Interludes: Mary Marvel
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, CBS, CTV, 20 th Century Fox, Alliance Atlantis Communications, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, or JK Rowling, Paul Haggis and Shawn Ryan, . Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.

A/N:
The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.




Chicago.
September 25, 19:30 CDT.



Mary was just entering her room after dinner with her sorority sisters when the evening's silence was broken by a high-pitched scream from outside. Rushing to her window, she pinpointed the scream as coming from the college's theatre complex.

"Power of Zeus!" Mary declared, switching her outfit for her hero costume and then climbed out of her window, then invoked the 'Speed of Mercury' to break her fall and fuel her flight towards the theatre.

When she rushed into the theatre, she was able to make it to the main auditorium without being intercepted just as a silver-haired man in tan jacket and pin-stripe trousers was making his way to the stage in response to a black-haired young woman in a purple blouse and skirt repeating her exclamation as she crouched over a red-headed young man in a sports jacket and jeans.

"No pulse!" declared the silver-haired man – who Mary recognised as Professor Basil Rasloff, a former movie actor and a senior member of the college's Drama School – as he joined his students on the stage. "Ron is stone cold dead! My god… how could this have happened?!"

How indeed, Mary thought to herself, then raised a finger to her comm-link to activate it. "Mary Marvel to Watchtower, patch me through to Chicago Emergency Services Dispatch."

"Patching you through," confirmed La'gann, the current member on monitor duty.

"Dispatch, this is Mary Marvel, Justice League Reservist E-Zero-Eight… I need police and an ambulance to the University of Chicago School of Drama… possible homicide."

"Understood, Mary Marvel," replied the dispatcher after a moment. "Units are en route to your location."



19:45 CDT.


Mary was trying her best to calm the witnesses particularly the leading lady, Susie Bates, who been rehearsing with the victim when he died when the firefighter-paramedics and a police unit arrived about ten minutes later.

When she saw the lead officer – a pretty thirty-year old woman who wore the rocker and chevron of a field training officer – Mary sighed in relief. Many officers of the Chicago were indifferent or even hostile to the superhero community, but this woman was the opposite. "Theresa, it's good to see you!"

"Mary, we really stop meeting like this!" joked the older woman. "What have we got?"

"I was in the neighbourhood when Kerry and Mister Rasloff discovered that the victim, Ron Buxton…" she said, indicating the body that the two CFD paramedics were working on. "… wasn't faking being dead for the scene they were rehearsing for a new play but was actually dead."

"Did you examine the body?" Theresa asked.

"Briefly," Mary admitted. "Ron doesn't seem to have any injures … no wounds, breaks, bruises or anything like that."

Theresa nodded, then turned to Susie. "Did you see or hear anything usual, Miss?"

She sniffed. "No, we didn't notice anything!"

"Ron was the best actor here…" offered another witness, a brunette man with a pencil moustache called Ben Vincent. "Everyone liked him!"

The junior paramedic, a stocky, slightly butch-looking woman, stepped over at that moment. "We're ready to load up now, Theresa."

"Any thoughts on cause of death, Mo?"

She shook her head. "Pretty much just what Mary's already told you… no vomiting or other signs of poisoning either. The ME will be able to tell you more after the post-mortem."

"Have them contact Ray Vecchio at the twenty-seventh," said Theresa. "He's the on-call detective for Violent Crimes today."

"Will do," agreed Mo and headed back towards the ambulance. When she got there, she clambered into the driver's seat and set off.

"Mary Marvel to Watchtower."

"Go ahead," said La'gann.

"I just stumbled onto a possible homicide," Mary replied. "Can you do a deep dive on the victim… Ron Buxton, nineteen, sophomore at the U of C?"

"No problem."

Theresa's radio crackled a few moments later, "Twenty-one Sixteen from Squad, we have a lead on your eight-oh-four."

"Go ahead, Squad," replied Theresa.

"Fifty-two Twelve was approached by an informant that has reported that the victim was being targeted for eight-forty-one. The suspect is heading inland on Irving. Black Honda Accord, tag Robert Charles Whiskey One-Three-Niner."

"Ten-four!" confirmed Theresa, signalling her partner, Eddie Johnson, to get in the car. "On our way!"

"Speed of Mercury!" cried Mary and took off into the air, following Theresa's car onto the main road.

"I d-d-d-don't know n-nu-thin' about no murder… Honest!" stammered the suspect – identified as one Arthur Colleta of Four-Hundred East Forty-First Street in the city from his licence – after Mary had forced his car off the road and pulled him out of it. "I only drove over there to pick up my monthly payment from the kid, that's all… Then, I hear the kid conked out before I could even collect! Even my partner thinks I plugged him!"

Karen shared a glance with Theresa and when the officer gave her an enquiring glance, she gave her shake of the head, the Wisdom of Solomon wasn't as infallible as the Lasso of Truth, but she was pretty confident that the man was telling the truth.

"Arthur Colleta, you're under arrest for blackmail," Theresa told the suspect, as Eddie manoeuvred him so he could apply cuffs. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

Karen stood and watched as the two police officers manoeuvred the crook into the back of their patrol car. As Eddie closed and locked the door behind him, Theresa's radio crackled again. "Twenty-one Sixteen from Squad… we've just been informed of an alarm activation at the Industrial Arts Workshop in Little India."

The two officers shared a glance, then turned and looked at Mary.

"I'll check it out!" Mary declared. "Speed of Mercury!"

"Squad, Twenty-one Sixteen… Mary Marvel is responding to the alarm, can you send units to support?"

"Twenty-one Sixteen, confirmed," replied the dispatcher. "Units from the twentieth are on the way but…"



21:00 CDT.


A loud whirring sound immediately caught Mary's attention as she approached the workshop and she sped towards it.

To her horror, when she flew in through a large picture window, she saw the potential victim was strapped to an enormous table saw, and he was gradually edging towards the whirring blade.

Deciding that there was no time for subtlety, she thrust her palm forwards. "Power of Zeus!" she cried, sending a bolt of lightning towards the saw blade, shattering it instantly. She sighed in relief, but this dissipated when she crossed to the prospective victim and then checked him over…

Despite her best efforts, he was dead anyway.



23:30 CDT.


"Well, it's official, both deaths are suspicious… so, I'll be taking over the investigation," confirmed Ray Vecchio after Mary joined him in the Violent Crimes bullpen. "Ron Buxton was killed with a doctored facial cream, and the fake saw was designed to scare Michael Heimes to death."

"Scared him to death?" Mary asked, puzzled.

"According to the medical examiner he had a serious heart condition," said Ray, glumly. "I hope there isn't any more… I've already got ninety-five open cases. The last thing I need on my plate is a serial killer."

"Well, anything I can do to help," said Mary. "Do we need more manpower?"

Ray shook his head, "What I need is a clue… Other than them being students, I can't see any connections and my snitches are coming up empty. Elaine, have you dug up anything?"

"So far, nothing beyond the obvious that they're both drama students," replied the third member of their group, Administrative Aide Elaine Besbriss.

The detective perked up. "I hadn't thought of that… have they been in any of the same plays recently?"

"I don't think so," Mary replied.

"I'll check," said Elaine, and worked her computer for a few minutes before looking up again. "Not recently or in any major capacity."

"Well, there goes that idea," groused the detective. "Back to square one."

"Maybe not," Mary interjected. "It might be nothing, but they were both rehearsing for their first lead roles, right?"

"That's right," Elaine confirmed.

"It's not much…" Ray agreed. "But maybe… Is there any crossover between the plays?"

"Obviously, the university's staging both," Elaine began. "Winter Snow and Poison Please… nothing obvious…"

"Hang on," said Ray, speaking up for the first time. "That sounds familiar… can check whether there's any crossover between actors on previous productions."

"Can do," Elaine agreed, then smiled. "According to an article for the Chicago Sun-Times, the last time they were performed as movies, the same actor – Basil Rasloff – performed the lead role in both productions …"

Ray gave a whoop of triumph. "I knew they sounded familiar!"

"And he's the director for the current plays!" Mary exclaimed. "He must be the killer!"

"Uh, we may have a problem…" said Elaine.

"What is it?" Ray asked.

"Rasloff had three big roles in Hollywood not two."

"Why's that a problem?"

"Because, the university is also doing a remake of that, and Frank Morris, another student, is in another remake at the moment," Elaine replied, pointing to the end of the article.

"Holey Moley!" Mary exclaimed. "We need to find him… and fast!"

"Elaine, can you…?"

"Checking for a cellphone for Frank Morris, aged 19…" Elaine finished.

Sensing the urgency of the moment, Mary decided to draw on her own resources. "Mary Marvel to Watchtower."

"Go ahead," said La'gann.

"I need you to find out if Frank Morris, 19… a student at the university has a cellphone… and ping it! His life could be in serious danger!"

"Neptune's beardI'm on it!"

While they waited, Ray got on the phone to the police's computer section and gave them the same instructions.

Predictably, the vast computing resources of the Justice League produced the result before the overburdened police department. "Morris' number is three-one-two five-five-five two-one-nine-four… His cellphone last pinged at the building site for the new maths building over in Hyde Park."

"I'll call the third," said Ray, reaching for the phone. "Get them to send units."

"I can get there faster," Mary declared, and headed for the nearest window.



23:40 CDT.


Mary started to scan the building site as soon as it came into sight. It didn't take her long to find Rasloff. He was at the controls of a purple crane, and a brown-haired teen in an orange sweater and white jeans was tied to the hook, suspended over a bed of spikes that Rasloff had set up.

"Bah! Young upstarts… with your 'method acting'…!" sneered Rasloff. "Long hair, mumbling voices, filthy clothes… you think you know everything… but you're trash!"

Mary, realising that this was a confession, slowed almost to a hover so that she could stay out of sight until he had finished his rant.

"How dare you and the other two ever hope to play my greatest roles… you think I could allow three amateurs to ruin the most famous characters of my stage career?" Rasloff continued rhetorically. "You like to skydive Frank… I've arranged one last fall for you!"

"No, please…" Frank stammered.

"You'll hit the spikes so fast… death will be painless!" Rasloff assured his victim as he released the hook, dropping him towards the spikes, but Mary accelerated quickly and was about to snatch him out of the air merely inches from the spikes.

"Mary Marvel!" Frank exclaimed. "Thank goodness you got here in time!"

"Sorry I cut it so close," Mary said as she manoeuvred him down to safe ground. "But I wanted to hear Rasloff's confession."

"Arghh!" exclaimed Rasloff. "I won't let it end like this!"

He's insane… Mary thought. I've got to take him down fast before he hurts himself. "Power of Zeus!"

A bolt of lightning streaked from Mary's hand, slipped in through the broken windscreen of the crane and struck him in the chest, knocking him out. That'll keep him out mischief until the police get here…



October 26, 09:30 CDT.


"Good work on the Rasloff Case. He's not going to be getting out of that mental hospital for a long time if ever."

"I couldn't have done it in time without Mary's help, Lieutenant," Ray admitted.

"Does that mean you're reconsidering taking a partner?" asked Lieutenant Kelly, curiously.

"Maybe," Ray admitted. "But let's be honest, sir, it would take someone very special to put up with me…"

"That's true," admitted the Violent Crimes commander, and then walked off. "That's true…"



Northwest Territories,
April 26,
Team Year Twelve.



A stocky, elderly man trudged through the ice, looking for clues.

After a moment, he went down on one knee and scraped away the loose snow with a bare hand until the eye of a caribou frozen under the ice was revealed…

Then, the old man heard something and began to look around. After a few seconds of searching, he rose quickly to his feet and then began to walk up-hill to get a better look, but before he reached the summit, he heard the sound of a rifle bolt locking into place. "You're going to shoot a Mountie?" he said, his voice even. "They'll hunt you to the ends of the Earth."

His answer came as the sharp crack of a gunshot rang out across the quiet gulch and he fell to the ground.



A/N: While this chapter takes inspiration from Supergirl vol 1, issue 1, which also supplies the chapter title, the location is intentionally transplanted to the Chicago location of vol 2 (merging the fictional Vandyre and Lake Shore universities and using RW UofC locations).
 
The First Rule
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, and JK Rowling. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.

A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.




Edge City.
June 17, 14:16 CDT.



The ringing of a cellphone broke the swordsman's attention, allowing the woman he was fencing with to drive him back and pin him against the wall for a moment before releasing him.

Frustrated, the swordsman threw his sword across the room, then strode over to his bag, doffing his fencing mask with one hand as he groped in his bag for the phone with the other. "What!" he barked, still annoyed at the interruption.

"The board meeting will be starting shortly, Master Lucas."

"I've got things to do this afternoon, make my excuses."

"Your father insists that you be there, sir."

"Well, if my father insists, then I suppose I must oblige…" Lucas observed bitterly. "I need to get changed, but I'll be there shortly."

"Very good, sir."

Lucas scowled and threw his phone back in his bag and turned towards his fencing partner.

The blonde-haired woman had removed her own mask and was eyeing his sword, which he'd apparently thrown with enough force that it embedded itself in the wall. "You know that's not good for it?" she asked evenly.

"It'll be fine, Heike," he assured her as he walked over to her, grasped his sword by the grip and pulled it from the wall. "I've got to go… same time next week?"

"I'll be here," she assured him as he returned the blade to his bag and stalked out of the exercise room.



14:32 CDT.


"What took you so long?!" barked his father from the head of the board room's massive central table.

"I'm sorry, Father," Lucas said as he slipped into his seat. "It slipped my mind, so I was training with Heike when Gina called. I had to shower and change."

A familiar snort drew his glance over to his father's other side –– where his older sister Lisa and his father's protégé, Dominic Sanatori, his two biggest rivals on the board were sitting –– trying, and failing, to hide their delight at him being criticised.

"Well, at least you're here now," continued his father waspishly. "Let's begin."



14:48 CDT.


"Revenue projections are still down, despite the infusion of resources from our LexCorp acquisitions…" reported the finance director. "However, I believe that this is a temporary blip… natural fluctuations of the market…"

"I need solutions… not platitudes!" his father barked.

Lucas snorted.

"Do you have something to add?"

