Upon His Mountain - Moon Knight x Harry Potter Story

Chapter 1

"My previous avatars were all males."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly agree to this."

"And that was not a complaint."

Harry hums, doing here best to ignore the presence that's currently leaning over her shoulder, inspecting the thirty-fourth and thirty-fifth pages of the newspaper that's balanced precariously on the railing. Something about a new exhibit at the National Art Gallery coming in the next few days; she's well aware she won't be getting out of not going to see it. Not in her current company.

"I know. I'm just a little nervous. I've never been to this side of London on my own before."

That has the man sitting on the seat in front of where she's standing turning around to offers her a smile, one Harry gingerly returned, adjusting how the mobile phone that resides in her hand currently rests against her ear. Not that it matters; she's hardly on a phone call. But it is a fantastic way to speak to the god that has been haunting her every moment for the entirety of her waking memory without everyone in the immediate vicinity believing she's losing her fucking marbles. She's had enough of that kind of judgement to last a lifetime already. Everyone just assumes she's having a conversation with an actual person now thanks to this wonderful bit of kit.

"You are my first magical avatar sine the fall of Egypt's glory days. I do not expect you to spend your days outside of the magical world."

"Yeah well, if it was a bit more welcoming, maybe I'd have stayed, you know? I don't really wanna stick around when they just want the legend, not the actual person." Because that's all the wizarding world is now; a faceless, formless clump of people who are all fixated on the woman who conquered, who idolise the girl who lived. So very few people bother to ask what Hariel Potter wants out of life. It's been a long time coming, but it's time to head somewhere that nobody knows her face.

"It has taken you three decades to begin truly researching Ancient Egypt."

As the bus takes the street corner just a little too fast, Harry tightens her hold on the hanging handle, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She makes a show of nearly dropping her phone, fumbling for the stupid thing before panting it back next to her ear. The newspaper that another passenger had left behind goes tumbling into the walkway and is quickly snatched up by the black Labrador that had previously been laid at its owner's feet. The man's too busy nattering into his own phone to take note of his pet shredding yesterday's news.

"Sorry-" she only half means it. "Besides, I did look into it. Just...not as thoroughly as you'd like." Now beside her, Anubis raises one of his eyebrows, his dark eyes reflecting the afternoon sunshine to take on the appearance of freshly drawn blood. He's half hunched over in order to fit in the bus correctly, though phasing through the ceiling isn't beyond him. It's certainly disconcerting to look at though.

"Because it was your mother that called me, and you did not wish to unravel her legacy."

"Because it was my mum's thing," Harry agrees softly, lifting her gaze to stare out the window, not at anything in particular but rather to just appreciate the blur of muggle buildings passing them by.

There's not one person alive other than Harry who knows exactly how she survived the killing curse that first time, never mind the second attempt from Voldemort. Quite simply, if the Lord of the Sacred Land doesn't wish for his avatar to pass on, then they damn well wont. Because that's ultimately what the killing curse does; sends a soul onto the pure land, to the field of reeds, to the great heavens – whatever it is a person believes in. Everyone except Harry, who can refuse to have that one-way ticket punched simply because the ticket master is religiously hanging over her shoulder.