Eleven years after Harry Potter is retrieved from Godric's Hollow by Black Canary and Zatara and is taken into a very different family, it is time for him to return to the Wizarding World... but this just the beginning of his adventures and those of his friends as they grow into the people they are destined to be. SuperMartian, Clois and others.
Neophytes (A HP/Young Justice Crossover)
- Thread starter Shamrock Holmes
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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 as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.
A/N: Tom Booker belongs to Nicolas Evans and related content is based on publicly available materials by Monty Roberts.
A/N: Thanks to Jon, 6f5e4d and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
Smallville.
July 6, 12:36 CDT.
Team Year Ten.
Grandpa and Grandma Kent were waiting for them when the Langs drove into their farmyard.
"I've packed up some snacks," Grandma reported as Hank – dressed in a dark-blue suit – hopped out of the car, then ran over to the older woman, with Linda – in a blue sleeveless dress – and Melo not far behind.
"Thanks, Grandma," said Hank, then lead the way into the barn and fired up the Zeta-Tube console.
"Recognized, Hank Lang A-Zero-Four," declared the Computer as two blue beams of light played over the Kents for a moment. "Access granted… Jonathan Kent A-Five-Two; Martha Kent A-Five-Three… Authorization, Hank Lang A-Zero-Four."
"You're good to go," Hank told the elderly couple. "Just step forward into the booth and it'll activate automatically."
Grandpa nodded, took his wife's free hand and drew her forward.
"Recognized, Jonathan Kent A-Five-Two; Martha Kent A-Five-Three."
The Langs waited until the couple had dematerialised, then stepped forward themselves.
"Recognized, Lana Lang A-Zero-Three; Hank Lang A-Zero-Four; Linda Lang A-Four-Three; Melo C-Zero-Three."
Happy Harbor.
14:16 EDT.
"So," said Mr Carr – who had appointed himself event manager for the wedding on the grounds that it was his house – as the Kent, Langs and his own family gathered outside his house after lunch. "Okay, who's just going to hang around the rest of the guests arrive and who wants to help out?"
His blue-haired ward, Harper Row, without saying anything grabbed Violet's hand and dragged them away.
Her brother, blond, impish Cullen, shook his head. "I'll do the chairs."
"Me too," Hank confirmed.
"I'm going help the girls with their dresses when they arrive," Hank's mother announced, and his grandma agreed.
"Count…" said Linda, then broke off as the Zeta Tube in the garage spun up again.
"Recognized, Nightwing B-Zero-One; Rebecca Kane-Grayson A-Five-Three."
"Linda!" squealed the black-haired pre-schooler, then wriggled until her father put her down and released her and hurried over to her.
"Hi, Rikki," said Linda, catching the enthusiastic little girl in a hug. "Let's get you ready."
"Well, that'll keep her occupied," Cullen noted, as the two girls disappeared into the house. "Let's get started."
July 6, 16:16 EDT.
"Well, that's the last of them," announced Hank, then glanced over at the garage in time to see M'gann's parents teleport in, to be met by M'Ree. "I could do with a drink, does anyone else want one?"
"Count me in," declared Cullen, a sentiment that was immediately echoed by Traya who – wearing an off-the-shoulder blue dress – had joined them halfway through the chore.
Hank nodded as headed back towards the house as several more guests Zeta'd in. As he passed the porch where Aunt Dee – dressed in a smart red strapless cocktail dress – was holding court to an audience of her husband, Black Lightning, Batman, Martian Manhunter, Captain Marvel, Red Tornado and Zee's father, she spoke up. "Listen, I've been thinking about something," she began. "I mean, we're all here together, on a wonderfully happy day… and thank God it turned out all right. But what if it hadn't?"
Hank paused in his journey as she allowed a moment for that to sink in.
"Guardian E-One-Six..."
"Some of you saw what Garfield went through this year," she continued. "And M'gann..."
"Lian-Nguyen-Harper A-Two-Eight..."
"... the struggles that Andie, Violet, Vic..."
"Brucely-C-Zero-Four..."
"… and some of the other kids are facing every day."
"Arsenal B-Two-Five..."
"For that matter, the struggles that Cliff, Jay, Giovanni, and some of the other adults are facing every day," Auntie Dee continued. "Well, to put it simply, we need more than the all-purpose room at the Youth Center can provide. We need a place where our people can go to escape 'the life' for a day, a week, a month. Somewhere safe, somewhere where they can receive treatment... a sanctuary."
Hank nodded to himself as he started walking again, ignoring the sound of a Boom-Tube opening nearby. He'd only gone a few steps before he sensed two people coming up behind him. (Hi Lian,) he said in Vietnamese, and looked down at her.
(Hi.)
Hank turned to look at her companion and was slightly surprised at which of the brothers was accompanying her. "Hi, Roy."
"Hi, kid," replied the bald youth. "Do you know where the ladies are getting dressed?"
"Conner and M'gann's room," Hank replied. "My mom and Grandma Kent are in with them helping."
"Thanks," Roy replied as his niece dragged him inside.
Hank set off again and was just able to beg a tray of drinks from Mrs Carr and return to his friends before the next wave of arrivals.
16:32 EDT.
"All right, everyone, please take your seats," asked Mr Carr. "We're ready to begin."
Zatanna's loudly-voiced "Gniddew cisum!" cut through the buzz of chatter as Hank slipped into his seat in second row behind Aunt Lois and his grandparents and between his mother and a Hawaiian-American woman about his aunt's age who he identified after a moment as Tana Moon, a former staffer at the Daily Planet and current anchor for a Hawaiian news channel, who had gone on a few dates with Conner while he and M'gann were on the outs.
Glancing around he spotted his cousin seated with Rikki, Barbara and her Asian protégé on the far end of the bride's side, then he shifted his glaze to the aisle as Lian lead the bridal procession forward, sprinkling flower petals as she skipped merrily to the music, with first Conner and then M'gann trailing behind her at a more sedate pace, escorted by their respective parents.
"I welcome you all on this most auspicious of occasions," began Reverend Holt. "The happy couple is somewhat eager to get things sorted after the 'difficulties' on M'arzz…so, let's get right to the exchange of vows and rings."
"I've got 'em!" declared Jonny enthusiastically as he ran down the aisle to the sound of a chuckling crowd, clutching the precious trinkets in a clubby fist. When he reached the happy couple he handed them over and then headed for his front row between his parents giggling.
Conner took the lead, taking M'gann's left hand and slipping the smaller of the two bands onto her finger. "M'gann, from the moment we met, you have been my whole heart," he declared.
Hank glanced to his left, but Miss Moon didn't seem to react to that. I guess Aunt Lois was right and it was just a fling for both of them.
"I didn't know how to love, let alone express that love... until you taught me. With this ring, I promise to love, honour, and cherish you for all eternity."
As he dropped her left hand, M'gann grasped his, raising it so that she could put on his ring. "Conner, I came to Earth with some pretty messed up notions about what it meant to be in love. But your purity of spirit taught me what true love and commitment really are… with this ring, I promise to love, honour, and cherish you for all eternity."
"And now, by the power vested in me by the State of Rhode Island... and hopefully with a blessing of love and long life from the goddess C'eridy'all," said the reverend, pausing for a moment to glance at M'gann's parents and apparently receiving the response he wanted. "I now pronounce you husband and wife… you may kiss the bride."
The crowd dissolved into laughter and cheers as the newly-weds embraced each other warmly.
18:16 EDT.
" Get ready, everyone, the bride's about to throw the bouquet!" he declared as the flowers were sent in a high arc over the crowd. "And the lucky lady is...
"Hah!" laughed an orange-clad white-haired man as it dropped into his hands.
"… Icicle Jr," declared Mr Carr, sounding somewhat non-plussed as the crowd began to laugh again. "Okay… did not see that coming." Then he raised the microphone again and announced. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the newlyweds' first dance as a married couple. So, please clear the dance floor..."
He broke off and joined the applause as Conner and M'gann drifted into the air. "... or don't. If they want to dance sixteen feet in the air, who are we to say no?"
Smallville.
June 26, 16:00 CDT.
Team Year Eleven.
"Recognized, Hank Lang A-Zero-Four," declared the Computer as Hank teleported into the barn, then headed out in the farmyard. Grandpa Kent hailed him as he crossed the yard.
"What's up. Grandpa?" Hank asked as he wandered over to wear the older man was working on the farm tractor.
"Lucy was looking for you," Grandpa replied. "She's got some good news."
"Do you know what?"
"She didn't say," Grandpa replied. "I think she went riding out towards Chandler's Field."
"Maybe I'll catch her on her way back," Hank mused and turned away, heading towards where he'd stashed his bicycle that morning.
16:16 CDT.
"There you are!" exclaimed Lucy – dressed in her usual riding outfit of jeans and a waistcoat over a white t-shirt – as she cantered up behind Hank and slowed April to a gentle walk as they came alongside. "How was the blacksmithing experience?"
"Pretty fun," Hank admitted. "I got to make my own dagger, I'll show you it later. Grandpa said you had some news?"
"My father managed to score some tickets for the Carbon County Rodeo next weekend!"
Hank wracked his brain for a few moments, then realised the significance. "Isn't that guy, Booker, doing a show there this year?"
Lucy nodded, smiling broadly. "He's been extremely busy with his clients and his ranch lately, this will be the first public show he's done in four years."
"Well, have fun," Hank told her.
Lucy's smile broke a little. "Dad got three tickets, Grandma isn't interested, so I was hoping that you might want to come."
Hank smiled back. "I'll have to check with Mom, but I'm always up for an adventure, you know that!"
Lucy chuckled, her eyes flashing in mirth. "Well, that's certainly true!"
July 1, 03:16 CDT.
Hank paused as he was about to get into the cab of the Caos' truck and looked back at his family. "Are you sure don't mind missing out?"
"Of course not," Linda – dressed in a stripped tank-top and shorts – assured him brightly. "Comet and I get on well enough, but I'm not as big on that sort of thing as Lucy or even you. Besides, Lia's promised to start me on psychic juggling this weekend, so I'll be busy."
"Great!" Hank said and hopping into the cab. "Maybe you'll be able to show me when I get back."
"I doubt I'll learn that quickly," Linda countered, then shrugged. "But I'll have my fun."
"Can we get started?" asked Mr Cao from behind the wheel.
"Sure," agreed Hank and closed the car door with a rattling, creaking thunk.
The older man waited until Hank had buckled his seatbelt and then put the truck into gear and set off.
Salt Lake City.
07:30 MDT
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Salt Lake City International Airport," announced the captain over the tannoy."Local time is seven-thirty am and the temperature is seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until we have parked at the gate and the fasten seatbelt sign has been deactivated. When it is safe to stand, please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought on board with you and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight. If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you. On behalf of FerrisAir and the entire crew, I'd like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice day!"
"Do you think if have time to get some breakfast before the next flight?" Hank asked.
"Our flight to Billings doesn't leave for nearly two hours," Mr Cao replied. "Providing that we are not delayed to long getting off this flight then that should be possible."
Carbon County.
16:16 MDT.
"Welcome to the Red Lodge Inn!" said the motherly woman at the desk. "How can I help you?"
"My name is Cao Dan Chien," said Mr Cao, as he walked up to the desk and lowered his bag to the ground. "I have a booking for two rooms for the rodeo."
The woman checked her computer and nodded. "I've got in you in sixteen and seventeen," she told him after checking her computer, then handed him a set of papers "If you could just check that these are correct and sign in, that would be great. Do you have a major credit card?"
"I do," Mr Cao confirmed, drawing his wallet out of a pocket, slipped his card out and handed it over, then turned to the forms. He checked a couple of details with Hank and then handed them back. "These are correct."
"Thank you, sir," said the woman and took the papers back, then handed over a pair of keycards. "These are your keys. The rooms are down to the right. The hot-tub's available if that's your thing."
"What about food?" Hank asked.
"Not much onsite I'm afraid," admitted the owner. "There are microwaves in the room and there's a barbeque grill and picnic tables out the back if you want to cook something. Otherwise, there are several diners and restaurants in town."
"We'll search for somewhere after we've unpacked," decided Mr Cao, then picked up his bag again and lead the way down to the corridor to their rooms.
"Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…" said Lucy – dressed in denim waistcoat and shorts over a white t-shirt – counting the room numbers as they passed them. "We're in here, Dad."
Her father nodded and used one of the keycards to open the door, exposing a clean, neat room with two twin beds.
"And I'm next door," concluded Hank, then accepted the other keycard from Mr Cao and entered his own room.
July 4, 14:45 MDT.
"Ladies, gentlemen and children of all ages…" began the Master of Ceremonies. "I'd like to introduce you to one of our local equine heroes… Tom Booker… the Horse Whisperer!"
Hank snorted, "What, he's pretty good at what he does... but that's a little dramatic don't you think?"
"This is rodeo," Lucy countered. "Dramatic is what they do."
Harry shrugged. "Fair point."
"Thank you, Cal," said a stocky man in the typical jeans, western-style shirt and Stetson of almost everyone present. "I imagine that a few of you are a little sceptical about I do, about the gentler, kinder reassure based methods that I and others use… that you prefer your own methods that get you what you want and don't want any of my 'newfangled nonsense…"
He paused as a murmur of agreement surged around the crowd.
"In fact, I'd imagine that if I told you that your methods are the new ones, and that the basic principles have been documented as far as Xenophon of Athens in four-hundred BC you'd be very surprised…" He paused again as another murmur swept the crowd, this time a mix of incredulity and interest.
Hank glanced at the Caos, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. Lucy nodded confirmation.
"And horsemanship trainers have been refining and documenting those techniques since the sixteen-hundreds… But enough of the history lesson, you're here to see me do, not talk."
At that moment, one of the rodeo staff brought a young horse – a large, golden-brown Mustang – into the ring.
"I'd like to introduce you to Treasure, she's four years old and hasn't been started yet," explained Mr Booker as he took the mare's halter from her groom and began to back her into the centre of the round pen they were standing in. "In starting Treasure this afternoon, I would like her to accept her first saddle and rider in about thirty minutes… but it's up to her," continued the horseman as he caressed the beast. "I will do it with her as a partner… I will not force her to do anything. Okay, so I'm going to turn her loose."
The crowd held its breath as he unclipped the lead rein and allowed the mare to move away from him, which she did.
"That's fine, Treasure," said Mr Booker in a pleasant tone. "That's all right, but don't go away a little, go away a lot." At that moment, he flicked the rope end of the lead rein at the mare, promoting her to break into a light run. He continued this for several minutes, sometimes changing direction.
"Look for it…" muttered Lucy at his side.
Hank was about to ask what he was looking for, then he spotted it. Treasure's inside ear – the one closest to the horseman – had turned to track him.
"Did you see it, folks?" asked Mr Booker, then made a clicking noise to encourage the mare. "She's tracking me now, listening out for me. That's not always the first sign, but it's pretty common… and the second gesture is usually to start making a smaller circle, to move towards me…"
As the man spoke, Hank and the rest of the audience saw Treasure shift to do exactly that, then dropping her head.
"Is that...?" Hank whispered.
"The third," Lucy confirmed Lucy with a nod. "Look carefully… yeah, she's also licking and chewing her lips. That's the fourth and final sign."
At that moment, Mr Booker squared off to the mare and reached for her, caressing the animal on the nose briefly and then stepping away. The mare paused for a moment, then began to follow him as he walked around the pen.
This continued for a few moments until they stopped in the centre of the pen and they were joined by one of the grooms carrying a saddle, which Treasure appeared to view with some wariness and suspicion, but consented to without any of the drama that Hank had seen before at the hands of other trainers until Mr Booker released her and sent her back around the pen.
She bucked and jumped a little for the first couple of revolutions, sometimes encouraged by a few flicks of the rope, but after a while she settled down and the horseman was able to attach a pair of long-lines and guide her through a couple more revolutions before they were they were joined by another groom, who was dressed for riding.
"I would like if Treasure would do nothing but walk with Michael," Mr Booker explained as the boy mounted the mare. "Michael would like it too."
The boy nodded vigorously, drawing a chuckle from the crowd.
"But she's already proven that she can buck..." mused the horseman. "So, I'm just gonna move her first…"
Mr Booker waited until the boy was settled in the saddle and then began to lead the mare around the pen. "You be nice to him," he told her gently. "He's a good boy… easy, good girl…" Then as the boy gave him a nod, he released his grip on the lead rein and stepped away, allowing the pair to move freely. "We're just on thirty minutes… accepting her first saddle and rider and walking quietly. I was right about her…"
"Wow…" whispered Lucy, clearly awed by the experience.
Hank nodded. "I've read about it… but seeing it is something else…"
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 as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.
A/N: Tom Booker belongs to Nicolas Evans and related content is based on publicly available materials by Monty Roberts.
A/N: Thanks to Jon, 6f5e4d and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
Smallville.
July 6, 12:36 CDT.
Team Year Ten.
Grandpa and Grandma Kent were waiting for them when the Langs drove into their farmyard.
"I've packed up some snacks," Grandma reported as Hank – dressed in a dark-blue suit – hopped out of the car, then ran over to the older woman, with Linda – in a blue sleeveless dress – and Melo not far behind.
"Thanks, Grandma," said Hank, then lead the way into the barn and fired up the Zeta-Tube console.
"Recognized, Hank Lang A-Zero-Four," declared the Computer as two blue beams of light played over the Kents for a moment. "Access granted… Jonathan Kent A-Five-Two; Martha Kent A-Five-Three… Authorization, Hank Lang A-Zero-Four."
"You're good to go," Hank told the elderly couple. "Just step forward into the booth and it'll activate automatically."
Grandpa nodded, took his wife's free hand and drew her forward.
"Recognized, Jonathan Kent A-Five-Two; Martha Kent A-Five-Three."
The Langs waited until the couple had dematerialised, then stepped forward themselves.
"Recognized, Lana Lang A-Zero-Three; Hank Lang A-Zero-Four; Linda Lang A-Four-Three; Melo C-Zero-Three."
Happy Harbor.
14:16 EDT.
"So," said Mr Carr – who had appointed himself event manager for the wedding on the grounds that it was his house – as the Kent, Langs and his own family gathered outside his house after lunch. "Okay, who's just going to hang around the rest of the guests arrive and who wants to help out?"
His blue-haired ward, Harper Row, without saying anything grabbed Violet's hand and dragged them away.
Her brother, blond, impish Cullen, shook his head. "I'll do the chairs."
"Me too," Hank confirmed.
"I'm going help the girls with their dresses when they arrive," Hank's mother announced, and his grandma agreed.
"Count…" said Linda, then broke off as the Zeta Tube in the garage spun up again.
"Recognized, Nightwing B-Zero-One; Rebecca Kane-Grayson A-Five-Three."
"Linda!" squealed the black-haired pre-schooler, then wriggled until her father put her down and released her and hurried over to her.
"Hi, Rikki," said Linda, catching the enthusiastic little girl in a hug. "Let's get you ready."
"Well, that'll keep her occupied," Cullen noted, as the two girls disappeared into the house. "Let's get started."
July 6, 16:16 EDT.
"Well, that's the last of them," announced Hank, then glanced over at the garage in time to see M'gann's parents teleport in, to be met by M'Ree. "I could do with a drink, does anyone else want one?"
"Count me in," declared Cullen, a sentiment that was immediately echoed by Traya who – wearing an off-the-shoulder blue dress – had joined them halfway through the chore.
Hank nodded as headed back towards the house as several more guests Zeta'd in. As he passed the porch where Aunt Dee – dressed in a smart red strapless cocktail dress – was holding court to an audience of her husband, Black Lightning, Batman, Martian Manhunter, Captain Marvel, Red Tornado and Zee's father, she spoke up. "Listen, I've been thinking about something," she began. "I mean, we're all here together, on a wonderfully happy day… and thank God it turned out all right. But what if it hadn't?"
Hank paused in his journey as she allowed a moment for that to sink in.
"Guardian E-One-Six..."
"Some of you saw what Garfield went through this year," she continued. "And M'gann..."
"Lian-Nguyen-Harper A-Two-Eight..."
"... the struggles that Andie, Violet, Vic..."
"Brucely-C-Zero-Four..."
"… and some of the other kids are facing every day."
"Arsenal B-Two-Five..."
"For that matter, the struggles that Cliff, Jay, Giovanni, and some of the other adults are facing every day," Auntie Dee continued. "Well, to put it simply, we need more than the all-purpose room at the Youth Center can provide. We need a place where our people can go to escape 'the life' for a day, a week, a month. Somewhere safe, somewhere where they can receive treatment... a sanctuary."
Hank nodded to himself as he started walking again, ignoring the sound of a Boom-Tube opening nearby. He'd only gone a few steps before he sensed two people coming up behind him. (Hi Lian,) he said in Vietnamese, and looked down at her.
(Hi.)
Hank turned to look at her companion and was slightly surprised at which of the brothers was accompanying her. "Hi, Roy."
"Hi, kid," replied the bald youth. "Do you know where the ladies are getting dressed?"
"Conner and M'gann's room," Hank replied. "My mom and Grandma Kent are in with them helping."
"Thanks," Roy replied as his niece dragged him inside.
Hank set off again and was just able to beg a tray of drinks from Mrs Carr and return to his friends before the next wave of arrivals.
16:32 EDT.
"All right, everyone, please take your seats," asked Mr Carr. "We're ready to begin."
Zatanna's loudly-voiced "Gniddew cisum!" cut through the buzz of chatter as Hank slipped into his seat in second row behind Aunt Lois and his grandparents and between his mother and a Hawaiian-American woman about his aunt's age who he identified after a moment as Tana Moon, a former staffer at the Daily Planet and current anchor for a Hawaiian news channel, who had gone on a few dates with Conner while he and M'gann were on the outs.
Glancing around he spotted his cousin seated with Rikki, Barbara and her Asian protégé on the far end of the bride's side, then he shifted his glaze to the aisle as Lian lead the bridal procession forward, sprinkling flower petals as she skipped merrily to the music, with first Conner and then M'gann trailing behind her at a more sedate pace, escorted by their respective parents.
"I welcome you all on this most auspicious of occasions," began Reverend Holt. "The happy couple is somewhat eager to get things sorted after the 'difficulties' on M'arzz…so, let's get right to the exchange of vows and rings."
"I've got 'em!" declared Jonny enthusiastically as he ran down the aisle to the sound of a chuckling crowd, clutching the precious trinkets in a clubby fist. When he reached the happy couple he handed them over and then headed for his front row between his parents giggling.
Conner took the lead, taking M'gann's left hand and slipping the smaller of the two bands onto her finger. "M'gann, from the moment we met, you have been my whole heart," he declared.
Hank glanced to his left, but Miss Moon didn't seem to react to that. I guess Aunt Lois was right and it was just a fling for both of them.
"I didn't know how to love, let alone express that love... until you taught me. With this ring, I promise to love, honour, and cherish you for all eternity."
As he dropped her left hand, M'gann grasped his, raising it so that she could put on his ring. "Conner, I came to Earth with some pretty messed up notions about what it meant to be in love. But your purity of spirit taught me what true love and commitment really are… with this ring, I promise to love, honour, and cherish you for all eternity."
"And now, by the power vested in me by the State of Rhode Island... and hopefully with a blessing of love and long life from the goddess C'eridy'all," said the reverend, pausing for a moment to glance at M'gann's parents and apparently receiving the response he wanted. "I now pronounce you husband and wife… you may kiss the bride."
The crowd dissolved into laughter and cheers as the newly-weds embraced each other warmly.
18:16 EDT.
" Get ready, everyone, the bride's about to throw the bouquet!" he declared as the flowers were sent in a high arc over the crowd. "And the lucky lady is...
"Hah!" laughed an orange-clad white-haired man as it dropped into his hands.
"… Icicle Jr," declared Mr Carr, sounding somewhat non-plussed as the crowd began to laugh again. "Okay… did not see that coming." Then he raised the microphone again and announced. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the newlyweds' first dance as a married couple. So, please clear the dance floor..."
He broke off and joined the applause as Conner and M'gann drifted into the air. "... or don't. If they want to dance sixteen feet in the air, who are we to say no?"
Smallville.
June 26, 16:00 CDT.
Team Year Eleven.
"Recognized, Hank Lang A-Zero-Four," declared the Computer as Hank teleported into the barn, then headed out in the farmyard. Grandpa Kent hailed him as he crossed the yard.
"What's up. Grandpa?" Hank asked as he wandered over to wear the older man was working on the farm tractor.
"Lucy was looking for you," Grandpa replied. "She's got some good news."
"Do you know what?"
"She didn't say," Grandpa replied. "I think she went riding out towards Chandler's Field."
"Maybe I'll catch her on her way back," Hank mused and turned away, heading towards where he'd stashed his bicycle that morning.
16:16 CDT.
"There you are!" exclaimed Lucy – dressed in her usual riding outfit of jeans and a waistcoat over a white t-shirt – as she cantered up behind Hank and slowed April to a gentle walk as they came alongside. "How was the blacksmithing experience?"
"Pretty fun," Hank admitted. "I got to make my own dagger, I'll show you it later. Grandpa said you had some news?"
"My father managed to score some tickets for the Carbon County Rodeo next weekend!"
Hank wracked his brain for a few moments, then realised the significance. "Isn't that guy, Booker, doing a show there this year?"
Lucy nodded, smiling broadly. "He's been extremely busy with his clients and his ranch lately, this will be the first public show he's done in four years."
"Well, have fun," Hank told her.
Lucy's smile broke a little. "Dad got three tickets, Grandma isn't interested, so I was hoping that you might want to come."
Hank smiled back. "I'll have to check with Mom, but I'm always up for an adventure, you know that!"
Lucy chuckled, her eyes flashing in mirth. "Well, that's certainly true!"
July 1, 03:16 CDT.
Hank paused as he was about to get into the cab of the Caos' truck and looked back at his family. "Are you sure don't mind missing out?"
"Of course not," Linda – dressed in a stripped tank-top and shorts – assured him brightly. "Comet and I get on well enough, but I'm not as big on that sort of thing as Lucy or even you. Besides, Lia's promised to start me on psychic juggling this weekend, so I'll be busy."
"Great!" Hank said and hopping into the cab. "Maybe you'll be able to show me when I get back."
"I doubt I'll learn that quickly," Linda countered, then shrugged. "But I'll have my fun."
"Can we get started?" asked Mr Cao from behind the wheel.
"Sure," agreed Hank and closed the car door with a rattling, creaking thunk.
The older man waited until Hank had buckled his seatbelt and then put the truck into gear and set off.
Salt Lake City.
07:30 MDT
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Salt Lake City International Airport," announced the captain over the tannoy."Local time is seven-thirty am and the temperature is seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until we have parked at the gate and the fasten seatbelt sign has been deactivated. When it is safe to stand, please check around your seat for any personal belongings you may have brought on board with you and please use caution when opening the overhead bins, as heavy articles may have shifted around during the flight. If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you. On behalf of FerrisAir and the entire crew, I'd like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice day!"
"Do you think if have time to get some breakfast before the next flight?" Hank asked.
"Our flight to Billings doesn't leave for nearly two hours," Mr Cao replied. "Providing that we are not delayed to long getting off this flight then that should be possible."
Carbon County.
16:16 MDT.
"Welcome to the Red Lodge Inn!" said the motherly woman at the desk. "How can I help you?"
"My name is Cao Dan Chien," said Mr Cao, as he walked up to the desk and lowered his bag to the ground. "I have a booking for two rooms for the rodeo."
The woman checked her computer and nodded. "I've got in you in sixteen and seventeen," she told him after checking her computer, then handed him a set of papers "If you could just check that these are correct and sign in, that would be great. Do you have a major credit card?"
"I do," Mr Cao confirmed, drawing his wallet out of a pocket, slipped his card out and handed it over, then turned to the forms. He checked a couple of details with Hank and then handed them back. "These are correct."
"Thank you, sir," said the woman and took the papers back, then handed over a pair of keycards. "These are your keys. The rooms are down to the right. The hot-tub's available if that's your thing."
"What about food?" Hank asked.
"Not much onsite I'm afraid," admitted the owner. "There are microwaves in the room and there's a barbeque grill and picnic tables out the back if you want to cook something. Otherwise, there are several diners and restaurants in town."
"We'll search for somewhere after we've unpacked," decided Mr Cao, then picked up his bag again and lead the way down to the corridor to their rooms.
"Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…" said Lucy – dressed in denim waistcoat and shorts over a white t-shirt – counting the room numbers as they passed them. "We're in here, Dad."
Her father nodded and used one of the keycards to open the door, exposing a clean, neat room with two twin beds.
"And I'm next door," concluded Hank, then accepted the other keycard from Mr Cao and entered his own room.
July 4, 14:45 MDT.
"Ladies, gentlemen and children of all ages…" began the Master of Ceremonies. "I'd like to introduce you to one of our local equine heroes… Tom Booker… the Horse Whisperer!"
Hank snorted, "What, he's pretty good at what he does... but that's a little dramatic don't you think?"
"This is rodeo," Lucy countered. "Dramatic is what they do."
Harry shrugged. "Fair point."
"Thank you, Cal," said a stocky man in the typical jeans, western-style shirt and Stetson of almost everyone present. "I imagine that a few of you are a little sceptical about I do, about the gentler, kinder reassure based methods that I and others use… that you prefer your own methods that get you what you want and don't want any of my 'newfangled nonsense…"
He paused as a murmur of agreement surged around the crowd.
"In fact, I'd imagine that if I told you that your methods are the new ones, and that the basic principles have been documented as far as Xenophon of Athens in four-hundred BC you'd be very surprised…" He paused again as another murmur swept the crowd, this time a mix of incredulity and interest.
Hank glanced at the Caos, raising an eyebrow inquiringly. Lucy nodded confirmation.
"And horsemanship trainers have been refining and documenting those techniques since the sixteen-hundreds… But enough of the history lesson, you're here to see me do, not talk."
At that moment, one of the rodeo staff brought a young horse – a large, golden-brown Mustang – into the ring.
"I'd like to introduce you to Treasure, she's four years old and hasn't been started yet," explained Mr Booker as he took the mare's halter from her groom and began to back her into the centre of the round pen they were standing in. "In starting Treasure this afternoon, I would like her to accept her first saddle and rider in about thirty minutes… but it's up to her," continued the horseman as he caressed the beast. "I will do it with her as a partner… I will not force her to do anything. Okay, so I'm going to turn her loose."
The crowd held its breath as he unclipped the lead rein and allowed the mare to move away from him, which she did.
"That's fine, Treasure," said Mr Booker in a pleasant tone. "That's all right, but don't go away a little, go away a lot." At that moment, he flicked the rope end of the lead rein at the mare, promoting her to break into a light run. He continued this for several minutes, sometimes changing direction.
"Look for it…" muttered Lucy at his side.
Hank was about to ask what he was looking for, then he spotted it. Treasure's inside ear – the one closest to the horseman – had turned to track him.
"Did you see it, folks?" asked Mr Booker, then made a clicking noise to encourage the mare. "She's tracking me now, listening out for me. That's not always the first sign, but it's pretty common… and the second gesture is usually to start making a smaller circle, to move towards me…"
As the man spoke, Hank and the rest of the audience saw Treasure shift to do exactly that, then dropping her head.
"Is that...?" Hank whispered.
"The third," Lucy confirmed Lucy with a nod. "Look carefully… yeah, she's also licking and chewing her lips. That's the fourth and final sign."
At that moment, Mr Booker squared off to the mare and reached for her, caressing the animal on the nose briefly and then stepping away. The mare paused for a moment, then began to follow him as he walked around the pen.
This continued for a few moments until they stopped in the centre of the pen and they were joined by one of the grooms carrying a saddle, which Treasure appeared to view with some wariness and suspicion, but consented to without any of the drama that Hank had seen before at the hands of other trainers until Mr Booker released her and sent her back around the pen.
She bucked and jumped a little for the first couple of revolutions, sometimes encouraged by a few flicks of the rope, but after a while she settled down and the horseman was able to attach a pair of long-lines and guide her through a couple more revolutions before they were they were joined by another groom, who was dressed for riding.
"I would like if Treasure would do nothing but walk with Michael," Mr Booker explained as the boy mounted the mare. "Michael would like it too."
The boy nodded vigorously, drawing a chuckle from the crowd.
"But she's already proven that she can buck..." mused the horseman. "So, I'm just gonna move her first…"
Mr Booker waited until the boy was settled in the saddle and then began to lead the mare around the pen. "You be nice to him," he told her gently. "He's a good boy… easy, good girl…" Then as the boy gave him a nod, he released his grip on the lead rein and stepped away, allowing the pair to move freely. "We're just on thirty minutes… accepting her first saddle and rider and walking quietly. I was right about her…"
"Wow…" whispered Lucy, clearly awed by the experience.
Hank nodded. "I've read about it… but seeing it is something else…"
Last edited:
This is the current WIP story within Myriad of Possibilities.
I've heard good things about the community here, so I thought I'd take a punt at posting the content that I could easily edit if someone spotted something without majorly disrupting my flow.
I also thought that here might be a better home for any shorts, side pieces or "deleted content" that I might come up with.
Hyena Hunt
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend tko 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 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, 6f5e4d and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
San Francisco.
July 16, 04:16 PDT.
That's it, thought Zatanna as she strode down the corridor from her bedroom to her living room from where the series of loud bangs had jarred her from fitful, restless sleep.
Her mood wasn't improved when she saw her pet carpenter, Mikey Dowling, working on a half-finished magician's cabinet. "Dammit, Mikey… I'm trying to sleep here!"
"You need this cabinet for next week's show," Mikey replied evenly, then shrugged. "Besides, I'm an artist. I work when the mood strikes me."
"Ekirts reh nwod!" shouted Zatanna, pointed a glowing finger at her.
But nothing happened.
"Sorry, Boss," Mikey quipped. "You know there's no zap that works on me."
"Gnirb em a esav!" Zatanna countered, then raised the object. "Okay, how about a vase to the forehead?!"
"Okay, okay," Mikey said, dropping her hamper, lurched to her feet and ran for the door.
I don't know I keep that big goon around, Zatanna mused as her front door slammed behind the fleeing carpenter. Then she turned to head back her room and paused. Yes, I do… she's the best carpenter I've ever had, and besides I owe her.
06:16 PDT.
Someone is seriously going to die… Zatanna thought to herself as a ringing sound woke her again. But she knew that it was probably important, so she reached for her phone and answered it. "Zatanna here."
"This is Animal Man," said an unfamiliar voice from the phone. "There's a situation over in St Roch, and I need some help."
"What sort of problem?" sighed Zatanna.
"An SRPD patrolman was attacked by were-hyenas last night."
"Okay…" replied the sorceress. "They could be tricky depending on how many of them there are…"
"That's what I'm worried about," agreed the animal mimic. "I checked the Justice League files and there are some old files about a villain that was cursed with that transformation, so I thought I'd call you."
"I'm a little busy right now," Zatanna told him. "But I'll make a couple of calls and get you some help."
"Thanks," said the rookie hero, and hung up.
Hall of Justice.
July 16, 08:16 EDT.
"Thank you for coming so early," said Artemis, as Roy, Eddie Bloomberg, and Khalid Nassour – the League's medical intern and trainee sorcerer – arrived and gathered around her. "There was an incident in St Roch over-night, with the Hawks off-planet, Aboki went over to investigate, but he immediately decided that he couldn't handle it by himself."
"And you chose us to assist," Roy declared.
"And one other," Artemis confirmed as the Zeta Tube spun up again.
"Recognized, Mary Bromfield E-Zero-Eight."
"I'm not too late, am I?" asked the brunette woman -- who wore a strapless bodysuit, thigh-high boots and opera gloves -- as she stepped out of the booth and moved to join them.
"No, I was starting just my introduction," Artemis assured her.
Mary looked around the room, then moved to stand between Khalid and Eddy. "I thought Zee would be here?"
"She's busy on personal business and asked not to be disturbed unless it's essential."
The younger woman nodded.
"Last night, SRPD Dispatch received a distress call from Officer Antonio Isabella who was on patrol near St Roch Cemetery, reporting that he'd encountered a pack of feral dogs. By the time back-up arrived, there was no sign of the dogs, but the officer was badly injured."
"Well, no offense but what does that have to do with us?" asked Eddie, yawning. The red-skinned demonic meta wore a black and silver sleeveless leotard. "Surely the St Roch PD can handle it?"
"Normally, they could," Artemis agreed. "But this one is different… the attending physician at SRU Medical Center thought something was odd about the wounds so he took a sample of the salvia in his wounds as a precautionary measure."
"And there was something unusual about them?" Mary asked.
Artemis nodded. "They weren't ordinary dogs. In fact, they weren't dogs at all. The primary DNA in salvia was hyena… and the lab also found secondary traces of human DNA…"
Roy frowned, then walked forwards the console. "Summer Day or Jivan Shi?"
"Who?" echoed Eddie and Khalid.
"Doctor Shi," Artemis replied shortly.
"Doctor Jivan Shi, also known as the Hyena," Roy replied, tapping several keys to bring up a series of mugshots. "A former psychotherapist and super-villain."
"I remember him," Mary observed after a moment. "The original Firestorm had a couple of run-ins with some dealings with both him and his predecessor around the time I was working with the Team. Do you think we're dealing with a new one?"
"Not just one," Artemis reminded her. "Remember, Officer Isabella reported a pack."
Linda swallowed nervously, "That must be why Animal Man wants help."
Artemis nodded. "Khalid, Roy and I will go to SRUMC and see if there have been any developments there," she declared, then turned to Mary. "You've got Beta. I want you and Eddie to link up with Aboki and help him on the hunt for the pack. If we're lucky, they're sleeping at the moment and we can bring them to heel before nightfall."
"Sounds like a plan," agreed the sorceress.