"Yes, Father," Lucas confirmed. "But I don't think the board wants to hear it, and you certainly don't."

"Indulge me."

"Yes, Father," Lucas conceded, then reached for the holo-computer controls built into the table in front of him and sent a series of images to the main monitor mounted on the wall opposite his father's chair. "I'm sure you've all seen the headlines… I particularly like the Daily Planet's article, they're probably the harshest critiques of LexCorp in general and the Luthors in particular…"

There was a murmur of agreement around the table.

"But they're still parroting the same line as everyone else… that we're the old-school robber baron tycoons picking on the beleaguered, self-made underdogs," Lucas continued. "Because it's true."The tone of the murmurs changed a little.

"Lucas…" began his father.

"No, no… hear me out," Lucas insisted. "Being the underdog is about perception… Lex Luthor's faults are legion, that's a matter of public record. But he pulled himself up from nothing in the slums of Metropolis and built a global empire… He's the very definition of an underdog compared to the Lowell Investment Group, who have been the centre of this city since before there was a city."

"So, what do we do about it?" prompted Regan Matthews, his sole ally on the board.

"We fight back by giving people a reason to like us more than they sympathise with Luthor," Lucas replied.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" his father interjected.

"No, Father," Lucas assured him, and input several more strings of instructions. "I have a plan… Project: Bethlehem."

"A water sports centre?!" exclaimed his sister, scornfully. "You think that will make a difference?"

"Lisa…" said his father in a forbidding tone, then turned to Lucas. "The idea does have some merit… but it will take careful handling… someone who is truly invested in making a success of the project.

Me and my big mouth, Lucas thought as he realised where his father was saying.



Smallville.
October 7, 15:00 CDT.



"Have you three got a minute?" Mrs Parson asked Linda, Lucy and Tim as they moved to follow the rest of their year out of the classroom.

"Sure," Linda agreed and turned back towards the front of the classroom. "Do you need something?"

Mrs Parson nodded, "I'm worried about Old Mrs Freeman, she never misses the book club at the Talon and she wasn't there last night."

"And she doesn't have a phone, so you can't call her," Linda continued.

"No, she doesn't," her teacher agreed. "But it hasn't even been a day yet, so I don't want to bother Chief Miller yet..."

The trio shared glances for a moment, then Linda shrugged, "I haven't got anything on. I can check on her for you."

"Thanks, Linda."

"No problem, Mrs Parson," Linda said, moving back towards the door. "Always happy to help."



16:23 CDT.


Linda slid to a stop outside a modest shack inside the eastern tip of Morley Woods, then dismounted and leaned her bike against a nearby tree and approached the front door.

"Mrs Freeman?" she called as she knocked on the door. "Mrs Freeman!"

She paused to listen for signs of life, she was just about to start scanning the area physically, when she heard a rustling noise from behind the door and it creaked open.

"Hello?" asked the frail, elderly woman who peered out of the crack in the door. "Who is it?"

"Hi, Mrs Freeman," Linda said. "I'm Linda, Lana Lang's niece."

The woman relaxed and pulled the door open, allowing Linda to step inside. "Can I help you, dear?" she asked, weakly.

"That was going to be my line," Linda quipped. "Mrs Parsons asked me to check on you… you missed the book club?"

The woman frowned. "What day is it?"

"Thursday," Linda replied. "October seventh."

The woman made a confused noise. "I must have…"

"Is something wrong?" Linda asked.

"I must have lost track of time…" Mrs Freeman muttered and drifted over to a desk where a letter was sitting. "I got a letter about my son and his family…"

She didn't elaborate, but Linda noted the seal of the M'Changa province of Zambia on the letterhead before the older woman slid it into an envelope and turned back to Linda, speaking a little more strongly now. "Can you apologise to Mrs Parson for me and thank you for your concern."

"I'm always glad to help," Linda told her. "Do you need anything or will you be okay?"

"I think I'll be fine, dear. I just need to keep busy while I'm waiting for news."

"Okay, I'll get going then," Linda said. "If you change your mind… I've got some contacts in media and other places that might be able to help."

"That's nice, dear," muttered the older woman as she turned towards the tiny kitchen.

Linda shrugged and let herself out, and a minute or two later was back on her bike, cycling towards the reservoir and home.



16:30 CDT


Linda swore as the truck crashed head long into the railing that shielded the last turn before the reservoir, then jumped off her bike and ran towards it, groping in her bag for her mobile phone as she closed the distance.

She had the device and was just about to call for help, when the driver's door creaked open and a middle-aged man in overalls jumped out, barely sticking the landing on the blacktop.

Linda was about to ask him if he was okay, when a second voice called from within the vehicle, drawing her attention back to it as it creaked and began to slide over the edge. "Verhindern Sie, dass der Laster umfällt!" Linda demanded, but she wasn't able to get enough strong enough grip on it to hold it, and was driven to her knees in pain by the feedback when the vehicle hit the water.

A tinny voice coming out of her phone, which she'd managed to keep hold of, brought her back to awareness a few seconds later. "Lowell County Emergency Services, which service?"

"A truck just went into Morley Reservoir just short of the dam!" Linda barked into her phone as she raised herself up again and began to strip off her jumper with her other hand. "There's at least one person trapped inside… we need help here now!"

"Understood, Miss," confirmed the call-taker. "A water rescue squad is en route. ETA… sixteen minutes."

"I don't think they got that kind of time!" Linda told her as she kicked off her shoes and started making her way towards the water. "I'm going in to try and get them out!"

"That's not a good idea, Miss," insisted the dispatcher urgently. "The current, the water… it could be very dangerous for you."

Linda eyed the truck, the force of the landing had closed the drivers' side door enough that it was only sinking gradually, but it had also drifted several yards from the shore and she was certain that it would be underwater long before the rescue squad could get there. "I'll risk it," she declared, then reached down, gathered her backpack, jumper and shoes into a pile and laid the phone on top off of it. Then she steeled her herself and ran the shore, hissing a little as she entered the tepid water. That's not too bad, cold but definitely not freezing, Linda thought. I don't want to be in it too long, but I should be okay for a few minutes…

She'd been hoping to catch up with the truck before it got out of her depth, but the water reached her waist, sending her skirt billowing around her before she was even halfway, so she crouched down and toed off, swimming as strongly as she could towards the truck which had now sunk to the bottom of its window.

I haven't got much time… Linda thought, her strength already fading. Maybe I should have listened to that call-taker after all… But she redoubled her strength and was able to reach the truck. There's no way I can get the door open, the pressure of the water against it is way too strong… maybe I can break the windshield and get them out that way…

Suiting thought to deed, she moved around to the front and hauled herself onto the bonnet of the truck. "If you can… cover your eyes!" she shouted. "I'm going to try and break the windshield!"

She paused for a moment, then marshalled her power and thrust it towards the windshield."Zerbrich das Glas!" she demanded, and the windshield shattered in a flash of red light.

The truck shifted again and she slipped from the bonnet, landing in the water and being swept away from the truck before she could reorient herself, but after a couple of minutes she did and noticed to her horror that the truck had sunk almost below the water. She swore and dived down, swimming as strongly as she could towards the truck. That didn't work, she thought. On the plus side, I might be able to get the door open now…

Her lungs were burning as she reached the truck, so she had to head back to the surface.

As she broke the surface, she noticed the sound of approaching sirens and by the time she had her breath back, the first appliance was driving off the road onto the beach. "We're over here!" she yelled as a firefighter jumped out of the vehicle and began to scan the shoreline. "Over here!"

As soon as she was sure that they'd spotted her, she dived back under the water and opened the door, revealing the single unconscious passenger: a bald, white man in a business suit who was probably only a few years older than she. She reached over and tried to unbuckle his belt and free him, but she couldn't. It's jammed… she thought. That must be why he didn't get out… What do I do… I can't cast a spell underwater… but maybe if I'm in contact with it I can concentrate enough to break it without saying it out loud…

But her vision was starting to go again, so she broke off and headed back to the surface again for a breath. Glancing towards the shore, she noted two divers paddling in their direction. Well, at least back-up's almost here, she thought as she dived down to the truck again. She reached across the unconscious man and grasped the seat buckle. Brechen diese Schnallen!

The buckle shattered and she was able to draw the man out of the seat and she struck out for the surface, supporting the larger man under one arm.
They broke the surface seconds later, but when Linda turned towards the shore, she found that she couldn't make any progress and exhaustion was beginning to set in and her world went black.



16:50 CDT.


Linda came back to consciousness, arching upwards coughing and sputtering as she brought up water. Then she looked around, scanning her surroundings as she hugged herself, trying to get warm. "Cold…" she stammered.

She was in the back of an ambulance, and probably a moving one, given rocking motion and the sirens. The compartment was empty apart from a vaguely familiar, middle-aged woman dressed a county paramedics' uniform who moved to stow a resuscitation kit as she examined Linda. "Hi, my name's Tamera… you're Linda?"

Linda nodded, then coughed again, dryly this time. "Can I get a blanket?"

"Of course," Tamera agreed, then retrieved one from a locker and helped Linda wrap it around herself.

"How's it going, Tam?" asked a voice from the front of the vehicle.

"Not too bad, Mitch," Tamera replied. "I've got her back, so cut the sirens, but keep going to the medical centre. She was down for several minutes and swallowed some water."

"Agreed," confirmed the driver, and seconds later, the sirens cut-off and the ride smoothed off as he slowed down.

"Well, that makes things a bit easier," Tamera observed as she burrowed in her kit for moment and selected a thermometer. "Let's check your vitals."

"Do you know how the passenger is doing?" Linda asked urgently as the woman inserted the device into her ear.

"I'm not sure," Tamera admitted, as she removed the device. "Mitch and I were focused on you when we were on the scene. Temperature ninety-five point seven… a bit lower than I'd like but heading the right direction."

Linda frowned, still shivering under her blanket, as Tamera applied a blood pressure cuff to her arm. "Blood pressure is stabilising; pulse is looking better too…" Tamera reported as the ambulance made a hard turn and began to slow to a stop.

Seconds later, the back doors were thrown open and Linda's aunt bounded into the vehicle. "Linda are you okay?!" she exclaimed as she closed the distance and gathered the girl into a hug.

"I'll be fine, Aunt Lana," Linda assured, pausing for a few seconds as her body was racked by coughing.

"You don't sound okay," Lana observed. "How is she, Tamera?"

"Still a little chilled and she swallowed some water, so she needs to checked over by a doctor and they'll probably want to keep her in overnight."

"Can't I take her home now?" Lana asked. "She seems tired and I'm sure she'll rest easier at home."

"That's probably true," Tamera conceded. "You can talk to Dr Harden once she's finished examining Linda, but she's usually pretty by-the-book so…"



October 8, 07:16 CDT.


Linda was in the middle of eating breakfast when Mrs Parson bustled into the ward, looking tense and rather stricken. "Hi, Mrs Parson!" she said, brightly.

"Good morning, Linda," she said, her voice quavering a little. "I wanted to come and make sure you're okay. I feel a little guilty."

"It's fine," Linda assured her. "It's not the first time I've been out that way and got myself into a bit of trouble, and everything worked out okay in the end. Dr Harden just wants to keep me in for a while to make sure."

The woman relaxed immediately and attempted a small smile. "Do you think they'll let you out before the game?"

"Dr Harden said twenty-fours, so if it all goes well… probably."

"Maybe I'll see you there?"

"I'll definitely be back on Monday though," Lily continued. "Oh, by the way, Mrs Freeman is okay as well."

"That's great!"

"Well… sort of," Linda added. "Her son and his family are in some sort of bother in Zambia, and she's been distracted because of that… lost track of time."
Mrs Parson nodded. "Are Richard, Jane and Savannah going to be okay?"

"You know them?"

"Richard and I overlapped at Smallville High," Mrs Parson replied. "I only know his wife and daughter slightly."

"Ah, okay," Linda said. "She didn't say, but I was thinking of asking Uncle Clark and Aunt Lois to look into it, they might be able to help."

"That's a good idea, Clark has always been good at getting things done," Mrs Parson agreed. "I have to go."

"Bye," said Linda, brightly.

"Goodbye, Linda."



16:00 CDT.


"Are you able to stand for a minute or two for me, Lucas?" asked the x-ray technician.

Lucas nodded.

"Okay, did Dr Harden explain what she wants done?"

"She wants x-rays of my chest to make sure it's still clear of fluid or infection."

The technician checked the request form that he'd been sent a few minutes earlier and confirmed that they matched. Satisfied that they were good to go, he motioned for the orderly who had brought Lucas to the department to wheel the boy over to the x-ray machine and position the chair so that he could stand in front of it.

The orderly did so, then retreated behind the protective screen of the control booth.

"Dr Harden wants two standing images," the technician continued. "We'll do the standard one first, as that's more important."

"That makes sense," Lucas agreed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Stand-up and place your chest against the X-ray plate," replied the technician. "Then roll your shoulders forward and hug the plate as best as you can." He paused for a moment to allow Lucas to get into position. "I'm going to go behind the screen. In a moment, I'm going to ask you to take a deep breath and hold it, while standing very still. Do you understand?"

Lucas got to his feet and positioned himself as requested, then nodded.

The technician strode back to his console and ducked behind the screen. He accessed the controls and input a familiar set of values then looked up again. "Take a deep breath now… and hold!" he instructed firmly, then activated the machine. "… and relax!" He came out of the booth and walked up to Lucas, who was still hugging the machine. "Are you okay to continue?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay, if you could release the machine and sit back down, I need to switch out the plate for a new one," the technician explained as the orderly joined them and once Lucas had sat down again, he re-positioned the chair to a different angle. After switching over the plates, the technician glanced at Lucas. "Are you ready for the next one?"

"I'm ready."

"Okay… this one's a little more complicated. I need to position yourself with your shoulder to the plate, then raise your arms above your head. You'll need to hold that position until I'm done."

"I can do that."

"Okay, let's do it then."



16:16 CDT


"I didn't know that they allowed dogs in here," Lucas observed after noting a pair of Asian-American teens walking through the intersection ahead of them on the perpendicular corridor.

"Mostly we don't," replied the orderly comfortably. "But there are exceptions… we get the occasional guide dog obviously…"

"It was a Border Collie."

