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Harry Potter and the Invincible Technomage
Prisoner of the Light.
A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the Marvel Comics Characters mentioned herein. But you knew that.
Harry Potter and The Invincible TechnoMage
Chapter Seven – Prisoner of the Light.
December 3 1985:
The Baxter Building
NYC New York.
“Well Tony, it wasn’t easy, but this is what is frying your systems.” The man in the blue body suit and lab coat reached quite literally across the room and handed Stark a file then retracted his arm back to a more human length. “It took forever to isolate, but this is the energy he generates when he’s accessing his magic, intentionally or otherwise.”
Stark skimmed through the charts and readouts in the file. “High energy, broad spectrum, propagation rate…” He looked up shocked. “Is this propagation rate right Reed?”
“I checked five times. The energy field propagates instantaneously. I could find no delay within the detection range of my instruments. FTL. It just IS. It isn’t the magic it’s self. This is more of a ‘carrier field’ that allows the magic to function within it.” Reed Richards ran his hand through his hair. “There must be a way to shield for this.”
“Shield for it? That’ll be a bitch, just look at the energy out put. Harry does this biologically?”
“Yes, and he’s completely unconscious of it. He puts as much of his mind to generating this field as you do to digesting your dinner. It is the carrier is disrupting your systems, not the actual magic. His energy reserves for the actual doing of his magic are fairly limited. I assume that they will grow with him; the carrier on the other hand doesn’t seem to be limited. There does seem to be an emotional component to the carrier though. When he and Franklin were playing yesterday I managed to maintain the scans on him for 9 hours. The carrier was present and at what I assume to be its full strength the entire time with two notable exceptions. The first appeared when he assisted Franklin in his chores, which yesterday was to clean his bathroom.”
“Harry over did it didn’t he?” Stark smiled grimly.
“Yes. What Sue considers cleaning his bathroom means she expected Franklin to empty his trash can, clean the sink, hang up his towel, and sweep the floor, and that’s all Franklin intended to do. Harry insisted that it wasn’t good enough. When he was done an hour later, the bath was spotless. Sue will be the first to tell you she has never cleaned the room that thoroughly, hell the robots I built to maintain the building don’t clean that thoroughly. Harry’s carrier dropped off to levels below what my instruments could detect as soon as he began the chore, and didn’t come back until Sue assured him that he had done the job properly. I suspect that at some point the boy has been abused.”
“That is a likely. In the accident that killed his guardians, he was frightened and looked to his Aunt for comfort. He got backhanded for his trouble.”
“They’re dead then? Good.” Richards had seen a lot of what was generally considered ‘evil’ but to lay hands on a child… unforgivable. “The other time the carrier was reduced was when he and Franklin took a nap. I think the nap was more for Susan’s benefit than the boys, but as soon as they settled down, both of them, Harry’s readings indicated that the field collapsed into his body until my instruments could barely detect it. In short there is a constant field around him, in intensifies in response to his emotions, and fades when he seemingly responds to certain conditioned commands, to the point that when he is responding to that conditioning his magic is even more restrained than when he is asleep.”
“Wonderful. Well with this data I can at least start looking for a way to try and shield for it, I mean unless…”
“I know that look Tony, what are you thinking about?”
Tony Stark was paging through the data looking for the graphs that depicted the energy through put of his adopted son’s magical carrier field. “Look at this Reed. Look at the amount of energy this field carries.”
“Yeah, I saw that, the energy levels alone will make it a bear to shield for”
“But what if you were to use the energy of the field as a power source?”
Reed Richards AKA Mr. Fantastic was shocked. He then moved to his computers, and started typing commanding the systems to run simulation after simulation. “Ok, see now this is why I do theoretical work and live off my patents and you purchase patent rights and produce things and are a billionaire. That never occurred to me. Using the energy field as a power source, that’s just brilliant.”
“Happy New Year Albus.”
“Thank you for seeing me Cornelius. How is the new year treating you?” The headmaster eschewed the hard backed chairs of the Minister for Magic’s office and conjured a plush chintz chair that he sat upon, arranging his robes for maximum effect.
“Oh fine Albus, just fine. What can I do for the Chief Mugwump today?” What did the old fool want?
“I’m here to discuss Harry Potter.”
“Yes, I heard he had come to Hogwarts. What in particular did you want to discuss?”