Artemis nodded, then lead the group towards the Zeta Tube. "Recognized, Tigress B-Zero-Seven; Red Devil B-Three-Nine; Mary Marvel E-Zero-Eight; Khalid Nassour E-Zero-Nine; Arsenal B-Two-Four."
St Roch.
07:32 CDT.
"Can I help?" asked the receptionist as Artemis and her two partners walked into the lobby of the university's emergency room.
"My name is Tigress," Artemis replied. "My team and I have been asked to assist with the attack on Officer Isabella?"
The woman checked her computer. "Detective Grabs is with him right now, he said that you could go through as soon as you arrived."
The trio turned towards the double doors into the treatment area, but before they could start moving the screams began.
"Tigress to Watchtower! Priority Red… possible major incident St Roch University Emergency Room!"
"Received," confirmed Black Lightning. "Notifying SRPD and mobilising additional resources."
"Standby, I'm going in!" Tigress yelled. "Arsenal, you've got point… Khalid, stay behind us!"
Both men nodded and seconds later the trio burst through the door into a chaotic scene where a tall, muscular blond man – who Artemis recognised immediately from Justice League files as Detective Andrew Grebs – was bleeding heavily from several wounds as he grappled with another man who'd transformed into a hyena-headed creature as a panicked crowd of doctors, nurses and patients milled around them trying to stay out of the way.
"Detective, we've got this!" Tigress yelled. "Break off!"
The were-hyena turned violently at her shout, twisting hard and throwing the detective clear, then lunged towards them almost in a single motion.
But Roy was his match, and a blast from the hero's arm laser caught the hybrid in the chest, knocking him backwards into a cluster of carts that collapsed onto him, briefly pinning him to the ground.
"Is he?" asked the detective as he staggered to his feet.
"He looked pretty tough," Roy replied casually. "He's probably just had the wind knocked out of him."
Artemis looked from Roy to Khalid. "Can you check him? We'll cover you."
He nodded and moved towards the entrapped man, then extended a hand. "'Iizhar Alsiha," he murmured, then after a moment he nodded. "He will be fine. In fact I believe I can remove his curse while he is unconscious."
"Do it," said Artemis.
"Aldabe Yatahawal 'Iilaa 'Iinsan!" he chanted, his outstretched hand glowed green, with the same light enveloped the fallen man.
After a moment, the man's face slowly began to change, becoming human again within seconds as the heavy fur covering his body dissolved and his bones returned to their normal shape.
"Yashfi," added Khalid. "He may have some residual pain, but I believe that there will be no further incidents."
"Thank you…" said the detective but trailed off.
"Khalid Nassour, Detective," Khalid supplied. "I am studying magic under Zatanna Zatara and medicine at Cornell."
"Well, I'm glad of your help, Mr Nassour," said Detective Grabs as he extended a hand to shake, then paused, noticing the blood on it. "Sorry, I…"
"A little blood does not bother me, Detective," Khalid assured him, then reached out and grasped the detective's hand in his own. "Yashfi… 'Iizalat Allaena!"
The detective gasped as green light enveloped him, then faded, taking his wounds with it. "Will I?"
"No," Khalid assured him. "My second spell burned out the curse before it could take hold."
"Can you do the same for the others?"
"I believe so."
"Tigress to Watchtower…"
"Go ahead."
"Stand down Priority Red, situation is contained."
"Understood."
19:16 CDT.
"Where are they?!" growled a stocky, brown-haired man as he raked a hand through his normally neat slicked-back brown hair and scowled at the large map on the wall of the St Roch Major Crimes bullpen. "We've searched everywhere!"
"We're doing everything we can, Lieutenant," Detective Grebs pointed out. "We don't even know that they're still in St Roch."
Tigress nodded. "If Thirteen was here she might have been able to track them down magically, but…"
The lieutenant whirled towards her. "Can't you get her here?"
Artemis shook her head. "She's off-world with Javelin Squad investigating reports of a hostile wind elemental on Rann."
Khalid cleared his throat. "I have been considering the situation for the last few hours, and while Thirteen's urban magic would probably have been able to do so more easily, I believe it may still be possible to locate them magically."
"How?" Artemis asked.
"I believe that the reason that we haven't been able to locate them is that they are somehow hiding themselves with magic."
"That tracks."
"But in stripping the curse from their victims, I believe I have a 'sniff' of it as it were…" Khalid declared. "And may be able to locate their 'magical scent'… but I've never actually cast a locator spell before, and it's a little outside my usual area of expertise so I can't be certain i will be successful."
"Have a go," Artemis said. "If it doesn't work then we'll be no worse of than we are now."
"Agreed," growled Lieutenant Doucetta. "Do it."
"As you wish," Khalid agreed. "Tahdid Mawqie Wakr Aldabaei!"
Seconds later, a green dot flared near the centre of the map.
"Look's like you were right…" Detective Grebs declared. "They're at the cemetery!"
Artemis scanned the map. "My other squads can get back there fastest," she observed. "I'll redeploy them to check it out."
Lieutenant Doucetta paused, then nodded. "I'll have my people set up a perimeter."
"Good idea," Artemis agreed. "Tigress to Arsenal."
"Go ahead, Boss."
"It looks like the pack is hiding their den with magic, but we think they're hiding somewhere in the cemetery. Alpha and Beta will meet you there, but you can get there before us."
"On our way."
"This is Beta," interjected Mary. "Heading there too."
"We're on our way as well," Artemis told her. "I doubt they'll make a move until sunset."
"Agreed."
19:24 CDT.
"Can you get a better lock on them?" Artemis asked as Detective Grebs' sedan slid to a stop in front of the main gates of the St Roch Cemetery. Roy and Eddie were already standing by the gates waiting, and as she and the two stepped out of the vehicle, Aboki and Mary swept down from the treeline and landed.
Khalid concentrated for a moment, then his hands glowed green for a moment and then faded. "They are definitely within the cemetery somewhere, but I cannot be certain exactly where."
"I still couldn' spot 'em from the air as I flew over, Tigress," reported Aboki.
"Same here," Mary confirmed.
Artemis considered the situation for a moment then turned to Detective Grebs. "How long until your back-up arrives?"
"Hang on, I'll check," said the detective, and pulled out his phone. "Dispatch, this Detective Grebs, badge 1616… I'm on-site at the cemetery, can I get an ETA on my back-up?" He listened for a few moments, then hung up. "Two patrol cars are on the way, SWAT is still gearing up, but they should be here in the next quarter of an hour."
Artemis sighed. "That still gives us nearly half-an-hour until sunset," she pointed out. "We should be able to make that work."
"Agreed."
Artemis turned back to Aboki and Mary, "Can you stay on overwatch until they make a move?"
"Sure."
"Absolument."
Then she shifted her focus to Khalid. "I asked about a containment perimeter spell earlier?"
"I don't believe I will be able to hold them inside the cemetery," Khalid admitted. "But I should be able to set alarms to ensure they cannot slip past our perimeter."
"I take it," Artemis said.
20:10 CDT.
Artemis was walking up the main aisle moving east through the cemetery, when she sensed several bodies moving amongst the tombs and mausoleums around her. "Beta, Gamma, I've got movement near me…"
"On our way," chorused the rest of the group as she reached for her belt with one hand and dropped to her hip with the other.
Seconds later, two large were-hyenas – both males – leapt out from behind a tomb nearby and ran towards her. Her left hand swept around, flinging a bola at one, causing him to fall flat on his face as the other closed the distance just fast enough to slash Artemis' crossbow from her hand before she could fire, but not fast enough to score another hit before she could dodge away.
A third monster appeared on top of a mausoleum, but before she could join the action a crimson burst came from further down the lane and knocked her off her perch with a howl of pain and at almost the same moment, Eddie appeared in a burst of flame a few feet above the second monster, then dropped down, knocking him to the ground with a double-footed kick to the back.
"Good job, boys," said Artemis as she retrieved her crossbow and stowed it, drawing her sword-staff to replace it, then her phone buzzed. "Detective?"
"We just had half-a-dozen of the things try and rush the west gates," Grebs reported. "Two are dead, but we were able to take down the other four without injures that Mr Nassour couldn't fix."
"Good work," said Artemis, then hung up. "Well, we've had a roving group and an attack on the west, that leaves the east…"
"Let's move!" Roy declared and set off at a run.
"Tigress to Gamma," said Artemis as she and Eddie took off after him. "Maintain overwatch but aim for the east gates."
"On my way."
"Compris."
20:16 CDT
As fast they ran though, the battle had already begun by the time they arrived.
The mixed trio heading for the gates themselves seemed like they were the biggest threat. "Red, cut off those three! Keep them here!"
"On it!" declared the demonic meta-teen and disappeared in a flash of flames.
"I'll back him up!" declared Roy and started to run again.
Artemis didn't follow the two men, but paused and scanned the battlefield.
Aboki tapped his amulet, a glowing purple monkey briefly appearing around him, as he began to dodge between another trio of beasts that were trying to surround him, taking down one before the other two tried to tackle him to the ground, but were almost immediately sent staggering backwards as a glowing purple lion manifested.
Artemis continued to her scan, but her search was aborted when she heard a snarl from her left side and twisted that way, bringing up her sword-staff just in time to block the murderous bite of the massive female that knocked her to the ground.
"Hey, hands off!" cried a voice from above and the snarling were-beast was snatched from over Artemis with a yelp. Artemis twisted to look around and was just in time to see her slam into a nearby tree as Mary flew overheard and then slid into a crouched three-point landing. "Strength of Hercules!"
Artemis pulled a spare bowstring from her belt and lashed the broken parts of her weapon together as the two combatants clashed, slashed and swinging at each other energetically, the few missed strikes smashing deep holes into stone and trees around them until Mary switched tactics and tased the woman.
The Watchtower.
July 17, 13:16 CDT.
"Well, that's that," Artemis concluded as she finished her reported to the rest of the Justice League leadership.
"You did well," Jeff told her. "Only two dead, both of them criminals who volunteered to become Hyenas and only thirty casualties, all of whom will survive is a good result."
"It would have been a lot worse if we hadn't had Khalid or maybe Violet," Artemis countered.
"I've found that you can 'if' yourself to death in this line of work," Dinah observed. "I suggest you get some more sleep instead."
Artemis nodded ruefully, as much as she didn't want to admit it, the older woman was right.
A/N: The events of this chapter are adapted from Zatanna vol 2 #2 "Fuseli's Nightmare" by Paul Dini.
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 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, 6f5e4d and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
San Francisco.
July 16, 04:16 PDT.
That's it, thought Zatanna as she strode down the corridor from her bedroom to her living room from where the series of loud bangs had jarred her from fitful, restless sleep.
Her mood wasn't improved when she saw her pet carpenter, Mikey Dowling, working on a half-finished magician's cabinet. "Dammit, Mikey… I'm trying to sleep here!"
"You need this cabinet for next week's show," Mikey replied evenly, then shrugged. "Besides, I'm an artist. I work when the mood strikes me."
"Ekirts reh nwod!" shouted Zatanna, pointed a glowing finger at her.
But nothing happened.
"Sorry, Boss," Mikey quipped. "You know there's no zap that works on me."
"Gnirb em a esav!" Zatanna countered, then raised the object. "Okay, how about a vase to the forehead?!"
"Okay, okay," Mikey said, dropping her hamper, lurched to her feet and ran for the door.
I don't know I keep that big goon around, Zatanna mused as her front door slammed behind the fleeing carpenter. Then she turned to head back her room and paused. Yes, I do… she's the best carpenter I've ever had, and besides I owe her.
06:16 PDT.
Someone is seriously going to die… Zatanna thought to herself as a ringing sound woke her again. But she knew that it was probably important, so she reached for her phone and answered it. "Zatanna here."
"This is Animal Man," said an unfamiliar voice from the phone. "There's a situation over in St Roch, and I need some help."
"What sort of problem?" sighed Zatanna.
"An SRPD patrolman was attacked by were-hyenas last night."
"Okay…" replied the sorceress. "They could be tricky depending on how many of them there are…"
"That's what I'm worried about," agreed the animal mimic. "I checked the Justice League files and there are some old files about a villain that was cursed with that transformation, so I thought I'd call you."
"I'm a little busy right now," Zatanna told him. "But I'll make a couple of calls and get you some help."
"Thanks," said the rookie hero, and hung up.
Hall of Justice.
July 16, 08:16 EDT.
"Thank you for coming so early," said Artemis, as Roy, Eddie Bloomberg, and Khalid Nassour – the League's medical intern and trainee sorcerer – arrived and gathered around her. "There was an incident in St Roch over-night, with the Hawks off-planet, Aboki went over to investigate, but he immediately decided that he couldn't handle it by himself."
"And you chose us to assist," Roy declared.
"And one other," Artemis confirmed as the Zeta Tube spun up again.
"Recognized, Mary Bromfield E-Zero-Eight."
"I'm not too late, am I?" asked the brunette woman -- who wore a strapless bodysuit, thigh-high boots and opera gloves -- as she stepped out of the booth and moved to join them.
"No, I was starting just my introduction," Artemis assured her.
Mary looked around the room, then moved to stand between Khalid and Eddy. "I thought Zee would be here?"
"She's busy on personal business and asked not to be disturbed unless it's essential."
The younger woman nodded.
"Last night, SRPD Dispatch received a distress call from Officer Antonio Isabella who was on patrol near St Roch Cemetery, reporting that he'd encountered a pack of feral dogs. By the time back-up arrived, there was no sign of the dogs, but the officer was badly injured."
"Well, no offense but what does that have to do with us?" asked Eddie, yawning. The red-skinned demonic meta wore a black and silver sleeveless leotard. "Surely the St Roch PD can handle it?"
"Normally, they could," Artemis agreed. "But this one is different… the attending physician at SRU Medical Center thought something was odd about the wounds so he took a sample of the salvia in his wounds as a precautionary measure."
"And there was something unusual about them?" Mary asked.
Artemis nodded. "They weren't ordinary dogs. In fact, they weren't dogs at all. The primary DNA in salvia was hyena… and the lab also found secondary traces of human DNA…"
Roy frowned, then walked forwards the console. "Summer Day or Jivan Shi?"
"Who?" echoed Eddie and Khalid.
"Doctor Shi," Artemis replied shortly.
"Doctor Jivan Shi, also known as the Hyena," Roy replied, tapping several keys to bring up a series of mugshots. "A former psychotherapist and super-villain."
"I remember him," Mary observed after a moment. "The original Firestorm had a couple of run-ins with some dealings with both him and his predecessor around the time I was working with the Team. Do you think we're dealing with a new one?"
"Not just one," Artemis reminded her. "Remember, Officer Isabella reported a pack."
Linda swallowed nervously, "That must be why Animal Man wants help."
Artemis nodded. "Khalid, Roy and I will go to SRUMC and see if there have been any developments there," she declared, then turned to Mary. "You've got Beta. I want you and Eddie to link up with Aboki and help him on the hunt for the pack. If we're lucky, they're sleeping at the moment and we can bring them to heel before nightfall."
"Sounds like a plan," agreed the sorceress.
Artemis nodded, then lead the group towards the Zeta Tube. "Recognized, Tigress B-Zero-Seven; Red Devil B-Three-Nine; Mary Marvel E-Zero-Eight; Khalid Nassour E-Zero-Nine; Arsenal B-Two-Four."
St Roch.
07:32 CDT.
"Can I help?" asked the receptionist as Artemis and her two partners walked into the lobby of the university's emergency room.
"My name is Tigress," Artemis replied. "My team and I have been asked to assist with the attack on Officer Isabella?"
The woman checked her computer. "Detective Grabs is with him right now, he said that you could go through as soon as you arrived."
The trio turned towards the double doors into the treatment area, but before they could start moving the screams began.
"Tigress to Watchtower! Priority Red… possible major incident St Roch University Emergency Room!"
"Received," confirmed Black Lightning. "Notifying SRPD and mobilising additional resources."
"Standby, I'm going in!" Tigress yelled. "Arsenal, you've got point… Khalid, stay behind us!"
Both men nodded and seconds later the trio burst through the door into a chaotic scene where a tall, muscular blond man – who Artemis recognised immediately from Justice League files as Detective Andrew Grebs – was bleeding heavily from several wounds as he grappled with another man who'd transformed into a hyena-headed creature as a panicked crowd of doctors, nurses and patients milled around them trying to stay out of the way.
"Detective, we've got this!" Tigress yelled. "Break off!"
The were-hyena turned violently at her shout, twisting hard and throwing the detective clear, then lunged towards them almost in a single motion.
But Roy was his match, and a blast from the hero's arm laser caught the hybrid in the chest, knocking him backwards into a cluster of carts that collapsed onto him, briefly pinning him to the ground.
"Is he?" asked the detective as he staggered to his feet.
"He looked pretty tough," Roy replied casually. "He's probably just had the wind knocked out of him."
Artemis looked from Roy to Khalid. "Can you check him? We'll cover you."
He nodded and moved towards the entrapped man, then extended a hand. "'Iizhar Alsiha," he murmured, then after a moment he nodded. "He will be fine. In fact I believe I can remove his curse while he is unconscious."
"Do it," said Artemis.
"Aldabe Yatahawal 'Iilaa 'Iinsan!" he chanted, his outstretched hand glowed green, with the same light enveloped the fallen man.
After a moment, the man's face slowly began to change, becoming human again within seconds as the heavy fur covering his body dissolved and his bones returned to their normal shape.
"Yashfi," added Khalid. "He may have some residual pain, but I believe that there will be no further incidents."
"Thank you…" said the detective but trailed off.
"Khalid Nassour, Detective," Khalid supplied. "I am studying magic under Zatanna Zatara and medicine at Cornell."
"Well, I'm glad of your help, Mr Nassour," said Detective Grabs as he extended a hand to shake, then paused, noticing the blood on it. "Sorry, I…"
"A little blood does not bother me, Detective," Khalid assured him, then reached out and grasped the detective's hand in his own. "Yashfi… 'Iizalat Allaena!"
The detective gasped as green light enveloped him, then faded, taking his wounds with it. "Will I?"
"No," Khalid assured him. "My second spell burned out the curse before it could take hold."
"Can you do the same for the others?"
"I believe so."
"Tigress to Watchtower…"
"Go ahead."
"Stand down Priority Red, situation is contained."
"Understood."
19:16 CDT.
"Where are they?!" growled a stocky, brown-haired man as he raked a hand through his normally neat slicked-back brown hair and scowled at the large map on the wall of the St Roch Major Crimes bullpen. "We've searched everywhere!"
"We're doing everything we can, Lieutenant," Detective Grebs pointed out. "We don't even know that they're still in St Roch."
Tigress nodded. "If Thirteen was here she might have been able to track them down magically, but…"
The lieutenant whirled towards her. "Can't you get her here?"
Artemis shook her head. "She's off-world with Javelin Squad investigating reports of a hostile wind elemental on Rann."
Khalid cleared his throat. "I have been considering the situation for the last few hours, and while Thirteen's urban magic would probably have been able to do so more easily, I believe it may still be possible to locate them magically."
"How?" Artemis asked.
"I believe that the reason that we haven't been able to locate them is that they are somehow hiding themselves with magic."
"That tracks."
"But in stripping the curse from their victims, I believe I have a 'sniff' of it as it were…" Khalid declared. "And may be able to locate their 'magical scent'… but I've never actually cast a locator spell before, and it's a little outside my usual area of expertise so I can't be certain i will be successful."
"Have a go," Artemis said. "If it doesn't work then we'll be no worse of than we are now."
"Agreed," growled Lieutenant Doucetta. "Do it."
"As you wish," Khalid agreed. "Tahdid Mawqie Wakr Aldabaei!"
Seconds later, a green dot flared near the centre of the map.
"Look's like you were right…" Detective Grebs declared. "They're at the cemetery!"
Artemis scanned the map. "My other squads can get back there fastest," she observed. "I'll redeploy them to check it out."
Lieutenant Doucetta paused, then nodded. "I'll have my people set up a perimeter."
"Good idea," Artemis agreed. "Tigress to Arsenal."
"Go ahead, Boss."
"It looks like the pack is hiding their den with magic, but we think they're hiding somewhere in the cemetery. Alpha and Beta will meet you there, but you can get there before us."
"On our way."
"This is Beta," interjected Mary. "Heading there too."
"We're on our way as well," Artemis told her. "I doubt they'll make a move until sunset."
"Agreed."
19:24 CDT.
"Can you get a better lock on them?" Artemis asked as Detective Grebs' sedan slid to a stop in front of the main gates of the St Roch Cemetery. Roy and Eddie were already standing by the gates waiting, and as she and the two stepped out of the vehicle, Aboki and Mary swept down from the treeline and landed.
Khalid concentrated for a moment, then his hands glowed green for a moment and then faded. "They are definitely within the cemetery somewhere, but I cannot be certain exactly where."
"I still couldn' spot 'em from the air as I flew over, Tigress," reported Aboki.
"Same here," Mary confirmed.
Artemis considered the situation for a moment then turned to Detective Grebs. "How long until your back-up arrives?"
"Hang on, I'll check," said the detective, and pulled out his phone. "Dispatch, this Detective Grebs, badge 1616… I'm on-site at the cemetery, can I get an ETA on my back-up?" He listened for a few moments, then hung up. "Two patrol cars are on the way, SWAT is still gearing up, but they should be here in the next quarter of an hour."
Artemis sighed. "That still gives us nearly half-an-hour until sunset," she pointed out. "We should be able to make that work."
"Agreed."
Artemis turned back to Aboki and Mary, "Can you stay on overwatch until they make a move?"
"Sure."
"Absolument."
Then she shifted her focus to Khalid. "I asked about a containment perimeter spell earlier?"
"I don't believe I will be able to hold them inside the cemetery," Khalid admitted. "But I should be able to set alarms to ensure they cannot slip past our perimeter."
"I take it," Artemis said.
20:10 CDT.
Artemis was walking up the main aisle moving east through the cemetery, when she sensed several bodies moving amongst the tombs and mausoleums around her. "Beta, Gamma, I've got movement near me…"
"On our way," chorused the rest of the group as she reached for her belt with one hand and dropped to her hip with the other.
Seconds later, two large were-hyenas – both males – leapt out from behind a tomb nearby and ran towards her. Her left hand swept around, flinging a bola at one, causing him to fall flat on his face as the other closed the distance just fast enough to slash Artemis' crossbow from her hand before she could fire, but not fast enough to score another hit before she could dodge away.
A third monster appeared on top of a mausoleum, but before she could join the action a crimson burst came from further down the lane and knocked her off her perch with a howl of pain and at almost the same moment, Eddie appeared in a burst of flame a few feet above the second monster, then dropped down, knocking him to the ground with a double-footed kick to the back.
"Good job, boys," said Artemis as she retrieved her crossbow and stowed it, drawing her sword-staff to replace it, then her phone buzzed. "Detective?"
"We just had half-a-dozen of the things try and rush the west gates," Grebs reported. "Two are dead, but we were able to take down the other four without injures that Mr Nassour couldn't fix."
"Good work," said Artemis, then hung up. "Well, we've had a roving group and an attack on the west, that leaves the east…"
"Let's move!" Roy declared and set off at a run.
"Tigress to Gamma," said Artemis as she and Eddie took off after him. "Maintain overwatch but aim for the east gates."
"On my way."
"Compris."
20:16 CDT
As fast they ran though, the battle had already begun by the time they arrived.
The mixed trio heading for the gates themselves seemed like they were the biggest threat. "Red, cut off those three! Keep them here!"
"On it!" declared the demonic meta-teen and disappeared in a flash of flames.
"I'll back him up!" declared Roy and started to run again.
Artemis didn't follow the two men, but paused and scanned the battlefield.
Aboki tapped his amulet, a glowing purple monkey briefly appearing around him, as he began to dodge between another trio of beasts that were trying to surround him, taking down one before the other two tried to tackle him to the ground, but were almost immediately sent staggering backwards as a glowing purple lion manifested.
Artemis continued to her scan, but her search was aborted when she heard a snarl from her left side and twisted that way, bringing up her sword-staff just in time to block the murderous bite of the massive female that knocked her to the ground.
"Hey, hands off!" cried a voice from above and the snarling were-beast was snatched from over Artemis with a yelp. Artemis twisted to look around and was just in time to see her slam into a nearby tree as Mary flew overheard and then slid into a crouched three-point landing. "Strength of Hercules!"
Artemis pulled a spare bowstring from her belt and lashed the broken parts of her weapon together as the two combatants clashed, slashed and swinging at each other energetically, the few missed strikes smashing deep holes into stone and trees around them until Mary switched tactics and tased the woman.
The Watchtower.
July 17, 13:16 CDT.
"Well, that's that," Artemis concluded as she finished her reported to the rest of the Justice League leadership.
"You did well," Jeff told her. "Only two dead, both of them criminals who volunteered to become Hyenas and only thirty casualties, all of whom will survive is a good result."
"It would have been a lot worse if we hadn't had Khalid or maybe Violet," Artemis countered.
"I've found that you can 'if' yourself to death in this line of work," Dinah observed. "I suggest you get some more sleep instead."
Artemis nodded ruefully, as much as she didn't want to admit it, the older woman was right.
A/N: The events of this chapter are adapted from Zatanna vol 2 #2 "Fuseli's Nightmare" by Paul Dini.
Awesome, I just wanted to check and make sure I wasn't going crazy lol.
The story was a really great read
Cool.
It'll take a while to get it up to date as the RW is keeping me busy at the moment and I have been making some small changes along the way.
If you're interested in fanart at all, you might want to check out my DeviantArt page.
If you have any questions or other feedback, feel free to post here, or contact me through the Discord.
It'll take a while to get it up to date as the RW is keeping me busy at the moment and I have been making some small changes along the way.
If you're interested in fanart at all, you might want to check out my DeviantArt page.
If you have any questions or other feedback, feel free to post here, or contact me through the Discord.
Recruitment
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 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, 6f5e4d, the Caer Azkaban and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
Smallville.
July 18, 07:16 CDT.
"Do you have any plans today?" Hank's mother asked as he settled down in his chair at their breakfast table.
"Zatanna's busy prepping for her show, so she's too busy supervise my training today," Hank replied. "But Xanadu's agreed to meet me with me to act as a sounding board for a couple of things."
His mother glanced at the kitchen door as it opened again and his cousin joined them, looking rather fresher than Hank felt. "What about you, Linda?"
She shrugged, "Nothing much. I might practise my psychic juggling… why?"
"Can you go with Hank to New Orleans?"
"I guess," Linda replied with a shrug. "I don't need to go anywhere in particular for that."
New Orleans.
07:32 CDT.
"So, you believe that you may be coming to a crossroads, but you're not sure what to do?" echoed the seeress as Hank finished explaining his problem.
He nodded.
"I know a little about your history and your dilemma," Xanadu admitted. "But I am hesitant to…" she broke off and stood. She moved to a desk and retrieved a pack of cards from one of the drawers and brought back to table where they sat.
"Take these and think about your problem," she instructed as she reached across the table, offering the cards to him. "When you think they are ready, return them to me."
Hank obeyed.
"Let us begin," said Xanadu, dealing three cards from the deck and laying them out one-by-one on the table-top. "Death, the Ace of Wands, the Wheel of Fortune…"
"That sounds mixed…" observed Linda as she wandered over towards them, several small bean bags whirling up and down in front.
"There are several possible interpretations," offered Xanadu. "Perhaps another layout will clarify things…"
09:06 CDT.
"Well, I think we know two things…" concluded Hank after several layouts had added a little more information.
"Really?" asked Linda. "I'm still confused."
"We do," Hank confirmed. "If get a visit from the wand-wavers, we should listen to their pitch and probably agree."
"I'm not sure I like that idea," Linda asserted.
"Yeah, I'm not sure I do either," Hank admitted. "But sometimes you just have to heed Destiny when he comes calling."
"He's not the one I'm worried about," muttered Linda darkly. "It's one of his sisters."
Manhattan.
July 20, 03:16 EDT.
The sound of the front door opening startled Fidelio Scamander out of his doze, and he was just about to get out of his chair and accost his wayward son when a flash of fiery light lit the small room. "Fawkes!" he exclaimed in surprise, then turned towards the door as his son hurtled through the doorway. "Get to bed! You can explain where you've been to your mother in the morning!"
"Is that a phoenix?" Rolf inquired.
"Bed, now!"
"Yes, Dad!" Rolf conceded and slowly backed out of the room.
Fidelio waited until his son's door slammed closed, then he approached the swan-sized bird that sat perched on the arm of one of the other chairs. "I assume that you have a message for me from Professor Dumbledore?"
The majestic bird trilled agreement and then held out a claw for him to take it.
"I assume given the hour that it's urgent?" Fidelio asked as he bent over and started it unfasten the missive.
This time the bird made a more enquiring, even incredulous sound, and then as soon as the magi-zoologist had retrieved the note and withdrawn to a safe distance, he took off again and seconds later, disappeared in a flash of light.
Fidelio shook his head and returned to his chair, quickly opening the envelope and extracting a folded piece of parchment from inside, leaving a smaller envelope in place for the moment.
Dear Fidelio,
I apologise for the untimely nature of this communication but I believe that it is necessary to act on the information that Professor McGonagall obtained this morning as quickly as possible.
Specifically, that a boy called Hank Lang – resident in Smallville – has an invitation to attend Hogwarts for the upcoming term.
Fidelio paused for a moment, trying to figure out both why this would be – most American wizards opted against a boarding school education and even those that did were typically enrolled in Ilvermorny or one of the specialist schools, not Hogwarts – and why it was urgent, then glanced down and smiled at the next line.
Now, I'm sure that you're wondering why this is urgent? I would draw your attention to the fact that Hank is often used as a nickname for Henry or Harry…
The magi-zoologist smiled to himself as he realised where this was going.
And I have been looking for a certain Harry – who was enrolled for this cohort – for some time. Therefore, I believe it is likely that young Mr Lang is the missing Mr Potter, and that the magic of the Quill and Book were enough to at least briefly pierce whatever protections that he is currently under.
I would appreciate it if you could investigate the matter and offer the enclosed invitation to Mr Lang either way.
I am most sincerely yours,
Albus Dumbledore.
Fidelio put the letter to one side and then withdrew the smaller envelope and turned it over to see the address information.
Hank Lang,
403 Maple Street.
Smallville,
Lowell County,
Kansas.
"Selena!"
"Yes, my dear?" said his wife from the next room.
"Do we know anyone in Kansas?" Fidelio asked. "Ideally someone in the state government who owes us a favour?"
A tall, dark-haired woman strode into the room with a contemplative look on her face. "Herschel Holdsclaw? He's in the Kansas Magical Investigations Division."
"Yes… he had a problem with a feral shapeshifter..."
"Why do you ask?"
"Professor Dumbledore is asking me to look into something that could be a little… sensitive," he replied. "I'd like a little back-up when I go."
She nodded. "I'll send an Elf Post message to his office," she declared. "But I doubt he'll reply until he's in the office in the morning."
"When is that likely to be?"
"Not for at least another six hours."
"I'll go and have a nap then," Fidelio declared after a moment. "Can you wake me when there's an answer?"
"Of course, my dear."
Topeka.
16:00 CDT.
The first difference that Fidelio noticed about Kansas was the heat. New York in July was warm, sometimes uncomfortably so, but Kansas was a lot hotter and it was a brutal dry heat, so he already sweating as he made his way into the building that housed Kansas' magical investigators.
An impressive staircase dominated the centre of the building's atrium, with an attractive young woman at a desk off to one side. She looked up as he approached. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Fidelio Scamander, I believe Lieutenant Holdsclaw is expecting me, Miss…?"
"Charlotte Miller, sir," said the woman as she scribbled a note on a piece of parchment, then rolled it up and inserted it into a message tube affixed to the staircase.
As predicted, it only took a moment for answer to come back. "Just up the stairs, second on the right, sir."
"Thank you, Miss Miller," said Fidelio as the woman who nodded acknowledgement, then turned to another visitor who had entered behind him.
Fidelio made his way up the stairs and knocked on the vaguely familiar door, receiving a cheerful 'enter' in the response.
"Scamander!" boomed the lieutenant as he entered, motioning him into a seat.
"Holdsclaw," replied Fidelio.
"I would say it's good to see you but…" The older man trailed off, but at an enquiring look from the magizoologist, he added. "Your name and trouble are often linked."
"You're not the first person to make that connection," Fidelio admitted. "But I do try and help solve the problems if possible."
Lieutenant Holdsclaw nodded agreement. "Which is why I asked one of my sergeants to look into the situation," he declared, then paused at another knock on his door. "That's probably him now… Enter!"
The door opened and a tall, lean man entered. "I have that report for you, Lieutenant."
"Take a seat, Sergeant," said Holdsclaw. "Do you know Scamander?"
"Only by reputation, sir," said the sergeant. "Sebastian Littlewind, the lieutenant asked me to look into your questions regarding the Lang family."
"Did you find anything?" Fidelio asked, curiously.
"Not a great deal," admitted the younger man. "But I think that you're probably correct about Hank Lang."
"Really?"
"Yes, for three reasons," replied the sergeant. "One, Hank Lang's arrival in Smallville was only a few days after the disappearance of Mr Potter… two, his mother is descended from the Potters along her maternal line, in fact she appears to be a direct descendent of Abraham Potter."
"And the third reason?"
"He is currently registered as an apprentice to Zatanna Zatara, an expert in transfiguration with connections to the sorcerers of Atlantis, the Amazons of Themyscira and if rumours are correct… at least one of the Lords of Order."
"That could complicate things," observed the lieutenant.
Fidelio nodded, agreeing that he would have to tread carefully.
"I suggest that we drive down to Smallville rather than dropping in on them suddenly," suggested Sergeant Littlewind. "It might be less likely to induce panic."
"I agree," added the lieutenant.
"Then I will follow your lead," Fidelio conceded.
Lowell County.
16:48 CDT.
Air conditioning is my favourite No-Maj invention, at least right now, Fidelio mused to himself as they passed a sign welcoming travellers to 'Smallville, the Creamed Corn Capital of the World'. He turned to Littlewind. "What's creamed corn?"
"It's a creamy soup made with partly puréed corn kernels," replied his travel-mate. "How do you want to do this?"
Fidelio glanced at the clock in the car's dashboard. "It's nearly five, now," he noted. "Miss Lang should be finished at work and heading home soon."
Littlewind nodded. "If Hank's a fairly typical kid, then he'll probably stay out as long as long as he can, but he's not going to miss dinner."
"My son never does," Fidelio confirmed. "Why don't we find somewhere to park up for a few minutes and then go straight to their house after five."
"That is less likely to cause a fuss."
Smallville.
17:16 CDT.
The duo parked their sedan on Maple Street, then got out and walked to the door of Number Forty-Three and Littlewind knocked on the frame of the screen door. A series of loud barks issued from the rear of the property and he glanced at Fidelio.
The older man shrugged, nonplussed.
A few seconds later, a middle-aged, vividly red-headed woman in a tank-top and shorts opened the inner door.
"Miss Lang?" asked Littlewind, when the woman nodded, he continued. "My name is Sebastian Littlewind, and my associate is Fidelio Scamander."
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" asked Miss Lang.
Littlewind thought that she probably already suspected the answer but replied. "We'd like to talk to you and your son about his education."
The woman sighed, clearly more resigned than surprised. "You'd better come in," she said, reaching over and opened the outer screen door for them. "This is not a conversation I don't want to have in public."
I suspect she'd rather not have this conversation at all, thought Fidelio to himself. But she thinks she needs to hear us out, which could work in our favour…
"You know why we're here," stated Littlewind as the pair entered the home and followed the woman into her front room.
Miss Lang briefly diverted her attention to a bar-shaped, glass-fronted No-Maj device in her hand, then nodded. "Ilvermorny or Hogwarts?"
Littlewind was about to reply, but a blur of white zipped across the room, darted between his legs and knocked him off balance.
Fidelio reacted quickly, reaching over to his associate's arm with one hand, then lunged down to snag the small creature with the other. "Now, now," he crooned, releasing Littlewind's arm once he was steady again, and moved the hand to soothe the cat. "There's no need to panic… we're all friends here."
"Wow," said Miss Lang as they moved over to chairs and sat down. "That's the quickest I've seen Racha calmed down."
"I'm good with animals," Fidelio replied cheerily. "As far as the school… I'm an Ilvermorny graduate myself, as are my brother and my mom, on the other hand my dad's family has been Hogwarts for generations, but…" he paused his petting of Racha the Cat and withdrew the smaller of the two envelopes he'd been sent from his back pocket and offered it to her. "… Today, I'm representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Miss Lang diverted her attention back to her No-Maj device for a moment, then started to reach for it, then stopped and withdrew her hand. "What are your instructions from Professor Dumbledore?" Noting Fidelio tense, she continued. "I've known that my son was of interest to and threatened by elements of your world since I took him in so I made sure to make myself aware of the identity of as many of the key players as I could, particularly after it was confirmed that he was magical himself when he had his first 'damsel in distress' back in first grade."
"I think that's in his KMID file…" suggested Littlewind. ""Something about turning a substitute teacher's hair blue?"
I was doing some paperwork in my office at the bank shortly before lunch, when the intercom on my desk buzzed. "Yes, Olivia?"
"You're needed at Weisinger Elementary immediately, Miss Lang," replied our receptionist. "There's been an incident involving your son."
"Thank you, Olivia," I said. "I haven't got any scheduled appointments… can you ask any walk-ins to return tomorrow?"
"Of course, Miss Lang."
I rose, slipped on my jacket and headed out of the room, quickly crossing the lobby and leaving through the front door without breaking stride.
"The elementary school is just across the street from the bank," Lana explained. "So I was standing outside the principal's office with Hank only a few moments later."
"Are you okay, son?" I asked.
"I'm fine, Mom," he assured me. "Just a little… confused… I guess."
"Confused?"
"Can I do magic?"
"Possibly, what makes you think that?"
