, and still bleeding ink from every word.
This is a story about grief. About truth. About a boy who was never really a boy at all, not in the ways that mattered.
It's also about Death. And maybe, someday soon, a red-suited menace with a lot of feelings and no filter.
But for now...
Just Harry.
A stack of letters.
And the beginning of the end.
Enjoy
Summary:
When Harry returns to Privet Drive for one last goodbye, he doesn't expect to leave with a stack of forgotten letters that shatter everything he thought he knew. As war looms and grief threatens to consume him, one last revelation rewrites his past, and opens a door to something far stranger than destiny ever intended.
Featuring:
Letters from the dead
rage-fueled breakups
magical fatherhood
and a cryptic encounter with Death itself.
Pairing:
Harry/Deadpool, with a possibility of adding Spiderman.
Please Note:
The recorded entry is preserved exactly as the author left it. No edits have been made. Read at your own risk.
p.s. an error occurred during the preservation process. A missing piece has since returned to the fold.
Death's Chosen
(You collected my trinkets and now hold my power)
Harry watched his family pack their belongings into the car. Family was probably too strong of a term. Perhaps relatives would be a better description. After all, blood doesn’t always make family, and the Dursley’s have proved time and again that they didn’t consider him a part of theirs.
The small car struggled under the weight of the greedy family, who simply couldn’t bear to leave anything behind. Chuckling to himself, he pictured the car slumping to the ground, the wheels turned out and flat like one of the cartoons he’d glimpsed as a child.
“What are you over there laughing about, Freak?” Harry turned to glance at his Uncle, no longer scared of the much bigger man. Memories flashed through his mind of all the years he had heard that name, the darkness of the cupboard and how his eyes could never correctly adjust to light, the hollow pit in his stomach that screamed and pleaded for food and never seemed to stop.
He allowed a crooked smirk to pull at his lips as he said, “just trying to figure out how the car is supposed to move with all of the combined weight, Uncle.” Vernon’s face flushed a splotchy and unattractive red, fists clenching tightly at his side. But he didn’t move a step closer to Harry.
“If it were up to me, freak, I’d lock you in the cupboard for them to find you,” Vernon sneered, breath hissing out and panting as he struggled to hold back his temper. Petunia, pathetic little Tuney, yanked open the front door behind her husband, bent nearly in half as she pulled on one of Dudley’s overfilled suitcases.
“Vernon, dear, could you put this in the boot?” she simpered, voice weak and pitiful sounding. Dudley came into the doorway, his bulky frame nearly too big to fit through. Although, it is with some surprise that Harry notes that it’s not because he’s overweight but that he’s bulked up and become muscular.
Thank Merlin he stopped Harry Hunting last year or he’d be in for serious pain. Dudley stooped down to grasp the luggage for his mum, receiving a relieved smile and soft pat on his cheek for his troubles. Petunia’s sweet expression turned sour once she laid eyes on her nephew.
Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning back comfortably against the brick wall of the house. It didn’t take them too much longer. They were already done with most of the work before he’d even arrived. He’d hoped they’d already be gone but alas, no such luck.
The car squealed when Vernon turned the ignition. Dudley was already perched in the backseat and Harry imagined the car falling to pieces on the highway under his bulk. He held back a laugh at the thought, not wishing to incur his Uncle’s wrath. Vernon squished himself into the drivers seat as Petunia came to a stop in front of Harry.
He stared her down, pushing every memory he had of her to the forefront, hoping she could see just how shattered he truly was. Judging by the minute flinch and unwillingness to meet his gaze again, she’d understood. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, having difficulty or a hesitance to say something to the nephew she’d always despised.
Finally, she clenched her jaw and raised her head to meet his eyes. She handed a stack of yellowing envelopes over. “I was supposed to give these to you years ago, but I forgot. I found them in attic.” Petunia moved towards the car before she suddenly stopped and turned back to her hunched nephew. “I’m sorry, Harry. Good luck.”
He watched them leave, a single tear running unbidden down his cheek.
*~*
Harry sat at a table in the corner, nursing a firewhisky as the party continued on. Bill and Fleur’s wedding was phenomenal, a true wonder of magic, yet Harry could only pretend to be happy for so long.
Hedwig was dead.
His oldest and dearest friend was gone. He felt her loss like a tear in his soul, ragged and deep, one that would never heal. Disjointed thoughts jumbled around in his drink addled brain. What if the same thing happened to Ron and Hermione? How could he even bear to think about dragging them along on this suicide trip?
Through a drunken haze, he watched his two dearest friends gaze at each other across the tent. Lingering looks that betrayed the feelings they believed they hid.
How could he come between that?
