A/N: Hey guys! I'm revising this entire story because I didn't like how it was turning out so far...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the Avengers, or anything Marvel related. Otherwise I'd be off sunbathing on some tropical island and not rotting away under the intense Arizona sun and suffering through the dullness that is school.

Jotenheim was a cold, ruthless place, Odin was sure of that fact.

Not just in the sense that the inhabitants were literally giants of coldness and frost; but in the fact that a family would willingly give up their children to die just because they were runts.

Now, Odin was many things, a leader, a warrior, but, more recently, he'd discovered the wonders of fatherhood with the birth of his firstborn, Thor. The blond haired, blue eyed baby had been kept a closely guarded secret, though, with the war with the Frost Giants, in order to ensure the protection of the Prince of Asgard. For three long years, Thor had been kept a secret, only allowed to wander the protected halls of his palace home; as a result of the ten year (and now completed) war with the Jotuns.

After defeating the previous leader, and ensuring a peace treaty with the new one, Laufey, Odin had continued onwards to one of the old temples at the edge of the frozen forest, too weary to yet call upon Heimdall to open the Bifrost. And there, much to his surprise, he'd found a blue skinned, red eyed baby boy, crying. Carefully, Odin scooped up the child in his arms and, much to his amazement, the blue skin turned pink.

"His body is filled with magic." Odin whirled around to observe another boy staring at him curiously, who appeared to be seven years of age, another runt. "Magic that I gifted him in order to survive."

"What do you mean?" The boy's red eyes lightened to two different colors; one emerald green and one the exact shade of liquid gold, and his skin became pale, his messy raven locks remaining in a long, black braid.

"Our father, Laufey, cast us both out upon our births, because we were unfit heirs. Runts. I was able to survive, because my magic nurtured me, and the frozen serpents would fetch me things and do my bidding. My little brother, Loki, however, did not possess such magic, so I gifted him a small thread from my reserves."

"What is your name, young one?" The boy paused for a second, before answering clearly.

"Harald."

"Did you decide that name for yourself?"

"...yes."

"You fancy yourself a king, then?" The boy shook his head gently.

"Of the serpents, maybe. But I'd much rather be an advisor than a leader. Always in the background, never seen, but always heard. That is the path that awaits me in the future."

"Wise words for one so young."

"Of course, Odin." The aesir straightened and observed the boy keenly with his remaining eye.

"Well, if you and Loki are to return with me to Asgard, you must call me father." Harald's eyes widened, and he smiled somewhat shyly at Odin.

"I'd like that very much, Father."

Three boys, all different ages, stood proudly in front of their father's throne, dressed in full Asgardian regalia - albeit much smaller, as they were still children. It was time for their naming ceremony, where it would be decided what they would be gods over; as was tradition with all Asgardians of nobility.

The youngest was Loki, who was ten, cloaked in green and gold. Then came Thor, thirteen, clothed in red and silver. Then came Harald, the oldest, at seventeen, already beginning to gain the appearance of a man, with blue and bronze clothing, his green eye and gold eye both shining.

"Citizens of Asgard," boomed Odin to the gathered crowd. "I give you Prince Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, Prince Thor, God of Thunder, and Prince Harald, God of Magic and Serpents." The eruption of applause was almost ear-wrenchingly loud, but Harald and Loki accepted it graciously. Thor, however, the arrogant boy he was, was basking in the attention and practically radiating an aura of superiority.

After the rather short - yet customary - ceremony, there was a celebratory banquet. Thor and Loki were already socializing - Loki a little grudgingly - and Harald found a moment to make his escape. He exited the ballroom to the courtyard, where he found a group of three young warriors in training, and their female friend, Sif.

"Hello." The four turned quickly, startled at having been found out, and they immediately bent onto one knee when they saw who had found them.

"Prince Harald," began the ginger. "We can explain-" Harald help up one hand, smiling.

"There's no need. I found it rather... stuffy inside the ballroom anyways. So, who are you?"

"I am Frandal the Dashing," said the blond haired, rather handsome boy, somewhat arrogantly. "My father is a member of the Asgardian court. The red-haired one is Volstagg the Voluminous, who's father is also in the court. The grim looking one is Hogan the Grim, a rather fitting name. Together we are the warriors three!"

"...who calls you that?" Frandal delated slightly, but then added.

"...well, no one yet. But they will, one day."

"And who is your friend?" The dark-haired young lady bristled slightly, but nodded respectfully at Harald.

"Lady Sif."

"Ah," said Harald, smiling. "Aspiring Goddess of War, yes? My father has spoken highly of your aspirations against stereotype." Sif blinked several times before a faint pink tinge overcame her cheeks and she graced Harald with a small smile, and the young prince could only marvel at her beauty.

"Many thanks, Prince Harald."

"Please, call me Harry."

"THOR! HOW IS IT THAT YOU ALWAYS GET US INTO THESE SORTS OF SITUATIONS?!" Prince Harald, now well past being a century old, but still keeping the appearance of a young man, maybe nineteen or twenty, was yelling at his boisterous, adventure-seeking, arrogant younger - adoptive, though no one but he, Odin, and Frigga were aware of that fact - brother as they ran from a mighty dragon.

"You know not the meaning of fun, brother," said Thor cheerfully as he threw Mjolnir at the beast. "Consider it as training."

"I actually agree with Harald for once!" shouted Sif, who was fighting alongside the Warriors Three. "You've lost your mind!"

"Be careful how you speak-" began Thor haughtily, but was cut off by Loki's yell of:

"LOOK OUT!" The dragon had swooped down and Harald, who had quickly pushed Sif and Thor out of the way. Using his magical scepter/staff, Harald made his way out of the dragon's claws and quickly scaled the beast's back. The dragon would prove to be a threat to all Asgardians. It was his duty as a prince of Asgard to keep his people safe, and, more importantly, his little brothers and Lady Sif, whom he knew he was deeply in love with, though he'd never quite had the courage to tell the feisty warrior.

Praying that his family would one day forgive him, he took control of the dragon and did the only thing he thought wise; he crashed the winged terror into the abyss, where both were lost in darkness forever.

As Asgard mourned the loss of their Prince, and the heir to the Asgardian throne, a beautiful baby boy was born to proud parents, Lily and James Potter, on that cold July evening on the thirty-first, in the year of 1480.

The boy would grow to become a formidable wizard, one day beating his nemesis, Voldemort. At age nineteen, his dormant memories were unleashed, and the newly discovered lost prince would seek endlessly to try and find a way back to Asgard, but could not take any of the easy ways, as they all believed him dead; and even Heimdall would believe him to be an impostor.

So, he plotted, and he waited, and watched as the magical population died out, and then, still trying his best to help others, he participated in the founding of SHIELD, all the while staying safely in the shadows, as he'd once told Odin was his destiny. He made the decisions, but allowed a more suitable leader to execute them.

After all, to everyone else, he was just Harry Potter.

But he knew that he was Prince Harald Odinson - formerly Laufeyson - and his destiny was much greater than anyone could ever understand.