"Probably not a guide dog then… Could be Melo, one of the community therapy dogs, I think Linda's in here at the moment."

"What are therapy dogs?"

"I don't know much about it… but basically, they're trained to be 'distraction-proof' and offer emotional support to patients. Apparently, some people feel better after being around a dog and some volunteers offer to share their dogs temporarily."

Lucas pondered this new information, but his train of thought was briefly derailed as they reached his room and he saw that a familiar face was waiting outside for him: a middle-aged, blonde woman in a Nehru-style skirt suit. He broke into a rare smile. "Rebbeca! I wasn't…"

"I'm the first person on your emergency call list remember?" she reminded him. "I got on the first flight back when Dr Harden's team contacted me."

"Thanks," Lucas said, reaching up to accept the woman's hug. "You didn't have to do that."

"Lucas, I've had your back since you were eight," Rebecca reminded him. "I'm not going to let you down now."
 
Aftermath
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, and JK Rowling. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.

A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.




Smallville.
October 11, 07:16 CDT.



"Will you be okay by yourself, today?" Linda's aunt as she picked her purse and turned to towards the front door of their property. "I've got a meeting at the bank that I can't miss."

"I'll be fine," Linda replied from her perch on the kitchen windowsill, considering the rain that was failing heavily outside. "Auntie Dee wants to talk to me about Friday, so I'm going to Zeta over to the Sanctuary in a bit. Then I want to check in with Oracle and Aunt Lois about something else."

"Will you be back for dinner?"

"I should be," Linda confirmed. "Unless something unusual happens."

"Naturally," her aunt agreed, then shouldered her bag and left, slamming the door behind her.

Linda finished her juice, rinsed out her glass and cereal bowl, then headed upstairs to shower and change.

"Do you want to stay here or take a run over to Grandma and Grandpa's?" Linda asked Melo when she returned to the kitchen dressed for the day in a pleated skirt and hoodie.

"Woof!" agreed the dog when she said 'run' and followed her out into the hall.

Linda paused there for a moment – eyeing the fog that was lingering outside – debated whether to take down her raincoat but decided that as she'd forgotten to clean it after her last ride, she'd make do without it.



Catskill Mountains.
October 11, 11:16 EDT.



"Recognized, Raven B-Four-Zero," announced the Computer as she stepped out into the lobby of the former Sallinger's Resort Hotel and walked up to the reception desk.

"Welcome to Sanctuary," said the young woman with a long, brunette bob cut sitting at the desk.

"Hi, Mrs Dibny," said Linda. "Is Miss Lance in yet?"

She nodded, "She's doing a tour around the new bunk rooms with Mssr Tibbet at the moment, but she said to go up to her office and wait for her there."

"I'll do that," Linda agreed.

"Dr Irons certified the lift last week, or you could take the stairs."

Linda nodded, then turned away from the reception desk and headed for the stairs.



11:30 EDT.


"Thanks for waiting, Linda," said the older woman — who was dressed in her typical 'casual' outfit of leggings, V-neck t-shirt and blazer — as she walked into her office and slid into the easy chair opposite Linda's.

"It's fine, Auntie Dee," Linda assured her. "School's closed for Columbus Day anyway, so I don't have much else on."

"Good, good… Well, as am I'm sure you already guessed, I'd like to talk to you about what happened on Thursday…"

Linda nodded. "You want to make sure I'm not… compromised."

"I do," Auntie Dee agreed. "I've listened to the transcript and the call taker was quite clear that she thought it would be too dangerous for you to go into the water after the victim."

Linda made a face. "She wasn't wrong it was dangerous," she admitted. "After all, I did have some issues afterwards… but I thought I could make it… the water wasn't that cold and I'm a pretty good swimmer."

Auntie Dee's eyes narrowed but said nothing.

"In retrospect, I would have been better off if I'd flown over to the truck, but my range and speed isn't great so I wasn't sure if I could make the distance and I figured that if I lost concentration, I would have hit the water at speed and been in a worse shape."

"That's probably true," Auntie Dee agreed. "According to your report, the water was up to the door sill by the time you got there?"

"It was," Linda confirmed. "Which did cause an issue when I tried to get on the bonnet and get the victim out through the windshield."

Auntie shrugged, "I've made a mistake or two like that myself, and you did still get the passenger out eventually and probably before the fire department would have been able to set up and get in the water."

Linda attempted a smile, "I guess that's what matters in the end."

"Essentially, yes," Auntie Dee agreed. "Okay… I'm satisfied that you're still okay to go into the field."

Linda relaxed, tension flowing out of her body.

"However, I would like you to work with M'gann or Lia on your flight abilities… if you'd had the range to fly over you would've had been a lot safer."

Linda nodded. "I was going to do that anyway, so that's not a problem."

"It's a deal then," Auntie Dee confirmed. "I notify Artemis, M'gann and Jefferson."

"Thanks, Auntie Dee," Linda said and got to her feet. "I need to talk to Oracle about something. Do you know if they're busy?"

"I don't think so… Batman and Batgirl are n Paris investigating a lead on a new group called Leviathan who might be linked to Talia al Ghul…"

"That's not a bad thing," Linda noted as she turned towards the door. "They give me the creeps."

"You're not the first person to say that," observed the older woman. "Oracle should be at the Clocktower."



Gotham City,
11:48 EDT.



When Linda stepped out of the broken phone booth into the alley, she was quite surprised to find that the weather in the city was better than in Smallville, as while it was still mild, it was drier and sunny, about the best she could hope for at this time of year.



12:16 EDT.


Linda leaned forward and presented her eye to the intercom panel next to the street door to the Clocktower.

"Recognized, Raven B-Four-Zero," declared the familiar voice of the Justice League Computer a moment later, and the door unlocked with a loud, electronic buzz.

Linda eased the heavy steel-reinforced door open and strode past the service elevator and headed for the stairs.

"Red Robin, Spoiler… a silent alarm was just triggered at Bamonte's," Barbara reported as she entered the hacker/mission controller's inner sanctum.

"En route," confirmed the young man over the speakers. "I'm about a minute away."

"Batwoman… what's your status?"

"Still on-site in Burnside."

"Nightwing?"

"I'm on Amusement Mile."

"Business or personal?"

"A little of both, Batman thinks that Raya Vestri might be connected to Leviathan."

"Didn't you have a crush on her at one point?"

"I was seven. We haven't seen each other in eighteen years."

Oracle snorted, then turned to face Linda. "Hi Linda, it's been a while," she said with a smile. "Business or personal?"

"A little of both," Linda replied, intentionally echoing Dick. "I'm sure you've heard about my little mishap at Morley Reservoir?"

Barbara nodded. "I got the tape for Dinah."

"Well, I was down there on a school night because I was checking on a friend for my form teacher."

"That was nice of you."

"Thanks," Linda replied. "She hadn't been seen for several days, she's lost contact with her family overseas."

"And you're hoping that I can find out something?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Linda confirmed.

"Can do," Barbara confirmed. "Do you know how you're going to…?"

"I suggested that I'd ask Aunt Lois — which I will — so that'll cover us."

Barbara nodded. "Do you know where they are?"

"M'Changa Province in Zambia, I think?" Linda replied. "Mrs Freeman had a letter from there."

"Okay…" Barbara said, turned back around and started to use her workstation. "Looks like there's a Sakutia outbreak in that area, a bad one… Do you know their names?"

"Richard and Jane Freeman and their daughter, Savannah," Linda replied. "I think Savannah's about my age…"

Barbara nodded and quickly input the data. "I'm not seeing anything on social media… though the fact that they haven't updated their social media in over a week is…"

"Potentially worrying?" Linda offered. "Particularly Savannah."

Barbara nodded. "I'll reach out to our sources in the region and see what I can find out."

"Thanks, I'll…" Linda said, and turned to leave, then paused as the Clock Tower's Gotham Emergency Services Interlink crackled into life.

"All units… all units… Hostage situation at Gotham First National…"

Linda whirled back to towards Barbara.

"Nightwing, I need you break off from Amusement Mile and get over to Gotham First National, there's a hostage situation."

"It'll take me sixteen minutes to get there," he reminded her. "Is anyone else available?"

"Everyone else is tied up on active situations," Barbara replied.

"I could go?" Linda offered. "Auntie Dee cleared me for active duty."

Barbara paused for a moment, probably contemplating Batman's response when he found out, before responding. "Go, I'll let my contacts know to expect you."

"Rüste mich für den Kampf aus!" Linda declared, instantly switching her skirt and hoodie for her hero suit and accepted one of Barbara's spare commlinks.



12:43 EDT.


"How long have I got?" Raven whispered into her commlink as she approached the bank's ground level emergency exit.

"Captain Yin says you've got sixteen minutes," Barbara replied. "Nightwing is about a minute out."

"I'll be done by then," Linda claimed. "Schalte den Alarm aus. Lass mich rein!"

The door popped open, then Linda pulled her hood up over her head, and cast another spell. "Verstecke mich vor den Augen anderer!"

She faded from sight, then headed inside, and a few seconds later, she was positioned on the balcony of the main floor with a line of sight to the robbers and hostages who were clustered around the main vault, which three of the five robbers were currently attaching explosive to under the supervision of an elderly man carrying a wooden ventriloquist's dummy.

"Arnold Wesker aka the Ventriloquist," confirmed Oracle over the commlink. "And his puppet and 'boss' Scarface, an Al Capone wannabe. Nightwing is in position at the skylight."

"Uh, Boss? How come… why do ya… how come ya say 'b's' like they're 'g's'?" asked one of the robbers. "I mean, if ya don't wanna talk about it, dat's okay…"

"Nah, I might as well tell ya," Scarface said. "I got into a fight in da joint. Got my lips ripped off…"

"That's gotta hurt."

"Oooh, I hate dat!" commented another robber.

"Gut you should see da other guy!" Scarface claimed. "He ain't even gack on solid food yet!"

"I don't understand, Scarface," said Wesker. "What's the plan? Why did you tell the police we're terrorists?"

Good question.


"Awright, I'll tell ya the plan. You gave me the idea," said the marionette. "We clear out the vault gring da hostages to da roof like we're gonna escape wit' 'em, glow up da roof, and escape in da confusion in da ambulance from da underground lot."

Explosives on the roof?
Linda thought. "Raven to Nightwing, Scarface just said…"

"That there are explosives on the roof..." Dick finished. "I know. They're disabled."

"But that's not a plan!" declared Wesker as the vault door blew out. "That's a movie I told you about!"

"Relax," said Scarface as Wesker carried him into the vault. "As long as no-one else saw it, we're sitting pretty!"

Linda smiled.

The marionette extracted a radio from a pocket and activated it. "Scarface to… uh… uh… you – da guy on the roof… Are dose choppers here yet?" Then after a pause, he continued. "What're ya… deaf? Where's da choppers? Hello?!"

"Scarface is getting anxious," Linda whispered. "I think we need to move."

"Can you disarm them?" Nightwing asked. "I can take them, but it would be easier if they aren't shooting at me."

"I think so," Linda told him. "Reveal me."

"On a count of three then…" Dick told her as she shimmered back into view. "Three… two… one…"

"Entwaffnen Sie sie! Schweben Sie!" Linda shouted as she leapt over the railing, the second spell slowing her descent even as the first wrenched the weapons from the robbers' hands.

At the same time, the skylight shattered as a black-clad figure dropped through it, landing slightly ahead of Linda.


Edge City.
16:00 EDT.



A knock on the door interrupted Lucas' attempt to come to grips with his bow tie. He glanced towards the portal. "Come in."

Rebecca entered, an odd, slightly worried look on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "The Colombus Day Feast isn't how I'd like to spend the evening either, but there's nothing to worry about, surely?"

"I agree," confirmed his mentor and some-time protector. "However, there is a visitor in your old office, which I have… concerns… about." She declared, then strode up to him and swiftly fixed his tie.

"Well, let's get it over with," Lucas said confidently and headed towards his door, Rebecca trailing in his wake.

A middle-aged man with a dark, flat-top in blue shirt, darker blue dress pants and orange tie under a tan trench coat rose from a chair, followed by a younger red-haired man in a brown suit, yellow shirt and a red tie.

"Lieutenant Mitch Kelloway, Edge City PD," declared the older man, whisking his coat to the side briefly to expose a gold detective's badge attached to his belt. "This is Detective Ray Doyle."

"What can I help you with, Lieutenant?" Lucas asked, crossing to his old desk and sliding into the chair while he waited for the reply.

"Does the name James Beels mean anything to you?" asked the lieutenant.

"Of course," Lucas confirmed promptly. "He's a commercial driver for LIG, he was driving me early last week…"

"Until he drove the truck you were in off the Morley Reservoir Road, nearly drowning you," Lieutenant Kellaway added.

"Chief Miller assures me that that was an accident," Lucas interjected.

"But he abandoned you."

"It happens," Lucas countered comfortably but firmly. "Fortunately thanks to a local Samaritan and the fire department's water rescue team there was no real harm done."

"Mr Beels was found dead in an alley a few blocks away from here on Friday night," Lieutenant Kellaway announced.

"That is… unfortunate," Lucas offered, then turned to Rebecca. "Can you find out if he had any family? If he did… offer them mine and the company's condolences and find out if they need any assistance."

"Of course."

"What do know about it?"

"Nothing," Lucas replied. "The last time I heard, saw… or frankly thought about him in about four days."

"So, you didn't have anything to do with his death?"

"No, I did not," Lucas confirmed, locking eyes with the older man.

The lieutenant broke the stare first. "Keep yourself available," he barked, then spun and strode for the door. His partner, caught by surprise, stood motionless for a moment then turned to follow him.

"I don't know anything about it either," Rebecca volunteered once the door had closed behind the two detectives.

"But…?"

"Well, accidents have been known to happen to people who have 'wronged' your family before."

Lucas made a face. "That's true…"



Smallville,
October 12, 08:00 CDT.



Principal Reynolds was standing at the school's bus stop when Linda arrived just a head of the buses. He raised a hand to get her attention. "Miss Lang, go to the high school assembly hall."

