Chapter 4
Teddy turns four in a week and Harriet thinks that she may have to start calling in ‘Hey, remember when I saved the Wizarding World?’ favors in order to find the godawful toy robot that her son wants. He has talked non stop about the toy for weeks, ever since he saw an advertisement for the wretched thing on the telly. Of course, the only thing her child asks for is the one thing she is unable to find in any stores. She’s fairly sure that she has scoured the entirety of New York looking for the thing, or at least Manhattan. Today, she’s ventured into Queens to continue her search.
Normally, she would ask Azrael for help, but they’re not on speaking terms at the moment. Harriet would be glad to speak to her friend, as long as he apologizes for the ridiculous amount of flyers she has found posted around her home, her office at work, and even in the public loo of the library she and Teddy frequent. The advertisements all brightly display details for the upcoming Stark Expo. The deity seems to have decided that he knows best for her, something that she had argued about with him at length two nights prior.
Anyway, without the help of her deathly roommate, that leaves Harriet continually scouring stores for the Merlin damned robot. Perhaps a toy broom will take Teddy’s attention away from the lack of muggle robots.
“Give me the bag!”
Harriet reels back, having just swung around a corner to enter an alley, preparing to disapparate. She figures four stores are enough for today if she is to make it home in time for dinner. She’s barely two feet into the alleyway when she’s met with the barrel of a muggle gun pointed at her chest. The very air in her lungs freezes as the hooded man gestures toward the satchel hanging at her side.
“You deaf? Hand over the bag, lady!”
Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times, but she’s unable to force any sound out. A stray thought of her wands cross her mind, her holly and phoenix feather wand stuck in her boot while the Elder Wand is holstered under her shirt sleeve, but she’s too frozen to reach for either.
The man growls at her before lunging forward, hand snagging the strap of the bag hanging on her shoulder. His sudden movement jars her enough for her senses to come back to her. A short scream leaves her as the hand holding the gun shoves her harshly, her satchel being ripped from her person. She stumbles back a few steps.
“No! Wait-” She tries to cross the distance between her and the mugger, heart pounding so hard that it’s the only noise she can hear. Her hands are shaking but that’s not something she can worry about at the moment, not when the contents of that bag could crack the Statute of Secrecy wide open. Even as she moves, her vision blurs around the edges and she can almost swear that the smell of death surrounds her, so similar to how the grounds of Hogwarts smelt during the final battle.
A loud bang rings through the alley at the same time that the mugger releases a strangled shout. Harriet falls in sync with the thief, both of them hitting the ground with muffled thuds. Her ears are ringing and her vision is swimming with panic and…pain? A glance down shows a dark red splotch spreading across her previously yellow blouse. The sight of the gunshot wound makes her light headed, mind filled with images of different injuries in a different time. At least with the Cruciatus Curse she didn’t have the capability to think through the pain.
“Shit!”
It takes her a moment to drag her gaze away from where her blood is sluggishly draining out of her body and even longer to get her eyes to focus on the sight before her. A third person has joined their impromptu alley skirmish, dressed in what her mind can only assume is a halloween costume, worn seven months early. The person, man, is the one who cursed, and is presently kicking the crap out of the would-be-mugger while simultaneously shooting some sort of ropes out of his hands to bind the thief. Is this a wizard? Casting, what could be, and Incarcerous Curse in broad daylight? Perhaps she’s in more pain than she originally thought and is hallucinating the violent, adult trick-or-treater.
She blinks slowly as the man sends one last rope at the thief, leaving the other slumped against the wall. The mugger groans in the background, but she’s much more focused on tracking her costumed savior as he snatches up her bag and runs the few feet between them. He kneels beside her, allowing her a better look at his getup. It’s immediately obvious who the man is. Her son only talks about him everyday, the superhero bloke that wears pajamas. Spider-Man leans over her, hands hovering over her bloody abdomen.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry! I wasn’t able to web the gun before he shot.”
Harriet hums, brows furrowing as she turns her head to look between the vigilante and the bound mugger. The world tries to turn on its axis with her movement, making her moan from both her pain and disorientation.
“It’s okay! You’re going to be okay, promise.” For a guy she saw fighting a literal sharknado not two weeks before on the nightly news, he sure seems more frantic over her gunshot wound than he did over the mad scientist made tornado of aquatic life. The thought makes her giggle.
“You’re not even a wizard!” Her words are slurred and she’s fairly sure that the blood loss is making her delirious. Damn, she hasn’t had a true injury since the war. She can’t believe that she didn’t even attempt to pull her wand on the muggle. Hermione and Ron would balk at her lack of battle skills. She killed a fucking dark lord for Merlin’s sake! And now she’s going to die by mugging.
“Um, no.” Spider-Man’s worry is now mixed with confusion at her words, making her giggle again. All of this for a damn toy robot. “I’m going to, uh, bandage?” He doesn’t seem very sure of his words. “Your bullet hole. Okay?”
Harriet merely blinks at him before looking around for the apparent bandages. Spider-Man sighs, making her turn her attention back to him. He holds his hand up before some sort of substance shoots from his wrist. She watches as it plasters itself to her still gushing wound, putting pressure on it. Her vision whites out at the sensation and she’s pretty sure the scream she hears is her own. Spider-Man is cursing again and petting her shoulder, as if trying to offer some sort of comfort.
“Sorry! Sorry! But I had to stop the bleeding.” He truly does sound regretful, but Harriet doesn’t have much time to focus on the sentiment. She finds herself lifted into the air, the costumed superhero standing with her in her arms and seemingly attempting to not jostle her.
“Bag-” She barely manages to get the word out through gritted teeth before keening at the pain that echoes from her stomach through the rest of her body. The edges of her vision darken.
