Chapter 414 - My CO Stash #14 - A Broader World by Cambrian (HarryPotterXMulticross) (1/2)

-I was letting this fic stack up like every Enemy Nasus i've played against and now there's 6 days left before NNN/

Synopsis: After the disastrous battle at the Watchtower, Galatea falls back to Earth, electrocuted and burning up upon re-entry. She just so happens to land in Harry's backyard. From there, everything changes.

Rated: M

Words: 41K

Posted on: forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/a-broader-world-harry-potter-dc.12889/ (Cambrian)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics/originals mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1

It had all been going so well, too. The Justice League had fully discovered the extent of what Project Cadmus was up to, and sure that was bad… but then they'd been stupid enough to fire the Watchtower's main weapon down at Cadmus' headquarters. The Binary Fusion Generator had been likened to a gun with the punch of a small nuclear weapon, once upon a time.

A clearer act of war, Galatea couldn't tell you. In retaliation for that attack, Galatea had been tasked with bringing down the Watchtower once and for all. The Justice League had gone too far after all, and with an army of Ultimen clones at her command, it really seemed like she'd be able to do it. Not that Galatea really cared all that much about all of that.

Oh sure, she was certainly willing to do her job and destroy the Watchtower's reactor as the Ultimen army distracted the rest of the League. But that was just business. The chance to finally kill her counterpart, that bitch Supergirl… that was what Galatea was really on the look out for. So, when she'd been confronted by Supergirl and Steel before she could blow the reactor, Galatea hadn't been all that put out. She was finally getting the fight she'd been waiting for.

Which was why it was so damn irritating when Amanda Waller had distracted her in the middle of the fight with a damnable recall order. The leader of Cadmus had a lot to say about how apparently Lex Luthor of all people had been manipulating both sides or something from the beginning, and that the attack by the League wasn't actually a legitimate attack at all, and that they no longer had a leg to stand on legally or something like that.

Galatea personally felt that was a load of horse-shit. Legally, they'd never truly had a leg to stand on. And frankly, the reason Hamilton had made her in the first place was to deal with metahumans that couldn't be controlled. But more than anything, the reason Galatea disobeyed Waller's direct order and ultimately destroyed her comms was simple… she wanted Supergirl dead, once and for all.

She was sick and tired of living two lives, of feeling that damnable goody two-shoes moral conscience all the time. This was her chance to finally put an end to it, once and for all. There was only room for one of them in this world, and as the more mature, more powerful version of Kara Zor-El, who knew what needed to be done and was willing to do it… Galatea more than believed she deserved to exist over Supergirl.

Which was why it really wasn't fair, how everything ended. As the power coupling slams into Galatea's stomach, the Argoan Clone seizes up, the electricity coursing through it causing her eyes to widen and her entire body to convulse violently. It takes a LOT of energy to properly electrocute an Argoan… but then, having said power coupling hooked into the very same reactor that she'd come to destroy would certainly do it.

However, it would seem she's rubbed off on Supergirl almost as much as the original has been rubbing off on her. The violence in the physically younger Argoan's eyes is a sight to behold as she follows up the electrocution that's already leaving Galatea twitching and near-catatonic with a direct kick right between the more developed Argoan's b.r.e.a.s.ts.

Galatea flies out of the Watchtower, her fried senses belatedly recognizing that she's in space for the moment it takes Kara to follow her out and deliver a punch to her body that sends her spiraling down. Now, space doesn't really have directions… unless, of course, there's a planet-sized gravity well under you. Galatea can feel the precise moment that Earth's gravity well catches her, and she begins to fall faster than just Kara's blow could send her.

She can't stop her descent, her body is unresponsive, her mind trapped within it. In the end, all the Argoan Clone can do is burn, burn, burn all the way down as she re-enters Earth's atmosphere and falls like a shooting star.

This was it; it would seem. This was how she died. She had many, many regrets of course, and if she could have, she would have been screaming in rage, all the way down. As it was, her jaw had locked up back during the electrocution and she could no more scream than she could fly. All she could do, in the end, was mentally brace for impact, as physically her battered, electrocuted body burnt up from sheer velocity, her costume gone in moments.

She hits the ground a moment later.

-x-X-x-

The explosion of dirt and rock from not too far away startles Harry quite badly. His head comes up from where he'd been sitting alone shortly after Dumbledore's funeral. Everyone else was long gone by this point, respecting his wishes to be alone for a time. Of course, that time had turned into over an hour by this point, hadn't it?