Linda almost asked why, but before she could open her mouth to speak, he had moved on, talking to various other students as they got off the buses, so she shrugged, locked her bicycle to one of the racks and headed across the square.

Her friends hadn't arrived in the hall by the time she got there, so she headed for another familiar face – Eammon Burn, the editor of the Smallville High Torch – and dropping in a seat next to him. "Any idea what this assembly is about?"

"Maybe," admitted the eighteen-year-old, coyly. "Good save at the reservoir by the way, Tim posted an article over the weekend, and it'll be in this week's print copy as well."

"Wonderful," Linda said, not entirely feeling the vibe. "What about… this?"

"Yeah, dish the gossip, Boss," echoed Tim as he and Lucy joined them. "I'm sure you've heard something about it."

"Well… I was listening to my emergency services scanner on Friday night after the game and picked up something about your 'distressed dude'," Eammon admitted, nodding to Linda, who made a 'keep going' gesture. "You know that he's one of the Edge City Lowells, right?"

"Really?" exclaimed Tim, "That makes him practically royalty… what's he doing here?"

Eammon shrugged, "I don't know, maybe Linda can find out… all I know is that he called out the LCSO and the LCFD to one of the old, abandoned fields out by the LexFoods facility," Eammon continued. "Apparently he found a freshman strung up on a old scarecrow's perch in the middle of a severe asthma attack."

"Did they say who?"

"Of course, not," Eammon replied. "But I did hear a rumour over the weekend that the victim was one of their nephews, and the only the asthmatic freshman I know that has a relative in law enforcement is Mitch Miller."

"He's the Chief's nephew isn't he?" asked Tim.

"Yep," Eammon confirmed. "And apparently they're pretty close…"

"Yeah, that's not good…" Linda opined. "There's going to be trouble for somebody, possibly several somebodies…"

But further discussion of the matter was halted as the principal stood and moved to the lectern at the centre of the stage. "Good morning, everyone."

"Good morning, Principal Kwan," chorused the assembled students.

"You are probably wondering why I've called you here," he said. "A little over two weeks ago, I became aware of certain activities of five of our Crows. Specifically, that they participated in a barbaric and dangerous ritual they called 'The Scarecrow' where a freshman is left exposed on a cross in the middle of a field overnight and nearly died. Investigations by the Lowell County Sheriff's Department into the extent of the 'tradition' are ongoing, however three current students — Sean Kelvin, Kenneth Braverman and Whitney Fordman — have all been implicated as having been directly involved for the last two years and have removed from the team and are now on academic probation, pending the outcome of the criminal investigation and our own disciplinary processes."

The rising background noise forced him to pause. When it subsided after a few moments, he was able to continue. "Anyone who has knowledge of this matter should bring it to my attention or contact Deputy Adams at the sheriff's office directly. That is all."



Lochaber.
October 16, 08:00 BST.



The Snitch darted back and forth as the first rays on sun crested the eastern horizon, trying to escape him, but Hank was locked in on the magical artefact and with a last burst of speed he closed the gap and snatched it out of the air, gave a whoop of triumph and held it up in the air for the rest of the team to see.

"Good job, Potter!" said Wood from his post in front of one of the sets of goal rings. "You're the best Seeker I've seen at Hogwarts in a long time!"

Hearing this declaration, the twins broke off their own tête-à-tête and flew over.

"We should probably object…"

"To that statement…"

"Out of fraternal loyalty…"

"But we…"

"Actually agree."

"Can we call it here then, Ollie?" Angelina interjected and nodded towards where a small group of blue-clad teens were leaving the locker rooms and heading in their direction.

Wood paused for a moment, and then nodded and lead the team towards the ground.



08:16 BST.


Breakfast was usually sparsely attended on Saturdays, so Hank wasn't surprised that most of the benches were empty when he walked into the Great Hall a few moments later. What did surprise him that a group of over a dozen students – the rest of his dormmates, a couple of Hufflepuffs and a single solitary Ravenclaw – were clustered around the far end of the Gryffindor table.

He considered charging over there, but after a moment's thought he realised that the absence of any of the staff or senior leadership in the group suggests that the problem – while potentially serious – was neither dangerous or urgent, so he stopped to assemble a breakfast sandwich and fill a goblet with hot cocoa before joining his cohort.

He immediately saw that it was Lavender who was the centre of attention: The blond girl was sobbing, occasionally glancing at a note in her hand, an act that magnified her cries for a moment.

"What's wrong, Lavender?" he asked gently.

The girl either didn't hear him or didn't feel up to answering, but Ron answered for her after a few minutes of silence. "She just got a note from home," he replied. "Her pet bunny, Binky, was killed by a fox a couple of days ago."

Any emotional high that Hank was on from the Quidditch practice vanished in a rush. "I'm so sorry, Lavender," he said, moving to her side and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"He was sooo young!" Lavender sobbed. "I never thought…!"

Harry nodded. Foxes — both the British ones and their American counterparts — were cunning and opportunistic predator-scavengers with an uncanny ability to penetrate even the strongest defences. Though not daring enough to risk entering territory occasionally visited by a four-hundred-and-fifty-pound albino wolf, he mused, but didn't voice aloud. He knew it wouldn't help.

"I'm… going back… to the dorm," Lavender announced, even this short statement was broken by several sobs. "I want to be alone for a bit."

"We'll help you," said one of the Patil twins — Hank thought she might be Parvati but wasn't sure — and they helped her to her feet and escorted her to the door.

Hank waited until the large doors swung closed again before sitting down at the nearest bench to finish his breakfast.
 
More Than Meets The Eye
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, and JK Rowling. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.

A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore, and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.



The Watchtower.
November 4, 12:16 EDT.



"Well, everything's looking good out here," reported John Henry Irons, his voice coming in clear over the radio.

"Copy that, Steel," said Zatanna. "Hardware, can you confirm?"

"One moment, Zatanna," replied the other engineer. "Yeah, we're good to go here."

"Come back in then," Zatanna told him, then looked up from the monitor board and glanced over at the bank of Zeta-Tubes where M'ree M'orzz, Victor Stone and Al Rothstein were working to complete their part of the operation. "How's it going over there?"

"I think we're about done," replied the Martian woman. "Victor?"

"Just running one last diagnostic," replied the Outsiders' resident cyborg. "Should be done in about sixteen seconds…"

"I'll start gathering the top-kicks then," Zatanna said, and turned back to her console.

"Recognised, Superman, Zero-One; Black Lightning Two-Three…" began the Computer as the Zeta Tubes spun into life again. "Tigress Zero-Seven; Beast Boy D-Zero-One, Wonder Girl D-Zero-Two."

"Everything's as ready it can be at this end," Dr Irons told the assembled leadership. "We're just waiting on the new parts from Rann."

At that moment, the main console beeped a familiar set of tones, and Zatanna — as watch officer — turned to answer it. "Message from Rann, the Stranges are ready to return."

"Move the Watchtower above the Zeta-Shield," ordered Jefferson.

"Moving now," Zatanna confirmed as her slim fingers danced nimbly across the holographic controls for a moment. "We're in position… and we're good to go."

"Recognized, Adam Strange E-One-One; Alanna Strange E-One-Two; Aleea Strange A-Five-Four," declared the Computer as one of the Zeta-Tubes spun up and as disgorged a trio of figures, a blonde man in red with a white cape, carrying a green-skinned young girl and with a green-skinned young woman in a similar purple-and-black outfit with a grey cape at his side who carried a large hardshell equipment case.

As soon as the trio were clear of the portal, M'ree glided over to them and held out a hand for the case. "Is that it?"

Alanna nodded and immediately surrendered the case.

M'ree turned to the leadership group. "We should be ready for the first test in about sixteen minutes."

Clark and Jefferson shared a look, then the latter looked back in her direction. "We'll stay."



Smallville.
November 5, 14:56 CST.



When the bell rang for the end of class, Linda stood and headed for the door, but a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks. "Do you want to hit the Beanery… My treat?"

Linda was about to decline, but then she realised that thanks to the additional training that she'd been doing lately with her flying instructors, she'd been neglecting the boy. "Sounds good to me."

Lucy echoed her own agreement a few seconds later.

Linda burrowed into the pocket of her sweater for a moment, then extracted her rarely used Q-Phone and texted her aunt a message to let her know.



18:00 CST.


This was a good idea, Linda mused as she mopped up the last of the chilli sauce on her plate with a fry. Sometimes it's good to hang with ordinary friends and just relax.

"Have you got any plans for the weekend, Linda?" asked Tim, who was still picking at his own salad.

"Yeah, I'm heading over to Scotland to watch Hank play against his house's main rivals."

"Well, give him our best," said Lucy, looking up from the remnants of her own burger and fries.

"I will," Linda promised as she got to her feet.

"When will you be back?" Tim asked.

"Not sure," Linda admitted. "Depends how long the match lasts."

"Is that likely to be a problem?" Lucy asked curiously.

"Apparently the record for a professional match is three months," Linda replied. "But I doubt a school match will run anywhere near that long… and I'll be back for classes on Monday regardless."

"Have fun," chorused her two friends as she turned away from the table and left the diner.



Lochaber,
November 6, 07:55 GMT.



The swirling mass of dark clouds, ominous and heavy with water was briefly split by a beam of light that speared through them and resolved into two female figures.

"Nice weather," Linda noted to her black-haired companion as she pulled her hood up to try and shield herself from the driving rain as best as possible without using magic.

"For Atlanteans maybe," opined Zatanna miserably, as she pulled her own cloak around her. "I hope someone's waiting for us at the gates. I'd rather not stay out in this any longer than necessary."

Linda nodded and turned towards the gates. "We're in luck!"

"Mornin', ladies," said Hagrid as he pulled open the massive wrought iron gates and beckoned them inside before closing them while his massive boarhound greeted the two females. "Fang, ger off!"

"It's okay, Hagrid," Zatanna assured the groundskeeper. "I like dogs and he's not the biggest canine I've been welcomed by."

"Really?" Hagrid asked, as he turned and started to lead the way towards the castle.

"Yeah," Zatanna confirmed. "My friend Conner's pet wolf's a lot bigger."

"No kidding," Linda agreed. "I can barely see over Wolf's shoulders."

"Tha's a lot bigger than most wolves," Hagrid commented. "Is he magical?"

Linda shook her head. "He was 'enhanced' by mundane methods when he was young."

Hagrid snorted but said nothing as they trudged across the sodden grounds towards the castle's main doors.





To Linda's delight, she and Zatanna were able to sneak into the Great Hall without attracting any attention and quickly located her cousin towards the far end of the Gryffindor table. As they walked up behind him, she saw him take his glasses off and hand them across the table to his female friend, Hermione Granger, who tapped them with her wand, whispered a spell, and then passed them back.

"What was that spell for?" she asked by way of an introduction.

"It was an Impervious Charm," replied the bushy-haired girl automatically. "It repels water."

"That's useful," Zatanna observed.

"Thanks," said Hermione, then glanced up. "Linda!"

"Hi, Hermione," Linda replied, then looked down at Kellah Moon, who was sitting on Harry's near side – Ron was on the other – and gave her an enquiring glance. The shy girl immediately got the hint and budged up a bit to allow both visitors to slip in between them and for Linda to fold her cousin in a hug. "You don't seem to be eating much, Hank."

Hank glared at her and broke out of their hug. "I don't want anything."

"Harry, you need your strength," chipped in Seamus Finnigan, as Linda helped herself to a plate of food and some juice. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Hank sarcastically.

"Listen to your friends, Hank," Zatanna counseled him.

Hank scowled and sighed. He picked up a slice of toast and began to nibble it mutinously.



10:59 GMT.


As a surprise for Harry, Dean and Kellah – the groups' experts in drawing and Charms respectively – had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined that featured a large Gryffindor lion under the slogan 'Potter for President' and flashed different colours.

"Nice work," noted Linda with a grin, seeing the large banner showing a large Gryffindor loin and 'Lang for the Lead' and flashed several different colours that Dean Thomas and Kellah Moon were holding up from their seats on the top row of seats. "Hank'll love it."

"Thanks," chorused the pair, although Kellah was barely audible over the wind.

Moments later, her cousin and the rest of the Gryffindor team walked out onto the pitch with the team captain, Oliver Wood, in the lead, staggering sideways in the wind.

"The players take their positions as Madam Hooch steps out onto the field to begin the game!" declared a voice, a sound-amplifying spell easily breaking through the wind.

Linda looked down and saw a hawk-faced elderly woman walk out on the field, then pause on the centre circle, her eyes scanning the players of both teams intently.

Hank on the other hand didn't seem to be playing a great deal of attention, as he was scanning the stadium instead. Linda could tell the moment that he spotted Dean and Kellah's banner, as he straightened up and his expression brightened.

"Mount your brooms, please," ordered Madam Hooch, then she kicked open the chest of balls and the Bludgers shot out, followed by the Snitch.

"… Remember, the snitch is worth a hundred-and-fifty points," declared the announcer. "The seeker who catches the Snitch ends the game!"

Madam Hooch removed the Quaffle from the trunk, tucked it under one arm, and mounted her own broom. Then she put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that echoed shrilly through the storm.

Fifteen brooms rose quickly into the air, many of them – including Hank's – swerving slightly with the wind.

"Madam Hooch has released the Quaffle..." reported the announcer. "… and the game begins! The Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor… what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too…"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor," said Jordan. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve… back to Johnson and she shoots and scores… ten points for Gryffindor!"

Around Linda, the Gryffindors cheered. She wasn't sure, but she thought that most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined in.

"Well done!" declared Hagrid loudly.

"Slytherin takes possession of the Quaffle!" announced Jordan. "Bletchley passes to Captain Adrian Pucey… Flint dodges Johnson, dodges Bell… and throws! Wood knocks it away with his broom… He smirks at Flint, who glares back. Johnson and Bell pass the Quaffle back and forth as they tried to get into position. Johnson takes it, throws..."

"Gryffindor scores! They now lead by twenty points to zero!"

"What's he up to?" asked Linda as Pucey flew towards one of his beaters and snatched his bat. Before anyone could respond, he intercepted a Bludger and knocked it right at Oliver Wood. The iron ball hit the fifth year in the stomach, and he plummeted to the ground, knocked out.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Linda over the audience's boos. "Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Probably," said Ron. "Rumour has it he took one to the head in his first game and he was fine… well mostly."