“Cornelius, as you know, the boy was placed with his mother’s sister and her family after the fall of the Dark Lord. In 1985 young Potter accompanied his family on a business trip to the United States. While there they were involved in some sort of Muggle accident and were killed.”
“Killed you say?” Fudge sat up in his chair, suddenly alert. “Potter was orphaned again?”
“Yes. He was adopted by an American industrialist named Stark. Young Harry is rather taken with the man.” Time to set the hook. “The lad has suggested that he may be giving up his British citizenship in order to become an American.”
“Harry Potter is planning to abandon Britain?”
“At what I suspect might be the urging of his adopted father.”
“We can’t be having that. Why was a wizard, especially Harry Potter allowed to be adopted by a Yank Muggle?”
“I don’t know, Harry accompanied them on a business trip and disappeared. It seems that the Americans never notified us of their deaths.” Perfect. Fudge was buying it hook line and sinker.
Harry returned to his dorm from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. Where was his Techsuit? Where was his trunk? The Techsuit had been laid out on his bed, the trunk at the foot of the bed.
Harry opened the wardrobe to see if some joker had hidden his things from him. It WAS April 1st after all, perhaps he had offended the wrong person. Hogwarts managed to generate some ingenious practical jokers. Being in Ravenclaw protected him (somewhat) from the Weasley Twins (who were the acknowledged Kings of Chaos in the school), but the ‘claws themselves had a joker or two.
The wardrobe held his robes and other clothing, and nothing more. Every piece of Stark-tech electronics was gone.
Penny Clearwater was the first Prefect Harry found. He reported his missing property to her. She led him to Professor Flitwick’s office to report the possible theft.
“Thank you Miss Clearwater. I will deal with this.” The small man waited until the 5th year had exited his office, and then turned to his first year Ravenclaw. “I’m sorry Mr. Stark, but the Headmaster had the House Elves confiscate your things. They have been declared contraband.”
“So, rather than asking me to turn them in, or allowing me to send them home, he just took them? In most civilized societies that is called theft.”
“I cannot say I disagree Mr. Stark. Unfortunately there is little I can do about it.” Harry’s Head of House looked more than a little embarrassed. “I’m afraid that this is just the start Harry. I have heard some disturbing things recently. When you have been teaching as long as I have one develops a network of former students who tell their old teacher things. There is a move afoot to attempt to nullify your adoption on the grounds that a Muggle should never have been allowed to adopt a Wizard.”
“I see. So the confiscation of my tech is designed to prevent me from communicating with my father?”
Filius was shocked. He had expected an explosion. The boy was clearly angry, but controlled. “I believe so, yes.”
“Do they know who they are antagonizing? Are they aware of the resources my father can marshal against them?”
“I rather doubt it.” He smiled grimly. “There is an institutional blindness to the Muggle world in our government, and for all of his intelligence the Headmaster is not immune. For the most part they seem to believe that the Muggles are still, well, easily cowed.” The older man shook his head. “Nothing good can come from this Harry. The Headmaster has modified the wards to prevent your leaving the castle grounds. I don’t know how long it will be before…”
“Thank you for your honesty Professor.” The boy’s face clouded for a moment, then calm reasserted it’s self. “Might I request an audience with the Warden… Excuse me, with the Headmaster?”
“I will relay your request Mr. Stark.”
“Thank you again Professor, I feel I should warn you I will probably be costing the Ravenclaws house points. I feel a rash of civil disobedience coming on.”
It took a week for the Great and Powerful Dumbledore to meet with Harry. Filius Flitwick was deeply conflicted. His competitive nature hated each point that young Stark was costing the house (thought he had to admit, the Ravenclaws themselves were dealing with it in an unusual show of solidarity. Harry had explained what he was doing and why he was doing it. His House was rallying around a member they viewed as wronged.) On the other hand, Albus was wrong.
Since the confiscation of his things, Stark hadn’t attended a single class. Detentions were assigned, and ignored. Well, not truly ignored. In each case Harry had forwarded a note to the teacher in question explaining that as far as he was concerned he was no longer a student, but a prisoner. As such he saw no obligation to abide by the rules of the Warden.
