Plot Bunnies Story 3 - Untitled.

Hi all, 

Here’s the next Plot Bunnies chapter. This is a Harry Potter/Spiderman crossover.

The story's basic premise is that Harry appears to become a squib the night his parents are killed. The Durlseys have relocated to America, so Dumbledore took him there so they could look after him. However, the Dursleys didn’t want him, so Richard Parker, an Auror, chose to adopt him instead. Harry’s name was then changed to Peter Parker.

Chapter 1: Along came a spider.

Monica, a middle-aged emergency dispatcher, had heard some strange things during her two decades on the job. But the call she received this evening was on a whole other level of strangeness.

“This is 911. What is your emergency?”

The caller's frantic voice blurted out, “Lady! You need to get the police here right now. In fact, call in the FBI! No, get the Marines. This shit is crazy. In all my time—”

Monica intervened calmly, “Sir, can you please try to calm down and tell me what’s happening?”

“It’s motherfreaking aliens, I tell you! Right here on my street—” The man paused when a woman spoke in the background. “I’m not insane, Britney! I saw that old man appear out of freaking thin air. He tampered with the streetlights with the device in his hand. It must be an invasion!”

Britney shouted. “Of course you are seeing things, Bill. I would, too, if I had downed half a bottle of whisky, you imbecile.”

“How do you explain the streetlights going out?” Bill retorted. 

“It’s probably just a blown fuse! Now, get off the phone!”

Monica groaned inwardly, convinced she was dealing with a bogus emergency. But she was a professional, and she didn’t want to hang up until she established that there wasn’t an actual emergency.

“Sir, can you describe what the old man is doing? Is he posing a threat to anyone or committing a crime?”

“He’s right across the street from me, in Dursley’s yard, talking with a cat!”

“A cat, sir? Perhaps it belongs to him? Maybe it wandered off from his residence?”

“That could explain the robes he’s wearing, fucking Gandalf,” Bill muttered before his voice rose. “But that doesn’t explain the baby he’s holding in his arms. Do you realise how cold it is out there tonight?”

Monica’s focus sharpened. “Are you certain it's a baby?”

“I’m not blind. I’m staring at them right now… Wait a second! Oh, my goodness. The cat just transformed into a human. I knew it, aliens!”

Monica wanted to slam her head into the desk. “Sir, could we focus on the baby?”

Unbeknownst to her, all emergency calls were being monitored. Certain keywords triggered a response from a secret community keen on keeping their existence hidden from the No-Majs.

Their response was swift, and a team of Aurors appeared in the street in Queens with a crack.  

Senior Auror Frank Mullens took charge of the situation.

"Parker and Jones," Frank instructed. “You’re with me. Smith, Miller, take care of the witness.”

Two of the Aurors headed towards the house of the man who had reported the incident. He would have his memories altered so that he forgot what he had seen.

Frank addressed Parker while observing his surroundings. “Your brother lives around here, right? Have you heard of the Dursleys? Their property was the scene of the incident. Do you have any information about them?

Richard Parker nodded. “My brother complains about them a lot. They recently moved here from England due to the husband's promotion. He has a nasty temper, and the woman is a gossip.”

“Are they wizards?”

Richard shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

They approached the Dursley home, wands in hand, and noticed the two people standing in the front lawn. An elderly man with a long beard was having a heated argument with a woman. She must be the animagus that the Mundane witnessed transforming from a cat.

The old man spun around, catching them off guard, with a wand in one hand and a baby in the other. His blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon spectacles. “Good evening, gentlemen. How may I assist you?”

The woman beside him sighed in exasperation.

"We are Aurors. Lower your wand and hand over the baby," Frank commanded.

“I can’t do that,” the old man replied. “I must leave the child with the people residing at this residence. They are his family. He has nowhere else to go.”

“Who are you?” Frank demanded.

“Albus Dumbledore,” the old man said. “This is Minerva McGonagall. We’re from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland.”

Frank's eyes widened. Dumbledore's name was known far and wide, even in New York. "Would you care to explain what in Merlin's name you are doing here in the dead of night, casting spells in front of the No-Majs?" 