"Well, Miss Harper, our substitute teacher, has been being really nasty to one of the new girls in my class all week, calling her really bad words…"
"What sort of bad words?"
"Well, she called her a… an ink with a d," he admitted after a moment.
"So, what happened today?"
"She started in on her again, and I lost my temper and shouted at her that she shouldn't use words like that and then her hair turned blue!"
"Her hair turned blue?" I echoed. When my son nodded agreement, I paused for a moment to consider the question, then agreed that that sounded like magic. "I think we need to have a talk with Zatanna as soon as possible."
"And he's been working with Miss Zatara ever since?" asked Littlewind.
"On and off," Lana clarified. "I wanted him to get a regular education as well."
"What happened to the teacher with the blue hair?" asked Fidelio. "I think there was something in his KMID file about it…"
"There was," agreed his partner. "According to our files, Obliviators from my office turned up a few minutes later, reversed the transfiguration and modified the memories of everyone concerned."
"Yes on the first two points," Lana confirmed. "But your team was a little too… specific… on the last point. The girl – Lucy Cao – had her memory of the transfiguration, but not the memory of my son standing up for her to a teacher… the first time anyone outside her family had done so apparently."
Fidelio nodded, that didn't exactly surprise him.
"She and her father were very grateful," Lana continued. "She quickly became one of his closest friends… possibly his best friend… although that's harder to call."
"That would be Zatanna Zatara?" asked Littlewind.
"She's his main teacher and mentor at the moment," Miss Lang confirmed. "But I have other sources as well."
"Our information suggests that Miss Zatanna has connections to the Amazons, the Atlanteans and the Lords of Order?"
"Correct," Miss Lang confirmed as she fiddled with her No-Maj device. "She's currently co-hosting Nabu with her father and two of her adult students; she and I are both on friendly terms with Anax Mera – Artur comes to play with my kids on occasion to reinforce his 'connection to the Surface World' – and her other adult student is a Champion of Shazam."
Fidelio wasn't entirely sure what all that meant, but he had an idea – given some comments made by Hagrid and Professor McGonagall in his hearing in the past – that it would be a 'Very Bad Thing' if they didn't get her on side. "Professor Dumbledore wishes you and your son to have this letter, an invitation to attend his school – and that I inform him as soon as possible of your decision."
"Is that all?"
"He would also like confirmation of a theory," Fidelio admitted. "As it may influence his planning for the coming semester."
Miss Lang and the two visitors paused for a moment as the sound of two pairs of footsteps coming down the hall stairs became audible.
"And that is?" asked Miss Lang as a whooshing sound was heard and the outsider door banged open and closed.
"That your son was born Harry James Potter."
Before she could answer, the door into the hall opened and a trio entered the room: Fidelio's gaze was first drawn to a large, muscular man in a checked shirt, jeans, who was putting on a pair of heavy, rimmed glasses as he entered, then turned his attention to the two children in front of the man. The first – a tiny slip of a girl with short, vividly-red pixie cut in a short t-shirt dress who was eyeing him suspiciously was of no particular interest, but the boy… a lean, athletic teen with a chaotic black mop of hair in glasses was a different matter. It was he who broke the silence. "I'll answer that, Mom."
Miss Lang nodded.
"In answer to your question, Mr…?"
"Scamander, Fidelio Scamander."
"The magizoologist…" noted the boy as he sat down on one of the chairs. "Yes, Mr Scamander, I was indeed born Harry James Potter. I was rescued by Giovanni Zatara from the Godric's Hollow ruins after the murder of my biological parents."
"How much do you know about what happened next?" asked Littlewind. "About the circumstances of your adoption?"
"Only what I've been told," the boy conceded. "However, I do have something that might be of interest."
At a glance from the boy, the girl intoned. "Gedachten zijn mijn handen!"
Seconds later, a small, wooden box flew through the door and landed in the boy's palm. He flipped open the box and turned it so that both visitors to see the contents, a small glass orb. "I got this Orb of Mnemosyne from John Constantine. It contains his and others' memories of those events."
"Thank you, Mr Lang," said Fidelio, accepting the trinket from the boy and offering the invitation in return.
The boy opened the envelope, scanned the contents, nodded, then passed it to the girl.
"Just what Madame Xanadu said to expect," she noted, sounding a little upset at the notion.
A glowing, yellow ankh appeared in front of the fireplace and a short, brunette woman in shorts, a corset and high heels stepped out. "Sorry I'm late, Lana," she said. "I was in the middle of a routine when I got your message…"
"It's fine, Zatanna," Miss Lang assured her. "Clark was keeping an eye on things until our visitors' intentions were confirmed."
The younger woman relaxed and moved to where the children were sitting, accepting the Hogwarts letter from the girl. "What do you want to do, Hank?"
The boy sighed. "A couple of days ago I would have still been on the fence about it," he replied. "But Madame Xanadu did a reading and… well Destiny is in play."
She paled. "I was afraid of that," she declared. "I assume that that means you will be going, then?"
"I will," he confirmed.
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 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, 6f5e4d, the Caer Azkaban and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
Smallville.
July 18, 07:16 CDT.
"Do you have any plans today?" Hank's mother asked as he settled down in his chair at their breakfast table.
"Zatanna's busy prepping for her show, so she's too busy supervise my training today," Hank replied. "But Xanadu's agreed to meet me with me to act as a sounding board for a couple of things."
His mother glanced at the kitchen door as it opened again and his cousin joined them, looking rather fresher than Hank felt. "What about you, Linda?"
She shrugged, "Nothing much. I might practise my psychic juggling… why?"
"Can you go with Hank to New Orleans?"
"I guess," Linda replied with a shrug. "I don't need to go anywhere in particular for that."
New Orleans.
07:32 CDT.
"So, you believe that you may be coming to a crossroads, but you're not sure what to do?" echoed the seeress as Hank finished explaining his problem.
He nodded.
"I know a little about your history and your dilemma," Xanadu admitted. "But I am hesitant to…" she broke off and stood. She moved to a desk and retrieved a pack of cards from one of the drawers and brought back to table where they sat.
"Take these and think about your problem," she instructed as she reached across the table, offering the cards to him. "When you think they are ready, return them to me."
Hank obeyed.
"Let us begin," said Xanadu, dealing three cards from the deck and laying them out one-by-one on the table-top. "Death, the Ace of Wands, the Wheel of Fortune…"
"That sounds mixed…" observed Linda as she wandered over towards them, several small bean bags whirling up and down in front.
"There are several possible interpretations," offered Xanadu. "Perhaps another layout will clarify things…"
09:06 CDT.
"Well, I think we know two things…" concluded Hank after several layouts had added a little more information.
"Really?" asked Linda. "I'm still confused."
"We do," Hank confirmed. "If get a visit from the wand-wavers, we should listen to their pitch and probably agree."
"I'm not sure I like that idea," Linda asserted.
"Yeah, I'm not sure I do either," Hank admitted. "But sometimes you just have to heed Destiny when he comes calling."
"He's not the one I'm worried about," muttered Linda darkly. "It's one of his sisters."
Manhattan.
July 20, 03:16 EDT.
The sound of the front door opening startled Fidelio Scamander out of his doze, and he was just about to get out of his chair and accost his wayward son when a flash of fiery light lit the small room. "Fawkes!" he exclaimed in surprise, then turned towards the door as his son hurtled through the doorway. "Get to bed! You can explain where you've been to your mother in the morning!"
"Is that a phoenix?" Rolf inquired.
"Bed, now!"
"Yes, Dad!" Rolf conceded and slowly backed out of the room.
Fidelio waited until his son's door slammed closed, then he approached the swan-sized bird that sat perched on the arm of one of the other chairs. "I assume that you have a message for me from Professor Dumbledore?"
The majestic bird trilled agreement and then held out a claw for him to take it.
"I assume given the hour that it's urgent?" Fidelio asked as he bent over and started it unfasten the missive.
This time the bird made a more enquiring, even incredulous sound, and then as soon as the magi-zoologist had retrieved the note and withdrawn to a safe distance, he took off again and seconds later, disappeared in a flash of light.
Fidelio shook his head and returned to his chair, quickly opening the envelope and extracting a folded piece of parchment from inside, leaving a smaller envelope in place for the moment.
Dear Fidelio,
I apologise for the untimely nature of this communication but I believe that it is necessary to act on the information that Professor McGonagall obtained this morning as quickly as possible.
Specifically, that a boy called Hank Lang – resident in Smallville – has an invitation to attend Hogwarts for the upcoming term.
Fidelio paused for a moment, trying to figure out both why this would be – most American wizards opted against a boarding school education and even those that did were typically enrolled in Ilvermorny or one of the specialist schools, not Hogwarts – and why it was urgent, then glanced down and smiled at the next line.
Now, I'm sure that you're wondering why this is urgent? I would draw your attention to the fact that Hank is often used as a nickname for Henry or Harry…
The magi-zoologist smiled to himself as he realised where this was going.
And I have been looking for a certain Harry – who was enrolled for this cohort – for some time. Therefore, I believe it is likely that young Mr Lang is the missing Mr Potter, and that the magic of the Quill and Book were enough to at least briefly pierce whatever protections that he is currently under.
I would appreciate it if you could investigate the matter and offer the enclosed invitation to Mr Lang either way.
I am most sincerely yours,
Albus Dumbledore.
Fidelio put the letter to one side and then withdrew the smaller envelope and turned it over to see the address information.
Hank Lang,
403 Maple Street.
Smallville,
Lowell County,
Kansas.
"Selena!"
"Yes, my dear?" said his wife from the next room.
"Do we know anyone in Kansas?" Fidelio asked. "Ideally someone in the state government who owes us a favour?"
A tall, dark-haired woman strode into the room with a contemplative look on her face. "Herschel Holdsclaw? He's in the Kansas Magical Investigations Division."
"Yes… he had a problem with a feral shapeshifter..."
"Why do you ask?"
"Professor Dumbledore is asking me to look into something that could be a little… sensitive," he replied. "I'd like a little back-up when I go."
She nodded. "I'll send an Elf Post message to his office," she declared. "But I doubt he'll reply until he's in the office in the morning."
"When is that likely to be?"
"Not for at least another six hours."
"I'll go and have a nap then," Fidelio declared after a moment. "Can you wake me when there's an answer?"
"Of course, my dear."
Topeka.
16:00 CDT.
The first difference that Fidelio noticed about Kansas was the heat. New York in July was warm, sometimes uncomfortably so, but Kansas was a lot hotter and it was a brutal dry heat, so he already sweating as he made his way into the building that housed Kansas' magical investigators.
An impressive staircase dominated the centre of the building's atrium, with an attractive young woman at a desk off to one side. She looked up as he approached. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Fidelio Scamander, I believe Lieutenant Holdsclaw is expecting me, Miss…?"
"Charlotte Miller, sir," said the woman as she scribbled a note on a piece of parchment, then rolled it up and inserted it into a message tube affixed to the staircase.
As predicted, it only took a moment for answer to come back. "Just up the stairs, second on the right, sir."
"Thank you, Miss Miller," said Fidelio as the woman who nodded acknowledgement, then turned to another visitor who had entered behind him.
Fidelio made his way up the stairs and knocked on the vaguely familiar door, receiving a cheerful 'enter' in the response.
"Scamander!" boomed the lieutenant as he entered, motioning him into a seat.
"Holdsclaw," replied Fidelio.
"I would say it's good to see you but…" The older man trailed off, but at an enquiring look from the magizoologist, he added. "Your name and trouble are often linked."
"You're not the first person to make that connection," Fidelio admitted. "But I do try and help solve the problems if possible."
Lieutenant Holdsclaw nodded agreement. "Which is why I asked one of my sergeants to look into the situation," he declared, then paused at another knock on his door. "That's probably him now… Enter!"
The door opened and a tall, lean man entered. "I have that report for you, Lieutenant."
"Take a seat, Sergeant," said Holdsclaw. "Do you know Scamander?"
"Only by reputation, sir," said the sergeant. "Sebastian Littlewind, the lieutenant asked me to look into your questions regarding the Lang family."
"Did you find anything?" Fidelio asked, curiously.
"Not a great deal," admitted the younger man. "But I think that you're probably correct about Hank Lang."
"Really?"
"Yes, for three reasons," replied the sergeant. "One, Hank Lang's arrival in Smallville was only a few days after the disappearance of Mr Potter… two, his mother is descended from the Potters along her maternal line, in fact she appears to be a direct descendent of Abraham Potter."
"And the third reason?"
"He is currently registered as an apprentice to Zatanna Zatara, an expert in transfiguration with connections to the sorcerers of Atlantis, the Amazons of Themyscira and if rumours are correct… at least one of the Lords of Order."
"That could complicate things," observed the lieutenant.
Fidelio nodded, agreeing that he would have to tread carefully.
"I suggest that we drive down to Smallville rather than dropping in on them suddenly," suggested Sergeant Littlewind. "It might be less likely to induce panic."
"I agree," added the lieutenant.
"Then I will follow your lead," Fidelio conceded.
Lowell County.
16:48 CDT.
Air conditioning is my favourite No-Maj invention, at least right now, Fidelio mused to himself as they passed a sign welcoming travellers to 'Smallville, the Creamed Corn Capital of the World'. He turned to Littlewind. "What's creamed corn?"
"It's a creamy soup made with partly puréed corn kernels," replied his travel-mate. "How do you want to do this?"
Fidelio glanced at the clock in the car's dashboard. "It's nearly five, now," he noted. "Miss Lang should be finished at work and heading home soon."
Littlewind nodded. "If Hank's a fairly typical kid, then he'll probably stay out as long as long as he can, but he's not going to miss dinner."
"My son never does," Fidelio confirmed. "Why don't we find somewhere to park up for a few minutes and then go straight to their house after five."
"That is less likely to cause a fuss."
Smallville.
17:16 CDT.
The duo parked their sedan on Maple Street, then got out and walked to the door of Number Forty-Three and Littlewind knocked on the frame of the screen door. A series of loud barks issued from the rear of the property and he glanced at Fidelio.
The older man shrugged, nonplussed.
A few seconds later, a middle-aged, vividly red-headed woman in a tank-top and shorts opened the inner door.
"Miss Lang?" asked Littlewind, when the woman nodded, he continued. "My name is Sebastian Littlewind, and my associate is Fidelio Scamander."
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" asked Miss Lang.
Littlewind thought that she probably already suspected the answer but replied. "We'd like to talk to you and your son about his education."
The woman sighed, clearly more resigned than surprised. "You'd better come in," she said, reaching over and opened the outer screen door for them. "This is not a conversation I don't want to have in public."
I suspect she'd rather not have this conversation at all, thought Fidelio to himself. But she thinks she needs to hear us out, which could work in our favour…
"You know why we're here," stated Littlewind as the pair entered the home and followed the woman into her front room.
Miss Lang briefly diverted her attention to a bar-shaped, glass-fronted No-Maj device in her hand, then nodded. "Ilvermorny or Hogwarts?"
Littlewind was about to reply, but a blur of white zipped across the room, darted between his legs and knocked him off balance.
Fidelio reacted quickly, reaching over to his associate's arm with one hand, then lunged down to snag the small creature with the other. "Now, now," he crooned, releasing Littlewind's arm once he was steady again, and moved the hand to soothe the cat. "There's no need to panic… we're all friends here."
"Wow," said Miss Lang as they moved over to chairs and sat down. "That's the quickest I've seen Racha calmed down."
"I'm good with animals," Fidelio replied cheerily. "As far as the school… I'm an Ilvermorny graduate myself, as are my brother and my mom, on the other hand my dad's family has been Hogwarts for generations, but…" he paused his petting of Racha the Cat and withdrew the smaller of the two envelopes he'd been sent from his back pocket and offered it to her. "… Today, I'm representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Miss Lang diverted her attention back to her No-Maj device for a moment, then started to reach for it, then stopped and withdrew her hand. "What are your instructions from Professor Dumbledore?" Noting Fidelio tense, she continued. "I've known that my son was of interest to and threatened by elements of your world since I took him in so I made sure to make myself aware of the identity of as many of the key players as I could, particularly after it was confirmed that he was magical himself when he had his first 'damsel in distress' back in first grade."
"I think that's in his KMID file…" suggested Littlewind. ""Something about turning a substitute teacher's hair blue?"
I was doing some paperwork in my office at the bank shortly before lunch, when the intercom on my desk buzzed. "Yes, Olivia?"
"You're needed at Weisinger Elementary immediately, Miss Lang," replied our receptionist. "There's been an incident involving your son."
"Thank you, Olivia," I said. "I haven't got any scheduled appointments… can you ask any walk-ins to return tomorrow?"
"Of course, Miss Lang."
I rose, slipped on my jacket and headed out of the room, quickly crossing the lobby and leaving through the front door without breaking stride.
"The elementary school is just across the street from the bank," Lana explained. "So I was standing outside the principal's office with Hank only a few moments later."
"Are you okay, son?" I asked.
"I'm fine, Mom," he assured me. "Just a little… confused… I guess."
"Confused?"
"Can I do magic?"
"Possibly, what makes you think that?"
"Well, Miss Harper, our substitute teacher, has been being really nasty to one of the new girls in my class all week, calling her really bad words…"
"What sort of bad words?"
"Well, she called her a… an ink with a d," he admitted after a moment.
"So, what happened today?"
"She started in on her again, and I lost my temper and shouted at her that she shouldn't use words like that and then her hair turned blue!"
"Her hair turned blue?" I echoed. When my son nodded agreement, I paused for a moment to consider the question, then agreed that that sounded like magic. "I think we need to have a talk with Zatanna as soon as possible."
"And he's been working with Miss Zatara ever since?" asked Littlewind.
"On and off," Lana clarified. "I wanted him to get a regular education as well."
"What happened to the teacher with the blue hair?" asked Fidelio. "I think there was something in his KMID file about it…"
"There was," agreed his partner. "According to our files, Obliviators from my office turned up a few minutes later, reversed the transfiguration and modified the memories of everyone concerned."
"Yes on the first two points," Lana confirmed. "But your team was a little too… specific… on the last point. The girl – Lucy Cao – had her memory of the transfiguration, but not the memory of my son standing up for her to a teacher… the first time anyone outside her family had done so apparently."
Fidelio nodded, that didn't exactly surprise him.
"She and her father were very grateful," Lana continued. "She quickly became one of his closest friends… possibly his best friend… although that's harder to call."
"That would be Zatanna Zatara?" asked Littlewind.
"She's his main teacher and mentor at the moment," Miss Lang confirmed. "But I have other sources as well."
"Our information suggests that Miss Zatanna has connections to the Amazons, the Atlanteans and the Lords of Order?"
"Correct," Miss Lang confirmed as she fiddled with her No-Maj device. "She's currently co-hosting Nabu with her father and two of her adult students; she and I are both on friendly terms with Anax Mera – Artur comes to play with my kids on occasion to reinforce his 'connection to the Surface World' – and her other adult student is a Champion of Shazam."
Fidelio wasn't entirely sure what all that meant, but he had an idea – given some comments made by Hagrid and Professor McGonagall in his hearing in the past – that it would be a 'Very Bad Thing' if they didn't get her on side. "Professor Dumbledore wishes you and your son to have this letter, an invitation to attend his school – and that I inform him as soon as possible of your decision."
"Is that all?"
"He would also like confirmation of a theory," Fidelio admitted. "As it may influence his planning for the coming semester."
Miss Lang and the two visitors paused for a moment as the sound of two pairs of footsteps coming down the hall stairs became audible.
"And that is?" asked Miss Lang as a whooshing sound was heard and the outsider door banged open and closed.
"That your son was born Harry James Potter."
Before she could answer, the door into the hall opened and a trio entered the room: Fidelio's gaze was first drawn to a large, muscular man in a checked shirt, jeans, who was putting on a pair of heavy, rimmed glasses as he entered, then turned his attention to the two children in front of the man. The first – a tiny slip of a girl with short, vividly-red pixie cut in a short t-shirt dress who was eyeing him suspiciously was of no particular interest, but the boy… a lean, athletic teen with a chaotic black mop of hair in glasses was a different matter. It was he who broke the silence. "I'll answer that, Mom."
Miss Lang nodded.
"In answer to your question, Mr…?"
"Scamander, Fidelio Scamander."
"The magizoologist…" noted the boy as he sat down on one of the chairs. "Yes, Mr Scamander, I was indeed born Harry James Potter. I was rescued by Giovanni Zatara from the Godric's Hollow ruins after the murder of my biological parents."
"How much do you know about what happened next?" asked Littlewind. "About the circumstances of your adoption?"
"Only what I've been told," the boy conceded. "However, I do have something that might be of interest."
At a glance from the boy, the girl intoned. "Gedachten zijn mijn handen!"
Seconds later, a small, wooden box flew through the door and landed in the boy's palm. He flipped open the box and turned it so that both visitors to see the contents, a small glass orb. "I got this Orb of Mnemosyne from John Constantine. It contains his and others' memories of those events."
"Thank you, Mr Lang," said Fidelio, accepting the trinket from the boy and offering the invitation in return.
The boy opened the envelope, scanned the contents, nodded, then passed it to the girl.
"Just what Madame Xanadu said to expect," she noted, sounding a little upset at the notion.
A glowing, yellow ankh appeared in front of the fireplace and a short, brunette woman in shorts, a corset and high heels stepped out. "Sorry I'm late, Lana," she said. "I was in the middle of a routine when I got your message…"
"It's fine, Zatanna," Miss Lang assured her. "Clark was keeping an eye on things until our visitors' intentions were confirmed."
The younger woman relaxed and moved to where the children were sitting, accepting the Hogwarts letter from the girl. "What do you want to do, Hank?"
The boy sighed. "A couple of days ago I would have still been on the fence about it," he replied. "But Madame Xanadu did a reading and… well Destiny is in play."
She paled. "I was afraid of that," she declared. "I assume that that means you will be going, then?"
"I will," he confirmed.
Zero Hour!
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, 6f5e4d and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
Star City.
August 12, 07:16 PDT.
"Have you finished, Lian?" Artemis asked, reaching for her niece's plate that still had a few scraps that she was playing with nervously.
"I guess so," agreed the young girl, then put down her cutlery on the plate and allowed her aunt to take it over to the sink to wash.
"Have you got everything ready to go?" Artemis asked as she began to wash the breakfast dishes.
"I think so," said the young girl hesitantly as she slipped off her chair. "I'll go check."
"Thanks, honey."
07:44 PDT.
Artemis and Will had just dropped Lian in her classroom and were turning to leave when they were hailed by a middle-aged woman. "How can we help you, miss…?" asked Will, tailing off.
"Sorry, I should have introduced myself," said the woman. "I'm Lisa Smith, the school principal. You're Will Harper, Lian's father… correct?"
"Yes," Will confirmed. "This is my sister-in-law, Artemis Crock."
"Is everything alright?" Artemis asked, wondering why the woman had approached them.
"Do you have a moment?" asked Lisa. "There's one thing I was curious about."
"I've got a meeting with a client at nine," Will admitted. "But I can spare a few minutes."
Artemis nodded her agreement, and the pair followed the principal into her office a few doors down from Lian's classroom. Once they were seated, the principal thumbed through a folder on her desk and then extracted a single sheet of paper. "You submitted a list of emergency contacts and people who are authorized to pick up Lian a few days ago…"
"Of course, that's standard isn't it?" asked Will.
"There are a couple of boxes on the admission form for that, which we require that parents or guardians fill in," confirmed the older woman. "Your list is… rather more comprehensive. I was curious."
Will nodded, then glanced at Artemis, asking her silently if she wanted to take this.
"Both of us have to travel for work sometimes," Artemis informed her. "My mother lives with us and can usually take care of Lian at home, but she's in a wheelchair so picking her up is a bit more difficult."
The principal nodded, apparently agreeing that made sense. "I assume that Jim, Roy and Violet Harper are also relatives?"
"My brothers and my foster daughter," Will confirmed. "Harlan Matthews works for us at Bowhunter Security… I wouldn't expect him to look after her for an extended period, but he's agreed to pick up Lian and bring her back to Paula if she's alone at home."
"And Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance and Cissy King-Jones?"
"Ollie and Dinah were our mentors as teenagers, almost like surrogate parents," Artemis replied. "Cissy's a friend that I've been helping coach for the international archery circuit."
The principal nodded. "And Lian's mother isn't in the picture?"
"Not at the moment," Will confirmed with a sigh. "She… doesn't think she would be good for Lian…"
"Is she right?"
Artemis and Will paused, not quite sure how to explain the complex dynamics of the situation. "I think she… overstates the issue," Artemis finally admitted, and Will nodded agreement. "She's nowhere near as bad as our father but… she's been a bad place a few times over the years."
"I see."
"Is there anything else?" Artemis asked.
"No, that will be fine," said Lisa. "I'll contact you both if I have any other questions."
August 13, 22:16 PDT.
Artemis shot a line across into a rooftop vent and slid across the gap between her perch and the Royal Memorial Hospital in an easy, practiced manoeuvre, landing confidently on the flat roof. Crossing to the fire escape, she made her way down it until she reached the floor she needed and made her way inside.
When she reached her target, it was empty apart from a single patient and her contact, Captain Quentin Lance, the long-suffering commander of the SCPD's Major and Special Crimes Unit. "Thanks for coming so quickly, Tigress."
"I'm always happy to help, Captain," she assured him. "You said something about the 'Dangers'?"
The ageing detective nodded, then indicated the patient. "Do you recognise this man?"
Artemis peered at the white-haired but well-built man for a moment, then nodded. "He's an Interpol agent called King Faraday. We first met eleven years ago… my team and I went undercover to investigate rumours that Haley's Circus was crooked."
"And you went as the aerialist/archer/strongman troupe called the Daring Dangers," finished the detective.
"We did," Artemis confirmed. "'Dan' still performs with them occasionally when the mood strikes him, but I haven't since we exonerated them."
"And Agent Faraday knew who you were?"
"We revealed ourselves as heroes once we caught the real culprit," Artemis confirmed. "How did he end up here?"
"He was shot at while making his way through the concourse at SCIA a short time ago," Captain Lance replied. "My men chased the shooter but he ran out on the apron and was killed by in a collision with one of the taxing planes."
Artemis glanced over the man, checking his vitals on the monitoring board and casting an experienced eye over his condition in general. "That's odd, but hardly seems enough to call us in, particularly if the threat is over."
"That's the thing, I'm pretty sure it isn't," replied the detective, darkly. "He was in pretty bad shape when my officers got to him, but he was desperate to find 'The Dangers' and 'gone hoe'…"
Artemis paused for a moment. "Do you mean Con hổ?"
"Maybe, what does that mean?"
"It means 'The Tiger Shrike' in Vietnamese," Artemis replied. "Which gives me at least one idea who he might have been investigating…"
"Who?"
"A chaos magic cult called Die Geiergesellschaft also known as the Vulture Society."
"Weren't they behind…?"
"The Clench," finished Artemis. "They were. Which gives you some idea what their capabilities and MO are."
"Not good."
"Not good at all," Artemis agreed with feeling.
The Hall of Justice.
August 14, 06:30 EDT.
Artemis glanced around the room as she exited the Zeta Tube, clocking that most of the heroes who she'd summoned had already gathered – her old friend Miss Martian, the beast-mimicking Animal Man, the psionic illusionist Raven, the demonic-looking fire-breathing teleporter Red Devil, the New Genesisian hybrid Halo, and the cybernetic weapons expert Arsenal – all but three like her in civilian clothing.
Seconds later, the system spun up again, bringing in the last of the heroes she'd been expecting. "Recognized, Citizen Steel B-Two-Nine; Vibe B-Three-Eight… Mary Marvel E-Zero-Eight."
"Thanks for coming, everyone," Artemis began, then turned to the main console, activating it. "Oracle, did you get the packet I sent you?"
"I did," confirmed the red-head. "I'm pretty sure we're looking at two different players here, particularly given what 'Defenseurs de la nuit' found when they rolled up the Paris cell."
"That's what I thought. What do you think about the original lead that the Bratva were trying to expand into Indonesia?"
"Maybe…" said Oracle, not sounding entirely convinced. "Looking at the data, they're definitely up something, but maybe not that. Inspecteur Masse thinks that a second party wants everyone looking at the Bratva so that they can act elsewhere."
"The Tiger Shrike."
"The Tiger Shrike," Barbara confirmed.
"Who?" asked someone, but the two women ignored him.
"So, we split our forces," Artemis turned back to her team and paused for a moment to think. "M'gann, you've got Beta… take Nate, Cisco, Mary and Aboki to Europe. Start in the Netherlands… see if you can find out what the Bratva are up to."
M'gann nodded and lead her assigned trio back to the Zeta-Tube.
"Recognized, Miss Martian B-Zero-Five; Citizen Steel B-Two-Nine; Vibe B-Three-Eight; Mary Marvel E-Zero-Eight; "
"Eddie, Linda, Roy, Violet… you're with me on Gamma," she declared. "We're going to follow up on Interpol's leads in the Far East. First stop…"
Singapore.
August 14, 19:16 SGT.
The Super-Cycle exited the Boom Tube over the bay and swooped down to land in a secluded park.
Artemis dropped down to the ground and then waited as the rest of the squad dismounted. "Violet, can you stay with the Super-Cycle in case we need a quick escape or air cover?"
"Of course, Artemis."
"Oracle to Gamma Squad."
"Standby, Oracle," said Artemis. "Linda, can you hold an illusion over Eddie and maintain a physic link at the same time? I don't want to risk anyone blocking or intercepting our communications."
"Not over a long distance or in combat, but…" Linda paused. "I think so."
"Illusion first," instructed Artemis. "Oracle, report."
"Beta Squad just rolled up the Dutch cell. I'm coordinating with Interpol techs on the scene to analyse the data."
"Okay, have Beta hold in the Hague until we have anything more to act on."
"Will do."
"Can you bring your memories of your old form to the front of your mind? I can use it to shape the illusion," said Linda once she'd examined her teammate for a moment. Once Eddie had agreed, Linda concentrated for a moment with her fingers braced in a pyramid, then extended one hand and pointed at him. "Gedachten tonen zijn herinnerde vorm!"
The first change was to the other teen's horns and tail, which shimmered out of sight, then his skin lightened and his hair darkened to a sandy blond… then his eyes turned from his usual demonic golden-yellow to a more human blue.
Linda took a few deep breaths to steady herself, then cast her second spell as her eyes glowed red. "Gedachten dragen onze woorden…!" she declared. (Telepathic link online.)
(Okay, you two can take position somewhere nearby while Roy and I go into the Pelikaṉ kiḷap.)
Linda considered the question for the moment. (Looks like there are a few all-night cafés in the neighbourhood… the one in the next block over on the other side of the road seems like the best choice.)
(Makes sense to me,) Artemis agreed. (Let's go.)
19:30 SGT.
Artemis paused as Roy reached for the door of the Pelikaṉ kiḷap. (Is everyone in position?)
(In position,) confirmed Eddie and Linda simultaneously.
(I'm ready,) added Violet.
Artemis nodded to Roy, who opened the door and lead the way in. Artemis finished out a pair of sunglasses with green-tinted lenses and slipped them on, then followed him.
"Table for two?" asked the greeter at the entrance.
"Yes please," Artemis confirmed. "With a view of the stage if possible."
"Certainly, ma'am," agreed the other woman. "Follow me." She led them through the venue to a small two-person table with a good view of the stage. "Can I get you any drinks to begin?"
"I'll take a bandung," said Artemis.
"White coffee for me," added Roy as he slid into his own seat.
"They'll just be a moment."
"Do you know who our contact is?"
"One of the staff, but I'm not sure who," Artemis admitted. "I was just told to get a table facing the stage and to wear these glasses."
"Well, hopefully they'll turn up soon."
19:46 SGT
They'd finished their first round of drinks and were about to order another round and some snacks when one of the dancers paused beside their table. "Nothing is too wonderful to be true, if it be consistent with the laws of nature," she observed idly.
Artemis didn't visibly react, but immediately gave the counter-phrase. "… and in such things as these, experiment is the best test of such consistency."
The dancer nodded, fished a tiny envelope out of her costume, then after a quick glance around to make sure that non-one was looking in their direction, she dropped it on their table and walked off towards the stage.
Roy inspected the envelope, removing a small memory stick that he plugged into his cybernetic arm. "Uploading the data now. Oracle should have something for us shortly."
Artemis signalled to one of the waitresses.
"Yes, ma'am?" asked the young woman when she joined them.
"We'll take another round of the same and one of your tasting platters," said Artemis. "You can bring the check as well."
"Yes ma'am."
20:16 SGT.
"Oracle to Gamma Squad."
Artemis was about to help herself to some yong tau foo soup, but she put her spoon down and whispered an acknowledgement.
"I've taken a preliminary look over the data that Arsenal sent me." Oracle reported. "I need to go over it in more detail to get the full picture, but I have a new destination for you…"
Kowloon.
20:56 HKT.
The Super-Cycle slid out of the Boom-Tube with practiced ease and Artemis brought her smoothly to a landing next to the soccer field in one of the parks. "We'll need to move fast, our contact is based out of one of the local night markets and they close in about an hour," Artemis declared. "Eddie, Linda, why don't you take the lead on this one… even this late, a couple of teens shouldn't attract too much notice."
"We're on it," agreed the red-head and hopped to the ground, then paused to allow Eddie to join her.
"Violet, can you conceal yourself and follow them, just in case?"
"Of course," agreed her protégé, glowing green briefly before disappearing.
"And what do we do?" Arsenal asked once they were alone.
"We wait."
"Wonderful," said the cyborg teen sarcastically."
Vientiane.
23:30 HKT.
Barbara's voice over her earbud roused Artemis from the light doze that she'd slipped into while she waited Arsenal and Halo to return from their latest dead drop. "Go ahead, Oracle."
"I've just completed my analysis of the intel that you acquired in Singapore," Barbara reported. "A senior Bratva officer is currently staying in Athens and another lead for the Philippines."
Artemis thought about it for a moment. "We'll take the Philippines, route Beta to Greece."
"Will do," Barbara agreed.
General Santos.
August 15, 00:30 PHST.
"I hope you've got some good news for me, Oracle?"
"I might," replied her teammate. "Do you have got any contacts in Vietnam?"
"Actually, I do," Artemis admitted. "But I need to make a few calls. Can you have Beta Squad meet us on Manila as soon as possible?"
"Will do."
Manila.
August 15, 02:16 PHST.
Artemis and her squad stood watching as Baby shimmered into view and drifted down to a landing. Predictably, Mary and Hank as the squad's two psychical heavy hitters, were first down the ramp, with Cisco a few steps behind them. As her team reached the tarmac, M'gann appeared at the top of the ramp, and then caught up with her team by the time the two squads came together.
(Glad you could join us,) Artemis told her. (I've got a feeling that this isn't going to be easy.)
M'gann nodded, then shifted to glance at an SUV with Vietnamese government plates that was driving in their direction. (Are you expecting anyone else?)
(Yeah,) Artemis confirmed. (I didn't want any… complications… so I contacted my uncle and asked him to pull a few strings.)
The SUV drifted to a stop and a heavily muscled man got out the driver's seat, with a similarly massive man exiting through the passenger seat. "We were told to report to Artemis Crock?" said the first man.
"That's me," said Artemis, turning towards them. "I assume my uncle sent you?"
"That is correct," confirmed the man. "While relations between our two countries are… better than they were, there is still considerable tension, so Colonel Nguyen decided that you should be provided with an appropriate escort."
"I think you mean 'babysitter," observed Arsenal sardonically.
"Arsenal!" barked Artemis. "Please forgive my colleague. He often speaks before he thinks…"
"I think nothing of it, Miss Crock," said their contact. "I am Gan Williams, and this is my brother Tavis."
"Pleased to meet you," Artemis said. "Have you been able to confirm the intel we sent you?"
"We have," Tavis confirmed. "The target site is an abandoned temple off Ha Long Bay. I have sent the coordinates to the email you provided."
"I've got them," Barbara confirmed over Artemis' commlink. "Local sunrise is in about three and a half hours. I suggest you plan to strike before then."
Artemis nodded, then turned back to the Williams brothers. "My analyst has the coordinates; she suggests given the isolated and fairly open location that we take the facility tonight."
"We agree," confirmed the brothers.
"Then let's get moving," Artemis declared. "We can Boom to just outside Chinese territorial waters and then fly in below the radar into the bay."
Ha Long Bay.
01:32 ICT.
(Thunder, have you been able to identify any alternative entrances to the temple complex?)
(Negative, Tigress,) her local contact replied. (A frontal assault appears to be the only option.)
(Well, at least as far as a surprise attack goes,) Artemis agreed regretfully. (Miss Martian…?)
(I agree,) agreed her old friend. (Baby and I should still be able to get closer than Super-Cycle.)
Artemis thought about it and was forced to agree after a moment. Martian stealth was far better even the combined illusionary efforts of Halo and Raven and the other squad was also more equipped to defend themselves if the cultists decided to make a fight of it. Which they probably would given their previous history. (Go for it.)
(Boss, just one thing before we strike,) Cisco interjected.
(Go ahead.)
(I've working with Baby on integrating my sonar powers with her scanners and I've managed to get a decent map of the entire complex.)
(Good work, Vibe,) Artemis replied. (Have you found anything useful?)
(We didn't find any other usable entrances; Thunder was right about that…) he began. (But we did manage to pinpoint a couple of large, open spaces inside the facility…)
(Brilliant!) Artemis declared. (Gamma Squad can Boom into one of those once the 'duty shift' is distracted by Beta Squad. If we can get the drop on them, they might not even make too much of a fight of it.)
02:16 ICT.
"They just surrendered?" repeated Oracle incredulously.