Madam Hooch awarded a penalty to Gryffindor, Alicia took the shot, it was saved by the Slytherin keeper, who passed the ball to one of the Slytherin chasers who sped up the pitch at top speed. One of the Weasleys twins tried to stop him, but he dodged and scored.

On the other side of pitch, Flint and the third chaser flew towards Angelina, boxing her in, forcing her into the drapes covering one of the towers. She was knocked off her broom and fell to the ground.

Most of the crowd – including all the Gryffindors – booed as Madam Hooch awarded another penalty that was quickly put in by Katie, but the ball was snatched by Warrington, who led the Slytherin triad of Chasers forward away from their own goal, flanked by their Beaters, tossing the ball between them as they penetrated deep into the Gryffindor half of the pitch despite the best efforts of the remaining Gryffindor players.

"This is not good," Ron observed grimly as Slytherin scored on the unprotected Gryffindor goal.

"Can they pull it back?" Linda asked her fellow redhead.

"It's possible, but the girls can only defend at best at this point..." Ron replied. "But we could still win if Hank can beat Higgs to the Snitch."

Linda nodded, then winced as Alicia's attempt to stop a shot at goal by Pucey and Montague was unsuccessful, and Slytherin pulled ahead. Hank… sooner rather than later would be good…

However, the Snitch was elusive for several moments, and Slytherin drew ahead by forty points before her cousin seemed to spot the elusive ball as he accelerated sharply away from the run of play. Scanning the pitch briefly, Linda spotted the Slytherin Seeker, Teresa Higgs, speeding towards an intersecting point from another angle.

"He's seen it!" Linda cried.

"Go, Hank!" yelled Ron, a cry that was taken up moments later by Zatanna and the other first years, then they groaned as Hank had to slow and swerve to avoid a Bludger from Bole.

But a desperate lunge by Hank allowed him to close the distance and snatch the Golden Snitch out of the air, then slowed to a stop and raised a fist in triumph!

"Gryffindor WINS!" declared Lee Jordan, jumping up onto his chair and pumping his fist in triumph. "Hank Lang catches the Snitch and wins the game for Gryffindor at one-seventy to sixty!"



Smallville,
November 8, 12:50 CST.



Linda and Lucy were still changing for gym when Tim burst into the locker room, his face alive with the nervous energy that usually meant that he'd picked up another juicy rumour or story through the Torch.

"Let me guess, more conspiracy theories?" Linda quipped, as she tied off the waistband of her shorts.

"Why do you never…" Tim began, then remembered what he wanted to say. "No, listen… this is story is journalism gold. Your new 'friend' robbed the Smallville Bank at gunpoint on Saturday!"

"Lucas… robbed a bank," Linda echoed, confused.

"That can't be true," Lucy said hesitantly, as she tied her long hair behind into a ponytail. "Robbing a bank? In broad daylight? That sounds… extreme."

"More like stupid," Linda asserted. "Which he isn't."

Tim shook his head and leaned in closer, as if sharing a state secret. "But don't forget… his family have they've been exploiting Smallville for generations. I'm sure he's just showing his true colours!"

Linda scowled as she pulled on her t-shirt. "My aunt talked to him when we were in the hospital, she thinks that he's really trying to his family's reputation around. Something's not right about this…"

"Tim does have a point, Lucy," Linda interjected, her voice steady. "I've seen it before in the horse industry… someone wants to try something different, but they eventually revert to old habits."

The school bell echoed through the halls, a crisp sound breaking into their conversation. Linda placed her hands on her hips, a spark igniting in her eyes. "Maybe… but I'm not convinced, so I'm going to look into it and find out what's really going on."

Tim's expression morphed from excitement to concern as he led the way out of the changing room. "Are you sure… that could be dangerous!"

Linda shot him an incredulous look, rolling her eyes. "I've dealt with worse before."

Lucy, meanwhile, was torn. "But you had help then…"

Linda offered a reassuring smile, the kind that radiated the confidence of a girl who never backed down from a challenge. "And I'll ask for anything help I need this time… I'm going to start by asking Oracle to find out what Captain Miller knows about it, then play it by ear."

Lucy relaxed a little at that. "Just be careful, okay?"

"You know me."

"That's what we're afraid of," Tim interjected.



November 9, 16:16 CST.


The clang of metal and the low hum of machinery surrounded her as she turned into Luca's work site. A burly man, sweat glistening on his brow despite the mild evening, spotted her and pointed toward the main kitchen. "Mr Lowell and Chef Louis are in there, overseeing the grill installation."

Linda thanked him and made her way to the kitchen. As the heavy door swung open, the rich smell of spices and the noise of motors filled the air. Lucas, tall and sturdy with a disarming smile, stood next to Chef Louis Verne, a stocky man with a bushy moustache, barking orders at the crew.

"Linda!" Lucas exclaimed, his face lighting up as he turned to her. "Thank you again for saving my life at the reservoir. I can't tell you how much that means."

"Glad to do it," she replied, though her heart felt a weight deeper than gratitude. The concern gnawing at her wasn't just about his life; it was about his freedom. "Can we talk?"

Lucas glanced around, his smile fading slightly. "I don't hide anything from my employees. But if you really need to talk, we can speak here."

Linda felt her pulse quicken. She was pretty sure she was right, but she was taking a risk. "It's about the robbery."

Lucas stiffened. "How did you hear about that?" he asked abruptly.

"A friend of a friend," Linda admitted, not wanting to get either Tim or Eamonn into trouble.

Lucas let out a sigh, crossing his arms. "I didn't do it, Linda. My employees can vouch for me. I was here all weekend."

Chef Verne nodded vigorously, his bushy moustache twitching.

"Someone must have impersonated you to try and frame you," Linda said, feeling a rush of relief. "But do you have any enemies?"

Lucas's expression darkened, his eyes wandering briefly to the floor. "My family definitely does… but this seems personal somehow..."

Linda nodded, as the weight of Lucas's words sank in. That made sense. You didn't go to that sort of trouble on a whim. "I'd like to help you…"

He looked at her, a mix of gratitude and caution in his gaze. "I appreciate it, but maybe you shouldn't, Linda. Whoever is behind this isn't playing games. You're getting involved in something that could be dangerous."

"Don't worry about me," she said with a determination, a little of her chaos-fire creeping into her eyes. "I have some… experience… of danger, and not just in the reservoir."

"I believe you."

"Who do you think is behind it?"

Lucas paused, a name on his lips, but shook his head. "No-one I'm prepared to accuse without evidence… and they'd never dirty their hands by getting directly involved anyway."

"So, we need to find their local agent, their patsy," Linda concluded. "I can do that."

Lucas looked like he was about to argue but nodded and thanked her.



Lochabar,
10:31 GMT.



"You did really well with the Mending Charm, Ron," said Hermione as they left Charms class.

Ron shrugged, "With my family, I've seen it often enough."

"Familiarity with a spell isn't essential to being able to do easily," Hank confirmed as he stepped up between his friends, then turned towards Hermione.

"Ready for Transfiguration?"

Hermione paused, "I'm not sure… inanimate to inanimate transfiguration is simple enough but animate to inanimate…"

Hank nodded.



10:45 GMT


"Good morning, class," McGonagall began, her voice authoritative yet tinged with a hint of warmth. "As you will know if you completed the reading I assigned on Monday, we will be starting with animate to inanimate transformation… Tabacifors!"

The little brown mouse on the desk in front of her shimmered momentarily before transforming into a beautifully ornate snuffbox, adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to dance with life. The students gasped, an awe-filled hush settling over the class.

"Now, remember..." McGonagall continued, her eyes scanning the classroom, "... clear intent is key. Focus your thoughts on what you wish to achieve and follow through with clarity and precision." With her opening speech complete, she picked up the cage of sleeping mice and walked around the classroom, handing out a single animal to each student.

Next to Hank, Hermione rolled up her sleeves, picked up her wand and pointed it at another mouse, concentrating hard. "Tabacifors!" Hermione's mouse transformed fluidly into a strikingly elegant snuffbox. "See? It's all about focus and intention."

Hank and Ron shared a look and then focused on their own work.

By the time the bell rang for the end of class, Hank had created both a relatively utilitarian, workman-like snuffbox and a second… object… that vaguely resembled a snuffbox in the sense that it was vaguely box-shaped with a removable lid, but was more like an elaborate two-piece rock jar than the assigned object, and Ron's snuffbox was a misshapen, vaguely furry cuboid.


November 12, 17:16 CST.


Watching the sun disappear over the horizon, Linda shifted restlessly, regretting her confident proclamation to Lucas that she would help him, particularly now that the Edge City Examiner had the story and had broadcast it far and wide — omitting the facts that hinted at his innocence — meaning that unless she got very lucky she wasn't going to exonerate him without help. Or maybe even with help, she thought darkly.

As if summoned by her doubts, Tim entered the stable, an easy smirk on his face as he leaned casually against the stable door. His dark hair fell just slightly over his eyes, making him look both charming and condescending. "I don't you why you're putting yourself through all this trouble for that rich boy. Even if he did it, he'll be fine. His type always are."

Linda felt a surge of frustration coursing through her. "That's not true… or even the point…" she spat, her fists clenching at her sides.

"Oh please, Linda. You really think he's innocent?" Tim rolled his eyes, a dismissive wave of his hand flicking away her protests. "You should just admit it and move on."

But the moment Tim laughed, something clicked in Linda's mind. She stared into his eyes, a flicker of realization striking her like lightning. The inflection of his voice, the tone of disdain… seemed wrong. Not like Tim at all… "Wait a second," Linda said, stepping closer with a newfound resolve. "You know who the imposter is… because it's you!"

Tim's expression shifted only slightly, a flicker of annoyance that wouldn't be dismissed easily. "What are you talking about? Don't be ridiculous, Linda."

But she pressed on, deep down aware she had struck a nerve. "You've been clever all along! You were trying to distract me from finding the real thief... because you are the thief!"

Before she could utter another word, Tim lunged at her, moving with strength and agility that caught Linda completely off guard. He tackled her to the ground, his body weight pinning her down like an anchor. The crash of hooves echoed in response from the startled horses, as if they were warning of the chaos ensuing in their domain.

But Linda refused to give up easily. Marshalling her strength, she brought her legs up between them and kicked out, breaking his grip and sending him careening towards the main door and colliding with Lucy as she entered the stable, bringing them both to the ground.

"Lucy!" Fearing for her friend's safety, Linda charged forward, and as the imposter scrambled to regain his footing, she struck out at him, landing a punch to the side of his head. He shook it off and took a wild swing in her direction, but she easily avoided it and landed another blow of her own, sending him crashing through one of the stall doors. Lucky for him, that one's empty, Linda thought grimly.

"Why are you fighting me?" demanded the imposter, as he landed a brutal punch to her side. "You can't win!"

"You've no idea what I'm capable of!" Linda countered brashly as pain shot through her, bringing her to her knees.

"Oh, I think I do!" snarled the imposter, anger turning her friend's face ugly as he aimed a kick at Linda's head.

"You really don't!" Linda replied hotly as she barely dodged out of the way of the strike. "Chaos-Zauberwelle!"

A wave of fiery-red energy erupted from her and crashed into him, carried him away from her and tearing up the stable as it flowed down the aisle, finally losing power in time for him to only bump gently against doors at the opposite end rather than crash through them.

The cries of the horses brought Lucy out of her semi-conscious state, "What happened?" she asked weakly, glancing around the building in shock and confusion.

"I found the imposter," Linda told her as she rose to her feet and staggered over to her friend.

As Lucy got to her feet with Linda's help, she noticed the crumpled, unconscious form at the end of the aisle. "Tim?!"

"I doubt it," Linda said grimly as they hobbled over to him, carefully keeping at least an arms'-length away.

At that moment, the boy's form appeared to distort, subtly shifting into a long-haired brunette boy.

"Greg Greer?" said Lucy, incredulously. "He's a bit of creep, but…"

"And jealous of Tim's life," Linda reminded her, then realised something. "It wouldn't surprise he was planning on replacing Tim if he was exposed."

"You don't think he's already done something to Tim…?" Lucy asked, worried.

"I hope not," Linda replied, then glanced around. "Can you manage here?"

"Of course."

"I need to make some calls," Linda declared. "Urgently."
 
Looking for Trouble
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, and JK Rowling. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.

A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.




The Watchtower.
November 23, 04:41 EST.



"Recognized, Power Girl B-Four-One."

"Anissa!" exclaimed Linda, skipping over to the Zeta Tube and hugging her friend. "Ready for your big mission?"

Anissa smiled and shrugged, her blond wig swishing from the motion. "Is anyone?"

"Good point," Linda admitted.

"Can I have everyone's attention?!" said Artemis from behind them.

The two girls turned towards the woman's voice and moved closer to where she stood with Dick, Tim, Roy and M'gann. "A few days ago, Henri Hitobito aka the Tattooed Man, escaped from a prisoner transfer from the US Penitentiary in Atwater to Belle Reve," she began. "During questioning, his fellow convicts mentioned that he was planning on getting revenge on anyone associated with his conviction."

That's going to be a pretty long list…
Linda thought.

"The initial working assumption of the fugitive taskforce was that he would go after the closest targets — the judge, the prosecutor, his public defender, the arresting officers — in San Francisco and several of the Justice League Reserves have already been tasked with protecting them," Artemis continued. "The Outsiders will be covering the members of the jury who are still resident in the area. However, given that there has been no activity in the Bay Area so the taskforce has decided that he may be going after one or more of the five of the jurors are on vacation elsewhere in the United States for Thanksgiving."

She paused for a point to let that sink in. "We'll be protecting them. I'll be leading Alpha Squad to Seattle to protect Phoebe Tapia, Violet, Stephanie, you're with me; Roy, Eddie, Linda… you're Beta, your protectee is Winston W. Rudd, he's in Rye, New York…"



Rye.
November 24, 21:23 EST.