Worse, the boy had taken to spending his now copious free time fulfilling his promise of ‘civil disobedience’. If there was a place to be that would inconvenience the Headmaster, Stark was there. He has spent a day in the kitchens with the house elves and at dinner all the food was orange in a way that strangely excited the youngest Weasley over in Gryffindor. He did nothing destructive, nothing disruptive, but made sure that he annoyed the Headmaster at every opportunity.
Now Filius found himself sitting in the Headmaster’s office waiting for the boy to report for the meeting he had requested. There was a knock at the door.
“Enter.” Albus intoned in his best Superior Headmaster voice.
The door opened to reveal Harry Stark.
“Come in Harry. Take a seat.”
Sitting, the boy nodded to acknowledge his head of house. “Good morning Warden.”
“Ah yes, your new nick name for me. How very droll Mr. Stark.”
“It seemed appropriate, isn’t ‘Warden’ the traditional title for the head of a facility that houses prisoners?”
“Is that how you see yourself Mr. Stark?”
“Well, let’s see: I cannot leave, my communications with the outside world are restricted, I’m allowed no visitors, and my personal property was summarily confiscated. Yes, prisoner does seem to describe my situation quite well.”
“Be that as it may, you must resume attending class Mr. Stark.”
“Why to learn of course.”
“I’m sorry, but I am interested in nothing this facility has to offer. Were I to attend class, I would be a disruptive influence in the class, and everyone would suffer.”
Filius saw Albus’ jaw clench in anger. “Perhaps you should learn to control your baser instincts Mr. Stark.”
“To what end Professor? I am no longer a student here, I am a prisoner. Perhaps I will continue to act out until such time as you expel me, but prisoners aren’t expelled, they are released. Either way I will leave this place and never return. How long do you suppose my Father will tolerate my not communicating with him before he comes for me? He’s proven he can come here before.”
“Mr. Stark, what I do is for the greater good.”
“The greater good as defined by whom? When you tried to convince me to come to Hogwarts you spoke of my destiny. Screw this destiny you speak of.”
“You are acting like a child Mr. Stark.”
“I AM a child Professor. What’s your excuse?”
Harry fought to keep control of his emotions. Losing control would not be a smart thing to do. The large dungeon he had entered was horribly medieval. What is it with these people that have them so fixated in the 12th century?
The walls were made of dark roughly cut granite, dimly lit by torches. Benches rose on either side of him filled with what he assumed to be spectators, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Harry an ominous silence fell.
An icy male voice rang across the courtroom.
“This is me caring,” said Harry dismissively “I go where my jailor sends me when he sends me.”
“That is not the Wizengamot’s concern,” said the voice. “This Hearing was scheduled for 10am. It is now 10:03. Take your seat.”
“The Wizengamot can bite me.” Harry suggested helpfully. Harry looked around noticing the chair he was evidently supposed to use in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. He suspected those chains were intended to hold whoever sat between them. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor. When he reached the chair he placed his right hand on the high back and subvocalized the incantation for the disruption charm that Mistress Harkness had taught him the year before. The magically created chains corroded silently to dust. No one seemed to notice. Dropping his book bag, he flopped into the chair slinging his left leg over the left armrest. Putting on an air of extreme relaxation, he bit back his anger and looked up at the people seated at the bench above.
There were about fifty of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborate silver W on the left-hand side of the chest and all staring down at him, some with very serious expressions, others looks of frank curiosity.
In the very middle of the front row sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry had expected this. His research he had done since his house arrest had informed him that the Headmaster was the ‘Chief Warlock’ of the Wizengamot. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic sat to Dumbledore’s immediate left. Fudge was a portly man. A broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair sat on Dumbledore’s right; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. This woman fit the description of Susan’s Aunt Amelia. Part of Harry wondered if the monocle was actually needed for just there for effect.
“Very well,” said Dumbledore. “The victim being present, finally, let us begin. Are you ready?” he called down the row.
“Yes, sir,” said an eager voice Harry recognized as the sanctimonious ass who had commented on his lateness.
“Procedural hearing of the twelfth of May, 1992.” said Fudge in a ringing voice, and the sycophant began taking notes at once, “into the illegal adoption of Harry James Potter, late of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey By Anthony Stark, a known Muggle..
“Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.”
Dumbledore stood and shuffled some notes. “Well then, shall we begin?” He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, and read out, “the question before us is was the adoption of Harry James Potter by a Muggle with no connection to the Magical World a legal act in accordance with Paragraph F of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under Section 24 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy.