"Well, only twenty or so of them are soldiers, cultists, most are scientists doing a job," Artemis explained. "So, when Animal Man and Vibe were able to thwart their little searchlight defence, and then Citizen Steel and Mary Marvel were able to recover in time to drop the big boss like a bad habit, the rest surrendered immediately."
"That makes sense," Oracle agreed. "I've notified Interpol and CAND, and teams are on the way to take them into custody."
At that moment, Roy, Cisco and the Williams brothers wandered over. The redhead spoke first. "Boss, we might need to make a move before they get here."
"Why?" Artemis asked, not exactly fond of the idea.
"We've been looking through Con hổ's files, and we've found two things of interest so far," Roy replied. "Firstly, we've confirmed that he was planning to use the stolen Rhelasian missiles to attack Beijing and hopefully kick off World War Three."
"Well, I think we can all agree that that would have been a bad thing," noted Artemis to a crowd of nods. "And the second?"
"According to one of his more recent entries, he mentions that he was thinking of depositing his 'war chest' in a bank in Montfaucon, Switzerland."
"I know the one," Artemis confirmed. "It's pretty well known in… certain circles…"
"Which is why the interesting thing is why he didn't invest," Roy explained. "Apparently, one of his informants found out that the Bratva are planning a raid on the bank."
Artemis hissed. "That's… risky of them," she declared. "Do we know when?"
"Twenty-two hundred local time… today."
"That's in about three quarters of an hour!" Artemis exclaimed. "Oracle, can you…?"
"Checking with the Watchtower and the Premier Building…" Barbara said, then after a moment, she came back on. "Cyborg is available, should I deploy the Outsiders to Montfaucon?"
"Do it."
Star City.
August 14, 19:16 PDT.
"Auntie Mus, Uncle Roy!" cried Lian jubilantly, as they entered the Harper house.
Artemis smiled, then crouched and scooped up the little girl into her arms as she came within reach. "It's good to see you too, sweetheart."
Will poked his head out of the kitchen door into the hall. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," Artemis confirmed. "Two villain plots foiled and the world preserved… at least for a while."
A/N: The bulk of the above story is inspired by 'Zero Hour for Earth!' by Bill Finger (Batman #167, November 1964) by Bill Finger, with some minor details from "The China Syndrome!" by Marv Wolfmann (Batman Vol 1 #333, March 1981).
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, 6f5e4d and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
Star City.
August 12, 07:16 PDT.
"Have you finished, Lian?" Artemis asked, reaching for her niece's plate that still had a few scraps that she was playing with nervously.
"I guess so," agreed the young girl, then put down her cutlery on the plate and allowed her aunt to take it over to the sink to wash.
"Have you got everything ready to go?" Artemis asked as she began to wash the breakfast dishes.
"I think so," said the young girl hesitantly as she slipped off her chair. "I'll go check."
"Thanks, honey."
07:44 PDT.
Artemis and Will had just dropped Lian in her classroom and were turning to leave when they were hailed by a middle-aged woman. "How can we help you, miss…?" asked Will, tailing off.
"Sorry, I should have introduced myself," said the woman. "I'm Lisa Smith, the school principal. You're Will Harper, Lian's father… correct?"
"Yes," Will confirmed. "This is my sister-in-law, Artemis Crock."
"Is everything alright?" Artemis asked, wondering why the woman had approached them.
"Do you have a moment?" asked Lisa. "There's one thing I was curious about."
"I've got a meeting with a client at nine," Will admitted. "But I can spare a few minutes."
Artemis nodded her agreement, and the pair followed the principal into her office a few doors down from Lian's classroom. Once they were seated, the principal thumbed through a folder on her desk and then extracted a single sheet of paper. "You submitted a list of emergency contacts and people who are authorized to pick up Lian a few days ago…"
"Of course, that's standard isn't it?" asked Will.
"There are a couple of boxes on the admission form for that, which we require that parents or guardians fill in," confirmed the older woman. "Your list is… rather more comprehensive. I was curious."
Will nodded, then glanced at Artemis, asking her silently if she wanted to take this.
"Both of us have to travel for work sometimes," Artemis informed her. "My mother lives with us and can usually take care of Lian at home, but she's in a wheelchair so picking her up is a bit more difficult."
The principal nodded, apparently agreeing that made sense. "I assume that Jim, Roy and Violet Harper are also relatives?"
"My brothers and my foster daughter," Will confirmed. "Harlan Matthews works for us at Bowhunter Security… I wouldn't expect him to look after her for an extended period, but he's agreed to pick up Lian and bring her back to Paula if she's alone at home."
"And Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance and Cissy King-Jones?"
"Ollie and Dinah were our mentors as teenagers, almost like surrogate parents," Artemis replied. "Cissy's a friend that I've been helping coach for the international archery circuit."
The principal nodded. "And Lian's mother isn't in the picture?"
"Not at the moment," Will confirmed with a sigh. "She… doesn't think she would be good for Lian…"
"Is she right?"
Artemis and Will paused, not quite sure how to explain the complex dynamics of the situation. "I think she… overstates the issue," Artemis finally admitted, and Will nodded agreement. "She's nowhere near as bad as our father but… she's been a bad place a few times over the years."
"I see."
"Is there anything else?" Artemis asked.
"No, that will be fine," said Lisa. "I'll contact you both if I have any other questions."
August 13, 22:16 PDT.
Artemis shot a line across into a rooftop vent and slid across the gap between her perch and the Royal Memorial Hospital in an easy, practiced manoeuvre, landing confidently on the flat roof. Crossing to the fire escape, she made her way down it until she reached the floor she needed and made her way inside.
When she reached her target, it was empty apart from a single patient and her contact, Captain Quentin Lance, the long-suffering commander of the SCPD's Major and Special Crimes Unit. "Thanks for coming so quickly, Tigress."
"I'm always happy to help, Captain," she assured him. "You said something about the 'Dangers'?"
The ageing detective nodded, then indicated the patient. "Do you recognise this man?"
Artemis peered at the white-haired but well-built man for a moment, then nodded. "He's an Interpol agent called King Faraday. We first met eleven years ago… my team and I went undercover to investigate rumours that Haley's Circus was crooked."
"And you went as the aerialist/archer/strongman troupe called the Daring Dangers," finished the detective.
"We did," Artemis confirmed. "'Dan' still performs with them occasionally when the mood strikes him, but I haven't since we exonerated them."
"And Agent Faraday knew who you were?"
"We revealed ourselves as heroes once we caught the real culprit," Artemis confirmed. "How did he end up here?"
"He was shot at while making his way through the concourse at SCIA a short time ago," Captain Lance replied. "My men chased the shooter but he ran out on the apron and was killed by in a collision with one of the taxing planes."
Artemis glanced over the man, checking his vitals on the monitoring board and casting an experienced eye over his condition in general. "That's odd, but hardly seems enough to call us in, particularly if the threat is over."
"That's the thing, I'm pretty sure it isn't," replied the detective, darkly. "He was in pretty bad shape when my officers got to him, but he was desperate to find 'The Dangers' and 'gone hoe'…"
Artemis paused for a moment. "Do you mean Con hổ?"
"Maybe, what does that mean?"
"It means 'The Tiger Shrike' in Vietnamese," Artemis replied. "Which gives me at least one idea who he might have been investigating…"
"Who?"
"A chaos magic cult called Die Geiergesellschaft also known as the Vulture Society."
"Weren't they behind…?"
"The Clench," finished Artemis. "They were. Which gives you some idea what their capabilities and MO are."
"Not good."
"Not good at all," Artemis agreed with feeling.
The Hall of Justice.
August 14, 06:30 EDT.
Artemis glanced around the room as she exited the Zeta Tube, clocking that most of the heroes who she'd summoned had already gathered – her old friend Miss Martian, the beast-mimicking Animal Man, the psionic illusionist Raven, the demonic-looking fire-breathing teleporter Red Devil, the New Genesisian hybrid Halo, and the cybernetic weapons expert Arsenal – all but three like her in civilian clothing.
Seconds later, the system spun up again, bringing in the last of the heroes she'd been expecting. "Recognized, Citizen Steel B-Two-Nine; Vibe B-Three-Eight… Mary Marvel E-Zero-Eight."
"Thanks for coming, everyone," Artemis began, then turned to the main console, activating it. "Oracle, did you get the packet I sent you?"
"I did," confirmed the red-head. "I'm pretty sure we're looking at two different players here, particularly given what 'Defenseurs de la nuit' found when they rolled up the Paris cell."
"That's what I thought. What do you think about the original lead that the Bratva were trying to expand into Indonesia?"
"Maybe…" said Oracle, not sounding entirely convinced. "Looking at the data, they're definitely up something, but maybe not that. Inspecteur Masse thinks that a second party wants everyone looking at the Bratva so that they can act elsewhere."
"The Tiger Shrike."
"The Tiger Shrike," Barbara confirmed.
"Who?" asked someone, but the two women ignored him.
"So, we split our forces," Artemis turned back to her team and paused for a moment to think. "M'gann, you've got Beta… take Nate, Cisco, Mary and Aboki to Europe. Start in the Netherlands… see if you can find out what the Bratva are up to."
M'gann nodded and lead her assigned trio back to the Zeta-Tube.
"Recognized, Miss Martian B-Zero-Five; Citizen Steel B-Two-Nine; Vibe B-Three-Eight; Mary Marvel E-Zero-Eight; "
"Eddie, Linda, Roy, Violet… you're with me on Gamma," she declared. "We're going to follow up on Interpol's leads in the Far East. First stop…"
Singapore.
August 14, 19:16 SGT.
The Super-Cycle exited the Boom Tube over the bay and swooped down to land in a secluded park.
Artemis dropped down to the ground and then waited as the rest of the squad dismounted. "Violet, can you stay with the Super-Cycle in case we need a quick escape or air cover?"
"Of course, Artemis."
"Oracle to Gamma Squad."
"Standby, Oracle," said Artemis. "Linda, can you hold an illusion over Eddie and maintain a physic link at the same time? I don't want to risk anyone blocking or intercepting our communications."
"Not over a long distance or in combat, but…" Linda paused. "I think so."
"Illusion first," instructed Artemis. "Oracle, report."
"Beta Squad just rolled up the Dutch cell. I'm coordinating with Interpol techs on the scene to analyse the data."
"Okay, have Beta hold in the Hague until we have anything more to act on."
"Will do."
"Can you bring your memories of your old form to the front of your mind? I can use it to shape the illusion," said Linda once she'd examined her teammate for a moment. Once Eddie had agreed, Linda concentrated for a moment with her fingers braced in a pyramid, then extended one hand and pointed at him. "Gedachten tonen zijn herinnerde vorm!"
The first change was to the other teen's horns and tail, which shimmered out of sight, then his skin lightened and his hair darkened to a sandy blond… then his eyes turned from his usual demonic golden-yellow to a more human blue.
Linda took a few deep breaths to steady herself, then cast her second spell as her eyes glowed red. "Gedachten dragen onze woorden…!" she declared. (Telepathic link online.)
(Okay, you two can take position somewhere nearby while Roy and I go into the Pelikaṉ kiḷap.)
Linda considered the question for the moment. (Looks like there are a few all-night cafés in the neighbourhood… the one in the next block over on the other side of the road seems like the best choice.)
(Makes sense to me,) Artemis agreed. (Let's go.)
19:30 SGT.
Artemis paused as Roy reached for the door of the Pelikaṉ kiḷap. (Is everyone in position?)
(In position,) confirmed Eddie and Linda simultaneously.
(I'm ready,) added Violet.
Artemis nodded to Roy, who opened the door and lead the way in. Artemis finished out a pair of sunglasses with green-tinted lenses and slipped them on, then followed him.
"Table for two?" asked the greeter at the entrance.
"Yes please," Artemis confirmed. "With a view of the stage if possible."
"Certainly, ma'am," agreed the other woman. "Follow me." She led them through the venue to a small two-person table with a good view of the stage. "Can I get you any drinks to begin?"
"I'll take a bandung," said Artemis.
"White coffee for me," added Roy as he slid into his own seat.
"They'll just be a moment."
"Do you know who our contact is?"
"One of the staff, but I'm not sure who," Artemis admitted. "I was just told to get a table facing the stage and to wear these glasses."
"Well, hopefully they'll turn up soon."
19:46 SGT
They'd finished their first round of drinks and were about to order another round and some snacks when one of the dancers paused beside their table. "Nothing is too wonderful to be true, if it be consistent with the laws of nature," she observed idly.
Artemis didn't visibly react, but immediately gave the counter-phrase. "… and in such things as these, experiment is the best test of such consistency."
The dancer nodded, fished a tiny envelope out of her costume, then after a quick glance around to make sure that non-one was looking in their direction, she dropped it on their table and walked off towards the stage.
Roy inspected the envelope, removing a small memory stick that he plugged into his cybernetic arm. "Uploading the data now. Oracle should have something for us shortly."
Artemis signalled to one of the waitresses.
"Yes, ma'am?" asked the young woman when she joined them.
"We'll take another round of the same and one of your tasting platters," said Artemis. "You can bring the check as well."
"Yes ma'am."
20:16 SGT.
"Oracle to Gamma Squad."
Artemis was about to help herself to some yong tau foo soup, but she put her spoon down and whispered an acknowledgement.
"I've taken a preliminary look over the data that Arsenal sent me." Oracle reported. "I need to go over it in more detail to get the full picture, but I have a new destination for you…"
Kowloon.
20:56 HKT.
The Super-Cycle slid out of the Boom-Tube with practiced ease and Artemis brought her smoothly to a landing next to the soccer field in one of the parks. "We'll need to move fast, our contact is based out of one of the local night markets and they close in about an hour," Artemis declared. "Eddie, Linda, why don't you take the lead on this one… even this late, a couple of teens shouldn't attract too much notice."
"We're on it," agreed the red-head and hopped to the ground, then paused to allow Eddie to join her.
"Violet, can you conceal yourself and follow them, just in case?"
"Of course," agreed her protégé, glowing green briefly before disappearing.
"And what do we do?" Arsenal asked once they were alone.
"We wait."
"Wonderful," said the cyborg teen sarcastically."
Vientiane.
23:30 HKT.
Barbara's voice over her earbud roused Artemis from the light doze that she'd slipped into while she waited Arsenal and Halo to return from their latest dead drop. "Go ahead, Oracle."
"I've just completed my analysis of the intel that you acquired in Singapore," Barbara reported. "A senior Bratva officer is currently staying in Athens and another lead for the Philippines."
Artemis thought about it for a moment. "We'll take the Philippines, route Beta to Greece."
"Will do," Barbara agreed.
General Santos.
August 15, 00:30 PHST.
"I hope you've got some good news for me, Oracle?"
"I might," replied her teammate. "Do you have got any contacts in Vietnam?"
"Actually, I do," Artemis admitted. "But I need to make a few calls. Can you have Beta Squad meet us on Manila as soon as possible?"
"Will do."
Manila.
August 15, 02:16 PHST.
Artemis and her squad stood watching as Baby shimmered into view and drifted down to a landing. Predictably, Mary and Hank as the squad's two psychical heavy hitters, were first down the ramp, with Cisco a few steps behind them. As her team reached the tarmac, M'gann appeared at the top of the ramp, and then caught up with her team by the time the two squads came together.
(Glad you could join us,) Artemis told her. (I've got a feeling that this isn't going to be easy.)
M'gann nodded, then shifted to glance at an SUV with Vietnamese government plates that was driving in their direction. (Are you expecting anyone else?)
(Yeah,) Artemis confirmed. (I didn't want any… complications… so I contacted my uncle and asked him to pull a few strings.)
The SUV drifted to a stop and a heavily muscled man got out the driver's seat, with a similarly massive man exiting through the passenger seat. "We were told to report to Artemis Crock?" said the first man.
"That's me," said Artemis, turning towards them. "I assume my uncle sent you?"
"That is correct," confirmed the man. "While relations between our two countries are… better than they were, there is still considerable tension, so Colonel Nguyen decided that you should be provided with an appropriate escort."
"I think you mean 'babysitter," observed Arsenal sardonically.
"Arsenal!" barked Artemis. "Please forgive my colleague. He often speaks before he thinks…"
"I think nothing of it, Miss Crock," said their contact. "I am Gan Williams, and this is my brother Tavis."
"Pleased to meet you," Artemis said. "Have you been able to confirm the intel we sent you?"
"We have," Tavis confirmed. "The target site is an abandoned temple off Ha Long Bay. I have sent the coordinates to the email you provided."
"I've got them," Barbara confirmed over Artemis' commlink. "Local sunrise is in about three and a half hours. I suggest you plan to strike before then."
Artemis nodded, then turned back to the Williams brothers. "My analyst has the coordinates; she suggests given the isolated and fairly open location that we take the facility tonight."
"We agree," confirmed the brothers.
"Then let's get moving," Artemis declared. "We can Boom to just outside Chinese territorial waters and then fly in below the radar into the bay."
Ha Long Bay.
01:32 ICT.
(Thunder, have you been able to identify any alternative entrances to the temple complex?)
(Negative, Tigress,) her local contact replied. (A frontal assault appears to be the only option.)
(Well, at least as far as a surprise attack goes,) Artemis agreed regretfully. (Miss Martian…?)
(I agree,) agreed her old friend. (Baby and I should still be able to get closer than Super-Cycle.)
Artemis thought about it and was forced to agree after a moment. Martian stealth was far better even the combined illusionary efforts of Halo and Raven and the other squad was also more equipped to defend themselves if the cultists decided to make a fight of it. Which they probably would given their previous history. (Go for it.)
(Boss, just one thing before we strike,) Cisco interjected.
(Go ahead.)
(I've working with Baby on integrating my sonar powers with her scanners and I've managed to get a decent map of the entire complex.)
(Good work, Vibe,) Artemis replied. (Have you found anything useful?)
(We didn't find any other usable entrances; Thunder was right about that…) he began. (But we did manage to pinpoint a couple of large, open spaces inside the facility…)
(Brilliant!) Artemis declared. (Gamma Squad can Boom into one of those once the 'duty shift' is distracted by Beta Squad. If we can get the drop on them, they might not even make too much of a fight of it.)
02:16 ICT.
"They just surrendered?" repeated Oracle incredulously.
"Well, only twenty or so of them are soldiers, cultists, most are scientists doing a job," Artemis explained. "So, when Animal Man and Vibe were able to thwart their little searchlight defence, and then Citizen Steel and Mary Marvel were able to recover in time to drop the big boss like a bad habit, the rest surrendered immediately."
"That makes sense," Oracle agreed. "I've notified Interpol and CAND, and teams are on the way to take them into custody."
At that moment, Roy, Cisco and the Williams brothers wandered over. The redhead spoke first. "Boss, we might need to make a move before they get here."
"Why?" Artemis asked, not exactly fond of the idea.
"We've been looking through Con hổ's files, and we've found two things of interest so far," Roy replied. "Firstly, we've confirmed that he was planning to use the stolen Rhelasian missiles to attack Beijing and hopefully kick off World War Three."
"Well, I think we can all agree that that would have been a bad thing," noted Artemis to a crowd of nods. "And the second?"
"According to one of his more recent entries, he mentions that he was thinking of depositing his 'war chest' in a bank in Montfaucon, Switzerland."
"I know the one," Artemis confirmed. "It's pretty well known in… certain circles…"
"Which is why the interesting thing is why he didn't invest," Roy explained. "Apparently, one of his informants found out that the Bratva are planning a raid on the bank."
Artemis hissed. "That's… risky of them," she declared. "Do we know when?"
"Twenty-two hundred local time… today."
"That's in about three quarters of an hour!" Artemis exclaimed. "Oracle, can you…?"
"Checking with the Watchtower and the Premier Building…" Barbara said, then after a moment, she came back on. "Cyborg is available, should I deploy the Outsiders to Montfaucon?"
"Do it."
Star City.
August 14, 19:16 PDT.
"Auntie Mus, Uncle Roy!" cried Lian jubilantly, as they entered the Harper house.
Artemis smiled, then crouched and scooped up the little girl into her arms as she came within reach. "It's good to see you too, sweetheart."
Will poked his head out of the kitchen door into the hall. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," Artemis confirmed. "Two villain plots foiled and the world preserved… at least for a while."
A/N: The bulk of the above story is inspired by 'Zero Hour for Earth!' by Bill Finger (Batman #167, November 1964) by Bill Finger, with some minor details from "The China Syndrome!" by Marv Wolfmann (Batman Vol 1 #333, March 1981).
Past is Prologue
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, 6f5e4d, and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
Smallville.
August 16, 20:16 CDT.
"Good evening, Mariah," said Lana as she slipped into a chair opposite her children's form teacher.
"Good evening, Lana," said the other woman. "Well, I don't really have much to say… Hank has always been a pleasure to have my class, bright, eager to please, enthusiastic…"
"And Linda?"
"As you know, she had a little difficult settling in at first," Mariah reminded her.
Lana thought about that for a moment, then nodded her agreement.
"I think our little school was a bit of a steep adjustment for her originally, but she's settled in and contributed far better this year and I'm looking forward to seeing how she – and your son of course – contribute this year."
Lana paused for a moment, still not sure how to explain the situation without giving away too much information that some might prefer that she didn't. After a while, she decided to just jump right in. "I'm afraid that you'll have to make do Linda only for this year."
"Oh?" said the teacher curiously.
"As you know, my son is adopted…"
"I've heard that," she agreed. "His biological parents were murdered, if I recall correctly… something to do with terrorism?"
"They were," Lana confirmed. "Well, before their deaths, they arranged for him to attend a private school in Scotland. We met with a representative of the school a month ago and confirmed his attendance."
"Well, that's a bit of good luck for him, I suppose," Mariah observed after a brief silence, during which she fished out a sheet of paper and glanced over it. "Well, he's actually satisfied all our basic requirements thanks to his talent for languages, so we will miss him, but I see no reason why that would be a problem. Where would you like me to send his transcripts?"
"You send them to my house," Lana replied. "I'll make sure that the school gets them."
Mariah flashed her an inquiring look but jotted down a message on her notepad without further comment.
August 23, 07:46 CDT.
"Some people have all the luck," Linda - who was dressed for school - muttered darkly as she headed for the door.
Harry chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be busy enough pretty soon."
"You'll head over to Zatanna's soon?" asked his mother as she slipped on her jacket and collected her purse from the sideboard.
"Well, the sun's not up over there for a while yet," Hank noted. "I thought I'd hang here, finish my book and then bike over to Grandpa's in about half-an-hour?"
Lana considered the question and then nodded. "You'll back for dinner?"
"I should be," Hank noted, then added impishly. "As long as everything goes okay."
"Try to make sure it does," said his mother, dryly.
San Francisco.
07:16 PDT.
A pitiful wail broke the silence as Hank let himself into the apartment. "Jinx?" he asked, looking around. "Zatanna?"
The apartment wasn't a particularly big one, so it didn't take long to find the cat in the kitchen, where she was trying desperately to lap up the last few drops of water from her dispenser. Hank immediately rushed over and snatched up the device and quickly filled it and her food dish, which was also empty. That chore done, he pulled out his phone and dialled Zatanna's number. A second or two later, he heard the ringtone echoing from the master bedroom. Frowning, he walked back to that room, and easily located the device. He examined it for a moment, then glanced around the room, noting a few other things that raised his alert level even further. He put her phone back on her nightstand, then returned his attention back to his own and pressed one of the speed-dial buttons.
"Watchtower, Rocket speaking."
"Rocket, this is Hank Lang A-Zero-Four," Hank began. "I have a possible Priority Red at 1616 Prescott Street, San Francisco."
There was silence for a moment, then Rocket spoke up, a hint of worry creeping into her voice. "Hank, can you confirm that the Priority Red is at Zatanna's apartment?"
"Confirmed," Hank replied. "I just arrived for a training session and she's missing. Now, normally I wouldn't be worried, but her phone and comms are still here and Jinx looked like she hadn't eaten in at least a week when I arrived."
Rocket didn't reply immediately, but when she did, the concern in the woman's voice was far stronger. "That's not like Zatanna. I'll contact the SFPD and Protector, he's the other local hero… and check with the rest of the League to see when she was last seen."
"You should probably contact Mikey Dowling and her stage crew as well," Hank added. "I think her last show was about two weeks ago… they'll know if she didn't turn up."
"Good call," Rocket admitted. "I'll do that."
"Should I say here until help arrives?"
"Please."
Hollywood.
August 25, 16:05 PDT.
"Recognized, Hank Lang A-Zero-Four; Jinx C-Zero-Six."
Most of the usual residents and a handful of Outsiders were milling around the Hub, playing games and reading, as he stepped out of the Zeta-Tube.
Lia stepped over to great him, "I assume you're here to see Zatanna?" she said, eyeing Jinx, who returned it with her typical poise.
"Is she all right?" Hank asked. "And the others?"
"I think so," replied the red-headed psychic. "You can go through to the med-bay if you like."
Hank nodded and they parted company. Seconds later, he crossed the threshold into the side-room, which was bustling with activity and Dr Holt, Artemis, Violet and Zatanna were deep in their activities under the supervision of a chimpanzee in a loose-fitting suit and a deerstalker. As he watched, Zatanna cast a spell on Conner, turning him back from a marionette into his usual form.
"Are you all right, Conner?" she asked solicitously.
He considered the question, then raised his gauntlet to check it. "The spell seems to have wrecked my solar booster and drained my reserves."
"But you can fix that with a trip to the Fortress, right?"
Conner nodded, then glanced past her at Hank. "I think you've got a visitor or two."
Zatanna turned and then beamed at them. "Hank… and you brought Jinx!"
Hank crossed the distance between them and passed over the feline, who nuzzled her human tenderly. "She was in pretty rough shape when I found her, so I took her home to help her recover."
"Thanks for that."
"What happened anyway?" Harry asked. "If you can say?"
Zatanna blushed a little. "I got caught napping… literally," she admitted. "An old adversary of my fathers, Oscar Hampel, kidnapped me again…"
"I think I remember hearing about that one…" Harry mused. "I think it was your sixteenth kidnapping? Shortly before the Team was founded?"
"Sixteenth attempt," Zatanna corrected promptly. "Twelfth success. November eighty-one."
"Yeah… Didn't he break off from the investigation into my parents' deaths to go and rescue you?"
Zatanna nodded. "Hampel was turned into a marionette by my dad after that and spent the next decade trying to locate an artefact that not only allowed him to transfer my father's original spell from him to me… but also transform some of the others into puppets as well."
"But everything's all right now?"
Zatanna nodded. "M'gann was able to resist the spell and it backfired on him – transforming me back to human –- when he tried it on Mikey."
Hank snorted. "Because she's impervious to magic."
Zatanna nodded again.
Salem.
August 26, 20:30 EDT
"Are you okay, daughter?" asked her father once he removed the Helmet of Fate. "You don't look well."
"I'll be fine," Zatanna assured him. "I had another run in with Oscar Hampel, but Mikey and my friends rescued me and he's back in puppet form and under lock-and-key at STAR Labs."
Her father relaxed and nodded. "I should have done that the first time."
"We all make mistakes and sometimes it can take a fresh set of eyes to figure out the solution," Zatanna reminded him and reached for the Helmet.
He paused for a second, then released it, allowing her to take it, then put it on and transform into Doctor Fate.
September 2, 20:30 EDT.
Doctor Fate rose from their chair as Khalid - dressed in his mission outfit - entered the main room of the Tower and removed the Helmet, releasing Zatanna from the burden for another month. "How are you?" she asked.
"That was going to be my line," Khalid observed. "But I am fine. I assume you are going to London?"
Zatanna nodded, "I'd like to check in with the Strange Happenings Executive about their ongoing investigations into the 'Wizarding World' before I go shopping with Hank."
"Give him and his mother my best," Khalid said as he reached for the Helmet.
Westminster.
September 3, 09:55 BST.
Zatanna - dressed in a turtle-neck and skirt - stepped out of an ankh-shaped portal, then walked briskly out of the alley onto the main road. She had only gone a few steps and was drawing abreast of a shabby, second-hand bookstore when a black cab drew up to the curb and a familiar face got out of the drivers' seat. "Hello Chaz."
"Wotcher, Zee," said the black-haired man cheerily as he moved to open the back door.
"I had a little… incident… with an old family nemesis a few days ago, but everything's okay now."
"That sounds familiar," observed the cabman. "Constantine's had a few similar clashes in his day."
"How is he?"
"Not great," Chaz admitted. "Kit left him a few weeks back and he didn't take it well… he went on a bender and I haven't seen him since."
Zatanna was about to comment but was distracted as Hank - wearing jeans and a Daily Planet sweatshirt - threw himself from the back of the car and hugged her as his mother joined them on the pavement.
"Shall we head in?" asked Lana, who wore a knit dress.
Zatanna nodded, then glanced at Chas. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."
"Constantine'll be fine, it's other people who…" Chaz began, but then cut off his rant midstream at a glare from Lana. "I'll let you know."
Zatanna nodded, then she moved away with the Langs trailing in her wake until she reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron and opened it allowing the Langs to pass over the threshold before following them and glanced around the dark and shabby interior, trying to pick out their contact … but while he was able to note a group of old women – one of them was smoking a long pipe – sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry; a pale young man in dark robes; a little man in a top hat; and the old barman – who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut – before the silence distracted him… he wasn't in sight.
"Can I help?" asked the barman. Then he paused to consider something. "Good Lord. is this… can this be…?"
Zatanna tensed a little, not quite sure where this was going.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honour." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Hank, dodged around Lana, and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."
Zatanna glanced at Hank, who was somewhat surprised and confused at the greeting. All eyes were on them and the old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter," said one elderly woman in a quavering voice. "I can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand… I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you," said a tiny, excitable man in a purple top hat. "Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
This went on for ten or fifteen minutes, and if hadn't been for the arrival of a massive, but relatively amiable man that claimed 'Hogwarts business' in a booming voice, then Zatanna wasn't sure what she'd've done to get them out of it.
"Thanks for the save," said Zatanna, between breaths to steady herself. She stepped up to the large man and glanced him over. "Rubeus Hagrid?"
"Tha's me," confirmed the giant with a chuckle. " Keeper o' Key an' Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook her whole arm, and then promptly repeated the process with Hank. He paused in front of Lana, apparently considering doing the same, but changed his mind and grasped her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it.
"Lead the way then, Mr Hagrid," said Lana, after she reclaimed her hand.
"Call me Hagrid, ma'am, everyone does," replied the giant. "Where's me umbrella?"
He started counting bricks and after a moment he told them to stand back and tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.
The brick he had touched quivered… it wriggled… and then in the middle, a small hole appeared… it grew wider and wider… a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
Hagrid paused for a moment for effect, and then spoke, "Welcome… t' Diagon Alley."
Diagon Alley.
10:16 BST.
Hagrid led the way to a a snowy-white building that towered over the other little shops, emblazoned with the legend Gringotts' Wizarding Bank over its burnished bronze doors. Standing beside them was a tiny, swarthy-faced man with a pointed beard and long fingers and feet wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold…
"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So, if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these.
The group made for the counter, Hagrid still in the lead. "Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr Harry Potter's vault."
"Do you have his key, sir?"
"I've got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers.
The goblin wrinkled his nose.
"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely. "I see… Ragnok has left instructions that he wishes to speak to anyone requesting access to that vault personally. Griphook!"
Griphook was yet another goblin.
Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he followed Zatanna and the Langs as they trailed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall, then the goblin held the door open for them and ushered the group into another marble corridor lined with office doors. Once they were through the door, Griphook closed it, then trotted forward until he was at the head of the group and lead them down the corridor to the final door which had the name 'Ragnok' etched on the glass.
He knocked on the door frame and received a "come in" from inside. Griphook opened the door slightly so that the elderly goblin inside was visible. "A young wizard and his escort are requesting access to the Potter Vault. You wanted to see them?"
"Send them in," said Ragnok. "You and the groundskeeper can stay outside."
Hagrid didn't seem entirely keen on this suggestion, but after a moment he shuffled aside so that Zatanna and the Langs could enter the room and handed the key over to Lana as she passed.
"Please be seated," offered Ragnok. "Mr Potter, I presume?"
"That's what they tell me," Hank replied blandly. "I've been going under another name for the last ten years."
"That would explain one or two points," mused the goblin. "And your companions?"
"My mentor, Zatanna Zatara… sorceress and sometime host of Nabu of the Lords of Order."
"I see…" said the goblin, a slight tremor in his voice. "And your current guardian?"
"My adoptive mother, Lana Lang," Hank confirmed.
"I asked to see you because in the last ten years there have been several attempts by various parties to seize the Potter Vault and have its contents redistributed to 'worthy causes'. Fortunately, Fleamont Potter left sufficiently clear instructions that I have been able to ensure that these attempts have been thwarted so far. However, as a result – particularly as you didn't have the key in your possession – I require certain bonafides before I can allow you to access the vault."
"Who has…?"
"A variety of different players for what I believe to be nearly as many reasons," Ragnok replied. "There is no need to be concerned. Such intrigue has been… more common than Gringotts is comfortable with in recent years."
"What do you need me to do?" Hank asked.
"Is it dangerous to him?" Lana added.
"Nothing to be concerned about," Ragnok assured them. "I just need him to write a short declaration on some special parchment… A sharp scratch is normal, but it heals immediately."
Harry glanced over at Mera, she paused to consider it, but then nodded.
"Please write 'My name is Harry James Potter, son of James Potter'," requested Ragnok.
Harry obeyed the instruction, picking up the handsome scarlet quill and scratched out the desired missive, noting with interest that the red ink quickly filled out into a family tree.
"Excellent," said Ragnok. "Griphook!"
The other goblin eased open the door and poked his head in. "Yes, sir?"
"You may take Mr Potter and his party down to vault six-hundred and eighty-seven."
"Immediately," agreed the younger goblin. "Follow me, please."
As they rose to their feet, Ragnok picked up a folder stuffed with parchment and handed it over to Harry. "These are copies of your bank records, if you have any further questions, send me an owl."
Griphook led them back to the main hall, then down into another passageway – this time a narrow stone one lit with flaming torches with a series of railway tracks set into the floor.
Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in – Hagrid with some difficulty – and were off.
At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Hank tried to remember… left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left… but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering. His eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late… they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.
Hank enjoyed the ride and a glance at his companions showed that both his guardians had too, while Hagrid clearly had not enjoyed the trip as he looked very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped at the sight. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
"All yours," smiled Hagrid.
"Impressive," allowed Zatanna.
"The gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid explained as Lana joined Harry inside the vault and helped him pile some of it into a bag. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh. Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut."
10:16 BST.
One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. "Might as well get yer uniform next," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."
He did still look a bit sick, so Hank nodded agreement and they parted, with the groundskeeper heading back to towards the Leaky Cauldron, while the Langs headed towards the robe shop, with Zatanna bringing up the rear.
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch who was dressed all in mauve. "How can I help, ma'am?" she asked in brisk, no-nonsense tone.
"One for Hogwarts, please," his mother replied, ushering Hank forward.
"Very good, ma'am," said Madam Malkin with a nod. "We've got the lot here…" She signalled for one of her assistants – a pretty young with wearing a name tag of 'Raine Goldfinch' who towed Hank over to a stool in the middle of the store, while the proprietress asked his guardians if they wanted anything.
10:32 BST.
When Hagrid met them outside the robe shop, he was carrying a cage with a snowy owl inside. Hank accepted it, but then frowned and glanced towards his mother. "Mom, are snowy owls – any owls – allowed back home?"
"I'm not sure," his mother admitted. "Zatanna can you?"
"I'll look into it," agreed his mentor. "Even if they're not allowed privately, I'm sure we could fix up something with the Elf Post service."
Hagrid's heavy beard made his expression a little difficult to read, but Hank suspected that he was embarrassed at his gaff. "Where to next, Hagrid?"
"Let's get your cauldron next…" he suggested.
After the cauldron shop, they visited Slug & Jiggers, Potage's, Scribbulus' and Flourish & Blotts, before moving to their final required visit… a narrow and shabby building. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid beckoned Lana into to wait.
Hank felt strangely as though he had entered an extremely strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Hank jumped, and for a moment he sensed the fizzing sensation of Zatanna pulling up her magic, but then it faded.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello," said Hank awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon… Harry Potter."
It wasn't a question.
"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten-and-a-quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
Mr Ollivander moved closer to Hank. Hank wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.
"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it… it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr Ollivander had come so close that he and Hank were almost nose to nose. Hank could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where..."
Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Hank's forehead with a long, white finger.
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. A powerful wand, very powerful… and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."
He shook his head and then, to Hank's relief, spotted the rest of the group.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy… wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.
"Good wand, that one," said Mr Ollivander, but then suddenly became stern. "But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?"
"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet, then added brightly. "I've still got the pieces, though."
"But you don't use them?" said Mr Ollivander sharply.
"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Hank noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.
"Hmm," said Mr Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. Then he turned his attention to his guardians. "I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure, ma'am…?"
"While I have some Potter blood, I don't have any magic of my own," his mother replied.
Ollivander nodded, apparently unperturbed, then turned towards Zatanna. "And you, my dear?"
"My name is Zatanna Zatara. I prefer to use my family's own magic."
"Ah, a Zatara. I never… I would be interested in…" But he broke off, shaking his head. "But you are not here to indulge my personal curiosity, so let us see what we can do for young Mr Potter." He turned back to Hank and pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"Er… well, I'm right-handed."
"Hold out your arm. That's it."
He measured Hank from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Hank suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."
Hank took the wand and waved it around a bit, causing most of the boxes to come flying out of the shelves and come crashing down. Hank jumped and hurriedly puts the wand back on the counter.
"Apparently not," said Ollivander, dryly, then returns to his stacks. After a moment he produced another wand. "Perhaps this… ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Try…"
Hank waved at a vase, which shattered, startling Hank.