Harry stood a little too quickly and wobbled for a moment as he gained his bearings. With a final chug of his drink, he wandered off towards the house. Miraculously, no one stopped him as he stumbled his way up the stairs and he was able to gather his things in peace. Before he left, he wrote one final, if sloppy, note to his very first human friend. He folded it in half and gently set it on Ron’s pillow, hoping he’d see it before mass hysteria ensued.
Leaving the Burrow was even easier. No one seemed to see his slight form as he fled in the night. They were too distracted by the death eater attack that happened at exactly the moment he spun on his heel and disappeared.
*~*
The trip to Gringotts had been enlightening. Learning that the Goblins had an option that worked similar to a muggle bank card and check book was a game changer. He wouldn’t have to worry about exchanging currencies, or traveling to the bank when he started to run out of money. Exactly how much was in his account had been a pleasant and welcome surprise.
Over the next few days, Harry spent time just relaxing for once. September 1st was fast approaching and Harry was doing everything he could to keep from thinking about it. It was depressing, the thought of not finishing his final year. But Harry refused to put anyone else in danger.
He debated on his next moves as he dug around in his trunk for fresh clothes. His hand his something that felt like thick parchment and he stopped. Slowly he pulled the stack of envelopes out and sat and stared for a moment.
Scrawled along the top one was his name. He couldn’t recognize the handwriting and he almost threw them back in the trunk. Something stopped him, some pull, and he instead pulled the band free.
My Dearest Harry,
If you are reading this, though it breaks my heart to say, I am no longer with you.
His breath hitched as he began to suspect who wrote the letter.
I stare at you in your little cot and wish I could just hold you forever. You are so small, so fragile, but already you have a heart of gold, my little love.
Tears poked his eyes and a sob escaped unbidden. He blinked furiously to clear his vision so he could finish the letter.
Remus was here earlier. We all gathered for one last night before we go into hiding tomorrow. You just crawled your little self over to him and right into his lap. Oh my, I’ve never seen him so out of sorts. He didn’t know what to do! James got the biggest kick out of it. I made sure to take a few pictures for blackmail, of course.
I pray that you have Remus and Sirius with you. Peter
Harry grit his teeth at the traitors name. His parents had no clue that he was going to betray them.
Peter agreed to be our secret keeper. Just so you are aware, I am completely against this. I want that on record! But Sirius insisted and said he was too much of a target, which is true, but something about Peter just doesn’t sit right with me.
He’s been acting weird since I told everyone I was expecting you. Shifty and suspicious. But enough about that.
I wish I could have seen you grow, see the man you will turn into. Right now you are simply the sweetest little baby!
But I have something to tell you. Something that is really difficult to say.
Harry blinked, wondering at what his mother could tell him that is so difficult.
I haven’t told James yet, I don’t know how he’ll react but… James isn’t your father.
It started as an ache in chest, a hollow pit that spread as fast as fire. He grew numb, the tears stopping, as he continued to read his mother’s letter.
I met a man, it was stupid and dumb, but your father and I had a fight. I went out for a drink to calm down and met him at the bar. One thing led to another, after too many drinks, and suddenly I have a regret that I must carry forever.
I’m telling you this because if I am gone, then chances are James is, too. And I do not wish you to be alone in the world with no parents. I am sure that Sirius is doing his best to raise you as his own, but I still wish you to know.
His name is Anthony Edward Stark. He was older than me, and just as drunk as I was. It was an accident, a complete and total accident. I do not regret you, how could I ever when you are the best thing this world could have given me. I regret my actions that night.
But I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason and there is a reason that Stark is your father, I know it.
I will be telling James everything after I finish this letter, I promise. I only just finished the paternity potion this morning, and while I knew what the results would be, I prayed for a different outcome.
I will write you as many letters as I can until this war ends or I am gone. You are so young, to young for me to leave you yet, but some things are simply up to fate’s hands. I don’t want you to grow up having never known who your mother was.
Please do not hate me, my littlest love. I wish I could change things, make things right.
Please do not think me a monster. I am only human.
With all my love,
Lily Potter
7 August, 2001
The letter was dated just after his first birthday. He felt numb, wrung out, and shattered. His entire life he had believed a lie. He dumped the envelope that the letter had been in, revealing several photographs and a creased, old piece of parchment.
He picked the pictures up gently, staring into a past he couldn’t remember. There was Remus, sitting on the floor. His eyes were wide, shocked, hands thrown up into the air as he stared down at the tiny little body curled up in his lap.
In the background, James Potter stood laughing, Sirius draped over his side howling. Sirius looked so young in the photo, so happy and carefree.
The next one was him sitting in front of a large mound of presents, his mother next to him. She kept handing him a gift that his tiny little hands tore apart. The image started over before he could see what it was, but he wasn’t watching for the present.
