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Hulk not happy. Hulk smash. But stop now, because of weird lady who talks too much. Head hurts.
"I'm really sorry to insist," the lady repeats, "But registration is mandatory. It's for your own good, you know. Without it…" she glances around, like she's looking for something to smash, and speaks even lower. "If you're not registered, you have no protection from magical-creatures hunters."
Hulk frowns. Head hurts more. Banner! Banner likes words.
---
Bruce blinks against the glare of the sun over the ocean water. Judging by the weather, the white cliffs and the woman's accent as she asks if he's okay, he's still in the UK, which is a relief. He still remembers, and dreads, the time he hulked out in Japan and shrank back to normal in Ukraine, which made the whole ordeal of being naked in the middle of nowhere so much more confusing.
"I'm sorry," Bruce says, noticing the woman has her nose in the air.
Bruce looks down, and, sure enough, his pants are missing in action.
"I don't suppose you'd have something I could cover myself with?" he asks, all the while knowing she has not, since she only has a small beaded bag on her that can barely fit a book.
"Yes, of course," she replies, surprising him, then astonishing him some more when she plunges her arm up to her elbow in the small bag and retrieves a full set of clothes, blindly shoving them his way. Not his style of clothing, to be honest, but beggars can't be choosers.
"That's an interesting bag you have there. Like Mary Poppins," he says, grasping at smalltalk as he covers himself in the hopes it makes the situation a little less awkward.
"That's where I got the inspiration from… Are you decent?"
"Decent might be a stretch."
Because the clothes are stretched over him, a couple of sizes too small. The woman glances at him cautiously, then stares unashamedly. Bruce can feel the other guy grinning maliciously just beneath his skin, like an itch he can't scratch.
"Ah. Yes. Good. Like I said when you were… green… Do you remember? Or is that a dual personality kind of deal?"
"Dual. Yeah. How do you know that?" Bruce asks, a bit alarmed she's being so calm about meeting the Hulk.
"Experience. I must say your counterpart is so much more civilised than werewolves, it's refreshing."
"I guess he was in a good mood," Bruce mutters, not quite liking to be considered little more dangerous than a poodle compared to some other mythical being.
Several, actually, according to what she was saying, and a whole magical society.
"I'm not going to register," he finally says. "I'm not magical. I'm… a lab experiment gone wrong. An error of nature. A freak."
The lady, Hermione she insists he call her, points what he understands to be an honest to God magic wand at him, and then utters some flawed latin phrase that makes him glow and which tickles quite a bit. He bites the inside of his cheek so he won't giggle like a schoolgirl.
"I'm sorry to contradict you, but magic was involved, somehow. And, as such, you are hereby classified as an XXXX sentient magical creature. You need to be registered, for, and I can't stress this enough, your own protection."
Bruce is stunned to learn he's part magic. How that component got mixed in with his unfortunate experiment with gamma rays, he has no idea, but it may explain why he has never managed to reverse it. If the Hulk was created by magic, he probably needs magic to get rid of him.
The Hulk roars at the idea. Bruce tries to contain it, but the other guy is enraged, more than ever, not only against the rest of the world, but him too. Bruce folds in two, tries to hold it in, but he can't. He can't…
"Run!" he warns the witch.
---
"Hello again," the lady with the clipboard says.
Hulk roars in her face, but she doesn't move an inch. He huffs and stomps his foot. The lady shrieks when the quaking earth sends her flying up, then falling down on her bottom.
"That's not very nice. I'm only trying to help you," she says, standing back up.
"LIAR!" he roars with some difficulty.
Words are so hard. And tedious. Smashing is easier and faster.
"I would never. My sworn duty is to help magical creatures, and that's what you are, whether you like it or not. I will protect you, Mr Hulk, and your human half by default."
Banner always thinks he's so stupid, but he can't get rid of him if the talky lady is his friend first.
"Friend," he says and pokes her in the chest.
"You still need to register," she replies, holding out her puny little clipboard.
Hulk snorts, licks his finger, and presses it on the paper full of words. She sighs, but finally puts it away in her tiny tiny bag.
"That will have to do, I suppose," she says. "You are now under the Ministry's protection. And of course, I'm always happy to make a new friend."
She holds out her hand, like the weird, little, fearless lady she is. He touches it with his finger and can feel her magic, feel safe…
---
"What just happened?" Bruce asks, blinking back to a familiar reality this time, albeit cooler in the nether region. "Damnit."
His pants ar MIA again.
"You have any magical pants?"
Hermione smiles.
"Actually, you're in luck. My department created extendable clothes years ago for the werewolf community. Why don't you come with me and try them on for size? As our protégé, it's our duty to make sure you don't catch a cold either."
"Damnit," Bruce repeats because he had a feeling the Hulk just pulled one over on him.
So he lets the witch link her arm with his and whisk him away. If he's already on the damn magical ride, he might as well enjoy it.