Lightning Beneath Her Skin (Harry Potter/Marvel)
Harriet Potter had known since the very start that there was something strange about her, both in the muggle world and then in the wizarding world. There was just something odd about the static which always tingled on her tongue whenever she was angry – the way the skies seemed to rumble, and the way that lightning crawled over her skin.
(or; in which Harriet is the daughter of Thor, and the many consequences of this; including, but not limited to a begrudging uncle called Loki.)
chapter one • the man in the garden
It would have been a regular Saturday if not for the man in the corner of her garden.
The day had started the same as always – her shut in her cupboard, woken by her aunt’s sharp rap at the small door. She had cooked breakfast, not flinching even when the fat from the bacon sizzled and popped against her skin. Harriet didn’t think she would ever like bacon. Not that she ever had a chance to eat it. Dry toast was all she received for breakfast. Yet breakfast was only the beginning of her day. Aunt Petunia had set her about a list of chores to do during the day, to keep her out of trouble, the last of which was to weed the garden.
Which was how she found herself outside in the garden, staring at the strange man standing by the fence, leaning back against the wooden surface and peering at her with jade green eyes. Her eyes were green, though they were more like emeralds. They shared the same hair colour though, an inky black, but where her hair stuck up, forever messy and unable to be tamed by comb or brush, his fell silky smooth, tied back in a style which left half braided and half his hair loose.
“Who are you?” she asked, peering curiously up at the stranger, the lessons about stranger danger she had learnt at primary school flashing through her head. Though Aunt Petunia probably wouldn’t come or, worse, would blame the stranger’s strange appearance on her.
Almost everything strange and wrong which happened in the Dursley’s house was labelled ‘Harriet’s Fault’ and she didn’t have the slightest idea of why. Adults were strange though, much like the odd one standing before her.
“You’re smaller than I expected, given everything,” the man said, a sharpness to his voice which made Harriet want to flinch back and hide away from the intense scrutiny of that stranger. “Honestly, what are those Midgardians feeding you?” He stepped forwards, green eyes glinting in the light of the sun which was rapidly fading. His feet came to a stop, sharp eyes watching as she shied away from his sudden movement. “Why are you over there?” His voice made no effort to hide his distaste, and neither did his expression. “Come closer, girl, and let me have a look at you. I have not seen you since you were but a babe.”
Harriet blinked, and she wondered then if she had misheard the man. Something tingled on her tongue then, a dreaded feeling that if she didn’t do as the strange man said bad things would happen. Like Aunt Petunia coming out, making a scene, and then Uncle Vernon coming and locking her away in her cupboard. “You… saw me when I was a… baby?” she asked, curiosity rising within her at that. Her feet almost seemed to have a mind of their own as they carried her closer to the strange man who had claimed to have seen her when she was so young. Back before her parents had been involved in a nasty car accident ‘of their own making’.
“Of course I did, or are you deaf as well as dull?” he spoke, lip curling, and Harriet felt her teeth sink into her lip at that. “I am your uncle, so it is only right that I was present at your naming ceremony, Haldis Thorsdottir.”
Harriet blinked. “Uh,” she mumbled, inching backwards from the stranger then, because obviously they were in the wrong place. “Sorry, mister,” she said, swallowing thickly. “I think you’re at the wrong house – I’m Harriet Potter, not um, Haldis Thorsdottir or whatever.”
One eyebrow raised, a long sigh escaping the man before her. “Oh, yes,” the man said. “I forget you technically have two names, what with your split heritage. Harriet Potter is the name all these mortals know you as, and it is for your own protection that is so…”
Harriet blinked once more, a crinkle forming in her brow at that knowledge. “Huh?”
The strange man pinched his nose. “Typical. An oaf for a father leads to an oaf for a daughter…” he muttered, and Harriet knew that he was insulting her. Just like everyone else did. “Your name is Haldis to those of my kind. That is the name your father – or should I say your biological father – gave you, and that is the name I shall address you by.” He folded his arms, peering down at her confused expression with exasperated green eyes. “Yes, you may have a minute to comprehend that, you oafish brat.”
“Uh, thank you?” Harriet tried, and evidently that was the right thing to say as the stranger let out a hum of amusement tinged with pride. She didn’t understand anything better after a minute though. Still, she thought the company was quite nice. It wasn’t like he was insulting everything about her, unlike the rest of Privet Drive. Besides, he claimed to be her uncle. An uncle who might actually be able to like her, unlike the one she lived with.
She had long since come to terms with the fact that Uncle Vernon would forever hate her for reasons she couldn’t comprehend. Freak! The word rang about in her head, and Harriet could only think of her aunt then – the sister of her mother.
“Um. Mister,” she said, voice shaking ever so slightly. Somehow she didn’t think she’d be able to make a very good first impression, but she would sure try. “Who… exactly are you?”
The strange man looked at her then, as though she might as well have been an ant under his boot. It was better than Uncle Vernon’s glare. Almost anything was better than that, what with the unsightly shade of puce her uncle’s face always took whenever something or someone – usually her – irritated him. “Humans have such short memories.” A scoff escaped him. “I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard. Norse God of Mischief.”
Harriet frowned. “Isn’t mischief a bad thing?” she asked, brow furrowed as she tried to remember the numerous times she’d been told off for being a mischief maker. “Uh,” she mumbled, realising that he had just proclaimed to be the god of mischief, meaning he was in charge of that sort – or so Harriet thought. She wasn’t too certain. “Not that I think it is… It’s just what other people have told me…”
“Whilst I’m flattered that you don’t think mischief is a bad thing,” he said, staring at her still with those eyes which made it clear what his views on her intelligence was. “Did you not hear that I am a god? And a prince, no less. Do you not know how to greet one of my status properly?”
“Um… No?” she mumbled, playing with her hands.
“Honestly, do not mumble, child of mine brother – I came to you with glad tidings. You are a Princess of Asgard, halfblooded though you might be,” he explained, and Harriet could only blink at him dumbly, trying to comprehend exactly what it was he was saying. “Since my oaf of a brother is not… available to explain all you need to know, it would appear that duty falls to myself.”
“Does…” Harriet stumbled over her words, something like excitement pulsing in her chest. “Does that mean you’ll be visiting me a bit more?” she asked, wondering if ever there’d be a time where she could make him smile, contrary to her aunt and other uncle’s constantly stern mien.
“Of course,” he said, folding his arms and leaning back against the fencing. “Unlike my darling brother I can sense it within you – magic, that is. You have a talent for it, dormant as your godly blood is.” A smile curled at his lips, prideful and brilliant. “The thought of having a pupil to teach is rather interesting. Besides… there is the fact that you are Thor’s daughter. He never had any talent for such things,” Loki said, muttering something else under his breath that Harriet couldn’t quite hear.
Or was she supposed to be Haldis now?
PREMISE: Harriet Potter is the daughter of Thor (her parentage is complex), which results in a bemused, begrudging Uncle Loki keeping an eye on her and the Dursleys. Likely Prankster!Harry. Gryffindor Harry, with some more prominent 'Slytherin' Traits.