“Fuck. Yeah.” Spider-Man uses his webbing to snatch her satchel from the ground and then adjusts his hold on her once more. “You need a doctor.” Harriet is sure the look she gives him is incredulous based on the sheepish shrug he gives in return. “Sorry, I guess that is pretty obvious. Just, bear with me, okay?”
“Need…Kreacher.” It takes an enormous effort to speak, though she’s not sure her words were actually understood by the way the spider bloke tilts his head.
“Right, uh, try to hold on.” Before she can even attempt to question why she would need to hold on, he lifts one arm and shoots off a web toward the roof tops. Her vision goes black almost as soon as they’re jerked into the air.
Damn her body aches. She feels as if she’s just woken up in the Forbidden Forest after dying again.
Even through her shut eyes, she can see the bright lights filling the room. She better not be in that cursed alternate Kings Cross again. If she is, Azzy better not reap her. She can’t leave Teddy alone.
Opening her eyes is difficult. Her eyelids seem to weigh two tons with the effort it takes to crack them open. When she finally manages, an unfamiliar room meets her. She’s laying on a bed, though it looks like the ones she’s seen in the medical dramas she watches with Azrael after Teddy goes to bed. The room itself is similar to that of a hospital as well, filled with equipment she has only ever seen on the telly. Muggle medical devices. Her heart rate spikes, causing her to startle as the machine to her left shrieks. Where the bloody hell is she?
Harriet pushes herself into a sitting position, only to gasp in pain and drop back onto the bed. As she’s recovering from the sharp pain in her stomach, it dulling to a throb instead, the door to the room opens.
“Careful!”
It takes her taking several deep breaths before she can focus on the man before her as he checks the screens on the various devices around her. He’s definitely taller than she is and has dark hair, peppered with grey. After a moment, his soft brown eyes settle upon her. He looks vaguely familiar.
“How are you feeling?” The stranger offers her a smile that she supposes is meant to be comforting.
“Who are you?” And where the hell is she?
The skin beside his eyes crinkles as he smiles again, tucking his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. Harriet follows the movement with sharp eyes. “Dr. Bruce Banner. Are you able to tell me your name?”
She’s silent for several moments, trying to gauge the level of threat the ‘doctor’ may pose to her. Finally, she gives a name. “Lily Granger.”
Dr. Banner stares at her for an extra second, as if trying to discern the truth in her answer. Smart bloke. Though, not too smart if he thought she would just outright tell him her name. She may not live in Britain where Death Eaters who escaped arrest still roam, but Harri Potter is just as well known in Magical America and there are just as many wizards that may wish her harm. Finally, he turns away and picks up a tablet that had been laying on a table off to the side. His fingers slide over the screen.
“Do you remember what happened, Lily?” Banner glances at her through his lashes briefly before looking back to the tablet again.
What happened? She was…hm. It was Saturday, wasn’t it? She had gone to Queens, searching for that stupid robot. Her gaze flicks to her torso, to where her pain radiates from. She had been shot. Over a purse. What the hell?
“How long was I asleep?” The question comes out more frantic than she meant it to, but she needs to know. It had been Saturday evening when she had the run in with the muggle bag-thief. Kreacher would have been expecting her for supper soon.
“Just overnight- woah! Careful, Lily!”
Harriet grunts, teeth clenched as she forces herself into a sitting position once more. Kreacher is probably feral with worry. He gets upset when she’s half an hour late home from work, let alone just not coming home at all. Merlin knows between him and Azrael, they could raze New York City to the ground if they tried. A whimper escapes her as she swings her legs over the side of the bed, stumbling to her feet. Dr. Banner just manages to catch her before she can face plant onto the floor.
“Lily! Miss Granger, I really must insist that you lay back down.” The doctor’s hands are on her shoulders, trying to maneuver her back into the bed. She braces a hand onto her side, which is beginning to feel warm. Looking down at herself, she sees red seeping through the paper gown she wears. Her gaze gets stuck on the blood for a moment, brain stuttering to a stop. The pause is long enough for the doctor to force her back onto the bed. She moves her hand away and finds it sticky.
“Oh.”
Dr. Banner huffs, leaving her side to open a cabinet on the wall opposite her. It’s as he returns with a roll of bandages that her brain finally catches up with itself. Her clothes are going. More importantly, her wands are gone. She can feel the blood drain from her face, her body feeling much colder.
“You have to take it easy for a while, Miss Granger.” Dr. Banner scolds her as he moves her paper gown to the side, changing her wound dressings with expert precision. “You will be sore for a few weeks, most likely, and you’ll need to change your dressings twice daily.”
Harriet can’t hear him past the static in her ears. Her wands. Her magic wands. Her magic wands that muggles are not supposed to ever know about.
“My belongings.” She cuts off the doctor’s rambling about wound care and weight lifting restrictions. He looks at her oddly, causing her to clear her throat. “My-My bag and…sticks?” What the fuck else is she supposed to call them?
“Ah.” Banner nods before looking about the room as if the items will just jump out at them. “Hm. I’ll ask Peter where those have got to.”
Peter? “Where am I? You haven’t said.” For some unknown reason, the question settles in her gut like lead as she asks.
“Sorry.” He chuckles as he finishes redoing her bandages. “There. Now, Lily, you’re in the med bay of Stark Tower.”
She’s fucking where?
“I’m fucking where?!” Dr. Banner just barely stops her from sitting up once more, giving her a stern look. He doesn’t speak again until she settles back into the pillows.
“Stark Tower. You were brought here by Spider-Man last night.”
She must have heard him wrong. “I’m sorry, what tower?”
The doctor bloke has the audacity to look amused. “Stark Tower.”
Somehow, she just knows that Azrael is behind this. She is so going to kill Death.