“You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge said, glaring at Harry from the bench.
Harry reached down into his book bag. “No.” Harry withdrew a book from his bag and thumbed through it to the page he wanted and began to read.
“You are not Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge asked incredulously.
Harry looked up from his book. “No, I am not.”
“You are.” Fudge was turning an interesting shade of purple.
“I’m not.” Harry responded happily.
“As stimulating a conversation as this appears to be, let us cut to the chase. Who are you then young man?” asked the gray haired witch with the monocle.
“I am Harry James Stark of 5847 Stark Lane, Stark Township, and The State of New York, United States of America.”
“We will be correcting that today young man. You never should have been allowed to be adopted by this Muggle Stark. That alone violated several laws.” Fudge blustered.
Harry nodded and returned to his book.
“You don’t seem overly concerned Mr. Potter.” The Witch to Fudge’s immediate left said in an oddly girlish, high-pitched voice.
Harry did not respond, or even acknowledge that he had been spoken to. He turned the page in his book.
“Mr. Potter, you will respond when you are spoken to.” The witch said clearly angry. Harry continued to ignore her.
“Mr. Potter!” Dumbledore spoke up. No response from Harry. “Harry!”
Harry looked up. “Yes Warden?”
Dumbledore blinked. “Warden? Young man we have spoken about you using that term for me.”
“I couldn’t remember your title here, so I went with what we call you at school. That is the proper title for someone who heads a facility where one is held against his will and deprived of his personal property isn’t it?”
“Putting your flights of fancy aside, you must respond when spoken to.”
Harry appeared to be puzzled. “I thought I was.”
“You completely ignored Madam Umbridge just now.” Dumbledore said in his understanding grandfather way.
“Did I? I apologize, who is this Madam Umbridge and when did she speak with me?”
“I am Dolores Umbridge Mr. Potter.”
Harry continued to look at Dumbledore expectantly, ignoring the witch.
Dumbledore was actually becoming angry with the boy. “Mr. Potter, you must show proper respect toward the Wizengamot!”
Harry’s look of expectation dimmed and he returned to his book.
“Mr. Potter!” chorused The Chief Warlock, The Minister of Magic, and his Senior Under Secretary. All three of them were promptly ignored by Harry.
“Mr. Stark?” Asked the Grey haired Witch with the monocle. She wore more than a hint of a smile.
“When my esteemed colleagues address “Mr. Potter” they are addressing you.”
“They are?” Harry put on an expression of confusion. “I clearly stated my name when you asked. Are they slow?”
“I sometimes wonder. Madam Umbridge has noted that you do not seem overly concerned about this hearing. I must admit to being surprised by your level of concern myself. Do you understand what is happening here?”
“Certainly I do Ma’am. I’m not the one too pig ignorant to use someone’s name when I know it. This body intends to set aside my adoption and will attempt to tell me that my father isn’t my father.”
“And this doesn’t concern you?”
“Only to the extent that I worry about the innocents that might get hurt when my father comes for me. And he will. The only reason he isn’t here now is I wanted to give you a chance to behave like decent human beings before I call the wrath of God down upon you, so I didn’t tell him what you are doing.” The boy looked thoughtful for a moment. “Warden Dumbledore assisted in my not informing my father of what all of you were doing by stealing my usual methods of contacting my father, and somehow causing the school owls to refuse my letters. Of course, he forgot that I have friends outside my house willing to post letters for me…”
Amelia Bones smiled in a tolerant manner. “Do you actually believe that your father could mount an actual attack against us?”
“Does the name Tony Stark mean nothing to you?”
Amelia paled. She knew that name well from her contacts with Muggle Law Enforcement. The paper work had been referring to the Muggle as ‘Anthony’. She had never made the association. “You mean your father is the man who finances the Avengers?”
“Yes. The Avengers like me as well, and aren’t too fond of kidnappers, not even those who hide behind the trappings of government.” He paused, “When I said I would be calling down the wrath of God, I misspoke, it would be the wrath of several gods, I believe Hercules and Sersi are currently in residence, and Thor of course. You can always count on Thor for a good smiting…”
“You will learn to respect your betters Potter!”
Harry returned to his book. “Gotta love that Garfield, boy that cat hates Mondays” He said chuckling.