Dumbledore appeared to be genuinely puzzled. "I took care to to take out the—"

"Ever heard of night vision?" Frank interrupted.

"No, but the meaning is obvious enough. Muggles are certainly impressive, ” Dumbledore said, lowering his wand. “Dear me, I believe we have made a mess of it, Minerva.”

"Don't blame me for this mess, Albus. I never agreed to whisk Harry off to America. It's utter madness."

Dumbledore winced. "You always speak your mind, Minerva."

“Stand down,” Frank said, lowering his wand. “Now, who is this baby? Is he from Scotland? You can’t just drop a baby off in another country without applying for citizenship.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I must confess, I overlooked that detail."

Minerva took the baby from Dumbledore and pulled back the blanket wrapped around him, revealing his discontented expression and vivid emerald eyes. Curiously, the baby remained silent. She traced a finger over the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. "The bairn’s name is Harry Potter, and he was targeted by Voldemort."

“The terrorist?” Frank looked down at the baby in disbelief. “You’re telling me this baby is the target of one of the most feared dark wizards in history?”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Voldemort sought to eliminate Harry’s family. Voldemort killed his parents but was destroyed when he tried to kill Harry as well. Harry is the only known survivor of the Killing Curse."

“Pull the other one,” Richard snorted. “No one can survive the Killing Curse.”

“I’m not lying,” Dumbledore said. “Overnight, little Harry managed to stop the Wizarding War with the death of Voldemort. But there was an unfortunate consequence to Harry's survival."

“What do you mean?” Frank asked. 

"I had him examined by a Healer. Harry's magical reserves are insufficient to qualify him as a wizard. He's classified as a squib now.”

Frank furrowed his brows. "Determining if someone is a squib, particularly a baby, can be tricky. We should wait for Harry to mature and see if any accidental magic manifests."

"I am confident in the Healers' diagnosis," Dumbledore asserted.

"So, just because he's a squib," Richard said, "you intend to discard him like trash? It seems the British wizarding community hasn’t changed. It still harbours prejudice against those born without magic."

"That’s not it at all," Dumbledore insisted. "There are still many Voldemort supporters out there. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill Harry if they found him. If he is here, away from Britain, he can be kept safe.”

"Are the Dursleys related to Harry?" Frank asked. He continued after Dumbledore's affirmation. "Then why resort to sneaking around in the middle of the night? It's best to approach them directly and ask them to adopt him."

Dumbledore hesitated. "I was planning to leave Harry on their doorstep after putting up some protective wards. I am confident they will accept him after reading the letter I wrote to explain the situation."

Richard laughed. "The Dursleys aren’t the type of people who would take in an orphan, even if he was related to them. They are more likely to call social services.”

"We will ask them ourselves," Frank said, heading towards the front door. "Then we can sort out the mess with his citizenship."

Twenty minutes later, the group left the Dursley's house, seething from the unpleasant exchange they had just endured with Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Despite Dumbledore's best efforts to persuade them otherwise, the couple expressed no interest in caring for the boy. Their abhorrent behaviour reinforced Richards’ belief that the Dursley household wasn’t a conducive environment for Harry to thrive in.

“I will have to find another solution,” Dumbledore said. "I don’t want to place Harry in an orphanage, but I don’t see any other option."

"What about Remus?" Minerva suggested.

Dumbledore shook his head. “I don’t know where he is at the moment. He disappeared after hearing the news about James and Lily. Besides, his life as a werewolf wouldn't provide the most stable environment for Harry."

“I can take him,” Richard said, his expression resolute.

“Richard, what are you saying?” Frank asked, his disbelief evident. “Is this because of Mary's miscarriage?”

“Mary hasn’t been the same since then,” Richard admitted. “Neither have I. She can't have another child, and we have been wanting to start a family for ages. I believe I can persuade her to take Harry in.”

“Harry is a squib,” Dumbledore cautioned. “Your wife may not like that he isn’t a wizard.”

“Don’t measure me by the same standards as your backwards magical society,” Richard retorted. After a moment, he added, “My wife is a No-Maj. Whether Harry is a wizard or not won't matter to her.”