Linda pushed herself against the remnants of a wooden fence, dragging herself to feet, her head ringing and the splinters biting into her skin. Her thoughts reeled as she scanned the field of battle trying to figure out what to do next.

"Pathetic!" mocked the Tattooed Man, his voice a sneer that dripped with arrogance. In the dim light, his inked tattoos writhed on his skin, each telling a tale of conquests and power. "You think you can stop me? I've taken on Green Lantern and won!" His laughter echoed through the wreckage, a chilling reminder of their dire predicament.

(Anyone got any ideas?) groaned Roy as he tried to get his laser cannon back online, his expression was a mixture of fury and disbelief at the destruction that the villain had wrought in mere moments.

Eddie coughed, smoke curling around his mouth, (Not me, I can barely breathe thanks to that extinguisher spray that he nailed me with…)

Extinguish… Linda echoed, the germ of an idea coming to her. (Roy, is your taser working?)

(None of the weapons in my arm are working,) Roy replied. (I've got a grenade, but he'll probably block it.)

(Not if my plan works,) Linda promised.

Roy grunted, abandoning his repairs and moving his other hand to his belt. (Ready.)

(On my mark…) said Linda, as she staggered to her feet, fighting past the pain and marshalling the last reserves of energy that pulsed within her. "Verwirrender Chaosausbruch!"

A slight shimmering pulse eliminated from the girl and surged towards their foe, washing over him seconds later.

(Got him!) Linda declared as his expression shifted from aggressive arrogance to confusion as the spell took effect, weaving its way through the patterns of his mind.

Roy seeing his opening, activated his taser grenade, eyes narrowing in determination and tossed it overhand, the grenade crackling to life as it sailed through the air with unerring accuracy.

The villain screamed as the device crackled into life on contact, sending powerful jolts of electricity through his muscular body, causing him to drop his weapons and fall to his knees and then the ground.



21:30 EST.


The villain was beginning to stir as a convoy of police vehicles hurtled onto the street, sirens blaring and lights flashing. "Chaos-Energieschock," Linda murmured as their contacts stepped out of the lead SUV and wandered over to them.

He tensed momentarily, then slumped down again.

"Wow," exclaimed Agent Futz as he took in the scene. "This place looks like a warzone."

"Heh, they won, didn't they?" pointed out his partner. "Pretty good work for kids, given who he's taken down before."

"Thanks, I guess," muttered Arsenal, crossing his arms and frowning. "We're not playing games h you know."

Linda crossed to her team-mate and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's not make a scene, okay?" she asked him in a placating tone. "We did what we had to do…"

"And we won," Eddie added. "That's what matters, doesn't it?"

Roy frowned, but nodded and relaxed, stepping back so that Agent Nuck was able to cuff Tattooed Man, attach an inhibitor collar and activate it. "There, that should keep him quiet," declared the veteran DEO agent, then motioned for a couple of local officers to come forward and take him into custody.

"Let's go," said Linda as ambulances and fire apparatus joined the throng clogged the quiet suburb street. "They've got things under control now."

Roy nodded, and after saying goodbye to the federal agents, he led them to a quiet spot to await pick-up.



November 25.
11:16 CST.



Linda's eyes cracked open, squinting in the morning light that streamed through her thin curtains, then she pulled the covers up over her head.

"Linda!" called her aunt, drawing her attention to her door, "We're going to be late for Thanksgiving dinner at the farm!"

There was an urgency in Lana's tone that made Linda groan softly, curling deeper into the warmth of her sheets. With a reluctant sigh, she finally peeled herself out of bed, shivering in the cool air. Her muscles were stiff and painful, but she managed to stagger to the door and open it. Grappling with the remnants of sleep and fatigue, she hopped off her bed and padded across the cold wooden floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree they had set up in anticipation of the upcoming holiday season.

"You look like you've been through a war zone," her aunt quipped as she hobbled past her, concern sharpening her features.

"No, just a tough mission," Linda mumbled, barely processing her aunt's words as she stumbled into the bathroom. The warm shower was her salvation, and as the water cascaded over her, the tension in her muscles slowly melted away. The faint scent of peppermint from the shampoo filled her senses.

Far sooner than she wanted, Linda got out of the shower and dried off, then took a couple of Motrin and dressed in a t-shirt and leggings, feeling slightly more human but still drained.

A beep of a car horn told her that she needed to hurry up, so she went down the stairs as quickly as she could manage and grabbed her puffer jacket and sneakers from the floor, slipping them on with the deftness of regular practice.

As she finally made her way outside, the brisk air hit her like a slap to the face. The sky was vivid blue, punctuated by the white of fluffy clouds drifting lazily by.

Her aunt was already behind the wheel, the car's engine humming comfortably. "There's my sleepyhead!" she said cheerily, igniting a faint smile on Linda's lips.

The warmth of the car enveloped her instantly as she got in, Melo barked excitedly from the backseat of the car, his tail wagging like a flag in the wind, drawing a smile from her.

"Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired and bit stiff," Linda replied, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "Nothing I haven't managed with dozens of times."

Her aunt turned to concentrate on the drive as she pulled out into the main road.

The familiar drive didn't take that long, and they were soon pulling into the farmyard. The warm aroma of turkey wafted through the air from the ranch house, mingling with the fragrance of fresh pies cooling on the windowsill, that was a balm to Linda's exhausted body.

As she stepped out, Melo bounded out too, tail wagging furiously and darted into the yard, chasing the scattering leaves as they danced across the yard. As she continued to watch her dog play, Linda heard a familiar mechanical whirring sound from the barn and seconds later two familiar figures stepped out of the building. A dark-skinned curly-haired girl in a hooded jacket and leggings and a tall, bald man in a suit and polo-neck.

"Traya!" Linda exclaimed, rushing over to her friend as fast as her aching legs could carry her. The two girls embraced, bringing a warmth to the coldness around Linda.

"Are you okay?" Traya asked as they broke apart, her long, curly hair swaying as she stepped back. "You look tired."

"I'll be fine," Linda assured her with a sigh. "I've been on duty with the Team for the last days and got in a fight with the Tattooed Man back East."

"That was you?!" said Traya, impressed. "From what I've heard he's pretty hardcore."

"He is," Linda agreed as the two girls linked arms and heading towards the farmhouse. "The street where we were fighting got pretty torn up, and I've got the bruises to prove it."

"Regardless, you and your squad did well," said Traya's father from behind them in his usual even, emotionless tone. "Compensation will be provided to victims from the usual sources."

Linda felt herself relax a bit more at that, she'd heard rumours of a compensation program for victim of meta-crime but this was the first time that she'd been invested in knowing whether the rumours were true.

"Hi, Wolf," Traya said as they approached the porch.

The great beast raised his head for a moment to look at them, then accepted pats and woofed a quiet greeting to Melo as she setting down next to him.

The great wooden front door swung open, revealing Grandma in a flour-dusted apron, her white hair curling adorably at the ends. "There you are, darlings! Come in, come in!" she exclaimed, enveloping them in a warm embrace. Linda absorbed the comfort for a moment, allowing herself to forget about her aching body.

Inside, the house felt alive, filled with lively banter and the fragrant scent of roasted turkey, pies and caramelized vegetables. Grandpa sat in the far corner, his deep chuckle mixing with the laughter of the younger Kents. Uncle Clark, tall and strong with a quiet strength that gave Linda comfort trying to distract his son, Jonny, who was trying to get at the cranberry sauce with the dubious assistance of verdant-skinned Garfield Logan, currently in the form of a housecat. Grandma and Aunt Lana had joined Aunt Lois at the stove to finish up the cooking while Conner, M'gann and M'ree were setting the table, their light-hearted chatter weaving through the warm atmosphere.

"Linda!" exclaimed Jonny, dropping down from the counter and darting toward her, arms stretched wide for a hug. She knelt down, wrapping him in her arms. "You'll never guess what I learned today!"

"What?" she asked, half-smiling, half-wincing as Jonny's exuberance jolted her bruises.

"I learned how to make homemade biscuits! You can help me decorate them later!" he beamed, his innocent enthusiasm contagious.

"Sure thing, little man," she replied, trying to mimic his excitement despite feeling a bit weary. She released him a moment later and both girls moved over to the nearest sofa and Jonny broke off to play with a toy spaceship that his father had picked up on his last visit to Rann. M'ree abandoned her table-laying a moment later and joined them.

Linda was just settling into the sofa, letting the quiet buzz of M'ree and Traya highly technical conversation flow over her and sighing as the well-worn fabric curved around her tired body, when a flash of vibrant yellow light caught her attention through the large front windows. She tensed, but almost immediately relaxed as her mind registered the familiar feel of Zatanna's mind and a less familiar but paternal one that was almost certainly her father.

This guess was confirmed a moment later when Forager opened the door to admit the two sorcerers. "Is there room for two more?" Giovanni asked, his voice questioning but with a hint of warmth as he stepped inside.

"Zatanna Zatara is part of this hive," intoned the New Genesisian Bug as he helped take their coats before hanging them up, "and Giovanni Zatara is part of Zatanna Zatara's hive." His quirks were met with laughter, adding to the lightness in the air.

Grandpa chuckled heartily, his voice booming like distant thunder, as he gestured to the table where most of the gathering had already settled. "Come on, let's get around the table before everything gets cold!"

Just as the bulk of the party had taken their seats, the last trio of guests arrived — Linda's best friend Lucy Cao, her father, and her grandmother — who entered with exasperated expressions, claiming they'd been overwhelmed with 'issues' involving their horses.

"Don't worry about it, Lewis," Grandma assured him as she brought a large dish of mashed potatoes over to the table.

"Yeah, someone either running late, begging off or having to duck out because of an emergency is practically normal around this family," Aunt Lois added, sharing a look with her husband, who returned it with a 'who me' which Linda didn't need even the slightest hint of telepathy to know was fake.

The entire table broke into laughs at that.



Lochaber.
December 6, 13:20 GMT.



"Now that you're mastered some simple spells, today we will progress to something a little more fun," said Professor Flitwick once he taken in the homework and settled back onto his stack of books. He drew his wand and pointed it at a large pineapple that lay on an open spot on his desk. "Chorus Ananas!"

A second later, the pineapple stood up on its end and began hopping and dancing around the open space on the desk to claps, giggles and laughs from the students. Flitwick guided it around for a few minutes and that cancelled the spell. "Does anyone have any questions?"

Surprisingly, even Hermione didn't, so Flitwick set the different pairs to work on the spell.

Hank was paired with Lavender that day, and despite her generally gossipy nature she proved to be a capable Charms student, and both were in the half of the students that got the hang of the spell by the time the bell rang.



18:35 GMT.


Hank, Ron and Hermione were finishing up their dinner when Professor McGonagall appeared behind them, carrying a clipboard with a roll of parchment attached to it. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Professor," they replied.

"Are any of you staying at the castle over Christmas?"

None of them were. Ron had grumbled about having to 'put up with his brother Percy for two weeks' – which Hank thought was a little unfair, the seventeen-year-old was a little pompous and officious at times but was a regular and useful contributor to the Babel Club – but had eventually yielded to his parents' entreaties in absence of any solid excuse.

Professor McGonagall frowned slightly. "Mr Potter… as you are leaving, Professor Dumbledore needs to speak to you about your options."

My options?
Hank thought. Well, I guess this is that conversation… "Did he say when, Professor? I've got my language club in about twenty minutes."

"As soon as possible, Mr Lang."

"Would late morning tomorrow – let's say eleven – be acceptable, ma'am?" Hank asked. "I'll have time after History of Magic."

"I believe that would be acceptable," conceded Professor McGonagall, a little reluctantly. "The password is 'Ice Mice'."

"What was that about?" asked Ron, as she moved away.

Hank waited until the professor was a bit further down the table before replying. "I suspect that the headmaster doesn't want me to go back to Smallville."

Ron's face took on a confused expression. "But that's where you live. Why wouldn't you go back?"

"He originally wanted me to be placed with my birth mother's sister, Petunia Dursley, down south because of some 'blood protections' on her house," Hank replied. "I suspect he wants me to return there."

"Professor Dumbledore is very knowledgeable," Hermione reminded him. "Do you think that it's a good idea to ignore his wishes?"

"Ignore him, no," Hank agreed. "But you can only come to the right decisions if you have all the information."

Hermione nodded.

"And based on some of the things that he said to Mera back in November, I think that some of his information is out of date."

"Are you sure?"

"Not yet," Hank replied. "But I expect I'll find out tomorrow."

"Are you sure your information will make a difference?" asked Hermione.

"I think so," Hank said. "I'm not an expert on 'blood protections', but I'm not sure that headmaster is either, and Zatanna has a contact or two who are and they say there are a couple of problems…"

"Such as?"

"First, for best results, she'd have to accept me in, but she refused at the time… even if they could be re-established, they'll never be as strong as they could've been."

"That makes sense," piped up Ron. "I think Bill said something like that when he was studying for his cursebreaker credentials."

Hank nodded, "She also moved out of the house the house she and her husband owned in Surrey a few years ago after they divorced."

"Where does she live now?" asked Ron.

Hank sighed. "That's the biggest problem. According to my information, she now lives in an apartment in London."

"Why's that a problem?" asked Hermione. "You don't like flats?"

"Not particularly," Hank admitted. "But that's not the issue, the apartment is on the second floor. She's renting from the owners of the takeaway below her. According to my source, that means the protections can't be anchored there."

"I think it's possible," said Ron. "Bill talks about putting up protections over their camps all the time…"

"Those are temporary protections," Hank told him. "For the kind of solid, unbreakable protections that you'd need against even a mid-tier sorcerer, my source says you need ownership of the land."

Ron nodded, apparently satisfied.

"What makes you think that 'your source' knows better than the headmaster?" Hermione demanded.

"Professor Dumbledore is intelligent, well-read, and gets around," said Hank. "But he's not a specialist in ancient magic. My source is."

"Really, who?"

"Jason Blood."

"The Jason Blood?" exclaimed Ron. "Merlin's scribe?!"

"That's one story," Hank agreed. "I've heard him described as a high priest, a peasant, a scribe, one of Arthur's knights, the host of a demon… I don't think anyone's entirely sure what the truth is, not even him… But what is known that he's a skilled sorcerer who's been wandering the world causing or preventing disaster since before the founding of Hogwarts."