"No, no, definitely not!" insisted Ollivander. "No matter... Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere… I wonder, now… yes, why not… unusual combination…" After searching his selection, he selected a third wand, but stopped and became thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder…" Coming to a decision, he handed the wand to Hank. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
As soon as his fingers closed around the handle, Hank felt a sudden warmth in them, he raised the wand above his head and it suddenly began to glow under it, a mysterious draft blowing his hair up and causing several sheets of paperwork in the background to float around the room.
Ollivander's expression shifted to one of surprise and he lapsed deep into thought. "Curious, very curious…"
"Sorry," said Hank. "But what's curious?"
Mr Ollivander fixed Hank with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather… just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother… gave you that scar."
Hank swallowed. Glancing at his companions, he got the idea that they weren't too thrilled at the information either.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew," the wandmaker confirmed. "Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things… terrible, yes, but great."
Hank shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr Ollivander too much, but he paid seven gold Galleons for his wand nonetheless, and Mr Ollivander bowed them from his shop.
The sun was at its height as the group wound their way back down Diagon Alley and back through the wall, into the Leaky Cauldron, now well into the lunch trade. Initially, Lana head back to Smallville straight away, but once she realised that the pub's patrons were content to ignore them this time she agreed to a late lunch, which Tom quickly provided.
A few minutes later, Hank paused in the middle of eating his soup. "Hagrid?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"I know how I ended up with my mom," Hank began. "But even with various investigations, we haven't been able to get a consistent story, but you know the whole story, Hagrid? You know why I'm famous!"
"I'm not exactly sure I'm the right person to tell you tha', Harry," replied Hagrid. "And truth to be told, I'm not sure anyone knows the whole story, even Dumbledore… But yeh can' go to Hogwarts withou' knowin' what most people know so …" He paused to take a fortifying swallow of his mead. "First, an' understand this, 'cause it's important… Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad."
Hank nodded here, while his personal experience of such people was limited, he'd heard plenty of stories from his 'babysitters' over the years.
"A few years ago, there was one wizard who went as bad as you can go. And his name was V... his name was V..."
"Voldemort?" offered Zatanna. "Constantine was able to tell us that much."
"That's the one," agreed Hagrid, with evident relief. "It was dark times… dark times. You-Know-Who'd gathered some followers – Death Eaters he called them – and brought 'em over to the dark side. Anyone that stood up to 'im ended up dead. Your parents fought against 'im, but nobody lived once 'e decided to kill 'em." Here, he paused again for effect. "Nobody... not one. 'Cept you."
"Me?" repeated Hank, puzzled. "That was what caused the explosion at Godric's Hollow… Voldemort trying to kill me?"
"Aye," agreed Hagrid. "There's a lotta mystery 'bout the details even now… but that ain't no ordinary cut on your forehead, Harry. A mark like that only comes from being touched by a curse...and an evil curse at that."
"I assume from your description of the attack you are referring to the Killing Curse?" asked Zatanna, then when the groundskeeper nodded, she added. "We never did investigate your scar thoroughly did we…?"
Hank shook his head, then turned back to Hagrid. "What happened to...to Voldemort?"
"Well, some say 'e died…" replied Hagrid. "Codswallop in my opinion. Nope, I reckon he's out there, still… too tired to go on. But one thing's absolutely certain. Something about you stumped him that night. That's why you're famous. That's why everybody knows your name. You're the Boy-Who-Lived."
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, 6f5e4d, and the Young Justice Writers Group for their help on this chapter.
Smallville.
August 16, 20:16 CDT.
"Good evening, Mariah," said Lana as she slipped into a chair opposite her children's form teacher.
"Good evening, Lana," said the other woman. "Well, I don't really have much to say… Hank has always been a pleasure to have my class, bright, eager to please, enthusiastic…"
"And Linda?"
"As you know, she had a little difficult settling in at first," Mariah reminded her.
Lana thought about that for a moment, then nodded her agreement.
"I think our little school was a bit of a steep adjustment for her originally, but she's settled in and contributed far better this year and I'm looking forward to seeing how she – and your son of course – contribute this year."
Lana paused for a moment, still not sure how to explain the situation without giving away too much information that some might prefer that she didn't. After a while, she decided to just jump right in. "I'm afraid that you'll have to make do Linda only for this year."
"Oh?" said the teacher curiously.
"As you know, my son is adopted…"
"I've heard that," she agreed. "His biological parents were murdered, if I recall correctly… something to do with terrorism?"
"They were," Lana confirmed. "Well, before their deaths, they arranged for him to attend a private school in Scotland. We met with a representative of the school a month ago and confirmed his attendance."
"Well, that's a bit of good luck for him, I suppose," Mariah observed after a brief silence, during which she fished out a sheet of paper and glanced over it. "Well, he's actually satisfied all our basic requirements thanks to his talent for languages, so we will miss him, but I see no reason why that would be a problem. Where would you like me to send his transcripts?"
"You send them to my house," Lana replied. "I'll make sure that the school gets them."
Mariah flashed her an inquiring look but jotted down a message on her notepad without further comment.
August 23, 07:46 CDT.
"Some people have all the luck," Linda - who was dressed for school - muttered darkly as she headed for the door.
Harry chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be busy enough pretty soon."
"You'll head over to Zatanna's soon?" asked his mother as she slipped on her jacket and collected her purse from the sideboard.
"Well, the sun's not up over there for a while yet," Hank noted. "I thought I'd hang here, finish my book and then bike over to Grandpa's in about half-an-hour?"
Lana considered the question and then nodded. "You'll back for dinner?"
"I should be," Hank noted, then added impishly. "As long as everything goes okay."
"Try to make sure it does," said his mother, dryly.
San Francisco.
07:16 PDT.
A pitiful wail broke the silence as Hank let himself into the apartment. "Jinx?" he asked, looking around. "Zatanna?"
The apartment wasn't a particularly big one, so it didn't take long to find the cat in the kitchen, where she was trying desperately to lap up the last few drops of water from her dispenser. Hank immediately rushed over and snatched up the device and quickly filled it and her food dish, which was also empty. That chore done, he pulled out his phone and dialled Zatanna's number. A second or two later, he heard the ringtone echoing from the master bedroom. Frowning, he walked back to that room, and easily located the device. He examined it for a moment, then glanced around the room, noting a few other things that raised his alert level even further. He put her phone back on her nightstand, then returned his attention back to his own and pressed one of the speed-dial buttons.
"Watchtower, Rocket speaking."
"Rocket, this is Hank Lang A-Zero-Four," Hank began. "I have a possible Priority Red at 1616 Prescott Street, San Francisco."
There was silence for a moment, then Rocket spoke up, a hint of worry creeping into her voice. "Hank, can you confirm that the Priority Red is at Zatanna's apartment?"
"Confirmed," Hank replied. "I just arrived for a training session and she's missing. Now, normally I wouldn't be worried, but her phone and comms are still here and Jinx looked like she hadn't eaten in at least a week when I arrived."
Rocket didn't reply immediately, but when she did, the concern in the woman's voice was far stronger. "That's not like Zatanna. I'll contact the SFPD and Protector, he's the other local hero… and check with the rest of the League to see when she was last seen."
"You should probably contact Mikey Dowling and her stage crew as well," Hank added. "I think her last show was about two weeks ago… they'll know if she didn't turn up."
"Good call," Rocket admitted. "I'll do that."
"Should I say here until help arrives?"
"Please."
Hollywood.
August 25, 16:05 PDT.
"Recognized, Hank Lang A-Zero-Four; Jinx C-Zero-Six."
Most of the usual residents and a handful of Outsiders were milling around the Hub, playing games and reading, as he stepped out of the Zeta-Tube.
Lia stepped over to great him, "I assume you're here to see Zatanna?" she said, eyeing Jinx, who returned it with her typical poise.
"Is she all right?" Hank asked. "And the others?"
"I think so," replied the red-headed psychic. "You can go through to the med-bay if you like."
Hank nodded and they parted company. Seconds later, he crossed the threshold into the side-room, which was bustling with activity and Dr Holt, Artemis, Violet and Zatanna were deep in their activities under the supervision of a chimpanzee in a loose-fitting suit and a deerstalker. As he watched, Zatanna cast a spell on Conner, turning him back from a marionette into his usual form.
"Are you all right, Conner?" she asked solicitously.
He considered the question, then raised his gauntlet to check it. "The spell seems to have wrecked my solar booster and drained my reserves."
"But you can fix that with a trip to the Fortress, right?"
Conner nodded, then glanced past her at Hank. "I think you've got a visitor or two."
Zatanna turned and then beamed at them. "Hank… and you brought Jinx!"
Hank crossed the distance between them and passed over the feline, who nuzzled her human tenderly. "She was in pretty rough shape when I found her, so I took her home to help her recover."
"Thanks for that."
"What happened anyway?" Harry asked. "If you can say?"
Zatanna blushed a little. "I got caught napping… literally," she admitted. "An old adversary of my fathers, Oscar Hampel, kidnapped me again…"
"I think I remember hearing about that one…" Harry mused. "I think it was your sixteenth kidnapping? Shortly before the Team was founded?"
"Sixteenth attempt," Zatanna corrected promptly. "Twelfth success. November eighty-one."
"Yeah… Didn't he break off from the investigation into my parents' deaths to go and rescue you?"
Zatanna nodded. "Hampel was turned into a marionette by my dad after that and spent the next decade trying to locate an artefact that not only allowed him to transfer my father's original spell from him to me… but also transform some of the others into puppets as well."
"But everything's all right now?"
Zatanna nodded. "M'gann was able to resist the spell and it backfired on him – transforming me back to human –- when he tried it on Mikey."
Hank snorted. "Because she's impervious to magic."
Zatanna nodded again.
Salem.
August 26, 20:30 EDT
"Are you okay, daughter?" asked her father once he removed the Helmet of Fate. "You don't look well."
"I'll be fine," Zatanna assured him. "I had another run in with Oscar Hampel, but Mikey and my friends rescued me and he's back in puppet form and under lock-and-key at STAR Labs."
Her father relaxed and nodded. "I should have done that the first time."
"We all make mistakes and sometimes it can take a fresh set of eyes to figure out the solution," Zatanna reminded him and reached for the Helmet.
He paused for a second, then released it, allowing her to take it, then put it on and transform into Doctor Fate.
September 2, 20:30 EDT.
Doctor Fate rose from their chair as Khalid - dressed in his mission outfit - entered the main room of the Tower and removed the Helmet, releasing Zatanna from the burden for another month. "How are you?" she asked.
"That was going to be my line," Khalid observed. "But I am fine. I assume you are going to London?"
Zatanna nodded, "I'd like to check in with the Strange Happenings Executive about their ongoing investigations into the 'Wizarding World' before I go shopping with Hank."
"Give him and his mother my best," Khalid said as he reached for the Helmet.
Westminster.
September 3, 09:55 BST.
Zatanna - dressed in a turtle-neck and skirt - stepped out of an ankh-shaped portal, then walked briskly out of the alley onto the main road. She had only gone a few steps and was drawing abreast of a shabby, second-hand bookstore when a black cab drew up to the curb and a familiar face got out of the drivers' seat. "Hello Chaz."
"Wotcher, Zee," said the black-haired man cheerily as he moved to open the back door.
"I had a little… incident… with an old family nemesis a few days ago, but everything's okay now."
"That sounds familiar," observed the cabman. "Constantine's had a few similar clashes in his day."
"How is he?"
"Not great," Chaz admitted. "Kit left him a few weeks back and he didn't take it well… he went on a bender and I haven't seen him since."
Zatanna was about to comment but was distracted as Hank - wearing jeans and a Daily Planet sweatshirt - threw himself from the back of the car and hugged her as his mother joined them on the pavement.
"Shall we head in?" asked Lana, who wore a knit dress.
Zatanna nodded, then glanced at Chas. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."
"Constantine'll be fine, it's other people who…" Chaz began, but then cut off his rant midstream at a glare from Lana. "I'll let you know."
Zatanna nodded, then she moved away with the Langs trailing in her wake until she reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron and opened it allowing the Langs to pass over the threshold before following them and glanced around the dark and shabby interior, trying to pick out their contact … but while he was able to note a group of old women – one of them was smoking a long pipe – sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry; a pale young man in dark robes; a little man in a top hat; and the old barman – who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut – before the silence distracted him… he wasn't in sight.
"Can I help?" asked the barman. Then he paused to consider something. "Good Lord. is this… can this be…?"
Zatanna tensed a little, not quite sure where this was going.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honour." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Hank, dodged around Lana, and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."
Zatanna glanced at Hank, who was somewhat surprised and confused at the greeting. All eyes were on them and the old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter," said one elderly woman in a quavering voice. "I can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand… I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you," said a tiny, excitable man in a purple top hat. "Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
This went on for ten or fifteen minutes, and if hadn't been for the arrival of a massive, but relatively amiable man that claimed 'Hogwarts business' in a booming voice, then Zatanna wasn't sure what she'd've done to get them out of it.
"Thanks for the save," said Zatanna, between breaths to steady herself. She stepped up to the large man and glanced him over. "Rubeus Hagrid?"
"Tha's me," confirmed the giant with a chuckle. " Keeper o' Key an' Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook her whole arm, and then promptly repeated the process with Hank. He paused in front of Lana, apparently considering doing the same, but changed his mind and grasped her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it.
"Lead the way then, Mr Hagrid," said Lana, after she reclaimed her hand.
"Call me Hagrid, ma'am, everyone does," replied the giant. "Where's me umbrella?"
He started counting bricks and after a moment he told them to stand back and tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.
The brick he had touched quivered… it wriggled… and then in the middle, a small hole appeared… it grew wider and wider… a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
Hagrid paused for a moment for effect, and then spoke, "Welcome… t' Diagon Alley."
Diagon Alley.
10:16 BST.
Hagrid led the way to a a snowy-white building that towered over the other little shops, emblazoned with the legend Gringotts' Wizarding Bank over its burnished bronze doors. Standing beside them was a tiny, swarthy-faced man with a pointed beard and long fingers and feet wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold…
"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So, if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these.
The group made for the counter, Hagrid still in the lead. "Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr Harry Potter's vault."
"Do you have his key, sir?"
"I've got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers.
The goblin wrinkled his nose.
"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely. "I see… Ragnok has left instructions that he wishes to speak to anyone requesting access to that vault personally. Griphook!"
Griphook was yet another goblin.
Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he followed Zatanna and the Langs as they trailed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall, then the goblin held the door open for them and ushered the group into another marble corridor lined with office doors. Once they were through the door, Griphook closed it, then trotted forward until he was at the head of the group and lead them down the corridor to the final door which had the name 'Ragnok' etched on the glass.
He knocked on the door frame and received a "come in" from inside. Griphook opened the door slightly so that the elderly goblin inside was visible. "A young wizard and his escort are requesting access to the Potter Vault. You wanted to see them?"
"Send them in," said Ragnok. "You and the groundskeeper can stay outside."
Hagrid didn't seem entirely keen on this suggestion, but after a moment he shuffled aside so that Zatanna and the Langs could enter the room and handed the key over to Lana as she passed.
"Please be seated," offered Ragnok. "Mr Potter, I presume?"
"That's what they tell me," Hank replied blandly. "I've been going under another name for the last ten years."
"That would explain one or two points," mused the goblin. "And your companions?"
"My mentor, Zatanna Zatara… sorceress and sometime host of Nabu of the Lords of Order."
"I see…" said the goblin, a slight tremor in his voice. "And your current guardian?"
"My adoptive mother, Lana Lang," Hank confirmed.
"I asked to see you because in the last ten years there have been several attempts by various parties to seize the Potter Vault and have its contents redistributed to 'worthy causes'. Fortunately, Fleamont Potter left sufficiently clear instructions that I have been able to ensure that these attempts have been thwarted so far. However, as a result – particularly as you didn't have the key in your possession – I require certain bonafides before I can allow you to access the vault."
"Who has…?"
"A variety of different players for what I believe to be nearly as many reasons," Ragnok replied. "There is no need to be concerned. Such intrigue has been… more common than Gringotts is comfortable with in recent years."
"What do you need me to do?" Hank asked.
"Is it dangerous to him?" Lana added.
"Nothing to be concerned about," Ragnok assured them. "I just need him to write a short declaration on some special parchment… A sharp scratch is normal, but it heals immediately."
Harry glanced over at Mera, she paused to consider it, but then nodded.
"Please write 'My name is Harry James Potter, son of James Potter'," requested Ragnok.
Harry obeyed the instruction, picking up the handsome scarlet quill and scratched out the desired missive, noting with interest that the red ink quickly filled out into a family tree.
"Excellent," said Ragnok. "Griphook!"
The other goblin eased open the door and poked his head in. "Yes, sir?"
"You may take Mr Potter and his party down to vault six-hundred and eighty-seven."
"Immediately," agreed the younger goblin. "Follow me, please."
As they rose to their feet, Ragnok picked up a folder stuffed with parchment and handed it over to Harry. "These are copies of your bank records, if you have any further questions, send me an owl."
Griphook led them back to the main hall, then down into another passageway – this time a narrow stone one lit with flaming torches with a series of railway tracks set into the floor.
Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in – Hagrid with some difficulty – and were off.
At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Hank tried to remember… left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left… but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering. His eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late… they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.
Hank enjoyed the ride and a glance at his companions showed that both his guardians had too, while Hagrid clearly had not enjoyed the trip as he looked very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped at the sight. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
"All yours," smiled Hagrid.
"Impressive," allowed Zatanna.
"The gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid explained as Lana joined Harry inside the vault and helped him pile some of it into a bag. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh. Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut."
10:16 BST.
One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. "Might as well get yer uniform next," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."
He did still look a bit sick, so Hank nodded agreement and they parted, with the groundskeeper heading back to towards the Leaky Cauldron, while the Langs headed towards the robe shop, with Zatanna bringing up the rear.
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch who was dressed all in mauve. "How can I help, ma'am?" she asked in brisk, no-nonsense tone.
"One for Hogwarts, please," his mother replied, ushering Hank forward.
"Very good, ma'am," said Madam Malkin with a nod. "We've got the lot here…" She signalled for one of her assistants – a pretty young with wearing a name tag of 'Raine Goldfinch' who towed Hank over to a stool in the middle of the store, while the proprietress asked his guardians if they wanted anything.
10:32 BST.
When Hagrid met them outside the robe shop, he was carrying a cage with a snowy owl inside. Hank accepted it, but then frowned and glanced towards his mother. "Mom, are snowy owls – any owls – allowed back home?"
"I'm not sure," his mother admitted. "Zatanna can you?"
"I'll look into it," agreed his mentor. "Even if they're not allowed privately, I'm sure we could fix up something with the Elf Post service."
Hagrid's heavy beard made his expression a little difficult to read, but Hank suspected that he was embarrassed at his gaff. "Where to next, Hagrid?"
"Let's get your cauldron next…" he suggested.
After the cauldron shop, they visited Slug & Jiggers, Potage's, Scribbulus' and Flourish & Blotts, before moving to their final required visit… a narrow and shabby building. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid beckoned Lana into to wait.
Hank felt strangely as though he had entered an extremely strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Hank jumped, and for a moment he sensed the fizzing sensation of Zatanna pulling up her magic, but then it faded.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello," said Hank awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon… Harry Potter."
It wasn't a question.
"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten-and-a-quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
Mr Ollivander moved closer to Hank. Hank wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.
"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it… it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr Ollivander had come so close that he and Hank were almost nose to nose. Hank could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where..."
Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Hank's forehead with a long, white finger.
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. A powerful wand, very powerful… and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."
He shook his head and then, to Hank's relief, spotted the rest of the group.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy… wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.
"Good wand, that one," said Mr Ollivander, but then suddenly became stern. "But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?"
"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet, then added brightly. "I've still got the pieces, though."
"But you don't use them?" said Mr Ollivander sharply.
"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Hank noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.
"Hmm," said Mr Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. Then he turned his attention to his guardians. "I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure, ma'am…?"
"While I have some Potter blood, I don't have any magic of my own," his mother replied.
Ollivander nodded, apparently unperturbed, then turned towards Zatanna. "And you, my dear?"
"My name is Zatanna Zatara. I prefer to use my family's own magic."
"Ah, a Zatara. I never… I would be interested in…" But he broke off, shaking his head. "But you are not here to indulge my personal curiosity, so let us see what we can do for young Mr Potter." He turned back to Hank and pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"Er… well, I'm right-handed."
"Hold out your arm. That's it."
He measured Hank from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Hank suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."
Hank took the wand and waved it around a bit, causing most of the boxes to come flying out of the shelves and come crashing down. Hank jumped and hurriedly puts the wand back on the counter.
"Apparently not," said Ollivander, dryly, then returns to his stacks. After a moment he produced another wand. "Perhaps this… ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Try…"
Hank waved at a vase, which shattered, startling Hank.
"No, no, definitely not!" insisted Ollivander. "No matter... Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere… I wonder, now… yes, why not… unusual combination…" After searching his selection, he selected a third wand, but stopped and became thoughtful for a moment. "I wonder…" Coming to a decision, he handed the wand to Hank. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
As soon as his fingers closed around the handle, Hank felt a sudden warmth in them, he raised the wand above his head and it suddenly began to glow under it, a mysterious draft blowing his hair up and causing several sheets of paperwork in the background to float around the room.
Ollivander's expression shifted to one of surprise and he lapsed deep into thought. "Curious, very curious…"
"Sorry," said Hank. "But what's curious?"
Mr Ollivander fixed Hank with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather… just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother… gave you that scar."
Hank swallowed. Glancing at his companions, he got the idea that they weren't too thrilled at the information either.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew," the wandmaker confirmed. "Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things… terrible, yes, but great."
Hank shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr Ollivander too much, but he paid seven gold Galleons for his wand nonetheless, and Mr Ollivander bowed them from his shop.
The sun was at its height as the group wound their way back down Diagon Alley and back through the wall, into the Leaky Cauldron, now well into the lunch trade. Initially, Lana head back to Smallville straight away, but once she realised that the pub's patrons were content to ignore them this time she agreed to a late lunch, which Tom quickly provided.
A few minutes later, Hank paused in the middle of eating his soup. "Hagrid?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"I know how I ended up with my mom," Hank began. "But even with various investigations, we haven't been able to get a consistent story, but you know the whole story, Hagrid? You know why I'm famous!"
"I'm not exactly sure I'm the right person to tell you tha', Harry," replied Hagrid. "And truth to be told, I'm not sure anyone knows the whole story, even Dumbledore… But yeh can' go to Hogwarts withou' knowin' what most people know so …" He paused to take a fortifying swallow of his mead. "First, an' understand this, 'cause it's important… Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad."
Hank nodded here, while his personal experience of such people was limited, he'd heard plenty of stories from his 'babysitters' over the years.
"A few years ago, there was one wizard who went as bad as you can go. And his name was V... his name was V..."
"Voldemort?" offered Zatanna. "Constantine was able to tell us that much."
"That's the one," agreed Hagrid, with evident relief. "It was dark times… dark times. You-Know-Who'd gathered some followers – Death Eaters he called them – and brought 'em over to the dark side. Anyone that stood up to 'im ended up dead. Your parents fought against 'im, but nobody lived once 'e decided to kill 'em." Here, he paused again for effect. "Nobody... not one. 'Cept you."
"Me?" repeated Hank, puzzled. "That was what caused the explosion at Godric's Hollow… Voldemort trying to kill me?"
"Aye," agreed Hagrid. "There's a lotta mystery 'bout the details even now… but that ain't no ordinary cut on your forehead, Harry. A mark like that only comes from being touched by a curse...and an evil curse at that."
"I assume from your description of the attack you are referring to the Killing Curse?" asked Zatanna, then when the groundskeeper nodded, she added. "We never did investigate your scar thoroughly did we…?"
Hank shook his head, then turned back to Hagrid. "What happened to...to Voldemort?"
"Well, some say 'e died…" replied Hagrid. "Codswallop in my opinion. Nope, I reckon he's out there, still… too tired to go on. But one thing's absolutely certain. Something about you stumped him that night. That's why you're famous. That's why everybody knows your name. You're the Boy-Who-Lived."
Hermione Granger
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: There are two 'timeline mistakes' in this chapter, these are intentional and part of this AU.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
Smallville.
October 18, 14:56 CDT,
Team Year Nine.
"Have you got any plans for the weekend?" One of their classmates asked Lucy and the Langs as they packed up at the end of spelling class.
Hank nodded. "Aunt Lois has been asked to cover the Federal City Ballet's performance at the Siegel Music Hall tomorrow afternoon, so as usual she wants me along as 'cover'."
Tim – a photography and journalism buff who already had a credit to his name in the Smallville Torch despite only being a middle-school sophomore – paused and made a face. "Do you…?"
"Anissa's busy with family stuff," Hank admitted, cutting across the other boy. "But I've already asked Linda if she wants to sub in."
"I do," Linda confirmed, as she picked up her bag and led the group out of the classroom.
"Better you than me," said Lucy as she sped up to flank the other girl, missing Tim's sigh and resigned slump. "I like dressage, but human dancing doesn't really do it for me."
But Hank didn't miss it. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine," the Asian-American teen assured him. "It's just… your aunt is…"
"A major trouble magnet?" offered Lucy, flippantly.
Hank made a face. "I should probably defend Aunt Lois, but to be honest… you're right," he conceded. "And with my history… we could be in for an 'interesting' weekend."
Lucy gave him a look but said nothing.
Metropolis.
October 19, 14:10 EDT.
Sometimes I hate being right, Hank thought as a dark-robed, hooded woman flanked by several goons walked out onto the stage instead of the ballet company for the second encore.
The audience – mostly veteran Metropolitans – quickly realized what was going on and began to panic.
"SILENCE!" demanded the hooded woman, as a wave of energy emanated from her and washed over the audience in the stalls and then moved upwards to the balcony.
Realising what was happening, Hank quickly drew on all his mediation training and was able to wrench himself out of the hypnotic stupor that began to claw at him. As he looked around, he noted that his aunt was fully in the grip of the woman's hypnosis but a soft, red glow lit his cousin's face. "Linda," he hissed urgently.
She blinked twice and looked in his direction. (What?) she asked, slipping back into the backwards German of a few months ago.
The amulet must have muted itself to shield her, Hank thought. I didn't think it could do that… He shook his head vigorously. One thing at a time… focus on getting out of here and getting help. He reached out and took his cousin's hand, drawing her out of her seat and behind the sill of the balcony.
(That should give us a bit of cover,) he whispered.
(What about Aunt Lois?) asked Linda in the same tone.
Hank glanced over at his aunt, who was sitting quietly with her gaze fixed on the stage. (She's fully in the grip of whatever that woman is doing. We're on our own.)
Linda nodded, then the two children dropped onto hands and knees and began to creep towards the stairs, but a loud squeak broke the silence and then loud voices echoed from below seconds later. (I think they heard her. We need to get her out of here as well.)
Hank swore, then nodded and stood up, pulling the girl out of her seat and bundling her into the stairway, staggering all the way to the stair and up to the door, with Linda bringing up the rear.
"What's going on?" demanded the light-brown-skinned girl, her curly mop of hair shaking as she spoke.
"I'm not sure," Hank admitted. "The woman is clearly a meta, probably a speech-based power of some sort… given that we're in Metropolis, probably Intergang or an affiliate."
"What do they want?"
"Nothing we're going to like," Hank replied darkly and fished in a pocket for his phone, dialling as he brought it up to his ear. "There's no signal…"
(Jammer?) suggested Linda as he put the phone away again.
(Probably,) he agreed, then turned back to the other girl. "We need to get outside. If they've put up a jammer, chances are that they're guarding the public exits. I think there's a service door by the first aid station though. They might not know about that one."
The curly-haired girl nodded. "The first aid room is down this way," she told them and set off. "My cousin Dawn is the one of the dancers, she mentioned it when she was showing Dad and I around."
"I guess we follow her," observed Linda, back to English as her amulet dimmed.
"I haven't got a better plan… have you?" asked Hank but was interrupted as two armed thugs appeared at the top of the stairs and fired at them. Hank threw up an arm and pointed at them, fingers splayed. "Spegulmuro!"
A shimmering, mirror-like shield sprang into view for a moment, intercepted the first shooter's blast, then shattered, knocking Hank off his feet.
"Okay, that didn't work as well as I hoped," Hank groaned, then sat up and considered their attackers. "Plan C, I guess… Magia Fulmo!"
Two bolts of lightning crackled from his outstretched hands and raced across the space, striking them both in their chest plates.
Hank wavered, but Linda grabbed him and was able to steady him. "We need to get out of here," she insisted, then glanced at the other girl, beckoning her back towards them. "Can you…"
"Hermione Granger," replied the other girl and moved to grasp Hank's other arm. "On three?"
Linda nodded. "One, two… three!" she said, and then pulled, bringing her cousin to his feet with Hermione's help.
More muffled footfalls began to echo up the stairway.
"Can you move?" Linda asked her cousin.
"We'll make it work!" Hermione declared.
The two cousins nodded their agreement and the trio staggered away from the stairway as fast as they could manage.
Smallville.
September 4, 00:12 CDT.
Team Year Eleven.
An upstairs window of the ranch house slid open, and a slim figure stepped out onto the kitchen roof, then closed the window and dropped to the ground. Once she landed, she turned towards the boundary fence and ran towards it, gliding over it without breaking a stride and entered one of the barns on the neighbouring property.
Star City.
September 3, 22:16 PDT.
Artemis glanced her way as she stepped out of the Zeta Tube into the Vault and crossed to join the group.
"What's the emergency?" Linda asked as she moved towards the group.
"Earlier to today we received a tip from Interpol that a suspected Kobra safehouse in Geneva had been reactivated," Artemis replied. "Guardian, Katana and Peacemaker were deployed to investigate and were caught in an explosion when the base's self-destruct activated."
"Are they okay?" Roy asked, which the others echoed after a beat.
"They will be," Artemis replied. "Guardian and Peacemaker reacted fast enough to shield Katana from the blast and their armours were able to take the brunt of the explosion. They'll be out of hospital in a few days, but someone needs to take over the investigation."
"Which is us," said Eddie.
Artemis nodded. "When the Swiss state investigators dug through the wreckage, they found one of the computers and were able to recover fragments of a couple of files pointing to Kobra's next target being in Vlatava."
At that moment, the safehouse's main console beeped and Artemis activated it, revealing a brown-haired woman who Linda identified after a moment as the Vlatavan Prime Minister. "Madame Prime Minister, my squad is ready to go if you need us."
"Thank you, Tigress. My investigator believes that they may be targeting the international trade symposium."
"We came to the same conclusion, ma'am," Artemis confirmed.
" As you know, there were many that felt that my country did not deserve such honour and would use any trouble to have it taken from us."
"I understand, ma'am," Artemis confirmed. "We'll be as discrete as possible."
"The symposium opens to the press in less than two hours," continued the woman. "And then opens the public on Monday."
"The last member of my squad arrived just before you called Madam Prime Minister," Artemis told her. "We're on our way."
"My investigator will meet you at the Zeta terminal and provide whatever support you need," said the other woman. "Stasny out."
The monitor clicked off.
"Let's go, Gamma," said Artemis. "I missed out on the last dance with Kobra and I'm kinda looking forward to this one."
"Recognized, Tigress B-Zero-Seven; Arsenal B-Two-Four; Halo B-Three-One; Red Devil B-Three-Nine, Raven B-Four-Zero."
Vladivostok,
September 4, 07:19 CEST.
A vaguely familiar-looking man was waiting for them when they exited the Zeta Tube into the dedicated room under the royal palace. "Adam, you're working with us on this?"
He nodded, then picked up a tablet, a small envelope and several bundles of clothing from a nearby desk and passed them to her. "I've got your covers, necessary documents and clothing all set up."
"Well, Perdita said it was urgent and we Nielsens will do anything for her."
"Arsenal, Halo… you've got the private security company covering the event," Artemis said, handing bundles of clothing and passes to the pair. "Arsenal, you're on the interior with Adam… Halo, you're on the exterior, you'll also be our primary shield if Kobra decides to go with a direct assault."
They nodded and moved towards side alcoves to change.
Artemis started to hand a pass to Eddie. "Have you got your Glamour Charm?"
"Ready to go, Boss," he confirmed, extracting the ruby-like gem from a pocket and slipped it on, transforming into a shaggy-haired white man.
"You've got the conference centre's technical and janitorial staff," Artemis told him. "Your knowledge of film industry should help you fit in there."
Eddie nodded and slipped on the pass over his Goode World Studios t-shirt.
Finally, she turned to Linda. "We've got the conference attendees themselves," she declared. "I've talked to Walter Steele over at Q-Core, and he's agreed that I can post up at their stall. You can come in with me, but once we're out of sight I want you to go invisible and mingle."
Linda nodded agreement as she slipped her pass around her neck.
"Keep a sharp lookout and call in any problems or concerns," Artemis reminded her squad. "Perdita wants this done quickly and quietly… and frankly in the interests of public safety if nothing else, so do I."
"We've got this covered," Eddie declared, and the rest of the squad echoed his sentiment a moment later.
North London.
September 5, 0700 BST.
Hermione's alarm woke her from a dream that faded from her mind in the seconds it took to silence the alarm. She slipped out of bed, put on her dressing gown, stuck her feet into a pair of slippers and then padded quickly down the stairs to the kitchen.
Her mother was there, her father was not.
"Where's Daddy?" Hermione asked as she helped herself to some muesli.
"I'm sorry, darling," replied her mother. "But Wendell had to go into the surgery, one of his patients called in with possible pericoronitis. So, it'll just be the two of us."
Hermione nodded. It would've been nice to have both her parents there to see her off, but she'd realised from an early age that sometimes their patients' needs came ahead of her own.
After breakfast, she headed upstairs and washed up. Then she changed into casual clothes for the journey, and within an hour of waking she was in the back of her parents' Mondeo as it was heading towards London with her mum at the wheel.
Central London.
1025 BST
Hermione had her door open as soon as her parents' Mondeo slid to a halt and was waiting on the pavement with her trunk beside her by the time her mother had got herself sorted out and got out of the car. Monica Granger smiled at her daughter, then locked the car and they walked towards King's Cross Station.
After stopping at one of the ticket booths so that her mother could get a platform ticket, they passed through to the western concourse easily enough, where logically they should have been able to find Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Unfortunately, there they hit a slight snag.
There was a Platform Nine and a Platform Ten, but no Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
"Did Professor McGonagall say how to get onto the platform?" asked her mother, as she glanced dubiously around the station's western concourse. "Because I can't see it."
"I can't either," agreed Hermione. "So, it's not just hidden magically like the Leaky Cauldron."
Her mother nodded.
Hermione paused to think for a moment, trying to remember everything that the professor had said. "She something about the wall between the platforms…"
"That would make sense," agreed her mother, as she continued to glance around.
A moment later, Hermione spotted a trio – two women and a boy about her age – heading across the course. Something about the group was familiar, but the first thing that struck her was the owl cage that sat on top of the trolley that the boy was wheeling across the concourse.
"Mum!" Hermione hissed and indicated the trio. Her mother immediately realized what she'd seen, nodded and trailed Hermione as her daughter trotted over to the group.
As Hermione got closer, the sense that that she knew the boy and one of the women grew stronger, until she heard him speak and one of the women refer to him as 'Hank'. "Hank!" she called and trotted towards the group, her mother following in her wake.
As she reached the halfway point, the boy turned and smiled, then stepped towards her. "Hermione!"
The two children hugged briefly, then separated as their parents joined them. "A friend of yours, Hermione?" asked her mother, a little teasingly.
Hermione broke away from Hank, blushing slightly. "Mother!" she exclaimed. "This is Hank Lang, he and his cousin got me away from Intergang when they tried to take Dawn and the ballet company hostage."
Her mother smiled. "Thank you for that, Hank."
"That's fine, Mrs Granger," Hank assured her. "It wasn't the first time I've been in similar situations."
"Much to my displeasure," noted his mother. "I assume that you're heading the same platform we are…. Nine and Three Quarters?"
Both Grangers nodded. "Do you know how to get in?" Hermione asked. "Professor McGonagall mentioned it, but with everything else…"
Hank frowned. "No, Hagrid didn't mention it either," he searched around hopefully, looking for clues.
A moment later, Hermione spotted a stocky boy about her own age with blond hair accompanied by an elderly woman with a vulture-topped hat walking towards one of the brick pillars. "Mum, Hank… over there!" she whispered urgently, pointing towards the pair, who disappeared into the wall a few seconds later.
"Huh?" exclaimed her mother. "That's seems simple enough."
Hermione nodded, "Let's go."
Her mother and the Langs echoed her agreement and followed her across the concourse and within moments, they passed through the hidden barrier onto the packed platform sign-posted 'Hogwarts Express, Eleven o'clock'.
Hermione glanced around, taking in the wrought-iron archway behind her where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. Smoke from the scarlet engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.
The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats, so Hermione pushed her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She and her mother pressed on through the crowd until found an empty compartment towards the back of the train. They were trying to lift the trunk up the steps into the carriage when a tall, burly boy of about sixteen with chiselled features, dark hair, and bright grey eyes looked down at them from inside the train. A shiny purple and gold badge with a badger and the letter 'P' on it was pinned to his chest. "Can I help?"
"Certainly…" replied her mother and Hank's echoed the sentiment..
"Cedric Diggory, ma'ams," replied the boy, bending to pick up the trunk and heaving it onto the train, then turned to Hermione who had followed him onboard and indicated the closest compartment. "Is in here, okay?"
"That'll be fine," Hermione agreed, and in a moment her trunk was tucked away in a corner of the compartment, and Cedric was heading back to help Hank with his luggage.
"I'll let you say your goodbyes," Cedric told them, once Hank's luggage was also properly stowed . "Maybe I'll see you in Hufflepuff."
"Maybe," agreed Hermione politely, as the older boy turned and walked back up the train. She returned to the door to say goodbye to her mother.