“If it would please the court, might I be permitted to speak?” A tall man in conservative robes stood in the gallery.
“And you are?” Dumbledore asked, startled that anyone would dare interrupt the proceedings.
“Roberts Michaels Chief Warlock. Deputy Chief Assistant for Magical Affairs to the United States Ambassador to the Court of St James.”
“You have business before this court pertaining to this case?” Dumbledore asked. How had the Americans found out?
“Indeed I do Chief Warlock. Young Mr. Stark was legally adopted under the laws of the United States where he was when he was orphaned for the second time. Information pertaining to the deaths of the Dursleys was forwarded by my office to the Ministry of Magic’s Hall of Records since the minor child in question gave clear evidence of being a Wizard. I have the signed receipts for those letters of information in accordance with the procedures set forth by the ICW. Repeated requests from my office as to what your government wanted to do with young Mr. Stark, then Potter were ignored, until finally we got a note from the Head Archivist of your Hall of records that there were no ‘Dursleys’ on the rolls, and that the only ‘Evans’ they could find were Muggle Born. We were directed to deal with the child as we saw fit and not to bother her unless and until we had a ‘Real Wizarding Child’ to report. I queried what precisely made a ‘Real Wizarding Child’ and was told one with Pure Blood Status. Both the report and the response to my question were signed by one Dolores Jane Umbridge. The only living relative we could find, one Margaret Dursley refused to accept the boy. If, as you say, you lost track of the boy, you have only yourselves to blame for putting incompetent bigots in positions of authority. The Elder Mr. Stark was an excellent candidate to adopt Harry due to his having the resources to allow the boy to discover his abilities, which he has done quite admirably, as I know you are aware, Mr. Stark was at the top of his class at Hogwarts.”
“This is true, however…”
“We will brook no interference from the Americans.” Fudge spat interrupting Dumbledore. “You have no authority here Mr. Deputy Chief Assistant for Magical Affairs. Begone before I have you removed.”
“As you wish.” Michaels gathered his things, shaking his head. “It’s your funeral. I have been directed by my government to tell you one other thing. Should you go ahead with this travesty you are planning, the Avengers will be given carte’ blanche to do whatever they need to do to reunite Mr. Stark and his father.” He passed the clerk of the court a document. “This details the official position of the United States. Copies of this are being delivered to the Mundane Prime Minister and Her Majesty the Queen as we speak. Consider what you are doing.” All eyes were on the Yank official as he exited the courtroom.
That was unexpected. Harry wondered who had called the embassy to get this started… The Weasley twins had assisted him in getting messages out through their own methods (he hadn’t asked, not knowing he couldn’t give them away) this seemed a very Hermione thing to do… Her parents perhaps?
The doors at the rear of the chamber burst open and Harry heard the voice he had been waiting for. He didn’t even need to turn to see what was happening. This was going to be good.
“I say thee, I will be heard. Thou try my patience Mortals!”
“What is the meaning of this?” Fudge sputtered. “Who are you? Identify yourself!”
The huge man in the winged helm brandished his battle mallet. “I am Thor of Asgard, son of Odin, God of Thunder mortal. Stay thy minions before I am forced to slay them.”
“You would slay good men and women only doing their jobs?” Amelia Bones asked from the bench.
The thunder god considered her words. “Thy words make sense Maiden. Rather than slay them, I would slay their masters whose commands they follow.”
“Aurors, stand down!” Fudge called out immediately.
“Why are you here Thunder God?” Dumbledore asked when the courtroom quieted.
“I come to speak for the son of my comrade, and to return him to his father.”
“And if we refuse to release him to you?”
“Then I slay you all, in the way of the old Norse, leave no two stones in this magnificent building touching, and then I will return young Harry to his father.”
“You can’t kill them all Thor. Steve wouldn’t like it.” Harry spoke up.
“Yea, thou art correct Harry. Alright, I will only kill the leaders. And destroy the building.
“Are you threatening the Minister?” Umbridge asked incredulously.
“Aye, I am.” Thor replied, happy that the mortals understood him.
There was a quick conference of the Wizengamot where Amelia Bones explained that this being was more than capable of doing what he threatened, and that he was one of the calmer, gentler people that the elder Stark associated with. Dumbledore was voted down in a single voice vote.