"Oh," said Hermione, clearly not sure what to say to that.



December 7, 10:25 GMT.


"Nine inches of parchment on the history of cauldron development and the impact on potions innovation," declared Professor Binns in his usual drone as the bell rang for the end of the period.

The class roused themselves from their usual stupor and rushed for the exit.

"I'll see you guys in the Common Room later," Hank told Ron and Hermione as they reached the main staircase. "I've got that meeting with the headmaster to 'discuss my options'."

"Hank…"

He held up his hand, "I know… I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, I just hope he gives me and mine the same."

Hermione gave a look that said that she didn't believe him but said nothing.





"Ice Mice," Hank told the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office. The statue hopped out of the way and allowed him to step onto the stairs. He climbed slowly, and was just about to knock when a voice echoed from inside the office, telling him to come in. Hank opened the door and scanned the room, he was pleased to see that – other than the Headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes, who trilled a greeting – they were alone.

"Have a seat, Hank," said the headmaster. "I meant to ask before… how are you settling in here? It must be quite an adjustment?"

"I'm good, Professor." Hank assured him, as he sat down and dropped his bag on the floor. "I've done a fair bit of travelling with Mom, or Aunt Lois and Uncle Clark…"

Dumbledore nodded. "I hear you started a club?"

"The Babel Club, sir." Hank confirmed with a nod. "It's a language and culture club. Mostly Gryffindors and a few Ravenclaws now, but I'm hoping to recruit some Hufflepuffs in the new year."

"Have you considered inviting any Slytherins?"

Hank made a face. "I haven't exactly had a good start with that house, sir. I did think about approaching Blaise Zabini. He's not one of Draco's gang and rumour has it he knows a few languages…"

Dumbledore nodded, and Hank thought he saw the hint of smile under his bushy beard. "Do you know why I've asked you here, Hank?"

"Professor McGonagall said you wanted to discuss my options, Professor?" Hank replied, sitting down and dropping his bag on the floor.

The headmaster nodded. "After your parents were murdered, I intended to see to your placement in a suitable environment to allow you to grow up and have a safe, normal childhood."

"Normal is often overrated, sir," observed Hank dryly, then bent down and took a carboard file from his bag. "However, I assume that your intention was to place me with my biological mother's sister…" he opened the file and pretended to check it. "Petunia Dursley – nee Evans – sir?"

"Yes," agreed the Headmaster. "I felt it was the best option to keep you safe and away from your fame."

Hank nodded. "A reasonable goal, Professor. The Muggle authorities also considered that option. In the end, they discarded it."

"Really?"

"Yes sir," Hank confirmed. "Principally due to opposition from Mrs Dursley."

"Interesting…" mused the headmaster. "I originally intended to search for you until I found you and bring you back to your family…"

Hank hissed in annoyance at that comment, but remained silent, a small frown on his face.

"However, once my initial covert investigations proved unsuccessful and my limited sense of matters suggested that you were safe and happy…"

"I assume that you couldn't find me because I was living as a Lang, not a Potter, sir," Hank observed. "And maybe because I was in the States, rather than in Britain."

"That was my conclusion once I found your entry in the Book of Admittance," agreed the headmaster. "However, as that information is now publicly known, I feel that reverting to the original plan would be safer."

Hank sighed. "Zatanna suspected you might, so she had one of the Justice League Reserves and a local investigator conduct a follow-up investigation last month."

"Did they come to any conclusions?"

Hank nodded, indicating the file in his hand.

"I would like to see that information," said the headmaster. Despite the polite phrasing, it was not a request.

"Of course," agreed Hank, closing the file and offering it to the headmaster. "You can have my copy, sir."

"Thank you."

Hank sat in silence while the headmaster leafed through the document. After a moment, he started. "Your cousin is in St Brutus' Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys?"

"Apparently," confirmed Hank. "Although 'incurable' may have unnecessarily harsh in his case. He's making some progress… the staff think that he'll be a productive citizen before his eighteenth birthday."

Dumbledore nodded and returned to the report. Just as the bell rang for the beginning to lunch, the headmaster sighed, closed the file and set it down on his desk. "I will need to do some research of my own to confirm… But the name Jason Blood is known to me, so I doubt I will find anything he missed."

Hank nodded.

"Therefore, it would appear that we have a problem."

"I disagree, sir," said Hank firmly. "I'll be far safer in Smallville than I ever could be with the Dursleys, even with the blood protections."

"But the Death Eaters could get to you there.…"

"Professor, no Death Eater has set foot in the United States since three of them tried to use an illegal Portkey to get there in seventy-two and ended up in the Louisiana Bayou."

"That was never reported."

"Maybe not on this side of the pond, sir," Hank conceded. "But Swampy's a friend of a friend."

"Swampy?"

"The Swamp Thing," Hank clarified. "The undead plant creature – who may once have been the botanist Alec Holland – that protects some of the more remote parts of the Bayou, sir."

"Interesting," mused the headmaster. "But now that your new identity is known… anything's possible…"

"Anything's possible," Hank agreed. "But that doesn't mean acting as if it will happen is a good idea, or likely to work."

"Still, I would feel better if you had extra protection," pressed the headmaster. "Perhaps Remus Lupin – a friend of your father's – could join you for the holidays? He is a skilled wizard and well acquainted with Death Eater tactics."

"I'll need to check with Mom that it's all right, Professor," Hank replied with a shrug. "But I don't think it'll be a problem. There'll be enough people coming in and out of either Mom or Grandma and Grandpa's over the holiday that one more shouldn't make much of a difference."

"You're expecting a large crowd?"

"At Thanksgiving Dinner, Grandma and Grandpa had about a dozen people, including Zatanna, and her father, Giovanni, both of whom are powerful and experienced sorcerers... and then there's my cousin who is not only a capable apprentice sorcerer, but also has considerable psychic abilities... my cousin-in-law Megan and her uncle, John, are also powerful psychics… and her sister Marie's no slouch either..." Hank replied. "... and if they aren't enough then we can call in many others for help, including the gentleman we mentioned earlier, two Champions of Shazam, the other Hosts of Nabu — including whoever is wearing the Helm that week — and if the problem gets bad enough several graduates of the Atlantean Conservatory of Sorcery and the headmistress of the Conservatory… and then there's the demi-goddesses and the rest of the Amazons who might decide to get involved…"

"I see."

"Professor, I feel a great swell of pity for anyone who comes to Smallville looking for trouble," Hank paused for a moment, then looked the headmaster straight in the eye. "Because they'll find it."
 
New Beginnings
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, and JK Rowling. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.

A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.

A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.




Pateley Bridge.
December 7, 16:36 GMT.



"We've not seen you around much lately, Mr Lupin," noted the grocer as he rang up Remus' shopping. "You've not been ill, have you?"

No more than usual, Remus thought to himself. "I'm fine, thanks."

"A job was it then?"

Remus nodded. "A fruit-picking job at an orchard up north. I only got back a couple of days ago."

The grocer nodded, apparently satisfied. "Well, it's good to hear that you're well, Mr Lupin. That'll be five pounds exactly."

Remus thought that was extremely unlikely and considered arguing the point. However, he'd tried and failed before and he could do with saving the money, so he held his tongue and handed over the requested sum without comment.

"Have you been into the sweet shop yet?" asked the grocer as he exchanged the note for Remus' bag.

"Not yet."

"You should. They've got some nice stuff in for Christmas this year."

"I'll think about it," replied Remus, sorely tempted but not if his purse could bear the expense, despite his recent saving.



Riggs Moor,
18:06 GMT.



Remus was just out of sight of the road and debating whether to risk a Wand-Lighting Charm to help him navigate the damp and gloomy night when the area was flooded with light as a swan-sized bird appeared in front of him in a flash of fire. He staggered backwards, dropping his packages and falling on a bit of dry-stone wall. "Fawkes?"

The phoenix hopped over and extended a clawed foot with a note attached. Remus reached down to remove the note. As soon he was free of his burden, Fawkes looked around as if considering his surroundings and then disappeared in another flash.

Remus debated opening the envelope then and there but eventually decided not to and slipped the envelope into a pocket, picked up his packages, and continued his journey towards home.



19:10 GMT.


Remus entered his cottage, unpacked his shopping and then while some food was cooking in the oven, he retrieved the letter and sat down at his table to read it. The note inside was short and to the point:

Dear Remus,

I hope you are well.
As you may be aware, Harry Potter was finally located shortly before the beginning of term. Initially, I hoped to use this to finally place him with his aunt and uncle for his protection, however it turns out that this is no longer a suitable option, so I have reluctantly conceded to him returning to his adoptive home in the United States. Despite Harry's assurances that he will be safe there, I would like to send you there to provide additional protection.

Yours,
Albus Dumbledore.



Remus folding the letter and tucked it back into its envelope, as he tried to settle his thoughts. That's not going to be easy… and I've a feeling that there's something, maybe even several somethings, that he's not telling me, he decided. But I'll do it. For the headmaster… particularly as it's for Harry too… I'd do anything.



West London,
December 13, 13:06 GMT.



The second letter had come less than a week after the first, requesting that he meet a friend of Harry's new family at a pub called the Time in a Bottle in London for a late lunch.

A faint caress of magic was his first hint that the establishment wasn't the purely Muggle one that he'd been expecting, and his first look at the relatively sparse lunchtime crowd reinforced it. After taking a moment to get over the shock, Remus started to scan the room, looking for the woman he'd been told to meet.

"Looking for someone, guvnor?" asked a voice from off to his right.

Remus turned and regarded the speaker, who wore the traditional white coat and white peaked cap of a Muggle milkman and was standing next to a pair of grey-skinned, violin-playing men and a pair of twins in pink robes with huge, ruffled collars. "Remus Lupin, I have a meeting here?"

The milkman nodded, "You're in the back. Follow me."

Still a little bewildered at the situation, Remus nodded and followed the man in silence, clocking a few other unusual looking patrons like a woman whose modesty was preserved only by a string of balloons, and a botched human-to-crocodile transformation in a tuxedo.

"That's Death Dinosaur," his escort noted, after noticing Remus' gaze. "You're safe in here thanks to the truce magic, but stay away from him normally, he's… testy."

After a moment, they came to a table for two occupied by a young woman with long inky-black hair in a lilac rollneck and a black skirt. A muscular teenage boy with long bleached-blond hair in a black t-shirt and olive cargo trousers stood at her elbow.

"Good morning, Mr Lupin," said the young woman, and favoured him with a smile. "Thanks Milko, I take it from here."

The milkman nodded, and having fulfilled his purpose, left to return to his previous conversation.

"Good morning," repeated Remus, and slipped into the empty seat opposite her with a smile. "You're Zatanna Zatara."

"I am," confirmed the woman with a smile. "But we didn't ask you here to talk about me."

"You want to talk about Harry."

Zatanna made a face. "Yes and no…" she replied. "I'm not part of your world, Mr Lupin… to me, Harry Potter is a modern myth, a legend, maybe even a Destiny… While I know that I'll have to deal with that someday… today isn't that day."

"Then what…?"

"Do you have the photographs and other paperwork we asked you to bring?"

"I do," Remus confirmed, a little confused but sensing that she wanted a moment to collect herself, he extracted a small packet from his jacket and offered it to her.

"Give them to Ewart," Zatanna instructed, indicating the boy at her side. "He can sort you out a passport."

"How?" Remus asked as he handled over the packet.

The boy ignored the question and disappeared into the back with it.

"My interest is in Hank Lang," Zatanna continued. "The little boy that I first met on the second worst day of my life… the little boy who found me crying in a corner who offered me his toy dog – his talisman against nightmares – because hugging it made him feel better… in the young boy who spent interminable hours scouring ancient records trying to help me save my father… who later became my student and over time became the little brother – well littlest in a way – that I've never had."

Remus nodded, he could understand that. "How did you get involved in the first place? As you said, you're not really part of our community."

Zatanna nodded. "The destruction of the house at Godric's Hollow was serious enough that my father and another Justice Leaguer sent to investigate. They retrieved Hank from the ruins of his parents' house and after a ritual to 'find his best guardian' they decided to place him with Lana Lang, an old friend of Superman's and a member of the extended family that took me in after my mother died and my father was… unavailable…"

Remus wasn't sure what to say to that, so sat quietly as she pulled herself back together.

"Now, what do you want for lunch?" she asked, her voice falsely cheerful. "The bill is on us."



Smallville.
December 17, 14:26 CST.



The air in Mrs. Davison's eighth-grade spelling class hung thick with the scent of pine needles and impending holiday cheer as Linda and her friends filed in and took their seats. The chalkboard was adorned with festive snowmen and a meticulously drawn Christmas tree laden with misspelled words – Christmass, reindeer's, jollily – each a target for the day's spelling duel.

Mrs. Davison, a woman whose enthusiasm for Christmas rivalled Santa's himself, clapped her hands together. "Alright, class! Let's get into the Christmas spirit!... Adelia?!"

"Yes, ma'am!" said a honey-blond girl wearing thick glasses as she leapt to her feet.

"Spell cranberry?"

"Cee, ar, a, en, bee, ee, ar, ar, wye."

"Correct," Mrs Davison confirmed. "Well done."

"Suzanne, spell ornament?"

"Oh, ar, en, a, em, en, tee."

"Lucy, spell frankincense?"

"Ef, ar, a, en, kay, ai, en, cee, ee, en, ess, ee."

"Darren, spell cracker."

"Cee, ar, a, cee, kay, ee, ar."

As the rounds progressed, the words grew more challenging. The usual classroom banter faded into hushed anticipation as the competition intensified. One by one, classmates stumbled, their misspelled words adding to the festive chaos on Mrs. Davison's chalkboard until only two students remained standing: Linda and Mark Verheiden, an aspiring football player.

"Mark, spell myrrh."

"Em… u, ar?"

Mrs Davison paused for a moment as the class held their breath in anticipation. She frowned, "I'm sorry, Brad, that's not right."

"Really, are you sure?" he asked, puzzled.