He caressed a finger down the lines of him mother’s hair. She was so beautiful. The love he could see in her eyes filled a hole in his chest that had long been empty. Seeing her sitting next to him, he noticed that he looked much more like his mother than he did James Potter. The only similarity he could see between himself and the man in the last photo was the glasses and hair. Even then, his hair was much darker than James’.
He had his mothers face. Her eye color, lips, chin. The same sharp angles in his cheekbones. His nose was different, he noticed, sharper and more defined. His eyebrows, too, were different.
The next picture was James holding him and the differences became even more apparent. His hair was like ink compared to his fathers, and much wilder. He wondered if he got his hair from his biological father.
The last image was a clipping from a newspaper. It showed a man that looked startlingly similar to how he looks now. Harry assumed this was Anthony Stark, but there was only the image.
He placed everything back, carefully, and grabbed the parchment that had fallen out. It was the copy of the paternity test, which indeed showed that he was not James Potter’s son.
Harry clenched his eyes shut, tension pulling at his brow. He carefully stuffed everything back into the envelope, promising to add the photos to his picture book later. He grabbed the rest of the envelopes and put them to the side to read later.
He wouldn’t think more on it tonight. He had a war to win.
*~*
(note: this section has been pieced back in. Enjoy.)
A sharp crack rang out in his hotel room. Harry spun on his heels, wand raised at the ready for an attack. Before he could blink he was disarmed and stunned. A shadow moved at the edge of his vision before an unpleasant but familiar face loomed over his still form.
“Tell me, Potter, why I shouldn’t turn you over this instant. Are you stupid?” Snape sneered as he released the stunner. “Everyone has been going out of their mind with worry for you since you up and disappeared in the middle of a Death Eater attack?”
Shock hit him as he slowly unraveled his professor’s words. “Wait, what attack? Did they attack the wedding? Is everyone alright?”
“No they are not fine you bloody imbecile! They’re worried about your dunderheaded self!”
“Wait, how did you find me?” Harry asked, ignoring the flush creeping across Snape’s face as he walked to his trunk. “No one else has managed to, and I’ve been gone for a while.”
“Potter! This is not the time for games! The Dark Lord is-”
Harry whirled around to stare his former professor down. “Whose side are you really on, Snape?” he asked, staring the sneering man down without blinking. His expression was dead, almost lifeless. Though he would never admit it aloud, it made Snape feel uneasy.
“What do you mean, Potter? I’m on Dumbledore’s side.”
“Hmm,” Harry tilted his head slightly, still staring without expression. “I think that’s a lie, professor. I’ll ask one more time, and do not hide the truth from me. Whose side are you on.”
Snape’s mouth gaped like an unpleasant fish as he floundered for what to say. Harry would have found it amusing if he could feel anything beyond the numbness that encompassed him. All at once, like a taut string cut, Snape lost the tension in his body and slumped down into a nearby chair.
“Sit down, Potter. I have a lot to tell you.”
Harry took a seat on the edge of the bed as Snape began to explain everything he could. There were parts left out, Harry could feel the magic snapping like a bow string when Snape tried to say it. But Harry could read between the lines enough to know some of what he couldn’t say.
“But that doesn’t explain why Vold-” Snape’s face turning sheet white forced him to change his words, “The Dark Lord is after me. I know about the prophecy. I got my Godfather killed for it after all. But I don’t understand why it has to be me.”
“I can’t spell it out for you, Potter. You’ll have to fill that empty brain of yours with original thoughts for once.” Harry only stared, unnerving the man even further. Harry turned his thoughts inward, ruminating over everything Snape had told him.
It was like fitting puzzle pieces together that didn’t come from the same box. They might have fit, but they weren’t the same puzzle. He didn’t pay attention to Snape getting up and moving around his room.
“Do you think I can defeat him, Professor?” The question surprised even him, and Snape halted in startled shock where he stood next to the bundle of letters. Harry turned his empty gaze toward the stunned man. “Really and truly, do you think I can defeat him?”
“I truly do not know, Potter. That is entirely up to Fate’s hands. But as Fate decreed a prophecy about this situation, I cannot fathom you not coming out of this encounter victorious.”
“Heh, it’s actually funny you say it that way. Mum used almost the same phrase.” Snape jerked around at that, but Harry had already turned away. “I’m going to jump in the shower. Also, please don’t call me ‘Potter’ anymore. Mum apparently wasn’t as perfect as everyone always makes her out to be.”
Snape watched in silence as the young man walked into the loo, closing the door behind him with a soft click. With the boy gone, he was left contemplating his parting words
*~*
The lukewarm water coursed down his back, releasing knots and tension; finally bringing him a modicum of relief. He was so glad to be able to take a shower in warmth instead of the frigid temperatures the Dursley’s forced him to use.