“It is the opinion and ruling of the Wizengamot that the adoption of Harry Potter by Anthony Stark was valid and legal in every way. We thank Harry Stark for his time and excuse him from these proceedings. Then the people in the plum robes hurriedly left the room.
The Thunder God picked Harry up and set the boy on his shoulder, then turned to leave the room.
“What do you want Professor?”
“I may have gone about this all the wrong way, but your destiny…”
“After what you did, I find I don’t much care about any ‘destiny’ you have plotted out for me Headmaster. I expect to have my property returned by tomorrow, you know where I live.”
Dumbledore hung his head, how had it gone so wrong? Suddenly he found his head lifted by the head of a battle mallet under his chin.
“Make no mistake little Wizard, never do this again. Thy life hung by a thread this day, there are few crimes lower than the stealing of a man’s child. Harry’s father would truly make thee pay for what thou have done. Be thou very glad thou only had to face me.”
Thor – Thor Odinson, Norse God of Thunder. Immortal, very strong, speaks for no adequately explained reason in Shakespearian Prose. Carries the enchanted battle mallet Mjolnir always returns to his hand when thrown. No one not worthy to be Thor can lift Mjolnir.
Hercules – Greco/Roman demi-god. Immortal and Thor-level powerful. If he were the ‘god of’ anything he would be the God of the Bar Fight. Likes to party.
Sersi – An immortal External, the inspiration for the stories of the Greco goddess Circe of turning men into animals fame. Mistress of Transmutation (herself and others) Very powerful. Loves to party, though you might not survive the experience.
A/N: A few thoughts.
It has been suggested by some reviewers that I have ‘grossly over powered’ the various Marvel characters appearing in cameo in this story. I don’t believe that I have. I am an old time comics geek, and as far as I can determine, if anything, I have under powered the Marvels…
It has been suggested that by having the Marvels in the mix, I have negated any suspense in the story. A suggestion I may have partially validated with this chapter, I admit, but I really wanted at least one Thor scene. This example has been offered:
Riddle: “I am Dark Lord Voldemort. I am the cruelest, most dangerous Dark Lord EVER, I aspire to immortality! Bow before me.”
Thor: “I am Thor, Son of Odin, I am a god, and I have immortality. The first couple of millennia are kind of boring, but it perks up after that. I bow to no one.”
Riddle: “Well, crap.”
I can see the above point, even if I disagree with it. I mean if the above sentiment were true, there would be only 7 or 8 books in the Marvel stable right? Just Thor and the guys who could give Thor a run for his money… And surely Thor has taken care of all the minor baddies in the Marvel Universe, right? For your review:
Petruski: “I am The Trapster. I am the cruelest, most dangerous adhesive based criminal EVER, I aspire to steal your wallet! Bow before me.”
Thor: “I am Thor, Son of Odin, I am a god, I have no wallet, but I do have this spiffy mallet. What is your least favorite bone to be pulverized? By the way, didn’t you use to go by Paste-Pot Pete? I bow to no one.”
Petruski: “Well, crap.”
So, obviously since Thor could easily do this, the Trapster has hung up his glue gun and now spends his evenings at Scrapbooking seminars… Right?
And don’t get me started on the Ringer… Now that I think about it, the Ringer would be a good ‘villain’ ally for Riddle… If you don’t get the reference, don’t worry about it, I’m not actually going to do it, besides only the most severely geeked out Comics ‘tards would instantly recognize the worst bad guy ever. (That’s worst as in ‘not very good at what he was trying to do’… Much like Riddle now that I think about it)
Could Thor slap the dog shit out of Tommy and his merry men? Certainly. But why would he? He tends to focus on Avenger Level villains, bargain basement Magicians who are smacked down by toddlers aren’t really his kind of bad guy.
To be clear: The Marvels aren’t the story. Harry is. The Marvels aren’t going to face down Riddle in the final confrontation. Harry is. The Marvels are cameos, they will have as much effect on the story as Hermione’s parents. They will be there, but in the back ground.
Of course, actually winning and managing to kill Harry would be the biggest (and likely last) mistake Riddle could ever make… He might find out what a real Thor Shot is like… IF he were lucky. If he were unlucky he’d find out what Steve Rogers can do when he gets angry… I would suspect that immortality would pale in its attractiveness when the painful memory of that non-stop everlasting butt-whipping never ever really manages to fade…