"I'm afraid not," replied the teacher, and turned away and wrote both Mark's attempt and the correct spelling on the chalkboard. Then after giving them a moment to take it in, she turned back to the class and smiled at Linda. "Okay, Linda, if you can get this one right, then you win."

Linda nodded, anticipation building.

"Please spell 'wassail'."

Linda hesitated, the word unfamiliar, its archaic sound hinting at a festive mystery. She closed her eyes, picturing a steaming bowl of spiced cider, the warmth spreading through her. "Double-u, a, ess, ess, a, ai, el."

Mrs Davison paused for a moment, the class held their breath in anticipation. She smiled, "That is correct. You win!"

The class erupted in applause as Mrs Davison presented her with a small, intricately wrapped present as the bell rang for the end of day. "Merry Christmas, everyone!"



15:16 CST.


"You look like you had a good day," observed a familiar voice as the flood of students split up to head home.

Linda glanced around, trying to find the voice, then spotted him, lounging on the bumper of a shiny old Wagoneer. "Lucas, what brings you here?"

"We've finished the 'public areas' up at the resort and I thought you might want a tour?" offered the bald boy, shyly. "If you're not busy?"

"I'm not," Linda admitted hesitantly, glancing at her friends as she moved towards the vehicle.

"They're welcome to come along too," Lucas offered, his confidence returning as he opened the back door.

"Pass," said Tim, shortly, then turned on a heel and headed for the nearest school bus.

Lucy's glaze followed Tim for a moment, then turned back towards Linda and Lucas. "I wouldn't mind a look, but we've got a new client coming at four…"

"You're at Trai Tim Stables… next the Kent place, right?" Rebecca asked from inside the car.

Lucy nodded and murmured agreement. "My father owns it."

"We're on the way, or I can drop you back easily enough after Lucas shown you around."

"Count me in then," Lucy declared, closing the gap and slipping into the back of the car beside Linda.

"So, what were you celebrating when you came out?" Lucas asked curiously as Rachel turned the powerful vehicle into the stream of after-school traffic. "Was it just the holidays?"

"Linda won our grade's Christmas Spelling Bee!" exclaimed Lucy proudly, drawing his glaze to her. "Mrs Davison gave her a present."

"Have you opened it yet?" Lucas inquired, glancing back at Linda.

Linda, blushing at the attention, shook her head and burrowed in her bad for a moment, before extracting the brightly wrapped package. She quickly tore it open, revealing it's contents. "Hot cocoa mix!" she exclaimed. "I love hot cocoa."

"Not bad stuff for cocoa," Lucas opined, then trailed off as if caught up in a memory. "The best hot chocolate I've ever had… I was eight, my mother had to go to New York for some reason and it was Christmas time, so she took me along. We went to this tiny, almost hidden café in Greenwich Village. It was tucked away in a back street, all dark wood and flickering candlelight. The air was thick with the scent of cocoa and something else… something warm and spicy."

He paused, vulnerability clear in his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath, "They made the most incredible hot chocolate. It was…an experience. They called it their 'Signature Winter Indulgence.' It had this thick, dark ganache and a swirl of whipped cream on top, and they sprinkled it with… I think it was cinnamon and maybe a little cayenne pepper? It was rich, decadent… I'd almost call it sinful if I believed in such things…" His expression softened at the memory, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

"Sounds amazing," Lucy said softly. "You never had it again?"

"No," Lucas replied, his smile vanishing, replaced by a quiet sadness. "My father called us back to Edge City that night… and my mother sick only a few weeks later… by the time Christmas rolled around again, she was dead."

A heavy silence descended upon the vehicle, both girls had had their own tragedies so could easily sympathize with the boy.

A moment later, just as they were passing the cemetery, Lucy's phone broke the silence.

She answered, her face falling as she listened. A brief, hushed conversation followed, punctuated by polite but firm apologies. Finally, she hung up, her expression a mixture of disappointment and resignation.

"That was my grandmother," she said softly, with a tinge of regret. "They need me at home. Something came up."

The Wagoneer accelerated a little, pushing them back against their seats for a moment.

"Is it Comet?" Linda asked, concerned. "Can I help?"

"No, he's fine," Lucy replied. "We'd probably know it from here if he wasn't… it's a new horse that we took on this week. Go have your tour and tell me what it's like."

"You're sure?" Linda asked.

"I am," Lucy insisted as Rachel slowed the Wagoneer, pulling gently to a stop at the entrance to the stables. The air hung heavy with the scent of hay and horses as she hopped and ran towards the gate, confidently mounting it and dropping down to the other side almost without breaking stride.

"Who's Comet?" Lucas asked as Rachel accelerated back out into the road. "Is he yours?"

Linda shook her head. "He's one of the geldings at the stables," replied Linda. "He's… testy with most people, but we seem to get on well enough and he's the pony I tend to ride when I'm up here."



15:48 CST.


"Wow," said Linda as she walked into the hotel's reception area. "I saw a bit of it when I came to see you about the bank thing, but you've added to it. I particularly like the logo."

"That's something of a placeholder," Lucas replied as he led her over to the main desk. "At least until I complete Phase Two in the spring."

The receptionist looked up. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr Lowell?"

"Do you have that pass I asked you make up?"

"I think so, sir," replied the woman, and after a few seconds of searching, she produced a small green-and-purple credit-card sized pass in a lanyard and offered to him.

Lucas indicated that Linda should take it, and after a moment, she did. "What's this for?"

"It's a permeant all-access pass to everywhere in this building," Lucas replied.

"What? I can't…" Linda started. "It's too much."

"You saved my life, Linda," countered the older boy, rubbing his bald pate as he marshalled his words. "I owe you more than I can even begin to pay… but this I can do. Unless you don't want it?"

"Thank you."

"Now, let me show you what you get in the gift."

They started with the ground floor, a vibrant space buzzing with the promise of activity: They started in the kitchen, where Chef Louis greeted both warmly, before they moved into the bistro, with its large windows overlooking a heated patio complete with a BBQ pit, smelled of freshly baked bread and coffee. Beyond that, a multi-use hall lay silent, waiting for life to fill it. The racquetball courts were pristine, catching the weak afternoon sunlight coming through their skylights in shimmering reflections. Linda particularly loved the small, heated swimming pool that lay unfilled for now and the hot tub, nestled nearby, promised cozy relaxation, while the changing rooms, complete with a steam room and saunas, were the epitome of luxury for Smallville.

"It's amazing," Linda breathed, marvelling at the scale and the careful attention to detail as they moved towards the main stair.

"I'm aiming for a year-round destination," Lucas confessed, his voice imbued with a quiet pride. "More than just a hotel… but an experience."

"I'd say you're off to a good start," Linda told him as they ascended to the second floor, a quieter haven of twin-bedded en-suite rooms, each tastefully decorated with warm tones and comfortable furnishings.

The third floor was the staff area. Lucas' suite – which opened onto a long, panoramic balcony overlooking the barbecue patio and the rest of the resort with a smaller hot-tube and comfortable lounge chairs – was a lavish affair, a perfect blend of sophisticated practicality and comfortable luxury.

"This is … incredible," she continued. "Is this whole level yours?"

Lucas shook his head. "Just this suite," he replied, indicating doors into his bathroom, bedroom and what appeared to a combination office and computer lab. "Rachel is next door, and there are also rooms for Louis and some of the other staff to stay in if they want to. There are also some storage rooms, but a lot of that will be moving down to the waterside." He drifted over to the balcony and began to point at various spots on the ground. "I'm also planning some bunkhouses and chalets by the water for extra accommodation, a café and bar area, a dive shop and a lifeguard tower. Once the spring thaw hits, we'll start on that."



December 19, 14:16 CST.


"Recognised Lana Lang A-Zero-Three; Recognised Hank Lang A-Zero-Four; Recognised Remus Lupin A-Six-Zero, Recognised Raven B40," announced the Computer as the group materialised inside the Kent barn.

"Well, that was interesting…" noted Remus, as they walked out into the crisp, freezing air. "Probably the smoothest long-distance trip I've ever had. How far have we come?"

"About four thousand, five hundred miles… give or take a few, I think," said Linda as she moved towards the barn doors.

"Wow," Remus said as the barn's heavy wooden doors creaked open, allowing the party to leave the barn.

Before they could fully emerge into the crisp December air, a furry blur erupted from the farmhouse, a whirlwind of white fur and barking fury. The dog charged directly at Remus, teeth bared in a low growl. Remus instinctively tensed, years of ingrained caution surfacing.

But before he could react, Hank was there, kneeling, his voice a soothing counterpoint to the dog's aggression. "Easy, boy," Hank murmured, his hand stroking Melo's head with calm expertise. The dog, initially bristling, slowly relaxed, its tail tentatively wagging as Hank's fingers worked their magic. Within seconds, Melo was nuzzling Hank's hand, the hostility completely forgotten. He then sniffed cautiously at Remus's leg before bounding towards Lana, who scratched him behind the ears with a loving smile.

The scene was strangely comforting to Remus. The easy familiarity between Hank and his dog, the unspoken understanding between Lana and the animal, all felt… right. It was a stark contrast to the wary glances he received back in Britain amongst anyone who even suspected his secret.

A moment later, the two Kents stepped out of the farmhouse and made their way towards the new arrivals. Hank moved towards them and shared hugs before leading towards Remus. "Uncle Remus, this is Jonathan and Martha Kent, my grandparents."

"Mr and Mrs Kent, I…" began Remus.

"Call us Ma and Pa, dear," said the older woman, smiling comfortably and reaching out to hug him. "Our son's old room is all ready for you."

"We're also aware of your… monthly problem," added her husband. "My boys and M'gann are taking some preparations."

Remus stared, speechless. He'd expected polite curiosity, perhaps a veiled concern. Instead, he received an almost casual acceptance of a secret he'd guarded fiercely for years. The Kents' knowledge was unnerving, yet their complete lack of alarm was even more so.

"We're used to unusual people around here, Uncle Remus," Hank told him, putting out an arm to reassure the man.

Linda added, "It's not a big deal here," Linda added. "A lot of us have got our own demons… me included."

Numbly, Remus nodded, accepting the offer of a room in the old farmhouse. He followed the Kents inside, the scent of woodsmoke and baking bread filling his nostrils.

The proffered bedroom was surprisingly comforting; simple, clean, yet imbued with a sense of quiet strength. There was a small oak desk, a bookshelf overflowing with worn books, and a cozy armchair positioned perfectly beside a large window overlooking the farm.

Remus, who had braced himself for awkward questions, or worse, outright rejection, was instead enveloped in an overwhelming sense of belonging. The revelation that the Kents and Langs knew about his lycanthropy, and seemingly accepted it without batting an eyelid, resonated deeper than any simple hospitality could ever have.



December 27, 11:00 CST.


Remus woke with a groan, his mouth burning, feeling like he wanted to vomit. He also had a thumping headache and throbbing muscles, though nowhere near as bad as after the full moon. When he forced his eyes open, the room spun, blazing with light.

"What the..." he groaned again, squinting his eyes against the brightness. "What happened?"

Pa Kent stood above him, a pair of mugs in his hands. "You had a good night, Remus," said the older man with a very evil smile in his voice. "Made history too."

Made history?
Remus thought, a slight feeling of dread sweeping over him. In his situation, notoriety was rarely a good thing. "How…?"

"Have a drink of this," said Pa, offering him one of the mugs and helping him to sit up.

The brew was strong and dark, just as he liked it. After a few sips, his head began to clear a little and he turned his gaze back to the older man who was drinking from his own mug.

Pa lowered his mug. "Don't you worry, Remus. It's not for anything bad. It's actually kinda funny in a way…"

"Funny?"

"Yeah, what do you remember about yesterday?"

"Nothing much yesterday morning…" started Remus. "I went out for a walk in the south woods while you were at church…"

Pa nodded. "Around midday you heard some screams…"

Remus nodded. "I ran through the woods and came out by the reservoir."

Pa nodded again.

"A girl was stuck in the water," continued Remus. "Her friends were panicking."

"And you went out there and rescued her… before LCFD turned up. Lieutenant Cushing was very impressed with you, so impressed in fact that he decided that not only could he tolerate you – which is vaguely common for him – but that he actually liked you…" Pa paused and chuckled a little. "Which is unheard of for anyone that doesn't wear a badge!"

"That's what I made history for?!" exclaimed Remus, wincing when his head throbbed, being popular was still strange for him, but to be popular with someone like that… "So, how did that…?"

Pa's expression shifted back to its slightly evil grin, "Well, Kyle has enough self-awareness to know that he doesn't like most folks… so he decided that he had to celebrate this historic occasion by getting two of his buddies – Robbie Alvarez and Mike Birdego, I think – to help you down to the Wild Coyote and well…"

"Get me… very, very drunk," concluded Remus, then after deciding that his mug of tea had cooled enough, he knocked it back.

"Feeling better?"

"A little."

"Martha'll fix you up some brunch," said Pa. "That should complete the cure, particularly for someone like you."



December 31, 16:00 CST.


The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Kent farm. Remus Lupin, his usual anxieties eased by the surprisingly peaceful full moon, hummed a cheerful tune as he helped Martha Kent arrange silverware for New Year's Eve dinner. The air smelled of wood smoke and baking apples, a comforting contrast to the usual tension that clung to him like a second skin. Melo, Hank's Collie, lay sprawled lazily at his feet, tail thumping a gentle rhythm against the worn wooden floor.

The idyllic scene shattered with the arrival of Hank and Linda. The usual boisterous energy that radiated from the teenagers was absent, replaced by a grim silence. Hank's usually messy hair looked even more dishevelled, his glasses askew. Linda's fiery red hair seemed to burn brighter, almost incandescent. Melo whined and got his feet, then began to pace restlessly, his hackles raised.

"What's wrong, dears?" asked Ma, her voice laced with concern.

Hank slumped onto a chair, the usual spring in his step gone. "We got a call from the Watchtower while we were out," he said, his voice flat. "The Strange Happenings Executive contacted them at the request of the Prime Minister's Office."

"There's been an escape," Linda added, her bright green eyes beginning to glow a fiery red, her voice dropping into an ominous, urgent whisper. "Uncle Remus… you need to tell us everything you know... about Sirius Black."




Never the end...
 
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