But perhaps that was for the best. Pulling his shrunken broom from his pocket, Harry unshrinks the flying implement and quickly hops on, hurrying over to where the plume of dirt and smoke is just beginning to settle down. There, on the far edge of the Black Lake, is a crater. Just close enough to the Lake to have caused some leakage, Harry arrives just in time to witness the waters beginning to fill the bottom of the crater… where a severely burned young woman is laid out, twitching and convulsing.

Emerald-Green eyes widening even further, Harry hurries down as fast as he can. He doesn't dare touch the woman, not when she's so covered in burns, but he also can't leave her there for any longer as more and more water puddles around her, threatening to drown her if he doesn't intervene. It takes him three times to successfully cast the levitating charm on her, but once he does, Harry lifts her up into the air, even as he himself ascends again on his broom.

Then, he hesitates. Instinctually, he'd turned towards Hogwarts and the castle's well-stocked hospital wing. Madame Pomphrey would have the supplies to help this young woman, he hoped, and if she didn't, she would have the expertise to know that the woman was better off at St. Mungo's. Except… Harry knew nothing about the woman. He didn't know if she was magical or not… and just by having him bring her in, she would end up associated with him by default.

It's a startling realization, that he really can't trust anyone anymore. With Dumbledore dead and gone, with everything that happened that night in the tower… no one is trustworthy. Everyone could be a traitor. By taking this stranger to the hospital wing, he might cause more harm than good to her. She… she was better off with him, flying under the radar for now.

Now, this definitely wasn't the most logical, rational course of action. Harry was undeniably lying to himself, at least a little. While it certainly wouldn't be good for Galatea to enter the Wizarding World at the moment with how it currently was and how she currently was, at the end of the day, the real reason that Harry hesitated and ultimately decided against taking her to the Hospital Wing… was that he was being selfish. He needed someone, something to take care of, he needed something to take his mind off of Dumbledore's death and all the responsibility that left squarely on his shoulders. The young wizard needed a distraction, and Galatea was it.

Of course, given all that we know about young Harry Potter's life, it's doubtful that many would blame him for his decision to be a little selfish, just this once. Especially given how it would all turn out for the best anyways.

-x-X-x-

Instead of taking the stranger to the Hospital Wing, Harry relocates her to the Shrieking Shack instead. Perhaps not the most sanitary place for a burn victim under normal circ.u.mstances, but where magic is concerned, nothing is ever normal. Harry cleans up the place, transfigures up a proper bed just like the ones that they had in the Hospital Wing (he should know, he's spent more than enough time in them) and gently lowers her down onto it.

The next few hours are spent doing his level best to clean the strange young woman up with just his magic. He manages to get the little remnants of melted clothing off of her equally melted flesh, as well as cleans her now bald-head of any remnants of blonde hair that have melted in there as well. It was… it was like she'd fallen from outer space if Harry was being honest.

But that was impossible, right? It certainly seemed like it. In the end, he sets her origins aside and focuses on the task of trying to save her life. She still breathes, that much at least Harry can tell. It's crazy, that she's still clinging to life, but as long as she's going to fight for it, Harry is willing to fight for her.

That's why he only hesitates for about as long as it takes to clear the remnants of her melted costume and hair from her burnt body before he sneaks into Hogwarts, and more specifically the Hospital Wing, and begins smuggling medical supplies back to the Shack. It's… honestly kind of bad that he actually knows something of what he's doing.

After so many close calls with death over the years, he's quite capable when it comes to treating the strange woman's injuries. She's positively covered in third degree burns, with a large fourth degree burn centered around her stomach that… just makes Harry wonder how she's even still breathing. And yet, she is, so he keeps working.

There's also the broken bones to contend with as well. Harry goes through a lot of supplies as hours turn into days, and days turn into weeks. He steals from the Hospital Wing liberally, not even caring if he gets caught, except so far as it might keep him away from his patient for too damn long. He sneaks and skulks around, but it's all fine, no one ever sees him, no one ever stops him.

Weeks don't get a chance to turn into months, surprisingly enough. Harry has to admit, he's completely shocked by just how quickly the strange blonde's body takes to recovery. By the end of the first week, a lot of the burns are completely healed, and so are the broken bones. Much of this is thanks to magical healing of course… but what's odd is how fast the woman's hair grows back in.

It's almost like she has some sort of healing factor of her own, and all she needed was a bit of magical help to kickstart it. Harry has no clue at that time how right on the money he truly is with that. Because that's exactly what's happened. Galatea's Argoan physique is what's rapidly repairing her body now that Harry's magic has completely the first dozen or so steps. With magic doing the heavy lifting, it's child's play for the Argoan to do the rest.