Dumbledore contemplated this for a moment before agreeing, “That might indeed be the most suitable solution for Harry.”

“It could expedite his American citizenship process,”  Frank noted, coming around to the idea. He had seen how messed up Richard had been after losing his son. It might just be what Richard and Mary needed.

“Would you like to hold him?” Dumbledore offered, and he passed the baby over to him.

Richard touched Harry's soft cheek and smiled as the boy grabbed his finger. “I believe it would be best to change Harry’s name for added security. If he is truly a squib, he will not be returning to Britain.”

“Are we really considering leaving him with strangers?” Minerva asked. 

“You were willing to leave him on the doorstep of a family you barely knew.” Richard said, his tone sarcastic.

“I was arguing with Dumbledore to take him back to Britain,” Minerva defended herself.

“Minerva, you can spend time with them to ensure they are a good fit for Harry,” Dumbledore said.

“What name will you choose for him?” Frank asked.

“Peter Parker,” Richard answered with a gentle smile.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 

Fourteen years later.

Peter followed the class as the scientist gave them a tour of the laboratory. He had a slightly awkward, gangly build and messy, unkempt hair that fell over his face as he leaned over his camera, adjusting it so he could take photos for the school newspaper. His thick-rimmed glasses slipped down his nose, and he pushed them back up absentmindedly.  

He mutters softly to himself, absorbed in his own world. Taking photos wasn’t as easy as it sounded. The lighting had to be just right, the composition had to be perfect, and capturing that fleeting moment of raw emotion or breathtaking beauty demanded patience and skill. Like everything, he demanded that he give everything one hundred percent.

Peter grunted as he collided with someone's back.

“Watch it, Parker,” Flash snarled, grabbing Peter by the collar.

“Sorry, Flash,” Peter said, holding up his camera. “I got distracted adjusting the settings.”

“Let me take a look at that,” Flash offered, reaching for Peter's camera.

Harry stepped in, pushing Flash's hand away. “Back off, Flash. He already said sorry.”

Flash shoved Harry. “Don't think you can boss me around just because your dad owns this lab.”

“Of course I can,” Harry said arrogantly. “I’m Norman Osborn’s son after all. If I didn’t take advantage of my upbringing, my father would be disappointed in me.”

“Enough,” Mr Summers said, appearing at their side. “Flash, do you really want another detention with me? I hear you have an important game coming up. It would be a shame if you had to miss out on it.”

Flash smirked. “We were just messing around, right, Peter?”

“Nope,” Peter said, smoothing out his shirt. “I’m pretty sure you were trying to rough me up. Steal my lunch money, or something. Typical behaviour of a bully who doesn’t have more than two brain cells in his head.”

Flash lunged forward, but Mr. Summers held him back. “Walk away, Flash.”

“This isn't over,” Flash warned before storming off with his friends. Peter watched as he wrapped his arm around MJ. He felt a twinge of envy. What she saw in him, he would never understand.

Mr. Summers turned to Peter. “You wouldn't get picked on so much if you ignored him.”

“It doesn't matter what I do, they'll always find a reason to bully me. Flash is just looking for a target.”

"Just make sure to take plenty of pictures," Mr. Summers sighed, and walked off.

Harry caught the direction of Peter’s gaze. “Still thinking about MJ, huh? Maybe it's time to consider other options, Peter.”

“You're suggesting that I set my sights lower.”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, yeah, something like that.”

Peter was outraged. “Do you know that change is on the horizon? In a few years, girls will flock to the herds and leave the jocks behind.”

Having said his piece, Peter raised his camera to his face and started taking pictures.

Harry stepped into the frame. “Hey, I'm sorry, alright? Want me to take care of Flash for you so you can have a better chance with MJ?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe we could get his dad fired, or have his house repossessed. Or hire some thugs to put him in the hospital. You know, simple stuff.” 

“You know you're my best friend, right? But sometimes your ruthless side is a bit unnerving.”

Harry grinned. “I guess I get that from my old man.”

Peter moved through the room as he took more pictures. The scientist, Dr. Martinez, gestured animatedly as she explained the research on spiders they were conducting. Peter listened with only half an ear, his mind drifting as he absorbed the information he already knew so well.

