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Summary: Random fragments of stories, some longer than others. I figured I'd share and maybe I'll continue some that people like. Mostly Buffy crossovers with some HP and other stuff as well.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > General > Ficlet Collections - OtherDireSquirrelFR151671,426312228,50220 Feb 1126 Feb 12No

You wouldn't like when I'm angry, Professor Snape

The Incredible Harry

Bruce Banner was in Surrey. England, that is. However, as was often the case, he had a rather large gap in his memory after he got... angry. It wasn't really a blank, so much as period of feelings, memories and emotions that were so jumbled, that they made little sense. Very similar to that first spring break in college, actually, but with less personal control. The last thing he remembered was kissing Betty Ross, and then her father, the Thunderbolt himself, burst in. And then, he got... angry.

How he got from Nevada to Surrey, he didn't know, and that was probably a good thing. However, he now found himself wearing an oversized pair of purple pants and holding a bleeding boy in his arms.

“Awe, geeze, kid!” he muttered as he frantically patched the kid up, using bits of his torn trousers as bandages. The kid had still lost way too much blood, though, so he started towards civilization. The first person he found was an old woman with a bunch of cats. Rushing up to her, he realized he must be a sight, with the bruises all over his body, his torn clothing and the boy's blood over the both of them.

“Ma’am! Please, he's bleeding,” Bruce pleaded. “Call the medics, the ambulance-someone. He needs help badly.”

“Oh my stars and garters!” She gasped. “That's little Harry Potter! Come in, come in!”

What happened next was something out of a poorly written fantasy novel. But it didn't matter 'til much later, because the memories were erased from poor Bruce's muggle mind. Someone had come out of a fireplace in green flames and waved a stick over the boy.

“He needs a blood replenishing potion, but some idiot undersecretary of Fudge's decided it was an unneeded expense and only gave us five for the month,” the healer said angrily. “I don't have time to brew one.”

Bruce couldn't believe he was going to suggest this. Especially after what happened to his cousin. But still... it was the only solution he could see. He raised his hand.

“Uh, I'm a universal donor,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“A blood transfusion: a little of mine, given to him,” Bruce Banner explained.

“How barbaric!”

“It's been used successfully for decades, lady,” Bruce growled. “Now do you want him to live or not?”

It was quickly decided that the Healer didn't want to be known as the one who let the Boy-Who-Lived die, so he did as suggested.



Five Years Later:

“Boy! Get the mail!”

Harry Potter, the poor nephew at 4 Privet Drive, dutifully picked up the day's mail. Oddly enough, there was a letter, written on parchment of all things, addressed to him, in his bedroom.

“Oi! The freak's got mail!” the small whale who was reputedly his cousin said, plucking it out of his hands.

Harry went stock still.

He held out his hand, palm up with a snap of motion.

“My letter, please,” Harry said firmly, but calmly.

Dudley, the previously mentioned small whale, glanced at his parents for confirmation. Petunia looked at her nephew's expression and nodded. Vernon turned a sickly shade of white at the expression Harry Potter wore.

“Yes, Duddikins, give the boy his letter,” Vernon said.

With a look of fear, Dudley placed the letter in Harry's hand. As soon as he opened it, Petunia Dursley glanced over his shoulder and put a hand to her heart with a sigh of relief.

“Oh, congratulations, boy,” she said with a smile so wide it looked like it was going to wrap around her head. “Vernon, isn't it great? He'll be going to a boarding school hundreds of miles away.”

Vernon nodded like a bobble head on the dashboard of a '74 Chevy Custom Deluxe on a road made of 90% potholes.

“I will?” Harry asked.

“Don't you want to go to the school your parents attended? I think it would be a great opportunity for you,” she said in a voice so sweet, it had to be artificial.

“Oh, I suppose,” Harry said.

“That's wonderful, boy,” she said. “Why, I think today's a great day for you to go to London and get your things, don't you agree Vernon? Then you can stay and learn all about the culture until you have to go to school.”

Vernon repeated his bobble head action.



Weeks later, Harry arrived at Station 9 ¾ with a redheaded clan. Once inside, Harry and a boy named Ron chatted and made friends and a bushy haired girl named Hermione came in as well. She was a little bossy, but Harry liked her well enough. Then the loudmouth blond and his goons burst in and almost started a fight with Ron.

“Ron, stop,” Harry said. “He's just trying to get you riled up.”

“I'm not going to let him get away with talking about my family like that!” the redheaded boy said.

“Don't sink to his level,” Harry said calmly. “I already know you're better than him.”