"He seems like a nice boy," observed her mother. "Which house is he in?"
"Hufflepuff," replied Hermione. "I doubt we'll be in the same house… I'm aiming for Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."
"Well, which ever house you end up in, try and make a couple of friends at least," her mother urged her.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I try, Mum. But it's not always easy."
"I'll try and help her, Mrs Granger," Hank offered.
Whatever her mother would have said in reply was drowned out by the loud screech of a train's whistle and a yell of "All aboard, all aboard!"
"Goodbye, Mum!" shouted Hermione as the train's doors slammed shut by themselves, with Hank echoing her words.
"Goodbye!" replied their mothers, waving as the train as the train began to move.
The two teens stayed at the window waving back as the train eased out of the platform and headed into the first corner outside the station.
"How's Linda?" Hermione asked as she settled down. "I was a little surprised that she wasn't there to see you off."
"She's fine," Hank assured her. "She was going to come over for the weekend, but something came up with her 'extracurriculars'."
Hermione nodded, then reached for her bag to get a book. Hank took the hint and retrieved a book of his own and they settled into an companionable silence which was broken only twice, initially a little after midday by an elderly witch with the snack trolley and then when the round-faced, chubby boy who had accidentally guided them to the platform earlier put his head in the compartment, introduced himself as 'Neville' and asked them if they had seen a toad.
"No, I haven't," Hermione told him.
"Me neither," Hank confirmed, then glanced at Hermione. "Should we help him look?"
Hermione nodded as Neville broke into a smile.
20:25 BST.
A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
The trio rose and Hank lead the way out into the crowd thronging the corridor as the train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform.
Hermione shivered in the cold night air, then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and she heard a booming voice call out of the buzz of the crowd. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" boomed the figure, whose big hairy face towered over the sea of heads. "All right there, Harry? C'mon, follow me… any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
Noticing that the man had glanced at Hank, she paused. Why did he call him 'Harry'… could he be Harry Potter? she pondered but decided to hold her silence for the time being, deciding that she had enough to occupy her mind as slipping and stumbling, she and the rest of the new students followed the giant down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Hermione thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!"
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side — its windows sparkling in the starry sky — was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
"No more 'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. A lanky redhead followed her, Neville and Hank into one of the boats. "Everyone in?" shouted the giant who had a boat to himself. "Right then… FORWARD!"
The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
They clambered up a passageway in the rock after the giant's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.
They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door, the giant raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times.
The door swung open at once. Professor McGonagall, looking stern and imperious in emerald-green robes stood there.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she said as she pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit her whole house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Hermione could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must have beaten them there — but the professor showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. The teens crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the professor. "Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you house points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup."
"Trevor!" exclaimed Neville and lunged forward to grab his toad that had escaped again and was sitting at the professor's feet.
Professor McGonagall stared down at him, prompting Neville to murmur a quiet apology and retreat back to Hermione's side, his face beet-red with embarrassment.
To Hermione's relief, Professor McGonagall continued without comment. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily," she announced and then turn and entered the doorway that the sounds of students were coming from.
The group was silent for a moment, then a nasty-looking boy with short, blond hair stepped out of the crowd and spoke up. "It's true then, what they're saying on the train…?" he asked, scanning their group and focusing on Hank. "… Hank has come to Hogwarts."
This started many of the students into whispered muttering.
"Hank?" asked the blond. When Hank nodded, he continued. "This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy... Draco Malfoy."
When the redhead snickered, he rounded on him and snarled, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours… Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe… You must be a Weasley."
Clearly not one of the shining lights of the year, thought Hermione to herself.
"Well, you'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter," continued the blond, and extended his hand. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
Hermione glanced Hank, also apparently Hank, the famous Boy-Who-Lived, as he considered the blond but ignored the hand, "Thank you for the offer, Malfoy," he said in a tone that seemed a little forcefully polite to Hermione's ear. "However, my family has always emphasized that I should come to my own conclusions and not rely on the opinions of others."
Malfoy frowned at that, but any further response was forestalled by Professor McGonagall's return and he faded back into the crowd.
"We're ready for you now," McGonagall announced. "Follow me."
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: There are two 'timeline mistakes' in this chapter, these are intentional and part of this AU.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
Smallville.
October 18, 14:56 CDT,
Team Year Nine.
"Have you got any plans for the weekend?" One of their classmates asked Lucy and the Langs as they packed up at the end of spelling class.
Hank nodded. "Aunt Lois has been asked to cover the Federal City Ballet's performance at the Siegel Music Hall tomorrow afternoon, so as usual she wants me along as 'cover'."
Tim – a photography and journalism buff who already had a credit to his name in the Smallville Torch despite only being a middle-school sophomore – paused and made a face. "Do you…?"
"Anissa's busy with family stuff," Hank admitted, cutting across the other boy. "But I've already asked Linda if she wants to sub in."
"I do," Linda confirmed, as she picked up her bag and led the group out of the classroom.
"Better you than me," said Lucy as she sped up to flank the other girl, missing Tim's sigh and resigned slump. "I like dressage, but human dancing doesn't really do it for me."
But Hank didn't miss it. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine," the Asian-American teen assured him. "It's just… your aunt is…"
"A major trouble magnet?" offered Lucy, flippantly.
Hank made a face. "I should probably defend Aunt Lois, but to be honest… you're right," he conceded. "And with my history… we could be in for an 'interesting' weekend."
Lucy gave him a look but said nothing.
Metropolis.
October 19, 14:10 EDT.
Sometimes I hate being right, Hank thought as a dark-robed, hooded woman flanked by several goons walked out onto the stage instead of the ballet company for the second encore.
The audience – mostly veteran Metropolitans – quickly realized what was going on and began to panic.
"SILENCE!" demanded the hooded woman, as a wave of energy emanated from her and washed over the audience in the stalls and then moved upwards to the balcony.
Realising what was happening, Hank quickly drew on all his mediation training and was able to wrench himself out of the hypnotic stupor that began to claw at him. As he looked around, he noted that his aunt was fully in the grip of the woman's hypnosis but a soft, red glow lit his cousin's face. "Linda," he hissed urgently.
She blinked twice and looked in his direction. (What?) she asked, slipping back into the backwards German of a few months ago.
The amulet must have muted itself to shield her, Hank thought. I didn't think it could do that… He shook his head vigorously. One thing at a time… focus on getting out of here and getting help. He reached out and took his cousin's hand, drawing her out of her seat and behind the sill of the balcony.
(That should give us a bit of cover,) he whispered.
(What about Aunt Lois?) asked Linda in the same tone.
Hank glanced over at his aunt, who was sitting quietly with her gaze fixed on the stage. (She's fully in the grip of whatever that woman is doing. We're on our own.)
Linda nodded, then the two children dropped onto hands and knees and began to creep towards the stairs, but a loud squeak broke the silence and then loud voices echoed from below seconds later. (I think they heard her. We need to get her out of here as well.)
Hank swore, then nodded and stood up, pulling the girl out of her seat and bundling her into the stairway, staggering all the way to the stair and up to the door, with Linda bringing up the rear.
"What's going on?" demanded the light-brown-skinned girl, her curly mop of hair shaking as she spoke.
"I'm not sure," Hank admitted. "The woman is clearly a meta, probably a speech-based power of some sort… given that we're in Metropolis, probably Intergang or an affiliate."
"What do they want?"
"Nothing we're going to like," Hank replied darkly and fished in a pocket for his phone, dialling as he brought it up to his ear. "There's no signal…"
(Jammer?) suggested Linda as he put the phone away again.
(Probably,) he agreed, then turned back to the other girl. "We need to get outside. If they've put up a jammer, chances are that they're guarding the public exits. I think there's a service door by the first aid station though. They might not know about that one."
The curly-haired girl nodded. "The first aid room is down this way," she told them and set off. "My cousin Dawn is the one of the dancers, she mentioned it when she was showing Dad and I around."
"I guess we follow her," observed Linda, back to English as her amulet dimmed.
"I haven't got a better plan… have you?" asked Hank but was interrupted as two armed thugs appeared at the top of the stairs and fired at them. Hank threw up an arm and pointed at them, fingers splayed. "Spegulmuro!"
A shimmering, mirror-like shield sprang into view for a moment, intercepted the first shooter's blast, then shattered, knocking Hank off his feet.
"Okay, that didn't work as well as I hoped," Hank groaned, then sat up and considered their attackers. "Plan C, I guess… Magia Fulmo!"
Two bolts of lightning crackled from his outstretched hands and raced across the space, striking them both in their chest plates.
Hank wavered, but Linda grabbed him and was able to steady him. "We need to get out of here," she insisted, then glanced at the other girl, beckoning her back towards them. "Can you…"
"Hermione Granger," replied the other girl and moved to grasp Hank's other arm. "On three?"
Linda nodded. "One, two… three!" she said, and then pulled, bringing her cousin to his feet with Hermione's help.
More muffled footfalls began to echo up the stairway.
"Can you move?" Linda asked her cousin.
"We'll make it work!" Hermione declared.
The two cousins nodded their agreement and the trio staggered away from the stairway as fast as they could manage.
Smallville.
September 4, 00:12 CDT.
Team Year Eleven.
An upstairs window of the ranch house slid open, and a slim figure stepped out onto the kitchen roof, then closed the window and dropped to the ground. Once she landed, she turned towards the boundary fence and ran towards it, gliding over it without breaking a stride and entered one of the barns on the neighbouring property.
Star City.
September 3, 22:16 PDT.
Artemis glanced her way as she stepped out of the Zeta Tube into the Vault and crossed to join the group.
"What's the emergency?" Linda asked as she moved towards the group.
"Earlier to today we received a tip from Interpol that a suspected Kobra safehouse in Geneva had been reactivated," Artemis replied. "Guardian, Katana and Peacemaker were deployed to investigate and were caught in an explosion when the base's self-destruct activated."
"Are they okay?" Roy asked, which the others echoed after a beat.
"They will be," Artemis replied. "Guardian and Peacemaker reacted fast enough to shield Katana from the blast and their armours were able to take the brunt of the explosion. They'll be out of hospital in a few days, but someone needs to take over the investigation."
"Which is us," said Eddie.
Artemis nodded. "When the Swiss state investigators dug through the wreckage, they found one of the computers and were able to recover fragments of a couple of files pointing to Kobra's next target being in Vlatava."
At that moment, the safehouse's main console beeped and Artemis activated it, revealing a brown-haired woman who Linda identified after a moment as the Vlatavan Prime Minister. "Madame Prime Minister, my squad is ready to go if you need us."
"Thank you, Tigress. My investigator believes that they may be targeting the international trade symposium."
"We came to the same conclusion, ma'am," Artemis confirmed.
" As you know, there were many that felt that my country did not deserve such honour and would use any trouble to have it taken from us."
"I understand, ma'am," Artemis confirmed. "We'll be as discrete as possible."
"The symposium opens to the press in less than two hours," continued the woman. "And then opens the public on Monday."
"The last member of my squad arrived just before you called Madam Prime Minister," Artemis told her. "We're on our way."
"My investigator will meet you at the Zeta terminal and provide whatever support you need," said the other woman. "Stasny out."
The monitor clicked off.
"Let's go, Gamma," said Artemis. "I missed out on the last dance with Kobra and I'm kinda looking forward to this one."
"Recognized, Tigress B-Zero-Seven; Arsenal B-Two-Four; Halo B-Three-One; Red Devil B-Three-Nine, Raven B-Four-Zero."
Vladivostok,
September 4, 07:19 CEST.
A vaguely familiar-looking man was waiting for them when they exited the Zeta Tube into the dedicated room under the royal palace. "Adam, you're working with us on this?"
He nodded, then picked up a tablet, a small envelope and several bundles of clothing from a nearby desk and passed them to her. "I've got your covers, necessary documents and clothing all set up."
"Well, Perdita said it was urgent and we Nielsens will do anything for her."
"Arsenal, Halo… you've got the private security company covering the event," Artemis said, handing bundles of clothing and passes to the pair. "Arsenal, you're on the interior with Adam… Halo, you're on the exterior, you'll also be our primary shield if Kobra decides to go with a direct assault."
They nodded and moved towards side alcoves to change.
Artemis started to hand a pass to Eddie. "Have you got your Glamour Charm?"
"Ready to go, Boss," he confirmed, extracting the ruby-like gem from a pocket and slipped it on, transforming into a shaggy-haired white man.
"You've got the conference centre's technical and janitorial staff," Artemis told him. "Your knowledge of film industry should help you fit in there."
Eddie nodded and slipped on the pass over his Goode World Studios t-shirt.
Finally, she turned to Linda. "We've got the conference attendees themselves," she declared. "I've talked to Walter Steele over at Q-Core, and he's agreed that I can post up at their stall. You can come in with me, but once we're out of sight I want you to go invisible and mingle."
Linda nodded agreement as she slipped her pass around her neck.
"Keep a sharp lookout and call in any problems or concerns," Artemis reminded her squad. "Perdita wants this done quickly and quietly… and frankly in the interests of public safety if nothing else, so do I."
"We've got this covered," Eddie declared, and the rest of the squad echoed his sentiment a moment later.
North London.
September 5, 0700 BST.
Hermione's alarm woke her from a dream that faded from her mind in the seconds it took to silence the alarm. She slipped out of bed, put on her dressing gown, stuck her feet into a pair of slippers and then padded quickly down the stairs to the kitchen.
Her mother was there, her father was not.
"Where's Daddy?" Hermione asked as she helped herself to some muesli.
"I'm sorry, darling," replied her mother. "But Wendell had to go into the surgery, one of his patients called in with possible pericoronitis. So, it'll just be the two of us."
Hermione nodded. It would've been nice to have both her parents there to see her off, but she'd realised from an early age that sometimes their patients' needs came ahead of her own.
After breakfast, she headed upstairs and washed up. Then she changed into casual clothes for the journey, and within an hour of waking she was in the back of her parents' Mondeo as it was heading towards London with her mum at the wheel.
Central London.
1025 BST
Hermione had her door open as soon as her parents' Mondeo slid to a halt and was waiting on the pavement with her trunk beside her by the time her mother had got herself sorted out and got out of the car. Monica Granger smiled at her daughter, then locked the car and they walked towards King's Cross Station.
After stopping at one of the ticket booths so that her mother could get a platform ticket, they passed through to the western concourse easily enough, where logically they should have been able to find Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Unfortunately, there they hit a slight snag.
There was a Platform Nine and a Platform Ten, but no Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
"Did Professor McGonagall say how to get onto the platform?" asked her mother, as she glanced dubiously around the station's western concourse. "Because I can't see it."
"I can't either," agreed Hermione. "So, it's not just hidden magically like the Leaky Cauldron."
Her mother nodded.
Hermione paused to think for a moment, trying to remember everything that the professor had said. "She something about the wall between the platforms…"
"That would make sense," agreed her mother, as she continued to glance around.
A moment later, Hermione spotted a trio – two women and a boy about her age – heading across the course. Something about the group was familiar, but the first thing that struck her was the owl cage that sat on top of the trolley that the boy was wheeling across the concourse.
"Mum!" Hermione hissed and indicated the trio. Her mother immediately realized what she'd seen, nodded and trailed Hermione as her daughter trotted over to the group.
As Hermione got closer, the sense that that she knew the boy and one of the women grew stronger, until she heard him speak and one of the women refer to him as 'Hank'. "Hank!" she called and trotted towards the group, her mother following in her wake.
As she reached the halfway point, the boy turned and smiled, then stepped towards her. "Hermione!"
The two children hugged briefly, then separated as their parents joined them. "A friend of yours, Hermione?" asked her mother, a little teasingly.
Hermione broke away from Hank, blushing slightly. "Mother!" she exclaimed. "This is Hank Lang, he and his cousin got me away from Intergang when they tried to take Dawn and the ballet company hostage."
Her mother smiled. "Thank you for that, Hank."
"That's fine, Mrs Granger," Hank assured her. "It wasn't the first time I've been in similar situations."
"Much to my displeasure," noted his mother. "I assume that you're heading the same platform we are…. Nine and Three Quarters?"
Both Grangers nodded. "Do you know how to get in?" Hermione asked. "Professor McGonagall mentioned it, but with everything else…"
Hank frowned. "No, Hagrid didn't mention it either," he searched around hopefully, looking for clues.
A moment later, Hermione spotted a stocky boy about her own age with blond hair accompanied by an elderly woman with a vulture-topped hat walking towards one of the brick pillars. "Mum, Hank… over there!" she whispered urgently, pointing towards the pair, who disappeared into the wall a few seconds later.
"Huh?" exclaimed her mother. "That's seems simple enough."
Hermione nodded, "Let's go."
Her mother and the Langs echoed her agreement and followed her across the concourse and within moments, they passed through the hidden barrier onto the packed platform sign-posted 'Hogwarts Express, Eleven o'clock'.
Hermione glanced around, taking in the wrought-iron archway behind her where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. Smoke from the scarlet engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.
The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats, so Hermione pushed her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She and her mother pressed on through the crowd until found an empty compartment towards the back of the train. They were trying to lift the trunk up the steps into the carriage when a tall, burly boy of about sixteen with chiselled features, dark hair, and bright grey eyes looked down at them from inside the train. A shiny purple and gold badge with a badger and the letter 'P' on it was pinned to his chest. "Can I help?"
"Certainly…" replied her mother and Hank's echoed the sentiment..
"Cedric Diggory, ma'ams," replied the boy, bending to pick up the trunk and heaving it onto the train, then turned to Hermione who had followed him onboard and indicated the closest compartment. "Is in here, okay?"
"That'll be fine," Hermione agreed, and in a moment her trunk was tucked away in a corner of the compartment, and Cedric was heading back to help Hank with his luggage.
"I'll let you say your goodbyes," Cedric told them, once Hank's luggage was also properly stowed . "Maybe I'll see you in Hufflepuff."
"Maybe," agreed Hermione politely, as the older boy turned and walked back up the train. She returned to the door to say goodbye to her mother.
"He seems like a nice boy," observed her mother. "Which house is he in?"
"Hufflepuff," replied Hermione. "I doubt we'll be in the same house… I'm aiming for Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."
"Well, which ever house you end up in, try and make a couple of friends at least," her mother urged her.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I try, Mum. But it's not always easy."
"I'll try and help her, Mrs Granger," Hank offered.
Whatever her mother would have said in reply was drowned out by the loud screech of a train's whistle and a yell of "All aboard, all aboard!"
"Goodbye, Mum!" shouted Hermione as the train's doors slammed shut by themselves, with Hank echoing her words.
"Goodbye!" replied their mothers, waving as the train as the train began to move.
The two teens stayed at the window waving back as the train eased out of the platform and headed into the first corner outside the station.
"How's Linda?" Hermione asked as she settled down. "I was a little surprised that she wasn't there to see you off."
"She's fine," Hank assured her. "She was going to come over for the weekend, but something came up with her 'extracurriculars'."
Hermione nodded, then reached for her bag to get a book. Hank took the hint and retrieved a book of his own and they settled into an companionable silence which was broken only twice, initially a little after midday by an elderly witch with the snack trolley and then when the round-faced, chubby boy who had accidentally guided them to the platform earlier put his head in the compartment, introduced himself as 'Neville' and asked them if they had seen a toad.
"No, I haven't," Hermione told him.
"Me neither," Hank confirmed, then glanced at Hermione. "Should we help him look?"
Hermione nodded as Neville broke into a smile.
20:25 BST.
A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
The trio rose and Hank lead the way out into the crowd thronging the corridor as the train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform.
Hermione shivered in the cold night air, then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and she heard a booming voice call out of the buzz of the crowd. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" boomed the figure, whose big hairy face towered over the sea of heads. "All right there, Harry? C'mon, follow me… any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
Noticing that the man had glanced at Hank, she paused. Why did he call him 'Harry'… could he be Harry Potter? she pondered but decided to hold her silence for the time being, deciding that she had enough to occupy her mind as slipping and stumbling, she and the rest of the new students followed the giant down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Hermione thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!"
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side — its windows sparkling in the starry sky — was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
"No more 'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. A lanky redhead followed her, Neville and Hank into one of the boats. "Everyone in?" shouted the giant who had a boat to himself. "Right then… FORWARD!"
The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.
They clambered up a passageway in the rock after the giant's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.
They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door, the giant raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times.
The door swung open at once. Professor McGonagall, looking stern and imperious in emerald-green robes stood there.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she said as she pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit her whole house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Hermione could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must have beaten them there — but the professor showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. The teens crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the professor. "Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you house points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup."
"Trevor!" exclaimed Neville and lunged forward to grab his toad that had escaped again and was sitting at the professor's feet.
Professor McGonagall stared down at him, prompting Neville to murmur a quiet apology and retreat back to Hermione's side, his face beet-red with embarrassment.
To Hermione's relief, Professor McGonagall continued without comment. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily," she announced and then turn and entered the doorway that the sounds of students were coming from.
The group was silent for a moment, then a nasty-looking boy with short, blond hair stepped out of the crowd and spoke up. "It's true then, what they're saying on the train…?" he asked, scanning their group and focusing on Hank. "… Hank has come to Hogwarts."
This started many of the students into whispered muttering.
"Hank?" asked the blond. When Hank nodded, he continued. "This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy... Draco Malfoy."
When the redhead snickered, he rounded on him and snarled, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours… Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe… You must be a Weasley."
Clearly not one of the shining lights of the year, thought Hermione to herself.
"Well, you'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter," continued the blond, and extended his hand. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
Hermione glanced Hank, also apparently Hank, the famous Boy-Who-Lived, as he considered the blond but ignored the hand, "Thank you for the offer, Malfoy," he said in a tone that seemed a little forcefully polite to Hermione's ear. "However, my family has always emphasized that I should come to my own conclusions and not rely on the opinions of others."
Malfoy frowned at that, but any further response was forestalled by Professor McGonagall's return and he faded back into the crowd.
"We're ready for you now," McGonagall announced. "Follow me."
Last edited:
- Location
- US
Probably not, actually.
Passage now reads:
Hermione shivered in the cold night air, then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and she heard a booming voice call out of the buzz of the crowd. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" boomed the figure, whose big hairy face towered over the sea of heads. "All right there, Harry? C'mon, follow me… any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
Noticing that the man had glanced at Hank, she paused. Why did he call him 'Harry'… could he be Harry Potter? she pondered but decided to hold her silence for the time being, deciding that she had enough to occupy her mind as slipping and stumbling, she and the rest of the new students followed the giant down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Hermione thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.
Hermione shivered in the cold night air, then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and she heard a booming voice call out of the buzz of the crowd. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" boomed the figure, whose big hairy face towered over the sea of heads. "All right there, Harry? C'mon, follow me… any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"
Noticing that the man had glanced at Hank, she paused. Why did he call him 'Harry'… could he be Harry Potter? she pondered but decided to hold her silence for the time being, deciding that she had enough to occupy her mind as slipping and stumbling, she and the rest of the new students followed the giant down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Hermione thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.
- Location
- US
Interesting story so far, thanks for sharing!
You're welcome.
I'll be uploading the next regular chapter later today and I'm also working on an interlude focusing on a minor character who appeared in a previous story in the same series who way be getting a bigger role going forward.
I've also got some artwork on DeviantArt and can be contacted through the Discord.
I'll be uploading the next regular chapter later today and I'm also working on an interlude focusing on a minor character who appeared in a previous story in the same series who way be getting a bigger role going forward.
I've also got some artwork on DeviantArt and can be contacted through the Discord.
Got a bit distracted by Crisis on Infinite Earths, Part 3 last night, but I'm going to upload the next chapter shortly.
The Sorting
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: There are two 'timeline mistakes' in this chapter, these are intentional and part of this AU.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
Lochaber.
September 5, 20:30 BST.
Hermione joined the crowd as they surged out of the entrance hall and into what appeared to be a large dining hall. It was a strange and splendid place, even compared to the highlights of Diagon Alley. The room was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over tables laid with glittering golden plates and goblets.
Professor McGonagall led the first years up to the teacher's dais, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.
The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. When she saw Hank glance at the ceiling – which was an inky black and studded with stars – Hermione whispered. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
He nodded, then turned his attention to Professor McGonagall as she silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Her mother would have thrown a fit if she'd seen it.
For a few seconds, there was complete silence as the crowd stared at the hat. Then it twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:
"Welcome all to Hogwarts School.
Where work and fun are both the rule...
A thousand years and more ago
Four Wizards did this place make known
A place of learning of many kinds
A House for each, of different mind:
The daring Gryffindors, whose
Bravery you may well choose.
The clever Ravenclaws, where
Wit and learning is the fare.
Kind Hufflepuff of forest soil
May bring fun, but also toil.
The sly Slytherins, you may to depend
Use any means to their own end.
Now put me on,
I'm never wrong,
For I'm the Sorting Hat!"
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
"We've just got to try on a hat!" The Weasley boy whispered from behind her. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Hermione glanced back at Hank who was smiling weakly. She agreed that trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell — although she had been looking forward to trying — but she wasn't sure about trying it on without everyone watching.
Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. After a moment, the Hat declared. "Hufflepuff!"
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down as the ghost of a rotund priest — presumably the 'Fat Friar' that Hogwarts, A History talked about — waved merrily at her.
"Bones, Susan!"
"Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat again and the girl scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry!"
"Ravenclaw!" The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry Boot as he joined them.
Mandy Brocklehurst followed Terry Boot into Ravenclaw to a similar reception, but Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers. A pair of twins who Hermione guessed were probably also Weasleys catcalled until she was settled and the next Sorting began which named Millicent Bulstrode – a stocky, squared-jawed girl about six inches taller than her – became the first Slytherin of the year, and Justin Finch-Fletchley joined Hannah Abbot and Susan in Hufflepuff a moment later.
The first sign that the process wasn't a smooth one came with sandy-haired Seamus Finnegan who had to sit on the stool in front for the crowd for almost a minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.
Then it was her turn.
She ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
(Hmm,) said a voice in her ear.
It took a second to realize it was the Sorting Hat.
(What an exceptionally bright young lady… you're a shoo-in for Ravenclaw and will do well… but…)
Hermione's heart sank. Not Ravenclaw… Please! I'll be better off in Gryffindor!
The hat made an agreeing sound and then fell into silence. Hermione waited as the minutes ticked by until it spoke up again. (You're right,) admitted the hat. (You're intelligent, but you want knowledge for the fame, not for its own sake. That's brave for a Muggleborn… so, I will sort you into…) It paused for a moment for effect, then declared. "GRYFFINDOR!"
Hermione hopped down off the stool and headed it off to a blond boy, before heading towards the Gryffindor table and slipped onto the bench next to Lavender Brown.
20:50 BST
As the last first year — Blaise Zabini — made his way to the Slytherin Table, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and then picked up the Sorting Hat took it out of sight.
Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Hermione heard Hank ask the tall, black girl next to him whether the headmaster was a bit mad, which struck her as somewhat disrespectful, she was about to speak up to tell him off when the older girl replied that Dumbledore was a genius, the best wizard in the world, but to Hermione's surprise and dismay agreed with him that Dumbledore was a bit mad, then she offered him potatoes as if she hadn't said anything unusual.
After starting a little at the 'potatoes' comment, Isn't the table empty? Hermione turned her glaze to the table and to her surprise found that it wasn't.
The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
Hermione helped herself to an appropriate selection and began to eat. A moment later, her attention was draw to a conversation between Hank, Ron Weasley and one of the ghosts.
"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you… you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
Nearly headless, thought Hermione. How can you be nearly headless? She was trying to remember whether Hogwarts, A History had said anything about the ghost when Seamus Finnegan echoed her own question.
Hermione glanced over and in her opinion Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. "Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly.
Hermione grimaced in disgust. A feeling not improved by the pleased expression on Sir Nicholas' face when it returned to his neck. The ghost coughed and continued speaking. "So… new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable… he's the Slytherin ghost."
Hermione followed Hank's gaze over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.
"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.
The talk died down for a while after that as the students applied themselves to their meals but picked up again over desert. "I'm half-and-half," announced Seamus. "Me Da's a Muggle… Mam's a witch… didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out."
The others laughed. Hermione didn't think it was that funny.
"What about you, Neville?" asked Seamus.
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville. "But the family thought I was a Squib for ages. Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me… he pushed me off the end of one of the piers in Blackpool once, I nearly drowned… but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. All the family were really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here… they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
Hermione turned to the black girl and – after establishing that her name was Angelina, that she was one of the third-year Prefects and that she was one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team – commented that she was anxious to get started due to how much there was to learn, particularly in Transfiguration which she thought might be her favourite subject.
Angelina told her that they'd be starting small initially and gave her a few helpful hints of what to look at for extra reading, then returned to her dessert.
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again.
The hall fell silent.
"Ahem… just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. Finally, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year: First, Professor Bhaala Singh of the Jaadoo Ka Sarasvatee Skool has agreed to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause, that quickly faded.
"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued. " I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank."
The elderly woman was greeted with a similar level of enthusiasm as her peer, and the students' attention quickly returned to the headmaster that it was time that they heading off to bed.
The Gryffindor first years followed Angelina and her male counterpart — a stocky, brown-haired boy called Kenneth Towler — through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Hermione was tired enough that although she noticed that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice the prefects led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.
They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Hank was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.
A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them, and as Angelina Johnson took a step toward them, they started throwing themselves at her. "Peeves," Angelina Johnson whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." She raised her voice, "Peeves… show yourself!" A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. "Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"
There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.
"Ooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this, I mean it!" barked Angelina Johnson.
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville Longbottom's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armour as he passed.
"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Angelina Johnson, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him… well maybe the headmaster was well. Nobody opposes him openly if they can avoid it. Here we are."
At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?"
"Caput Draconis," said Kenneth Towler, speaking for the first time since introduced himself, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room, a round room full of squashy armchairs with two sets of stairs branching off, both heading upwards.
September 6, 16:00 CEST.
Artemis, Linda, and the rest of Gamma stood at the loading dock, watching as Adam Nielsen escorted the group's leader, Gennifer Deveraux, and her 'enforcer', the light-manipulating Dongji, to unmarked BIS cars, while an entire platoon of Vlatavan Police officers loaded the unconscious bodies of their monstrous minions into a cab-over truck and a series of police vans.
"Can we do now?" asked Eddie. "I'd like to catch at least a bit of Labor Day celebrations if I can."
Artemis paused for a moment, then nodded. "Violet, take us home."
September 8, 01:28 BST.
"Two minutes, students," announced Professor Sinestra, as Hank was checking his chart to make sure he hadn't missed anything.
Well, I don't think I'm going to get them all, Hank concluded. I guess I should probably check what I've already got instead of pushing on: Cassiopeia, Perseus, Draco… narrated Hank to himself, then paused for a moment at that one, thinking of his bigoted Slytherin counterpart. Ursa Minor… Hercules… Corona Borealis, Ursa Major, Cancer… well, that's only a fraction of them, but it's a start… and maybe enough for now. He stepped away from his telescope, removed his scroll from the frame and rolled it up, then walked over to where the professor was standing to hand it in.
"Thank you, Mr Lang," said the professor as she took it from him, and added it to the basket attached to her own telescope. "You can go."
"I'll wait for the others," he replied, turning and glancing around at the class, most of whom were still glued to their telescopes or scrolls.
The professor nodded and then turned to accept a scroll from Hermione as she passed them on the way to the stairs.
September 9, 10:45 BST.
Hank's initial impression of Minerva McGonagall had been that she was not a person to cross, and this impression was reinforced by her brisk manner as she ushered Hank, his dorm-mates and their Ravenclaw counterparts into her classroom and took the roll, then stepped away from her desk and launched into what he suspected as a prepared speech. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts, anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back," she declared, as she drew her wand and pointed it at her desk. "You have been warned."
Seconds later, she cast a spell at the desk, transforming it into a pig.
Interesting… thought Hank to himself as the class murmured appreciation.
The professor paused for a moment, then returned the desk to its natural state. "Transforming living beings, even temporarily, is a complex endeavour requiring considerable precision and a certain amount of power," she declared. "So, it will be a while before you are ready for that. We will start on something a little simpler… transforming a match into a needle."
The class subsided into mute disappointment, but picked their quills as the professor turned to the board and began writing out some diagrams and formulas.
11: 16 BST
When Hank received his match, unlike many of his peers he didn't immediately pick up his wand and start trying to cast the spell that the professor had been teaching, but instead picked up the match itself and considered it for a moment. "Turni alumeton en kudrilon," he whispered, watching as it shimmered and turned into a needle. He was still examining it, when the professor noticed him doing so and came over.
"Congratulations, Mr Lang," she said. "Was it your first attempt?"
"Yes and no, Professor," Hank admitted.
"In what way?"
"I did transform it, but I didn't use my wand…" he continued, nodding to where it was sitting on the desk-top. "Or the spell that you showed us."
"Then how?"
"I only got my first wand a few days ago," Hank reminded her. "So, your techniques are still brand new to me…"
Professor McGonagall nodded her agreement.
"But my mentor, Zatanna Zatara, has been training me in her family's style for years… so I thought I'd try doing it that way first to get a 'feel' for it."
McGonagall wasn't easy to read, so Hank couldn't tell whether she was intrigued, frustrated, annoyed… but he thought it might be combination of all three. "Can you reverse it?"
"I think so," Hank replied, and turned his gaze back to the needle. "Reiru al kongruo."
The needle shimmered and slowed reverted back to its original form.
"Impressive, Mr Lang," allowed the professor. "But I would prefer if you could complete the actual assignment?"
"I'll get on that, Professor," Hank assured her.
The professor nodded, then moved onto another student who was asking for help.
September 10, 08:16 BST.
"What have we got today?" Hank asked the group as he poured sugar on his porridge.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," replied Ron, after a moment. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favours them… we'll be able to see if it's true."
"McGonagall certainly doesn't favour us," noted Dean Thomas, a long-necked, easy-going black boy who was even taller than Ron.
Hank said nothing, like Hermione he'd done well enough on the matchstick to needle exercise that he'd avoided the pile of homework that the rest of the class had been assigned.
Just then, the mail arrived. Hank had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. His own owl hadn't had anything for him yet, but had come to visit every morning, so he was a little surprised that she was carrying a note today.
"Who's sent me a note, Ukpik?" he asked as he accepted the scrap of paper, which prompted the majestic bird to throw him a look that he easily translated as 'well, if you open you'll find out'. Agreeing that she had a point, he tore it open and unfolded it:
Dear Harry,
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have
a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week.
Send us an answer back with
Ukpik.
Hagrid
Harry burrowed in his bag for a moment to find a quill, then scribbled 'Yes, please, see you later' on the back of the note, and sent his owl off again.
09:01 BST.
"Ah, yes…" said Professor Snape softly. "Harry Potter, our new… celebrity."
Hank considered correcting him while Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands, but decided to pick his battles for the moment.
Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making…"
Isn't the other way round? Hank thought. Art is subtle, science is exact…
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even stopper death… if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
This statement was met with mute silence from the entire class, a movement out of the corner of his eye showed Hermione Granger on the edge of her seat, clearly desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Asphodel and wormwood, mused Hank, as Hermione's hand had shot into the air. That sounds familiar, but… "I don't remember any potion with only those ingredients, sir."
Snape's lips curled into a sneer, ignoring Hermione's hand. "Tut, tut… Fame clearly isn't everything."
"Given that wormwood has a number of different applications…" Hank continued, ignoring the Potions Master. "... asphodel is likely the more suggestive ingredient. Folklore around asphodel typically associates it with death and sleep, so I'm guessing some form of analgesic, poison or both."
Snape paused for a moment, "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
A glance to the side while he was considering his answer showed Hermione stretching out her hand as high into the air as it would go without leaving her seat, and a glance to the other side showed Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with laughter.
"Bezoar, from the Persian word pādzahr meaning 'antidote'," Hank replied promptly. "I don't remember where it comes from but I would imagine the school nurse has one in her kit and it wouldn't surprise me if you do as well."
Snape snorted at that. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
Hank smiled at that moment, while not an expert he'd spent enough time around florists – both the Lances and the Wus – to know the answer to that one. "Very little, Professor. They're both aconites… monkshood typically has indigo-blue petals, whereas wolfsbane's are more commonly white or straw-yellow. There are other varieties."
Professor Snape's impassive expression broke for a split second. "Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death and a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment as the students rushed to obey his instructions.
09:16 BST.
Hank's opinion of the Potions Master didn't improve as the lesson continued. Hank and Ron were paired together and were making decent progress on their potion, when they were distracted by a commotion a couple of tables over.
Snape was in the middle of praising Malfoy's stewed horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon, as Neville and Seamus' cauldron melted into a twisted blob, sending their potion flowing across the stone floor.
Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools, nursing burnt shoes while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. "You, Potter… why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's five points from Gryffindor."
Hank was about to open his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron. "Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing, there was something about what Snape had been talking about that was tickling the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite remember what… other that some sort of connection to flowers…
"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George."
"That's not what I'm thinking about," Hank countered. "There's something that's bugging me about his first question. Like there was some sort of undercurrent to it."
"You mean like a hidden message?"
"Exactly," Hank confirmed. "But I can't figure out what."
14:45 BST.
Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door, and when Hank knocked he heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. His big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. "Hang on… back, Fang," he said as he let Hank in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. "Make yerself at home," Hagrid suggested and let go of Fang, who bounded straight at Hank and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.
"Thanks for the invite," Hank said to the oversized man, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke his teeth, but Hank pretended to enjoy them as he told Hagrid all about his first lessons. Fang rested his head on Hank's knee and drooled all over his robes.
Hank was amused to hear Hagrid call Fitch 'that old git'. "An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her… Fitch puts her up to it."
Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron before him, told Harry not to worry about it and confirmed that Snape liked hardly any of the students.
"But he seemed to really hate me."
"Rubbish! Why should he?" said Hagrid, unconvincingly, and quickly changed the subject.