He had been visiting Osborn Labs since he was a young boy, drawn to the world of science and research from a tender age. But there was another reason that kept bringing him back to this facility. Mary Parker, his mother, had been a scientist who worked in this very laboratory before her tragic passing. Peter had been just a child when she died, leaving behind a void in his life that could never be filled. Visiting Osborn Labs was his way of keeping her memory alive, of feeling closer to the woman who had meant everything to him.

His father had died as well, but he had not been as close to him. Not because he was bad, but because he was frequently absent. His police work kept him busy, and he would usually return late, when Harry was already asleep. Nonetheless, the times when he was there for him were all the more precious because they were few and far between. 

His Aunt May and Uncle Ben hadn’t revealed much about their deaths, other than the fact that they were involved in a violent conflict. He moved in with them after the funeral, and they did everything they could to provide a home for them.

As Dr. Martinez continued her lecture, Peter glanced at the rows of glass enclosures housing the genetically modified spiders. He frowned when he found one of them missing. When he pointed it out to Dr Martinez, she looked puzzled.

"They must have taken it away for further experimentation," Dr. Martinez reassured Peter.  Her voice rose to address the entire class. "Alright, feel free to explore the exhibits. Just remember, no touching."

Peter saw that MJ was lingering by the glass enclosure on her own, so he approached her.

“Can I take a photo for the school newspaper?” Peter asked, raising his camera.

"Sure, Peter," MJ said, turning around and posing for several photos. He smiled at her playful demeanour.

A sudden, sharp pain shot through Peter's hand, causing him to shake it. Examining his hand, he discovered two swollen bite marks. When he looked down, he saw a spider scurrying away on the carpet, before it disappeared under a table.

"Are you alright?" MJ asked, touching his arm with concern.

“I’m fine,” Peter said. "Thanks for posing for the photos."

"Happy to help," MJ replied, flashing a grin. "Who knows, this might be my big break into stardom."

“You can hire me as your official photographer when that happens,” Peter joked.

MJ was about to walk off but then hesitated. “I saw you and Flash fighting. I’m sorry about him.”

Peter frowned. “Don’t apologise for his bad behaviour. I’m at fault as well. I’ve got a bit of a mouth on me.”

“I noticed,” MJ smirked. "Just try to stay away from him."  He’s stressed out a lot about football. If he doesn’t receive a scholarship, he will be unable to attend college without taking out student loans.

“I feel really bad for him,” Peter said with a completely straight face.

"Sure, you do," MJ snorted, punching his arm and walking away.

Peter looked down at his hand. The spider bite continued to throb painfully. He didn’t know what species it was, but it sure could deliver a painful bite.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Peter awoke with a start, the morning sun casting a golden light through the window. His sleep had been restless, with feverish dreams of screams, evil laughter, and a flash of green light. As he lay there, he remembered the sickness that had gripped him the day before, leaving him feeling as though death was near. Now, he felt better than ever, as if he had never been sick in the first place.

Reaching for his glasses, Peter's heart lurched when he realised he could see perfectly without them. His bad eyesight had mysteriously vanished overnight.

“What the hell is going on?” He reached up to touch his face. All of a sudden, his bad eyesight, which had been plaguing him all his life, was now completely fine.

As he got out of bed and headed for the door, he noticed himself in the mirror's reflection. He paused and inspected his naked torso. Why did he suddenly develop a more defined chest and arms? Examining his wrists, he noticed strange markings on them, resembling a lightning pattern that seemed to pulse with energy.

As he touched the markings, a translucent blue string shot out from his wrist, striking the mirror and sticking to it. Peter took a few steps back, and his legs collided with the bed. He sat down and tried to understand what had just happened to him. He kept looking between the mirror and his wrists, wondering what strange substance had emerged from his body. It was certainly not something he had heard about before.

He raised his wrist tentatively and attempted to repeat the action. When nothing happened, he flicked his wrist. Another long string erupted from his wrist, flying across the room and sticking to the wall.

“Well now. This requires some experimentation.

So, what do you think? I’m going to give Plot Bunnies a break next week, as I have another project planned.

Thanks for reading.