“Why you-” Malfoy snarled before Harry cut him off.

“And you're just getting upset because you don't get your way,” Harry summed up astutely. “There's no need to be such a jerk. So, please, just go away.”

Malfoy stormed out of the cabin with his goons following closely.

“Wow,” Ron said. “You really put him in his place!”

“See?” Harry said. “I told you there wasn't any need to get angry.”

“You proved to be the better man,” Hermione said with an approving smile. In some ways, she felt like she was looking at an equal.



“I can't believe you let Snape talk to you like that!” Ron demanded, days later as they exited their Potions class.

“He's just a bully,” Harry said with an unconcerned shrug. The first year was quickly getting a reputation as the straight man, with an unbreakable mask. He was almost impossible to get angry and, believe you me, the Twins had tried. “There's no need to get upset with someone who's so petty. It just means they hate themselves.”

“I dunno, mate, he seems to keep the hate on you,” Ron pointed out.

“If he keeps it up, I'll talk with him.”



Halloween

“Troll in the dungeon,” Quirrell said. “Thought you'd like to know,” he noted before collapsing to the floor of the Great Hall.

Soon after, Harry realized that Ron's idiotic comments had sent his other housemate crying from the Charms room and she hadn't been back. After some quick investigation, Harry discovered she'd been in the loo all day, bawling her eyes out.

However, instead of finding her alone, and the quick rescue he anticipated, Harry found a troll doing its level best to make Hermione-Paste.

That made him a little angry.



Hermione ducked another blow of the club and scampered to the side to avoid the next blow. This particular blow never came. Instead, she looked up to see the troll cowering in fear at the hulking green shape wearing spectacles and purple pants in the doorway. On his forehead was a distinctive lightning bolt scar.

“Stupid troll make Harry mad,” the green person said loudly, clenching his fists. “Harry smash puny troll!”

What Hermione witnessed was a horrific sight, not suitable for children of any age due to the pure savagery involved, but needless to say, the troll was no longer a problem. Then, as if to punctuate its statement, the Harry creature bashed the creature's head in the with club for a final blow.

Everything was rather still after that until Harry shrunk and passed out.



Three days later:

“Professor! Professor Snape?” Harry called out politely.

The professor in question sighed and turned around.

“What is it, Potter?”

It was amazing how the man could make Harry's last name seem like the greatest insult in the world.

“It's just...” Harry paused a moment as he sought the right words.

“Well, spit it out!”

“Sir, it's your attitude,” Harry said bluntly.

“My what?” the greasy haired professor snarled.

“Your attitude sir; you're trying to make me angry,” Harry explained. “I don't know why, but you are. And what's worse, I haven't even done anything to make you hate me. It just doesn't make sense.”

“What is the point, Potter?”

“Well, sir, you're trying to make me angry,” Harry repeated.

“And the point is?”

“It's working sir,” Harry said, “but you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.”



The rest of the year passed with little incident until a small altercation with Professor Quirrell and his buddy Tom. The events passed much as one would expect, with Harry, Hermione and Ron making their way through a maze of troubles and tasks until there was only Harry left up against Quirrell alone.

The two exchanged the usual pre-fight banter, but it wasn't until Quirrell's close personal friend, Tom showed up that things got heated. There were comments made that couldn't be unsaid. Tom quickly learned that while he might have been one of the darkest wizards in history, Harry Is Strongest One There Is.

When Tom decide that fleeing was a good choice, Harry felt his anger leave him with a broken professor's body that quickly turned to dust. Harry felt an odd object in his pocket, glanced at the Philosopher's Stone, shrugged and walked back to where Hermione was waiting.

Dumbledore assumed the stone was destroyed in the attack that shattered the mirror, but Harry managed to get the stone back to it's proper owners who decided that a certain Dr. Strange might be a better defender of the stone. Rumor had it, that they used the elixir of life to de-age themselves and had joined the New York swinger scene.

The next year was similarly uneventful, save for an incident with a large snake. The diary version of Tom Riddle had the unique experienced of being bludgeoned by his own basilisk by a green behemoth. The basilisk was quite willing to do whatever Harry requested from that point on. A little nibble and the Diary of Tom Riddle was a magicless husk. The large snake would later discover the force of will to throw off any compulsion Voldemort could place on it, as there was someone more scary and powerful than any Dark Lord.

From its perch high in the Chamber of Secrets, Fawks let out a trill that could only be translated as: “Daaaaaaamn kid!”

Neither Hermione nor Ginny said anything about what they witnessed. In fact, Ginny had rationalized the green creature as something totally different and the adults had assumed it was a hallucination involved in her possession by Tommy.