Did Hagrid know something about Snape that he doesn't want to tell me? Hank wondered but decided not to push the issue until he had something more to go on.
Smallville.
September 10, 23:00 CDT.
A sharp crack woke Linda from a particularly pleasant dream, reaching out psychically she clicked on the bedside lamp and regarded the diminutive, pointy-eared being that stood in the middle of the room.
"I have a letter for Linda Lang?" asked the being.
"That's me," confirmed Linda as she tried to rub sleep from her eyes. "Couldn't you have waited to a more decent hour?"
"Neither rain, or snow, nor death of night can keep us from our duty," insisted the diminutive being, dogmatically.
"Fine, whatever," Linda conceded with a sigh. "Hand it over and get out of here."
The being nodded and drew a thick envelope from his satchel and handed it to her, then disappeared again with a snap of his fingers.
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: There are two 'timeline mistakes' in this chapter, these are intentional and part of this AU.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
Lochaber.
September 5, 20:30 BST.
Hermione joined the crowd as they surged out of the entrance hall and into what appeared to be a large dining hall. It was a strange and splendid place, even compared to the highlights of Diagon Alley. The room was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over tables laid with glittering golden plates and goblets.
Professor McGonagall led the first years up to the teacher's dais, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.
The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. When she saw Hank glance at the ceiling – which was an inky black and studded with stars – Hermione whispered. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
He nodded, then turned his attention to Professor McGonagall as she silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Her mother would have thrown a fit if she'd seen it.
For a few seconds, there was complete silence as the crowd stared at the hat. Then it twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:
"Welcome all to Hogwarts School.
Where work and fun are both the rule...
A thousand years and more ago
Four Wizards did this place make known
A place of learning of many kinds
A House for each, of different mind:
The daring Gryffindors, whose
Bravery you may well choose.
The clever Ravenclaws, where
Wit and learning is the fare.
Kind Hufflepuff of forest soil
May bring fun, but also toil.
The sly Slytherins, you may to depend
Use any means to their own end.
Now put me on,
I'm never wrong,
For I'm the Sorting Hat!"
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
"We've just got to try on a hat!" The Weasley boy whispered from behind her. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Hermione glanced back at Hank who was smiling weakly. She agreed that trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell — although she had been looking forward to trying — but she wasn't sure about trying it on without everyone watching.
Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. After a moment, the Hat declared. "Hufflepuff!"
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down as the ghost of a rotund priest — presumably the 'Fat Friar' that Hogwarts, A History talked about — waved merrily at her.
"Bones, Susan!"
"Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat again and the girl scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry!"
"Ravenclaw!" The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry Boot as he joined them.
Mandy Brocklehurst followed Terry Boot into Ravenclaw to a similar reception, but Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers. A pair of twins who Hermione guessed were probably also Weasleys catcalled until she was settled and the next Sorting began which named Millicent Bulstrode – a stocky, squared-jawed girl about six inches taller than her – became the first Slytherin of the year, and Justin Finch-Fletchley joined Hannah Abbot and Susan in Hufflepuff a moment later.
The first sign that the process wasn't a smooth one came with sandy-haired Seamus Finnegan who had to sit on the stool in front for the crowd for almost a minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.
Then it was her turn.
She ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.
(Hmm,) said a voice in her ear.
It took a second to realize it was the Sorting Hat.
(What an exceptionally bright young lady… you're a shoo-in for Ravenclaw and will do well… but…)
Hermione's heart sank. Not Ravenclaw… Please! I'll be better off in Gryffindor!
The hat made an agreeing sound and then fell into silence. Hermione waited as the minutes ticked by until it spoke up again. (You're right,) admitted the hat. (You're intelligent, but you want knowledge for the fame, not for its own sake. That's brave for a Muggleborn… so, I will sort you into…) It paused for a moment for effect, then declared. "GRYFFINDOR!"
Hermione hopped down off the stool and headed it off to a blond boy, before heading towards the Gryffindor table and slipped onto the bench next to Lavender Brown.
20:50 BST
As the last first year — Blaise Zabini — made his way to the Slytherin Table, Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and then picked up the Sorting Hat took it out of sight.
Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Hermione heard Hank ask the tall, black girl next to him whether the headmaster was a bit mad, which struck her as somewhat disrespectful, she was about to speak up to tell him off when the older girl replied that Dumbledore was a genius, the best wizard in the world, but to Hermione's surprise and dismay agreed with him that Dumbledore was a bit mad, then she offered him potatoes as if she hadn't said anything unusual.
After starting a little at the 'potatoes' comment, Isn't the table empty? Hermione turned her glaze to the table and to her surprise found that it wasn't.
The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
Hermione helped herself to an appropriate selection and began to eat. A moment later, her attention was draw to a conversation between Hank, Ron Weasley and one of the ghosts.
"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you… you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
Nearly headless, thought Hermione. How can you be nearly headless? She was trying to remember whether Hogwarts, A History had said anything about the ghost when Seamus Finnegan echoed her own question.
Hermione glanced over and in her opinion Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. "Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly.
Hermione grimaced in disgust. A feeling not improved by the pleased expression on Sir Nicholas' face when it returned to his neck. The ghost coughed and continued speaking. "So… new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable… he's the Slytherin ghost."
Hermione followed Hank's gaze over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.
"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.
The talk died down for a while after that as the students applied themselves to their meals but picked up again over desert. "I'm half-and-half," announced Seamus. "Me Da's a Muggle… Mam's a witch… didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out."
The others laughed. Hermione didn't think it was that funny.
"What about you, Neville?" asked Seamus.
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville. "But the family thought I was a Squib for ages. Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me… he pushed me off the end of one of the piers in Blackpool once, I nearly drowned… but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. All the family were really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here… they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
Hermione turned to the black girl and – after establishing that her name was Angelina, that she was one of the third-year Prefects and that she was one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team – commented that she was anxious to get started due to how much there was to learn, particularly in Transfiguration which she thought might be her favourite subject.
Angelina told her that they'd be starting small initially and gave her a few helpful hints of what to look at for extra reading, then returned to her dessert.
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again.
The hall fell silent.
"Ahem… just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. Finally, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year: First, Professor Bhaala Singh of the Jaadoo Ka Sarasvatee Skool has agreed to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause, that quickly faded.
"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued. " I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank."
The elderly woman was greeted with a similar level of enthusiasm as her peer, and the students' attention quickly returned to the headmaster that it was time that they heading off to bed.
The Gryffindor first years followed Angelina and her male counterpart — a stocky, brown-haired boy called Kenneth Towler — through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Hermione was tired enough that although she noticed that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice the prefects led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.
They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Hank was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.
A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them, and as Angelina Johnson took a step toward them, they started throwing themselves at her. "Peeves," Angelina Johnson whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." She raised her voice, "Peeves… show yourself!" A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. "Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"
There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.
"Ooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this, I mean it!" barked Angelina Johnson.
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville Longbottom's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armour as he passed.
"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Angelina Johnson, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him… well maybe the headmaster was well. Nobody opposes him openly if they can avoid it. Here we are."
At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?"
"Caput Draconis," said Kenneth Towler, speaking for the first time since introduced himself, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room, a round room full of squashy armchairs with two sets of stairs branching off, both heading upwards.
September 6, 16:00 CEST.
Artemis, Linda, and the rest of Gamma stood at the loading dock, watching as Adam Nielsen escorted the group's leader, Gennifer Deveraux, and her 'enforcer', the light-manipulating Dongji, to unmarked BIS cars, while an entire platoon of Vlatavan Police officers loaded the unconscious bodies of their monstrous minions into a cab-over truck and a series of police vans.
"Can we do now?" asked Eddie. "I'd like to catch at least a bit of Labor Day celebrations if I can."
Artemis paused for a moment, then nodded. "Violet, take us home."
September 8, 01:28 BST.
"Two minutes, students," announced Professor Sinestra, as Hank was checking his chart to make sure he hadn't missed anything.
Well, I don't think I'm going to get them all, Hank concluded. I guess I should probably check what I've already got instead of pushing on: Cassiopeia, Perseus, Draco… narrated Hank to himself, then paused for a moment at that one, thinking of his bigoted Slytherin counterpart. Ursa Minor… Hercules… Corona Borealis, Ursa Major, Cancer… well, that's only a fraction of them, but it's a start… and maybe enough for now. He stepped away from his telescope, removed his scroll from the frame and rolled it up, then walked over to where the professor was standing to hand it in.
"Thank you, Mr Lang," said the professor as she took it from him, and added it to the basket attached to her own telescope. "You can go."
"I'll wait for the others," he replied, turning and glancing around at the class, most of whom were still glued to their telescopes or scrolls.
The professor nodded and then turned to accept a scroll from Hermione as she passed them on the way to the stairs.
September 9, 10:45 BST.
Hank's initial impression of Minerva McGonagall had been that she was not a person to cross, and this impression was reinforced by her brisk manner as she ushered Hank, his dorm-mates and their Ravenclaw counterparts into her classroom and took the roll, then stepped away from her desk and launched into what he suspected as a prepared speech. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts, anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back," she declared, as she drew her wand and pointed it at her desk. "You have been warned."
Seconds later, she cast a spell at the desk, transforming it into a pig.
Interesting… thought Hank to himself as the class murmured appreciation.
The professor paused for a moment, then returned the desk to its natural state. "Transforming living beings, even temporarily, is a complex endeavour requiring considerable precision and a certain amount of power," she declared. "So, it will be a while before you are ready for that. We will start on something a little simpler… transforming a match into a needle."
The class subsided into mute disappointment, but picked their quills as the professor turned to the board and began writing out some diagrams and formulas.
11: 16 BST
When Hank received his match, unlike many of his peers he didn't immediately pick up his wand and start trying to cast the spell that the professor had been teaching, but instead picked up the match itself and considered it for a moment. "Turni alumeton en kudrilon," he whispered, watching as it shimmered and turned into a needle. He was still examining it, when the professor noticed him doing so and came over.
"Congratulations, Mr Lang," she said. "Was it your first attempt?"
"Yes and no, Professor," Hank admitted.
"In what way?"
"I did transform it, but I didn't use my wand…" he continued, nodding to where it was sitting on the desk-top. "Or the spell that you showed us."
"Then how?"
"I only got my first wand a few days ago," Hank reminded her. "So, your techniques are still brand new to me…"
Professor McGonagall nodded her agreement.
"But my mentor, Zatanna Zatara, has been training me in her family's style for years… so I thought I'd try doing it that way first to get a 'feel' for it."
McGonagall wasn't easy to read, so Hank couldn't tell whether she was intrigued, frustrated, annoyed… but he thought it might be combination of all three. "Can you reverse it?"
"I think so," Hank replied, and turned his gaze back to the needle. "Reiru al kongruo."
The needle shimmered and slowed reverted back to its original form.
"Impressive, Mr Lang," allowed the professor. "But I would prefer if you could complete the actual assignment?"
"I'll get on that, Professor," Hank assured her.
The professor nodded, then moved onto another student who was asking for help.
September 10, 08:16 BST.
"What have we got today?" Hank asked the group as he poured sugar on his porridge.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," replied Ron, after a moment. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favours them… we'll be able to see if it's true."
"McGonagall certainly doesn't favour us," noted Dean Thomas, a long-necked, easy-going black boy who was even taller than Ron.
Hank said nothing, like Hermione he'd done well enough on the matchstick to needle exercise that he'd avoided the pile of homework that the rest of the class had been assigned.
Just then, the mail arrived. Hank had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. His own owl hadn't had anything for him yet, but had come to visit every morning, so he was a little surprised that she was carrying a note today.
"Who's sent me a note, Ukpik?" he asked as he accepted the scrap of paper, which prompted the majestic bird to throw him a look that he easily translated as 'well, if you open you'll find out'. Agreeing that she had a point, he tore it open and unfolded it:
Dear Harry,
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have
a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week.
Send us an answer back with
Ukpik.
Hagrid
Harry burrowed in his bag for a moment to find a quill, then scribbled 'Yes, please, see you later' on the back of the note, and sent his owl off again.
09:01 BST.
"Ah, yes…" said Professor Snape softly. "Harry Potter, our new… celebrity."
Hank considered correcting him while Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands, but decided to pick his battles for the moment.
Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making…"
Isn't the other way round? Hank thought. Art is subtle, science is exact…
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even stopper death… if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
This statement was met with mute silence from the entire class, a movement out of the corner of his eye showed Hermione Granger on the edge of her seat, clearly desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Asphodel and wormwood, mused Hank, as Hermione's hand had shot into the air. That sounds familiar, but… "I don't remember any potion with only those ingredients, sir."
Snape's lips curled into a sneer, ignoring Hermione's hand. "Tut, tut… Fame clearly isn't everything."
"Given that wormwood has a number of different applications…" Hank continued, ignoring the Potions Master. "... asphodel is likely the more suggestive ingredient. Folklore around asphodel typically associates it with death and sleep, so I'm guessing some form of analgesic, poison or both."
Snape paused for a moment, "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
A glance to the side while he was considering his answer showed Hermione stretching out her hand as high into the air as it would go without leaving her seat, and a glance to the other side showed Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were shaking with laughter.
"Bezoar, from the Persian word pādzahr meaning 'antidote'," Hank replied promptly. "I don't remember where it comes from but I would imagine the school nurse has one in her kit and it wouldn't surprise me if you do as well."
Snape snorted at that. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
Hank smiled at that moment, while not an expert he'd spent enough time around florists – both the Lances and the Wus – to know the answer to that one. "Very little, Professor. They're both aconites… monkshood typically has indigo-blue petals, whereas wolfsbane's are more commonly white or straw-yellow. There are other varieties."
Professor Snape's impassive expression broke for a split second. "Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death and a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment as the students rushed to obey his instructions.
09:16 BST.
Hank's opinion of the Potions Master didn't improve as the lesson continued. Hank and Ron were paired together and were making decent progress on their potion, when they were distracted by a commotion a couple of tables over.
Snape was in the middle of praising Malfoy's stewed horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon, as Neville and Seamus' cauldron melted into a twisted blob, sending their potion flowing across the stone floor.
Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools, nursing burnt shoes while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"
Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville. "You, Potter… why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's five points from Gryffindor."
Hank was about to open his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron. "Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing, there was something about what Snape had been talking about that was tickling the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite remember what… other that some sort of connection to flowers…
"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George."
"That's not what I'm thinking about," Hank countered. "There's something that's bugging me about his first question. Like there was some sort of undercurrent to it."
"You mean like a hidden message?"
"Exactly," Hank confirmed. "But I can't figure out what."
14:45 BST.
Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door, and when Hank knocked he heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. His big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. "Hang on… back, Fang," he said as he let Hank in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. "Make yerself at home," Hagrid suggested and let go of Fang, who bounded straight at Hank and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.
"Thanks for the invite," Hank said to the oversized man, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke his teeth, but Hank pretended to enjoy them as he told Hagrid all about his first lessons. Fang rested his head on Hank's knee and drooled all over his robes.
Hank was amused to hear Hagrid call Fitch 'that old git'. "An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her… Fitch puts her up to it."
Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron before him, told Harry not to worry about it and confirmed that Snape liked hardly any of the students.
"But he seemed to really hate me."
"Rubbish! Why should he?" said Hagrid, unconvincingly, and quickly changed the subject.
Did Hagrid know something about Snape that he doesn't want to tell me? Hank wondered but decided not to push the issue until he had something more to go on.
Smallville.
September 10, 23:00 CDT.
A sharp crack woke Linda from a particularly pleasant dream, reaching out psychically she clicked on the bedside lamp and regarded the diminutive, pointy-eared being that stood in the middle of the room.
"I have a letter for Linda Lang?" asked the being.
"That's me," confirmed Linda as she tried to rub sleep from her eyes. "Couldn't you have waited to a more decent hour?"
"Neither rain, or snow, nor death of night can keep us from our duty," insisted the diminutive being, dogmatically.
"Fine, whatever," Linda conceded with a sigh. "Hand it over and get out of here."
The being nodded and drew a thick envelope from his satchel and handed it to her, then disappeared again with a snap of his fingers.
Last edited:
Next chapter is the last full-length chapter I've completed, but I've got a short in the works and hopefully I'll be able to get back to the main story soon, RW demands on my time permitting.
Flying Practice
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.
Lochaber
September 11, 09:53 BST.
When Hank saw the notice on the way out to his Monday morning Potions class, he groaned. Sharing Potions class with the Slytherins – thanks to Snape's attitude something of a wash anyway – was bad enough, but to share flying class which he'd been looking forward to…
"What's wrong?" asked Ron, hearing his groan.
Hank pointed to the notice.
Ron scanned the notice and quickly figured out the problem. "Don't worry about it," he assured Hank. "I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
After a moment's thought, Hank agreed. However, on balance he thought that – given Ron's own tall tale of nearly hitting a hang glider on a flight with his second oldest brother's broom – the comment was a bit rich if not exactly unusual for British wizard-borns. The only wizard-born in his year that didn't boast of flying adventures was Neville Longbottom, whose grandmother had – not unfairly in Hank's opinion – ruled him too accident-prone on the ground to risk on a broom.
Smallville.
08:16 CDT.
Linda rode down Main Street until she passed the Talon and turned into an alley and hopped off her bike. Once it was hidden out of sight, she opened the side door nearby and stepped inside.
Eleanor Wu looked up from the vase of orchids that she was worked on. "Good morning, Linda."
"Morning, Mrs Wu."
"My son is helping my husband up at the front."
"I'll go and say hi later, Mrs Wu," Linda promised. "But I was really hoping to check your books for something?"
"Of course," replied the older woman. "Was there something in particular you were after?"
Linda nodded and took out the note that the Courier Elf had delivered the night before. "Hank sent me a note from school, apparently one of his professors said something that seemed like a message but he couldn't remember what."
Mrs Wu nodded, "Does he what it was?"
Linda checked the note. "He's not sure, but he mentions asphodel and wormwood and a couple of other things."
Mrs Wu nodded. "I am not sure what it means either… but I believe Hank is correct."
"He usually is when it comes to languages and communication," Linda agreed as the older woman stepped away from her workbench and moved towards a bookcase on the opposite wall and pulled out a small volume titled The Victorian Language of Flowers.
"Hank has read several of my books in the past, but this is the one he usually comes back to," she explained as she flicked through the pages. "Asphodel… ah, yes… that would make sense… the first is a type of lily…."
"That's his birth mother's first name," Linda noted.
"This is not I suspect a coincidence," Mrs Wu observed. "As it also means 'my regrets follow you to the grave' or 'remembered beyond the tomb'."
"Yeah, that makes sense," Linda agreed. "What about wormwood."
"Regret or bitterness."
"Which seems to reinforce the point."
"Indeed. Does he mention any other flowers?"
"He also mentions monkshood and wolfsbane."
"There are a couple of different plants known as wolfsbane," Mrs Wu observed. "Given that he mentions monkshood, he's probably thinking of the aconite variety by that name… monkshood is sometimes associated with 'chivalry', whereas wolfsbane is associated with misanthropy or dislike."
"Yeah, that tracks," Linda observed. "Thanks, Mrs Wu."
"I am always happy to be of assistance to my son's friends," Mrs Wu reminded her.
"Thanks anyway," Linda said and moved towards the door into the main shop. "I'll see you around."
"Stop by anytime, you are always welcome."
Lochaber,
September 16, 07:45 BST
Despite agreeing with his chubby classmate's grandmother, Hank did spend some time over the next few days trying to reassure Neville as much as he could, but oddly found himself losing more and more sympathy for Hermione – whose fruitless attempts to learn flying from books cumulated in her holding court and boring most of them stupid with tips from Quidditch Through the Ages… a book that he thought would probably was a good read, but wholly unsuited for the task she was using it for… so like everybody else he was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
With Hedwig already back from her trip to the States, Hank wasn't expecting any mail himself, so his attention was caught by a small package being dropped in front of Neville by his grandmother's eagle owl. Neville opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke. "It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things… this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red… oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "You've forgotten something..."
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Hank and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash. "What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," replied Neville, resolutely.
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
15:30 BST.
Hank, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Hank had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left, and a glance over the selection proved that their allegations were not unfair.
Madam Hooch arrived a moment or two later. Her yellow hawk-like eyes flashed, and she barked at them to stand by a broomstick.
Hank glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up'!"'
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Hank's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, can tell when you were afraid, thought Hank. Even I can tell that Neville would rather keep his feet on the ground thank you very much.
Once all of them finally had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.
Hank and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three… two…"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle… twelve feet… twenty feet. Hank saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and…WHAM!
There was a thud and a nasty crack, and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch hurried over to Neville, then bend down to his side, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Hank heard her mutter. "Come on, boy… it's all right, up you get." Then she turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing… Leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'!" With this terrifying ultimatum, she turned back to Neville and put her arm around him. "Come on, dear."
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil as the other Slytherins joined in.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
Malfoy snickered, "Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze… he'd have remembered to fall on his fat arse."
The laughs of Malfoy and his goons drew everyone else's attention and they stopped talking to watch.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Hank quietly.
Malfoy smiled nastily, then hopped onto his borrowed broom. "No. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find…"Then took off and soared around, then through the group. "How about on the roof?"
Malfoy pointed his broom upwards and climbed until he hovered level above the treeline. "What's the matter, Potter… a bit beyond your reach?"
At this point, Hank had had enough and grabbed his broom.
Hermione Granger moved to his side in an instant, her face stern. "No! Madam Hooch told us not to move… you'll get us all into trouble."
Hank momentarily observed that it was a reasonable attempt at asserting authority… but he'd seen better, so he ignored her.
Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him – and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught – this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.
He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned.
"Give it here…" Hank called, "… or I'll knock you off that broom!"
"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.
Hank knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Hank made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady.
A few people standing below were clapping.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Hank called.
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy in that moment, and with a shouted challenge, he hurled the Remembrall into the air, like a baseball, then turned and dived towards the ground.
Hank zoomed after the ball, speeding towards one of the school's towers. Just as he was about to hit the window of Professor McGonagall's office, he caught it and was able to bank around to safety.
The Gryffindors all cheered as Hank landed back on the ground at ease and run towards him. The Slytherins on the other hand remained silent and sullen in the practise area.
"Good job, Hank!" said Dean Thomas.
"That was wicked!" said Ron, slapping him on the back.
But the celebrations were cut short moments later with a shout from the castle.
"HANK LANG!"
Hank's heart sank faster than he'd just flown. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. "Never, in all my time at Hogwarts…!" She was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "… how dare you… might have broken your neck…!"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor…"
"Be quiet, Miss Patil."
"But Malfoy…"
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall. "Potter, follow me, now."
Hank caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up.
Well, that's done it… he thought. I didn't even last two weeks. Well, Smallville Middle isn't as exciting as Hogwarts, but it's not all that bad… he thought. It would be nice to share classes with Tim and the girls again…
They went pp the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall hadn't said a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Hank trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore.
I won't have missed much, Hank continued. And I'm sure Zatanna will pick up where she left off…
Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside. "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
Wood? thought Hank, bewildered. Corporal punishment is banned in British schools… isn't it?
To Hank's relief, But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly seventeen-year-old boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.
"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and as they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Hank. "In here."
Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swept out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys. "Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I've found you a Seeker."
Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. "Are you serious, Professor?"
"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
Not my first time in the air, Hank thought, but merely nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but it didn't seem like he was being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.
"He caught that thing in his hand and turned away from my window with only inches to spare," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.
"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.
"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.
"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Hank and staring at him. "Light, speedy… We'll have to get him a decent broom though, Professor. A Firebolt's a bit much for a beginner, even if he's as good as you say… but a Nimbus Two Thousand and One or a Cleansweep Nine should be fine."
"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule," said Professor McGonagall. "Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..."
She turned towards Hank and peered sternly over her glasses at him. "I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you." Then she suddenly smiled. "Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."
17:30 BST.
"You're joking," replied Ron, so shocked that he actually stopped eating for a moment. "Seeker? But first years never… you must be the youngest player in about…"
"A century," finished Hank, between bites of pie. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."
Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Hank.
"I start training next week," said Hank. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."
Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Hank, and hurried over. "Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too… Beaters."
"I tell you… we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "You must be good, Hank, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."
"Anyway, we've got to go," said George. "Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."
"I bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week," argued Fred. "See you."
Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up:
Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Hank coolly. Little was of course relative, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.
"I'd take you on any time on my own," said Malfoy firmly. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only… no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. "Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Hank looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Hank. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"
"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie.
"You're joking, right?" asked Hank, concerned.
Ron glanced back at him, and catching the look on his face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels… you know, with real wizards."
Hank considered that for a moment and nodded.
"The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage."
Hank snorted at that and raised a splayed hand. "If Malfoy's assuming that… well, he's likely to be in for a Ŝoko!"
Thin lines of electricity cracked between his fingers for a moment until he made a fist and snuffed it out.
"Wow!" said Ron. "I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."
Hank nodded, that did make sense.
"Excuse me," said Hermione from behind them.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron, irritably.
Hermione ignored the redhead and spoke to Hank. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying…"
"Bet you could," Ron muttered.
"… and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."
"And it's really none of your business," said Hank, firmly.
"Good-bye," said Ron.
Hermione – clearly sensing she wasn't going to get anywhere with this line of argument – sighed in frustration and then returned to her own meal.
23:28 BST.
A bit of a mixed day, all in all, Hank thought, as he lay awake listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep – Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing – Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them."
Hank wasn't overly worried about that, he had plenty of practice dodging and a couple of wandless spells that should be able to block anything that Malfoy had…
Other the other hand, he was in two minds about the rest of the exercise… There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Hank felt he was pushing his luck, breaking two school rules in the same day… On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness, this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face… He was still mulling it over when Ron spoke up, breaking his train of thought.
"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."
They pulled on their dressing gowns, picked up their wands, and crept across the room and down the spiral staircase into the Gryffindor Common Room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Hank."
A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink dressing gown and a frown.
"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"
"I almost told your brother, Percy," Hermione snapped. "He's a Head Boy, he'd put a stop to this."
Hank growled under his breath. There was a time for debate and a time for either stopping something or getting out of the way… and Hermione couldn't seem to grasp the distinction. "Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.
Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose. "Don't you care about Gryffindor… do you only care about yourselves? I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."
"Go away," hissed Ron.
"All right," Hermione agreed with resignation. "But I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so…"
But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a night-time visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.
"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.
"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go or we're going to be late."
They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them. "I'm coming with you," she said firmly.
"You are not," insisted Ron in a far quieter tone.
"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me?" said Hermione, still a good deal louder than Hank would have preferred. "If he finds all three of us, I'll tell him the truth… that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."
"You've got some nerve!" said Ron, raising his voice for the first time.
"Shut up, both of you!" said Hank sharply. I just heard something."
It was a sort of snuffling.
"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.
It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer. "Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours… I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."
"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."
"How's your arm?" said Hank.
"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."
"Good," said Hank. "Well… look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later…"
"Don't leave me!" wailed Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."
Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville. "If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and used it on you."
Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Hank hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.
They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Hank expected to run into Filch or Mrs Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.
Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Hank took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.
September 17, 00:05 BST
"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.
Hank was about to nod in agreement when a noise in the next room made them jump. Hank had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak… and it wasn't Malfoy.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Hank waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room. "They're in here somewhere… probably hiding."
"This way!" Hank mouthed to the others, and petrified they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run. But he tripped before he got very far, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armour.
The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.
"RUN!" Hank yelled.
The four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following… they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Hank in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going… they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.
"I think we've lost him," Hank panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.
"I… t-t-told… you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest. "I… told… you."
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," said Ron. "As quickly as possible."
"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Hank. "You realize that… don't you? He was never going to meet you… Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."
Hank thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "Let's go."
It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled, and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.
It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight. "Shut up, Peeves… please… you'll get us thrown out."
Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."
"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."
"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"
Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door - and it was locked.
"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves' shouts.
"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She pulled out her wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"
The lock clicked and the door swung open - they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."
"Say 'please'."
"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.
"All right…" Even through the door and his panic, Hank could sense the reluctance in the caretaker's voice. "Please."
"NOTHING!" exclaimed Peeves. "Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!"
And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
"He thinks this door is locked," Hank whispered. "I think we'll be okay…"
They waited for a few minutes to make sure that Filch wasn't going to come back and then Hank unlocked the door and lead the way out and hurried through the corridors until they got back to the seventh floor.
"Where on earth have you all been?" demanded the Fat Lady, who was now back in her frame.
"Never mind that!" snapped Hank. "Pig snout, pig snout!"
The portrait swung forward and the quartet bundled into the Common Room and collapsed, exhausted, into armchairs and sat in silence until Hermione broke the silence. "I'm off to bed before you get another bright idea that could get us expelled!"
Hank didn't exactly disagree, but opted to say nothing.
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.
Lochaber
September 11, 09:53 BST.
When Hank saw the notice on the way out to his Monday morning Potions class, he groaned. Sharing Potions class with the Slytherins – thanks to Snape's attitude something of a wash anyway – was bad enough, but to share flying class which he'd been looking forward to…
"What's wrong?" asked Ron, hearing his groan.
Hank pointed to the notice.
Ron scanned the notice and quickly figured out the problem. "Don't worry about it," he assured Hank. "I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."
After a moment's thought, Hank agreed. However, on balance he thought that – given Ron's own tall tale of nearly hitting a hang glider on a flight with his second oldest brother's broom – the comment was a bit rich if not exactly unusual for British wizard-borns. The only wizard-born in his year that didn't boast of flying adventures was Neville Longbottom, whose grandmother had – not unfairly in Hank's opinion – ruled him too accident-prone on the ground to risk on a broom.
Smallville.
08:16 CDT.
Linda rode down Main Street until she passed the Talon and turned into an alley and hopped off her bike. Once it was hidden out of sight, she opened the side door nearby and stepped inside.
Eleanor Wu looked up from the vase of orchids that she was worked on. "Good morning, Linda."
"Morning, Mrs Wu."
"My son is helping my husband up at the front."
"I'll go and say hi later, Mrs Wu," Linda promised. "But I was really hoping to check your books for something?"
"Of course," replied the older woman. "Was there something in particular you were after?"
Linda nodded and took out the note that the Courier Elf had delivered the night before. "Hank sent me a note from school, apparently one of his professors said something that seemed like a message but he couldn't remember what."
Mrs Wu nodded, "Does he what it was?"
Linda checked the note. "He's not sure, but he mentions asphodel and wormwood and a couple of other things."
Mrs Wu nodded. "I am not sure what it means either… but I believe Hank is correct."
"He usually is when it comes to languages and communication," Linda agreed as the older woman stepped away from her workbench and moved towards a bookcase on the opposite wall and pulled out a small volume titled The Victorian Language of Flowers.
"Hank has read several of my books in the past, but this is the one he usually comes back to," she explained as she flicked through the pages. "Asphodel… ah, yes… that would make sense… the first is a type of lily…."
"That's his birth mother's first name," Linda noted.
"This is not I suspect a coincidence," Mrs Wu observed. "As it also means 'my regrets follow you to the grave' or 'remembered beyond the tomb'."
"Yeah, that makes sense," Linda agreed. "What about wormwood."
"Regret or bitterness."
"Which seems to reinforce the point."
"Indeed. Does he mention any other flowers?"
"He also mentions monkshood and wolfsbane."
"There are a couple of different plants known as wolfsbane," Mrs Wu observed. "Given that he mentions monkshood, he's probably thinking of the aconite variety by that name… monkshood is sometimes associated with 'chivalry', whereas wolfsbane is associated with misanthropy or dislike."
"Yeah, that tracks," Linda observed. "Thanks, Mrs Wu."
"I am always happy to be of assistance to my son's friends," Mrs Wu reminded her.
"Thanks anyway," Linda said and moved towards the door into the main shop. "I'll see you around."
"Stop by anytime, you are always welcome."
Lochaber,
September 16, 07:45 BST
Despite agreeing with his chubby classmate's grandmother, Hank did spend some time over the next few days trying to reassure Neville as much as he could, but oddly found himself losing more and more sympathy for Hermione – whose fruitless attempts to learn flying from books cumulated in her holding court and boring most of them stupid with tips from Quidditch Through the Ages… a book that he thought would probably was a good read, but wholly unsuited for the task she was using it for… so like everybody else he was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
With Hedwig already back from her trip to the States, Hank wasn't expecting any mail himself, so his attention was caught by a small package being dropped in front of Neville by his grandmother's eagle owl. Neville opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke. "It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things… this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red… oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "You've forgotten something..."
Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Hank and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash. "What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," replied Neville, resolutely.
Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
15:30 BST.
Hank, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Hank had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left, and a glance over the selection proved that their allegations were not unfair.
Madam Hooch arrived a moment or two later. Her yellow hawk-like eyes flashed, and she barked at them to stand by a broomstick.
Hank glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up'!"'
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Hank's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, can tell when you were afraid, thought Hank. Even I can tell that Neville would rather keep his feet on the ground thank you very much.
Once all of them finally had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.
Hank and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three… two…"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle… twelve feet… twenty feet. Hank saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and…WHAM!
There was a thud and a nasty crack, and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch hurried over to Neville, then bend down to his side, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Hank heard her mutter. "Come on, boy… it's all right, up you get." Then she turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing… Leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'!" With this terrifying ultimatum, she turned back to Neville and put her arm around him. "Come on, dear."
Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil as the other Slytherins joined in.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati."
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
Malfoy snickered, "Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze… he'd have remembered to fall on his fat arse."
The laughs of Malfoy and his goons drew everyone else's attention and they stopped talking to watch.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Hank quietly.
Malfoy smiled nastily, then hopped onto his borrowed broom. "No. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find…"Then took off and soared around, then through the group. "How about on the roof?"
Malfoy pointed his broom upwards and climbed until he hovered level above the treeline. "What's the matter, Potter… a bit beyond your reach?"
At this point, Hank had had enough and grabbed his broom.
Hermione Granger moved to his side in an instant, her face stern. "No! Madam Hooch told us not to move… you'll get us all into trouble."
Hank momentarily observed that it was a reasonable attempt at asserting authority… but he'd seen better, so he ignored her.
Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him – and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught – this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.
He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned.
"Give it here…" Hank called, "… or I'll knock you off that broom!"
"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.
Hank knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Hank made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady.
A few people standing below were clapping.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Hank called.
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy in that moment, and with a shouted challenge, he hurled the Remembrall into the air, like a baseball, then turned and dived towards the ground.
Hank zoomed after the ball, speeding towards one of the school's towers. Just as he was about to hit the window of Professor McGonagall's office, he caught it and was able to bank around to safety.
The Gryffindors all cheered as Hank landed back on the ground at ease and run towards him. The Slytherins on the other hand remained silent and sullen in the practise area.
"Good job, Hank!" said Dean Thomas.
"That was wicked!" said Ron, slapping him on the back.
But the celebrations were cut short moments later with a shout from the castle.
"HANK LANG!"
Hank's heart sank faster than he'd just flown. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. "Never, in all my time at Hogwarts…!" She was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "… how dare you… might have broken your neck…!"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor…"
"Be quiet, Miss Patil."
"But Malfoy…"
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall. "Potter, follow me, now."
Hank caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up.
Well, that's done it… he thought. I didn't even last two weeks. Well, Smallville Middle isn't as exciting as Hogwarts, but it's not all that bad… he thought. It would be nice to share classes with Tim and the girls again…
They went pp the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall hadn't said a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Hank trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore.
I won't have missed much, Hank continued. And I'm sure Zatanna will pick up where she left off…
Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside. "Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
Wood? thought Hank, bewildered. Corporal punishment is banned in British schools… isn't it?
To Hank's relief, But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly seventeen-year-old boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.
"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and as they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Hank. "In here."
Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swept out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys. "Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I've found you a Seeker."
Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. "Are you serious, Professor?"
"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
Not my first time in the air, Hank thought, but merely nodded silently. He didn't have a clue what was going on, but it didn't seem like he was being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.
"He caught that thing in his hand and turned away from my window with only inches to spare," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.
"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.
"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.
"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Hank and staring at him. "Light, speedy… We'll have to get him a decent broom though, Professor. A Firebolt's a bit much for a beginner, even if he's as good as you say… but a Nimbus Two Thousand and One or a Cleansweep Nine should be fine."
"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule," said Professor McGonagall. "Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..."
She turned towards Hank and peered sternly over her glasses at him. "I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you." Then she suddenly smiled. "Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."
17:30 BST.
"You're joking," replied Ron, so shocked that he actually stopped eating for a moment. "Seeker? But first years never… you must be the youngest player in about…"
"A century," finished Hank, between bites of pie. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me."
Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Hank.
"I start training next week," said Hank. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."
Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Hank, and hurried over. "Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too… Beaters."
"I tell you… we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "You must be good, Hank, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."
"Anyway, we've got to go," said George. "Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."
"I bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week," argued Fred. "See you."
Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up:
Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Hank coolly. Little was of course relative, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.
"I'd take you on any time on my own," said Malfoy firmly. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only… no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. "Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Hank looked at each other. "What is a wizard's duel?" said Hank. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"
"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie.
"You're joking, right?" asked Hank, concerned.
Ron glanced back at him, and catching the look on his face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels… you know, with real wizards."
Hank considered that for a moment and nodded.
"The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage."
Hank snorted at that and raised a splayed hand. "If Malfoy's assuming that… well, he's likely to be in for a Ŝoko!"
Thin lines of electricity cracked between his fingers for a moment until he made a fist and snuffed it out.
"Wow!" said Ron. "I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."
Hank nodded, that did make sense.
"Excuse me," said Hermione from behind them.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron, irritably.
Hermione ignored the redhead and spoke to Hank. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying…"
"Bet you could," Ron muttered.
"… and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."
"And it's really none of your business," said Hank, firmly.
"Good-bye," said Ron.