Unfortunately, one of his least favorite people was in the next room, probably rooting through his things. Harry finished his shower quickly and hopped out, which is when ‘the problem’ presented itself.
He’d forgotten to grab his clothes. The last person on Earth that he wanted to see his skin was right there about to witness every bit of shame he carried. Harry closed his eyes and sighed.
He wrapped the towel around him as high as he could, but his shoulders and upper back were still bare. Oh well, nothing he could do about it now.
(note: this is the end of the missing pieces)
*~*
Harry stared at the beautiful, terrifying thing that stood before him.
“Hello, little one.” Their voice was everything and nothing all at once. Old and young, masculine and feminine, frail and strong. Their face shifted from child to elder, man to woman, faster than he could blink.
“Erm, hello?” he said hesitantly. Just a moment before, Professor Dumbledore stood before him in a great white train station. At the corner of his vision, he’d watched black shadows creep across everything until he stood here before this being.
“There’s no need to fear me, dear one. No harm will befall you.”
“Uh, who exactly are you?” He asked, bolder now, but still hesitant.
“You know who I am. You collected my trinkets and now hold my power.”
Harry gulped thickly as realization dawned. He stood before Death, the Death. “So I really did die,” he said, bowing his head as his throat tightened.
Death chuckled, “No little one, you are simply resting. Your soul is not yet ready to pass on.” His head jerked up at that, staring aghast at the specter.
“Wait what?”
“Indeed. In all the years since the Peverell brothers roamed the plain, no being has collected all of my gifts and brought them together. None have passed my trials before you, dear one. And certainly, none have greeted me at the end.” Harry blinked owlishly, stunned as he listened to the being. “You are the only one, in every universe, that has become my master. It is by fate’s design, as you are the only soul worthy of my power.”
“Power? What power?”
“The power over Death itself.”
*~*
He wondered how it got to this point. Ginny stood before him, in all her beautiful, fiery glory. Tears coursed down her cheeks, but Harry felt nothing.
“I don’t understand. I thought you loved me, Harry?” she cried, a hand reaching forward as if to grab him.
“I did Ginny. I truly did. But you deserve someone who does.” His eyes turned towards the sky, and all he could think about was the emptiness he felt inside. “I can’t be that for you, not anymore. And now I have Teddy to think about, I just…” He closed his eyes, trying to find the words to explain what he felt. “I don’t… feel anything anymore. And it’s not y-”
“Don’t you dare say those words Harry James Potter! That’s the biggest cliché when it comes to a break up.” Her dewy doe eyes glared at him viciously. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. After everything we’ve been through-” She cut off with a choke, glancing down and away. Teddy gurgled where he lay in his carrier at his feet. Harry knew he was making the right choice when Ginny glared at the innocent newborn. “I waited so long for you,” she finally whispered. “Why am I not enough. Why do you choose him over me?”
“Why do you say it like that?” Harry asked, tension lacing his tone. His brows furrowed the longer she glared at his godson.
“What do you mean, ‘why do I say it like that!” she spat. “He has other family he can go to. The Malfoy’s are-“
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” his voice was deathly quiet as finally felt something trickle in his chest. “The Malfoy’s? Voldemort’s biggest supporters? And you want me to leave my half-werewolf godson with those blood puritan bastards?” Ginny froze, a fear not unlike that of prey overtaking her. Harry crouched, wrapping a hand around the carrier to pick his family up. “We’re over, Ginny. Get that through your stubborn head. There will never be a chance for us. Ever.”
He threw a hand up, clenching a bone white wand tightly in his fist. The Knightbus arrived with a bang as he continued to glare at the misguided woman in front of him. His eyes glowed a sickly green as his magic responded to his rage. “Teddy is the only thing in this world that I care about. I am his sole guardian. Do you know what that means?” He spit out. She trembled as she refused to meet his gaze. “It means that he has NO ONE LEFT! SO WHY IN THE BLOODY HELL WOULD I JUST PAWN HIM OFF ON PEOPLE THAT HATE HIS KIND ON PRINCIPLE?”
Teddy began to cry as his godfather finally lost his famous temper. Ginny had succeeded in finally making him feel something, it just wasn’t the emotion she was hoping for. Harry turned to make his way onto the bus.
A Final Note from the Crypt Keeper
And thus the first soul is sealed.
Letters were burned. Truths were unearthed. Ginny was obliterated via godfather rage. Teddy lives and is loved.
If this one clings to your dreams... good. That means it worked.
There are stranger tales to come. Louder ghosts.
One of them wears red and talks a lot.
Stay tuned, stay cursed, and don't trust old parchment in attic boxes. That way lies multiverse entanglement, paternity trauma, and inconvenient immortality.
-𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝔂𝓹𝓽 𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻
(Writer of Ghosts. Collector of Regrets. Certified Deadpool Enabler.)