Hermione, on the other hand, was a muggleborn. She had recognized the special tinge of green Harry's skin had acquired. It wasn't grass green. It wasn't Slytherin green. It wasn't even killing curse green. No, it was Hulk Green. Realizing that the American military would have been all over her friend if she spilled the beans, kept his secret, even from him.

Third year was different.

It's a common misconception that Anger is the only emotion that can promote the change. In certain cases, other strong emotions can have a similar effect. One of those is debilitating fear.

While most humans have a weakened fight/flight instinct, those with a bit of gamma poisoning have a slightly different reaction. If anything, they're fight/flight instinct is heightened and must be suppressed by force of will.

When the Dementors came onto the train at the start of third year, Harry's inner self reacted negatively to the stimuli applied by the dementors' auras. Harry had enough time to claim he was headed to the loo before the change came over him.

The change is a slightly unique experience for every Hulk. Bruce Banner feels the world and his control slip away and things get muddled. His attention focuses on threats and the elimination of said threats. For Jennifer Walters, she feels more relaxed and her inhibitions tend to take a back seat, even if she is still mostly in control of She-Hulk. The differences are enough that both Jenn and She-Hulk frequently refer to each other as different people. For Emil Blonsky, the change into the Abomination was all about an embracing of power. Harry was slightly different as well, having more power in a small body than any of his gamma radiated predecessors. Logic would suggest that magic and science are antithetical, but that is far from the truth. In fact, they blend well together. Some would say that Magic is just another form of energy.

When Harry becomes the Hulk, or Angry Harry, as he refers to his other form, he taps into that magical power and expands exponentially, but unlike the other Hulks, Harry only responds to opponents with equal power. Still, Angry Harry does the things that the real Harry would only keep to himself. Angry Harry is Id personified.

Dementors are supposed to be fear personified.

So when Harry rushed into the hallway when the trains stopped, he came almost face to face with the hooded creatures. His darkest memories came to the forefront. The first time he transformed. His treatment by his family before then. And then a woman's voice with a flash of green light.

Remus Lupin jumped up from his seat and sent out his patronus only to find the dementor's already fleeing. The train shook with the heavy pounding of footsteps. The new professor was just able to step back into the cabin as a green giant that looked anything but jolly grabbed a dementor and promply smashed it with a bare fist.

That shouldn't be possible.

Then it grabbed another and crushed its skull in one hand. The dementor flopped to the ground. The green creature seemed to know where the next one was and continued on. Remus gaped as the dementor population saw its first sharp decrease in recent history.

When the train was cleared, the hulking creature ripped open the roof and started taking care of the others.

Remus had seen monsters in his life, many times in fact. He was his own greatest fear. But there was something about the creature's voice that sent shivers down his spine.

It wasn't a yell or a bellow, more like a growl that echoed out from its chest. Remus was too far away to make out all the words, but it seemed to be calling out a challenge. “Puny floaters? Wait, that can't be right,” Remus muttered to himself.

When the last feeling of dread and depression fled, a small boy fell back into the hole the creature made.

“Harry?” Remus whispered. The boy was unconscious, but seemed otherwise unharmed. The werewolf professor put a small sliver of chocolate in the boy's mouth just in case. "Where did he get purple trousers?"

Hermione Granger was beside them with a new set of robes almost before he was done. The third year looked at her new professor with a glare worthy of any headmistress. “Not a word,” she said, acting as if she was the professor and he was the student. “He doesn't know we know, and we're the only ones who do. Not-a-word.”



Possible ways to continue:

Harry goes back and completes Hogwarts

Harry kicks some ministry ass when Fudge sends Hagrid to Azkaban.

Harry practices meditation to keep away “angry Harry”

Dumbledore decides it was the power that Tommy knows not.

HARRY SMASH STUPID SNAKE BOY! STUPID SNAKE BOY MAKE HARRY MAD!



Year Three and the encounter with the Dementors, however, would definitely be different, and Year Four and the First Task of the Tournament would most certainly go in a completely different direction. ;-) He could probably get away with smacking the dragon around to get his egg, at least as far as the Ministry is concerned, since Harry could quite believably claim that his alter ego was a variant of his animagus form. Hermione, however, would definitely give him hell for picking on the poor benighted creature. ;-)




And what sort of body would Tom get from using the 'blood of the enemy' used to create his new body? He's already got an impulse control problem, as it is. ;-)

I don't own Hulk or Harry Potter, Marvel and JKR do. Thanks GreyWizard for your help with this one.
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