The only reason it takes as long as it does is because Harry has no idea how important sunlight is to Galatea or her kind. At the same time, he quite values staying out of sight and keeping her away from prying eyes. As a result, Galatea is not once exposed to the yellow sun that would have helped a bit more. But in the end, she doesn't need it. Magic does the hard part; she does the rest.

However, even as her physical recovery is truly miraculous, Harry is disappointed to find that the gorgeous stranger doesn't wake up. Her mental recovery takes a lot longer, and even though she's mostly healed by halfway through the week two, it's not until the end of week three that Harry gets quite the surprise.

-x-X-x-

Stepping into the Shrieking Shack, more specifically into the room where his patient is still comatose, Harry is almost feeling cheerful. He opens his mouth, intending to call out to sleeping beauty and start telling her about his day as he's done a dozen times before, but he never gets the opportunity. As it turns out, his patient is no longer comatose, and is instead very active indeed.

Harry discovers this when the gorgeous, irate, and entirely n.a.k.e.d blonde grabs him by his shirt collar and lifts him up, pinning him against the bedroom wall and glaring him dead in the eye.

”You! Who are you?! Where am I?!”

Maybe it's the fact that he's faced down death too often to genuinely care about it at this point, maybe it's just his saving people's thing prompting him to treat her with kid gloves. Either way, Harry doesn't get scared. He doesn't stammer or stutter, even as he hangs there against the wall, not of his own power. Is… is she flying? That's bloody wicked…

”My name is Harry Potter. You're in the Shrieking Shack. I brought you here to hide you from those who would do you harm and to heal your wounds.”

Taken aback by his surprisingly calm demeanor and overall gentle attitude, the blonde just stares at him for a long moment. Harry has no way of reading her mind of course, he's not a Legilimens by any stretch of the imagination, but all in all, Galatea is… confused. More than confused, she's bemused by her survival. There was really no reason she should have lived following her fall, and even if she had lived, there was no reason she should have ever woken up again, thinking about it.

”How? How did you heal me?”

It wasn't like Earth's medicine was exactly equipped to deal with Argoan physiology. The only places where Galatea could have truly sought medical attention would have been Cadmus or the Watchtower, with perhaps a couple of others in between. She was clearly not in either of those places, judging by the worn down wooden walls surrounding her. He'd called this place the Shrieking Shack of all things…

”Well… I suppose there's no point in beating around the bush, is there? I used magic to heal your wounds.”

Galatea blinks at that, considering the young man in front of her for a long moment. And he is young, perhaps a year or two away from a.d.u.l.thood by the commonly accepted human definition of the word, if she had to guess. With messy black hair and almost ethereal green eyes, he was staring back at her from behind a pair of wide, round-rim glasses. He didn't look afraid, he didn't look worried… he looked concerned, for her.

Very belatedly, Galatea realizes she's n.a.k.e.d. She reins in her immediate reaction to that in favor of giving the young man she's pinning to the wall a death glare.

”Why am I n.a.k.e.d?”

The reminder causes his eyes to dart downward for all of half a second before he pulls them back up through sheer force of will. It's no surprise, Galatea is quite aware of how beautiful she is, ever since Cadmus artificially aged her up to the point of full Argoan maturity. It had given her a distinct physical advantage in that last fight against Supergirl, but in the end the little bitch had managed to take her by surprise and win anyways, as irritating as that was.

”Well, you… started out that way?”

Galatea lifts an eyebrow at that. He'd been so calm and collected before, when she was just threatening his life. But now, with them moving on to her state of nudity, he gets all fl.u.s.tered? Taking her raised brow to mean something else, the young man quickly hurries on.

”I d-didn't want to, um, p-presume or anything, so once you were healed, I just pulled a sheet up over your body! T-To preserve your modesty while you recovered!”

Curious, Galatea looks back at the bed she'd evacuated with all the fury and confusion of near-death and not knowing where she was. There is indeed a sheet there, all messed up now, that likely covered her body when she first woke up. In the midst of looking back, the gorgeous Argoan woman ends up bumping her hip into her savior's crotch… and just so happens to brush against the admittedly impressive package there.

Whipping back around, Galatea looks down between them, past her sizable chest and down to where the young man's bulge is steadily growing, developing an outline in his jeans. Experimentally, not having any of the cares about personal space or boundaries or morals that he seemed to have, Galatea reaches out and fondles his package, groping and squeezing it experimentally as she hums to herself.

Harry blushes profusely, of course, especially when she looks up at him after a moment and gives him a wicked, knowing grin while continuing to play with the goods.

”Tell me more about this Shrieking Shack and your magic, please.”

”U-Um, I'd be glad to… but could you please s-stop groping my junk?”