Hermione – clearly sensing she wasn't going to get anywhere with this line of argument – sighed in frustration and then returned to her own meal.
23:28 BST.
A bit of a mixed day, all in all, Hank thought, as he lay awake listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep – Neville wasn't back from the hospital wing – Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them."
Hank wasn't overly worried about that, he had plenty of practice dodging and a couple of wandless spells that should be able to block anything that Malfoy had…
Other the other hand, he was in two minds about the rest of the exercise… There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Hank felt he was pushing his luck, breaking two school rules in the same day… On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness, this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face… He was still mulling it over when Ron spoke up, breaking his train of thought.
"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at last, "we'd better go."
They pulled on their dressing gowns, picked up their wands, and crept across the room and down the spiral staircase into the Gryffindor Common Room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Hank."
A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink dressing gown and a frown.
"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"
"I almost told your brother, Percy," Hermione snapped. "He's a Head Boy, he'd put a stop to this."
Hank growled under his breath. There was a time for debate and a time for either stopping something or getting out of the way… and Hermione couldn't seem to grasp the distinction. "Come on," he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.
Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose. "Don't you care about Gryffindor… do you only care about yourselves? I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."
"Go away," hissed Ron.
"All right," Hermione agreed with resignation. "But I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so…"
But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a night-time visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor Tower.
"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.
"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go or we're going to be late."
They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them. "I'm coming with you," she said firmly.
"You are not," insisted Ron in a far quieter tone.
"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me?" said Hermione, still a good deal louder than Hank would have preferred. "If he finds all three of us, I'll tell him the truth… that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."
"You've got some nerve!" said Ron, raising his voice for the first time.
"Shut up, both of you!" said Hank sharply. I just heard something."
It was a sort of snuffling.
"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.
It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer. "Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours… I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."
"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."
"How's your arm?" said Hank.
"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."
"Good," said Hank. "Well… look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later…"
"Don't leave me!" wailed Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."
Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville. "If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and used it on you."
Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Hank hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.
They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Hank expected to run into Filch or Mrs Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.
Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Hank took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.
September 17, 00:05 BST
"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.
Hank was about to nod in agreement when a noise in the next room made them jump. Hank had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak… and it wasn't Malfoy.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Hank waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room. "They're in here somewhere… probably hiding."
"This way!" Hank mouthed to the others, and petrified they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armour. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run. But he tripped before he got very far, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armour.
The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.
"RUN!" Hank yelled.
The four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following… they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Hank in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going… they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.
"I think we've lost him," Hank panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.
"I… t-t-told… you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest. "I… told… you."
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," said Ron. "As quickly as possible."
"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Hank. "You realize that… don't you? He was never going to meet you… Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."
Hank thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "Let's go."
It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled, and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.
It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight. "Shut up, Peeves… please… you'll get us thrown out."
Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."
"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."
"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"
Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door - and it was locked.
"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!" They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves' shouts.
"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She pulled out her wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"
The lock clicked and the door swung open - they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."
"Say 'please'."
"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.
"All right…" Even through the door and his panic, Hank could sense the reluctance in the caretaker's voice. "Please."
"NOTHING!" exclaimed Peeves. "Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!"
And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
"He thinks this door is locked," Hank whispered. "I think we'll be okay…"
They waited for a few minutes to make sure that Filch wasn't going to come back and then Hank unlocked the door and lead the way out and hurried through the corridors until they got back to the seventh floor.
"Where on earth have you all been?" demanded the Fat Lady, who was now back in her frame.
"Never mind that!" snapped Hank. "Pig snout, pig snout!"
The portrait swung forward and the quartet bundled into the Common Room and collapsed, exhausted, into armchairs and sat in silence until Hermione broke the silence. "I'm off to bed before you get another bright idea that could get us expelled!"
Hank didn't exactly disagree, but opted to say nothing.
Interludes: Anissa Pierce
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: There are two 'timeline mistakes' in this chapter, these are intentional and part of this AU.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
Metropolis.
September 23, 14:46 EDT.
Anissa was still frozen in a red haze as she broke through the roof of the sewer, but the shock of hitting the water brought her back to herself. Anissa took a deep breath as sank below the surface, then coughed, panicking a little as she swallowed a mouthful of foul-tasting, tepid water. Think, girl, she told herself. Are you face down or face up…? After struggling for a moment, getting dizzier and dizzier from lack of air, she reached down with an outstretched foot and was able to touch a concrete surface. Okay, probably face down… Marshalling her last reserves of energy, she swept up her arms down and toed off at the same time.
Seconds later, she broke the surface of the water, coughed hard to clear her lungs and then took a deep, revitalizing breath as she trying to get her head above water as she was drawn away from her landing site by the sewer's current. "Help… Help!"
Her cry echoed around the tunnel, eventually fading into nothing.
Okay, what should I do? Anissa thought, spinning in place as she tried to trend water while the current carried her along the tunnel. I can't stay here forever… I can hold my own while I'm in this passage, but I end up in Hob's River or worse yet the Bay itself I could be serious trouble.
But she didn't have long to worry as a stocky, male figure in a black-and-blue leotard with a red-and-gold shield on his chest and a blue light flickering over him dropped done into the tunnel, lighting it in flickering, blue light as he flew towards her and whisked her out of the tepid water, raising her into a bridal carry. "Relax, I've got you, Anissa."
"Conner!" she exclaimed. "How did you…?!"
"The Watchtower got an alert as soon as the call went out," Conner told her as he banked in mid-air and began to fly back towards the opening in the ceiling that she had fallen through. "I was over at Steelworks using the fabricators and beat everyone else here."
"Everyone else?"
"Steel and one of the Green Lanterns weren't far behind me last I heard," Conner replied as he began to ascend up the opening. "I'm also expecting Atom, Bumblebee and Firestorm to help the MFD with their investigation, and at least one of Aquamen were going to patrol the waterways in case you were further along than I thought."
"Oh," said Anissa, a little surprised at the response.
"You're one of us, Anissa," Conner told her comfortingly as they reached the top of opening and rose into the ruin of the girls' changing room.
Anissa stared around in horror at the wreckage. "How? Why?" she stammered. "Is everyone else all right?"
"As far as I know," Conner assured her in the same warm, even tone, then turned to a middle-aged man in a fire captain's uniform. "Hi, Fred."
"Hi, Superman," replied the man. "You found her then?"
Conner nodded, then headed over to a red-headed young woman. "She looks okay to me, Melody," he reported. "But can you take her down to your ambulance and check her over?"
"Of course, Superman."
"Her father's out-of-town... but he's probably on his way back now, and if her mother's not trying to force her way through the cordon, then I don't know her as well as I do."
"Thanks for the heads up," said Melody as Conner laid Anissa down on her stretcher and she started to buckle her in. She was in the middle of her initial checks when a buzzing sound starting coming towards her, then a tiny figure in a black leotard zipped past them, almost immediately transforming into a familiar masked woman.
"Is everyone all right?" Karen asked, smiling briefly as she spotted Anissa.
Conner nodded. "Things aren't as bad as initial reports suggested."
"Yes and no, Superman," replied Fred. "The damage is pretty localized for now. My teams are saying that a lot of this structure was already somewhat unstable, so when something put extra pressure on it, it didn't hold together well enough to generate a big collapse zone… but I'm not sure how long that will hold."
Conner frowned. "Superman to Firestorm and Green Lantern, what's your ETA?" Conner asked, then grunted at the reply and turned to Fred. "They'll be here in two minutes forty seconds."
Fred turned to his medic. "Melody, is Anissa safe to transport?"
"Absolutely, as far as I can she's fine, Cap," Melody replied. "She might have swallowed some water though, so…"
"Get her out of here and onto the rig," Fred ordered.
"On it, Cap,"
Conner spoke up as she was moving away. "Bumblebee, go with her and do your checks in the ambulance."
Karen nodded and moved to follow Melody and Anissa towards the lift at the end of the corridor.
16:16 EDT.
"Recognized Miss Martian B-Zero-Five; Black Lightning Two-Three…" declared the Computer as the two heroes stepped out of the Zeta Tube into the Zeta Room of the Metropolis branch of STAR Labs.
Jefferson immediately noticed Conner and strode over to him. "Where is my daughter? Is she okay?"
"She wasn't injured," Conner assured the older man. "No one was. Though according to the MFD, the school might have some issues… Captain Farrell and his team found a lot of repairs and maintenance that hadn't been done."
"That doesn't surprise me," Jefferson admitted. "Garfield High's had serious budget issues since before my time."
"Anissa's resting down in Medical at the moment," Conner continued. "Her mother and Dr Klyburn are with her. Karen and Dr Kline are going over some more tests at the moment, trying to figure out how the accident happened."
"Superman, please report to the Genetics Labs… Superman, please report to the Genetics Lab," said an elderly male voice.
"Dr Klein must have finished his analysis," Conner noted.
"I'm coming with you," Jefferson demanded.
Conner shrugged and turned towards the exit. M'gann – dressed in her typical 'Megan Morse, Student Counsellor' outfit – moved to slip a hand into his as they left the Zeta Room, with Jefferson bringing up the rear.
A minute later, they entered the Genetics Lab, where Karen and Dr Klein were waiting.
"Well, what happened?" Jefferson demanded.
The two scientists exchanged looks. After a moment, Karen stepped forward. "First of all, Anissa is fine, the medic who treated her on the scene though she might have swallowed some water, but her lungs and blood tests are clear. She's just a bit tired… which isn't unusual after a traumatic first activation."
"She's a meta?"
"We just confirmed it."
"Do you know what powers she has?" Jefferson asked. "I don't think my powers would have done that?"
"Not in the same way, certainly," Dr Klein agreed. "No, for reasons that are still unclear, your daughter's are quite different from yours."
"She seems to be able to increase her density," Karen added. "Given what happened today, I think we can assume that she gains at least limited invulnerability and possibly some enhanced strength in the bargain."
"Did you say able to?" M'gann asked, speaking for the first time since she arrived. "It's not 'always on'?"
"No, it isn't," Karen confirmed. "In fact by the time Conner got her back to the surface, she was probably back to normal."
"I didn't notice a difference," Conner admitted. "Can she activate it?"
"Not yet," Karen admitted. "She'll need to be trained."
Conner and M'gann shared a glance. "We can handle that," they declared, then turned to Jefferson. "As long as it's okay with you?"
"I don't want her going into the field," he replied.
"Not until she's trained," Conner agreed.
"I don't want her in field at all," Jefferson reiterated.
Conner was about to retort that he might not have a choice, but M'gann cut him off. "Let's revisit that later," she said in a placating tone. "We all agree that she needs training first… and that could take a while. She might not even want to become a hero."
Jefferson's expression indicated that he didn't put much faith in that idea, but didn't press the point.
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: There are two 'timeline mistakes' in this chapter, these are intentional and part of this AU.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
Metropolis.
September 23, 14:46 EDT.
Anissa was still frozen in a red haze as she broke through the roof of the sewer, but the shock of hitting the water brought her back to herself. Anissa took a deep breath as sank below the surface, then coughed, panicking a little as she swallowed a mouthful of foul-tasting, tepid water. Think, girl, she told herself. Are you face down or face up…? After struggling for a moment, getting dizzier and dizzier from lack of air, she reached down with an outstretched foot and was able to touch a concrete surface. Okay, probably face down… Marshalling her last reserves of energy, she swept up her arms down and toed off at the same time.
Seconds later, she broke the surface of the water, coughed hard to clear her lungs and then took a deep, revitalizing breath as she trying to get her head above water as she was drawn away from her landing site by the sewer's current. "Help… Help!"
Her cry echoed around the tunnel, eventually fading into nothing.
Okay, what should I do? Anissa thought, spinning in place as she tried to trend water while the current carried her along the tunnel. I can't stay here forever… I can hold my own while I'm in this passage, but I end up in Hob's River or worse yet the Bay itself I could be serious trouble.
But she didn't have long to worry as a stocky, male figure in a black-and-blue leotard with a red-and-gold shield on his chest and a blue light flickering over him dropped done into the tunnel, lighting it in flickering, blue light as he flew towards her and whisked her out of the tepid water, raising her into a bridal carry. "Relax, I've got you, Anissa."
"Conner!" she exclaimed. "How did you…?!"
"The Watchtower got an alert as soon as the call went out," Conner told her as he banked in mid-air and began to fly back towards the opening in the ceiling that she had fallen through. "I was over at Steelworks using the fabricators and beat everyone else here."
"Everyone else?"
"Steel and one of the Green Lanterns weren't far behind me last I heard," Conner replied as he began to ascend up the opening. "I'm also expecting Atom, Bumblebee and Firestorm to help the MFD with their investigation, and at least one of Aquamen were going to patrol the waterways in case you were further along than I thought."
"Oh," said Anissa, a little surprised at the response.
"You're one of us, Anissa," Conner told her comfortingly as they reached the top of opening and rose into the ruin of the girls' changing room.
Anissa stared around in horror at the wreckage. "How? Why?" she stammered. "Is everyone else all right?"
"As far as I know," Conner assured her in the same warm, even tone, then turned to a middle-aged man in a fire captain's uniform. "Hi, Fred."
"Hi, Superman," replied the man. "You found her then?"
Conner nodded, then headed over to a red-headed young woman. "She looks okay to me, Melody," he reported. "But can you take her down to your ambulance and check her over?"
"Of course, Superman."
"Her father's out-of-town... but he's probably on his way back now, and if her mother's not trying to force her way through the cordon, then I don't know her as well as I do."
"Thanks for the heads up," said Melody as Conner laid Anissa down on her stretcher and she started to buckle her in. She was in the middle of her initial checks when a buzzing sound starting coming towards her, then a tiny figure in a black leotard zipped past them, almost immediately transforming into a familiar masked woman.
"Is everyone all right?" Karen asked, smiling briefly as she spotted Anissa.
Conner nodded. "Things aren't as bad as initial reports suggested."
"Yes and no, Superman," replied Fred. "The damage is pretty localized for now. My teams are saying that a lot of this structure was already somewhat unstable, so when something put extra pressure on it, it didn't hold together well enough to generate a big collapse zone… but I'm not sure how long that will hold."
Conner frowned. "Superman to Firestorm and Green Lantern, what's your ETA?" Conner asked, then grunted at the reply and turned to Fred. "They'll be here in two minutes forty seconds."
Fred turned to his medic. "Melody, is Anissa safe to transport?"
"Absolutely, as far as I can she's fine, Cap," Melody replied. "She might have swallowed some water though, so…"
"Get her out of here and onto the rig," Fred ordered.
"On it, Cap,"
Conner spoke up as she was moving away. "Bumblebee, go with her and do your checks in the ambulance."
Karen nodded and moved to follow Melody and Anissa towards the lift at the end of the corridor.
16:16 EDT.
"Recognized Miss Martian B-Zero-Five; Black Lightning Two-Three…" declared the Computer as the two heroes stepped out of the Zeta Tube into the Zeta Room of the Metropolis branch of STAR Labs.
Jefferson immediately noticed Conner and strode over to him. "Where is my daughter? Is she okay?"
"She wasn't injured," Conner assured the older man. "No one was. Though according to the MFD, the school might have some issues… Captain Farrell and his team found a lot of repairs and maintenance that hadn't been done."
"That doesn't surprise me," Jefferson admitted. "Garfield High's had serious budget issues since before my time."
"Anissa's resting down in Medical at the moment," Conner continued. "Her mother and Dr Klyburn are with her. Karen and Dr Kline are going over some more tests at the moment, trying to figure out how the accident happened."
"Superman, please report to the Genetics Labs… Superman, please report to the Genetics Lab," said an elderly male voice.
"Dr Klein must have finished his analysis," Conner noted.
"I'm coming with you," Jefferson demanded.
Conner shrugged and turned towards the exit. M'gann – dressed in her typical 'Megan Morse, Student Counsellor' outfit – moved to slip a hand into his as they left the Zeta Room, with Jefferson bringing up the rear.
A minute later, they entered the Genetics Lab, where Karen and Dr Klein were waiting.
"Well, what happened?" Jefferson demanded.
The two scientists exchanged looks. After a moment, Karen stepped forward. "First of all, Anissa is fine, the medic who treated her on the scene though she might have swallowed some water, but her lungs and blood tests are clear. She's just a bit tired… which isn't unusual after a traumatic first activation."
"She's a meta?"
"We just confirmed it."
"Do you know what powers she has?" Jefferson asked. "I don't think my powers would have done that?"
"Not in the same way, certainly," Dr Klein agreed. "No, for reasons that are still unclear, your daughter's are quite different from yours."
"She seems to be able to increase her density," Karen added. "Given what happened today, I think we can assume that she gains at least limited invulnerability and possibly some enhanced strength in the bargain."
"Did you say able to?" M'gann asked, speaking for the first time since she arrived. "It's not 'always on'?"
"No, it isn't," Karen confirmed. "In fact by the time Conner got her back to the surface, she was probably back to normal."
"I didn't notice a difference," Conner admitted. "Can she activate it?"
"Not yet," Karen admitted. "She'll need to be trained."
Conner and M'gann shared a glance. "We can handle that," they declared, then turned to Jefferson. "As long as it's okay with you?"
"I don't want her going into the field," he replied.
"Not until she's trained," Conner agreed.
"I don't want her in field at all," Jefferson reiterated.
Conner was about to retort that he might not have a choice, but M'gann cut him off. "Let's revisit that later," she said in a placating tone. "We all agree that she needs training first… and that could take a while. She might not even want to become a hero."
Jefferson's expression indicated that he didn't put much faith in that idea, but didn't press the point.
Bumps in the Road
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.
San Francisco.
September 17, 00:16 PDT.
Zatanna yawned and had started to pack up her plans for new tricks that were strewn across her dining table, when she interrupted by an unfamiliar being – a House Elf, or rather a Courier Elf with the Unites States Magical Post Service – popping into her living room. "Can I help you?"
"I have a message for Zatanna Zatara?" asked the diminutive being.
"That's me," Zatanna confirmed, and reached out a hand to accept the missive, which the elf swiftly produced and then promptly disappeared again with another loud pop.
Zatanna unrolled the parchment and began to read it:
Dear Miss Zatara,
After an astonishing showing at his initial flying class, I have offered Mister Lang a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as their new Seeker.
For safety and competitive reasons, it would be desirable for him to have his own broomstick, so I have obtained a waiver on the broomstick restrictions from the Headmaster (a copy of which is enclosed for your reference) and would appreciate if you would be willing to provide it prior to his first practice with his Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch at seven pm on the twenty-fourth of September.
Mister Wood recommends that you purchase a reasonable new model Nimbus or Cleansweep, but that is obviously up to you.
Yours,
Minerva McGonagall.
Head of Gryffindor.
"Good for you, Hank," said Zatanna, rolling up the parchment again, and adding it to her papers, before putting them away and heading to bed.
Lochaber,
September 23, 09:05 BST.
Unlike many of the professors who didn't appear to care, Flitwick preferred his students to rotate around their desk assignments during his classes. Hank glanced around the room, and after noting that Ron and Neville had already paired up, decided to do something different today and work with Kellah Moon this time. The black girl – one of the more elusive of his year mates – gave him a shy smile and a quiet 'hello' in response as he sat down.
"Every witch and wizard carry a wand in their everyday lives," said Professor Flitwick from the stack of books behind his desk. "So, one of our people's most rudimentary skills is producing light from our wands."
The diminutive wizard drew his wand – a pale-coloured wand with a rather unique four-pointed star cross-section rather than the usual round one – and demonstrated two different wand movements, one for making light and one for extinguishing it. "Does anyone have any questions?" he asked and waited a moment or two for any responses which didn't come. "Well, off you go then."
"Do you want to go first?" Hank asked his seatmate, who shrugged. "I'll go first then." He drew his holly wand and raised it to chest height and whirled it in a loop. "Lumos!"
Nothing happened.
Hank frowned, wondering what he was doing wrong.
"Didn't Professor Flitwick emphasise the first part?" offered Kellah, shyly. "More loo-mos than luh-mos…"
Hank thought about it for a moment and then nodded, "That would make sense… after all 'lumen', the Latin word for 'The Light', is pronounced that way." He tried again, following Kellah's suggestion which caused a dim bead of light to ignite at the end of his wand, that went out by itself a few seconds later.
"Well, that… worked," he said, not entirely impressed with his own efforts. "Your turn?"
Kellah looked reluctant, but eventually nodded and drew her own wand, a long, sturdy-looking creation with an ivy pattern wrapped around the handle. "Lumos!"
Immediately, her wand flared much brighter than his had… and stayed lit.
"Congratulations," Hank said warmly. "Now try and put it out."
The wave-like motion of the Wand-Extinguishing Charm was a little more complicated than its counterpart, and it took Kellah two attempts to get it to work.
In the end, it took Hank four attempts to light his wand, and ten to get it to go out. By the end of the lesson most of the class – with the exception of the pairing of Ron and Neville – had managed to get it down.
12:15 BST.
Hank turned to Ron just as the bell went for lunch. "Don't wait for me," he said. "I want to ask McGonagall something."
"I can wait…"
Hank shook his head, "Depending on what she says I might be a while. I'll see you at lunch."
"Okay," agreed Ron, not taking much convincing to prioritise sating his appetite.
Once the rest of the class had cleared out, Hank walked up to the professor's desk. "Can I have a moment, Professor?"
"Only one, Mr Lang," conceded Professor McGonagall after a moment's thought.
"I'll be quick," Hank promised. "The first thing I wanted to ask is if there are rules about starting up new clubs? I asked Angelina, but she wasn't sure."
"It is generally allowed," McGonagall replied. "Restrictions vary depending on the nature of the club."
"It would be a languages club, Professor," Hank told her, easily anticipating the professor's first question.
"An interesting choice, Mr Lang," noted McGonagall. "Any particular reason why?"
"Practice, Professor."
"Practice?"
Hank nodded. "I'm fluent in sixteen languages and have a working knowledge of… well I'm not exactly sure how many more…"
"You are proficient in sixteen languages?" asked McGonagall, incredulously.
"I am," Hank confirmed. "By which I mean that I can speak that many languages without a native or other fluent speaker to work off. The best way to improve that count is to use as many as possible, as often as possible."
The transfiguration professor nodded. She wasn't a linguist herself, but the concept made sense. "I have no issue in principle. I suggest you liaise with Professor Babbling regarding any further details. While her languages skills are mainly focused on the written – rather than the spoken – word, I believe that she does have some ability in the latter and so should be able to point you to appropriate resources."
"I'll do that, Professor."
"Was there anything else?"
Hank paused, "This one's more difficult… I'm not sure if it's my place…" He trailed off, but then frowned and appeared to come to a decision. "It's about Hermione Granger."
"What about her?" asked the professor, a slight edge to her voice.
"She's…" Hank broke off again. "I've had dealings with a few smart people in my time… geniuses even. A professor I know has worked with a muggle scientist dubbed the 'World's Smartest Woman' in the past…"
"Where is she compared to the men?" asked the professor curiously before she could stop herself.
"Third," Hank replied without breaking his train of thought. "Which means I understand Hermione a little… but a lot of the others don't."
"Anyone in particular?" asked the professor, the edge returning to her voice.
"Well, I can't be sure about the other houses, but as far as the Gryffindors go…" said Hank, trailing off, but continued had her nod. "I think Ron's going to lash back eventually… I get the feeling that she intimidates Neville, Sophie and Kellah…. She doesn't mean to… she wants to help but she's… impatient."
"I have noticed that," Professor McGonagall admitted with a nod. "However, I have been busy with more urgent matters, so I haven't talked to her yet."
"Okay," Hank conceded. "But I'm worried that if she doesn't tone it down, something's going to blow up, probably between her and Ron."
Professor McGonagall sighed. "That's possible, it's happened before. Can you ask Miss Johnson to talk to her?"
"I have," Hank told her. "Both of us tried, but she's a bit bent out of shape about me getting onto the Quidditch team after not following the rules during our flying lesson and it didn't stick. I've also talked to Ron, and he's promised to try not to do anything to aggravate her on purpose, but…"
McGonagall sighed. "Very well, Mr Lang. I will try and find time to talk with her. I don't want any incidents."
"Neither do I," Hank agreed. "To be fair, Ron's also part of the problem… I'll try and get him on-side as well."
"That should help," McGonagall agreed. "But leave it with me."
"Will do," Hank said, and stood up. "I'll leave you to it. Good afternoon, Professor."
"Good afternoon, Mr Lang."
September 24, 08:05 BST.
As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Hank was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when Ukpik swooped down and dropped a letter on top of the parcel, before flying off again chasing the screech owls out of the hall.
Hank ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:
Hank,
Congratulations on making it onto your school team!
The package contains your new broomstick so don't open it at the table as the other First Years will make a fuss. Please meet Captain Wood on the Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock on the twenty-fourth for your first practice.
Looking forward to seeing your first Quidditch match,
Zee.
Hank had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.
"I wonder what she got you?" Ron asked, a mix of curiosity and envy in his voice, as they quickly headed out of the hall, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class.
But halfway across the entrance hall they were blocked by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Hank and felt it. "That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Hank with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter… first years aren't allowed them."
"I bet that burns you up, doesn't it?" commented Ron, then glanced at Hank with a grin. "What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty? Comets look flashy, but I bet Hank's got a better one now."
"What would you know about it, Weasley?" Malfoy snapped back. "You couldn't afford half the handle of a decent broomstick. I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."
Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow. "Not arguing, I hope, boys?"
"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy, quickly.
"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Hank. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Mr Lang. And what model is it?"
"I'm not sure, we haven't open it up yet," Hank replied, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it."
Professor Flitwick signalled that they could go, motioning the two Slytherin enforcers to make way as Hank and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.
"Well, it's true," Hank chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team..."
"So, I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Hank's hand.
"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Hank.
"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."
Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.
18:25 BST.
"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Hank's bedspread. "A Starsweeper XVI… I've never even seen one of those for real."
"Zee probably picked up in San Francisco or maybe New York," Hank opined. "So, it's probably an American brand."
"It is," Ron confirmed. "Starsweeper isn't as popular because they specialise… the XVI is particularly good for Seekers, it's not as controllable at low speed as a Cleansweep or a Nimbus but its acceleration and high-speed performance is even better than the Firebolt!"
After admiring the broom for a few minutes, Hank left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Hank of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.
Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Hank mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling… he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Starsweeper turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch, particularly a high-speed.
"Hey, Lang, come down!" said a voice from below him.
Hank looked down and saw that Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate and a broomstick of his own. Hank swooped down and landed next to him.
"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."
He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.
"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play."
Hank nodded, "Ron's told me a bit about it. I know that the twins are our Beaters… who protect from the Bludgers, right?"
Wood nodded. "They're like a couple of Human Bludgers themselves…"
Hank considered Wood for a moment, "I'm guessing you play Keeper… who stops the Chasers from scoring?"
Wood nodded again. "Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell are our Chasers."
"And I'm the Seeker… it's my job to catch the Golden Snitch… which is worth a hundred and fifty points and wins the game."
Wood made a face, "Mostly. Catching the Snitch doesn't always win the game, it depends on the score."
"But it usually does?"
"Aye," replied Wood. "Particularly at Hogwarts…" He paused to consider their surroundings, then bent towards the trunk. "But that's enough talking for one night… let's see what you can do."
Wood pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Hank were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Hank to catch.
Hank didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After about three-quarters of an hour, night had really fallen, and they couldn't carry on.
"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."
September 30, 09:00 BST.
"One of a wizard's most rudimentary skills is levitation… the ability to make objects fly," squeaked Professor Flitwick from his usual perch atop a pile of books. "Do you all have your feathers?"
Hank, like most of the class merely nodded, but Hermione Granger – who was sharing a table with Ron ––showed her usual dedication to outdoing her peers by raising hers in response instead. "Good. Now, uh, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practicing, hmm? The swish and flick! And remember… saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget the wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
Hank and the rest of the class began to enunciate and do the movements on their feathers.
"Wingardium Levio-saaa!" chanted Kellah, from her seat beside Neville Longbottom. The words seemed right to Hank, but her feather wasn't impressed.
"Wingardrium Leviosar!" demanded Ron, and waves his wand really fast several times.
"Stop, stop, stop. You're going to take someone's eye out!" Hermione snapped at Ron. "And you're saying it wrong… it's Wing-gar-di-um Levi-o-sa, not Leviosar… make the 'gar' nice and long."
"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.
Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her robe, swished and flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.
"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone, see here! Miss Granger's done it!"
Ron put his head on his books dejectedly.
Back at his and Hank's table, Seamus began swishing at his feather. "Wingard Levosa."
At first it seemed like nothing was going to happen… then there was an almighty explosion and smoke engulfed Hank's table for a moment.
"Whooaaa!" Flitwick gasped.
When the smoke cleared Hank could see that Seamus wasn't badly hurt… just a little sooty and singed. But his feather had been reduced to smouldering ashes. Hank could barely hold back his amusement but managed to restrict himself to a witty retort. "I think we're going to need another feather over here, Professor."
10:30 BST
Ron managed to hold his tongue for the rest of the lesson, but his bad mood over came him at the end of the class. "It's Levioooosa, not Leviosaaaar…" he said shrilly, mimicking Hermione Granger. "It's no wonder no one can stand her…" he said to Hank as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor outside. "… she's a nightmare, honestly."
Someone knocked into Hank as they hurried past him.
It was Hermione Granger. She was hugging her books and sniffling in tears.
Hank caught a glimpse of her face and was startled to see that she was in tears, clearly upset. "I think she heard you."
"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."
Sometimes I hate being right, Hank thought to himself, but decided not to say anything to the red-head.
10:45 BST.
"Does anyone know where Miss Granger is?" asked Professor McGonagall, a hint of surprise and even concern in her voice.
Parvati raised her hand.
"Miss Patil?"
"She was upset about something after Charms," replied the Hindi girl. "I think she went to the bathroom."
"I see," said the professor, her tone a mix of irritation and sympathy. "Well, we'll give her a few minutes to join us. Everyone take out your wands and continue practicing the mice-to-snuffbox spell."
13:00 BST.
Hank didn't see Hermione again until she was led to the Gryffindor table by Angelina Johnson, while he was already tucking into his lunch.
"Remember what I said, Hermione," Angelina told her as the younger girl slipped into an open spot on the benches with the rest of the first years.
"I try, Angelina," Hermione assured the older girl, then turned to Hank and Ron when Angelina departed to sit with her own friends. "I'm sorry how I acted in Charms, Ron… I was trying to helpful, but sometimes…"
"You struggle to 'read the room'?" Hank offered, seeing her struggle.
Hermione nodded. "I don't mean to offend people, but sometimes it just happens…"
Ron paused for a moment, then nodded. "I can understand that. Percy can be a bit like that sometimes, a lot of the time actually. I'll try and help you if I can."
"Me too," Hank added.
"I'd like that," Hermione said, blushing slightly.
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.
San Francisco.
September 17, 00:16 PDT.
Zatanna yawned and had started to pack up her plans for new tricks that were strewn across her dining table, when she interrupted by an unfamiliar being – a House Elf, or rather a Courier Elf with the Unites States Magical Post Service – popping into her living room. "Can I help you?"
"I have a message for Zatanna Zatara?" asked the diminutive being.
"That's me," Zatanna confirmed, and reached out a hand to accept the missive, which the elf swiftly produced and then promptly disappeared again with another loud pop.
Zatanna unrolled the parchment and began to read it:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Zatara,
After an astonishing showing at his initial flying class, I have offered Mister Lang a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as their new Seeker.
For safety and competitive reasons, it would be desirable for him to have his own broomstick, so I have obtained a waiver on the broomstick restrictions from the Headmaster (a copy of which is enclosed for your reference) and would appreciate if you would be willing to provide it prior to his first practice with his Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch at seven pm on the twenty-fourth of September.
Mister Wood recommends that you purchase a reasonable new model Nimbus or Cleansweep, but that is obviously up to you.
Yours,
Minerva McGonagall.
Head of Gryffindor.
"Good for you, Hank," said Zatanna, rolling up the parchment again, and adding it to her papers, before putting them away and heading to bed.
Lochaber,
September 23, 09:05 BST.
Unlike many of the professors who didn't appear to care, Flitwick preferred his students to rotate around their desk assignments during his classes. Hank glanced around the room, and after noting that Ron and Neville had already paired up, decided to do something different today and work with Kellah Moon this time. The black girl – one of the more elusive of his year mates – gave him a shy smile and a quiet 'hello' in response as he sat down.
"Every witch and wizard carry a wand in their everyday lives," said Professor Flitwick from the stack of books behind his desk. "So, one of our people's most rudimentary skills is producing light from our wands."
The diminutive wizard drew his wand – a pale-coloured wand with a rather unique four-pointed star cross-section rather than the usual round one – and demonstrated two different wand movements, one for making light and one for extinguishing it. "Does anyone have any questions?" he asked and waited a moment or two for any responses which didn't come. "Well, off you go then."
"Do you want to go first?" Hank asked his seatmate, who shrugged. "I'll go first then." He drew his holly wand and raised it to chest height and whirled it in a loop. "Lumos!"
Nothing happened.
Hank frowned, wondering what he was doing wrong.
"Didn't Professor Flitwick emphasise the first part?" offered Kellah, shyly. "More loo-mos than luh-mos…"
Hank thought about it for a moment and then nodded, "That would make sense… after all 'lumen', the Latin word for 'The Light', is pronounced that way." He tried again, following Kellah's suggestion which caused a dim bead of light to ignite at the end of his wand, that went out by itself a few seconds later.
"Well, that… worked," he said, not entirely impressed with his own efforts. "Your turn?"
Kellah looked reluctant, but eventually nodded and drew her own wand, a long, sturdy-looking creation with an ivy pattern wrapped around the handle. "Lumos!"
Immediately, her wand flared much brighter than his had… and stayed lit.
"Congratulations," Hank said warmly. "Now try and put it out."
The wave-like motion of the Wand-Extinguishing Charm was a little more complicated than its counterpart, and it took Kellah two attempts to get it to work.
In the end, it took Hank four attempts to light his wand, and ten to get it to go out. By the end of the lesson most of the class – with the exception of the pairing of Ron and Neville – had managed to get it down.
12:15 BST.
Hank turned to Ron just as the bell went for lunch. "Don't wait for me," he said. "I want to ask McGonagall something."
"I can wait…"
Hank shook his head, "Depending on what she says I might be a while. I'll see you at lunch."
"Okay," agreed Ron, not taking much convincing to prioritise sating his appetite.
Once the rest of the class had cleared out, Hank walked up to the professor's desk. "Can I have a moment, Professor?"
"Only one, Mr Lang," conceded Professor McGonagall after a moment's thought.
"I'll be quick," Hank promised. "The first thing I wanted to ask is if there are rules about starting up new clubs? I asked Angelina, but she wasn't sure."
"It is generally allowed," McGonagall replied. "Restrictions vary depending on the nature of the club."
"It would be a languages club, Professor," Hank told her, easily anticipating the professor's first question.
"An interesting choice, Mr Lang," noted McGonagall. "Any particular reason why?"
"Practice, Professor."
"Practice?"
Hank nodded. "I'm fluent in sixteen languages and have a working knowledge of… well I'm not exactly sure how many more…"
"You are proficient in sixteen languages?" asked McGonagall, incredulously.
"I am," Hank confirmed. "By which I mean that I can speak that many languages without a native or other fluent speaker to work off. The best way to improve that count is to use as many as possible, as often as possible."
The transfiguration professor nodded. She wasn't a linguist herself, but the concept made sense. "I have no issue in principle. I suggest you liaise with Professor Babbling regarding any further details. While her languages skills are mainly focused on the written – rather than the spoken – word, I believe that she does have some ability in the latter and so should be able to point you to appropriate resources."
"I'll do that, Professor."
"Was there anything else?"
Hank paused, "This one's more difficult… I'm not sure if it's my place…" He trailed off, but then frowned and appeared to come to a decision. "It's about Hermione Granger."
"What about her?" asked the professor, a slight edge to her voice.
"She's…" Hank broke off again. "I've had dealings with a few smart people in my time… geniuses even. A professor I know has worked with a muggle scientist dubbed the 'World's Smartest Woman' in the past…"
"Where is she compared to the men?" asked the professor curiously before she could stop herself.
"Third," Hank replied without breaking his train of thought. "Which means I understand Hermione a little… but a lot of the others don't."
"Anyone in particular?" asked the professor, the edge returning to her voice.
"Well, I can't be sure about the other houses, but as far as the Gryffindors go…" said Hank, trailing off, but continued had her nod. "I think Ron's going to lash back eventually… I get the feeling that she intimidates Neville, Sophie and Kellah…. She doesn't mean to… she wants to help but she's… impatient."
"I have noticed that," Professor McGonagall admitted with a nod. "However, I have been busy with more urgent matters, so I haven't talked to her yet."
"Okay," Hank conceded. "But I'm worried that if she doesn't tone it down, something's going to blow up, probably between her and Ron."
Professor McGonagall sighed. "That's possible, it's happened before. Can you ask Miss Johnson to talk to her?"
"I have," Hank told her. "Both of us tried, but she's a bit bent out of shape about me getting onto the Quidditch team after not following the rules during our flying lesson and it didn't stick. I've also talked to Ron, and he's promised to try not to do anything to aggravate her on purpose, but…"
McGonagall sighed. "Very well, Mr Lang. I will try and find time to talk with her. I don't want any incidents."
"Neither do I," Hank agreed. "To be fair, Ron's also part of the problem… I'll try and get him on-side as well."
"That should help," McGonagall agreed. "But leave it with me."
"Will do," Hank said, and stood up. "I'll leave you to it. Good afternoon, Professor."
"Good afternoon, Mr Lang."
September 24, 08:05 BST.
As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Hank was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when Ukpik swooped down and dropped a letter on top of the parcel, before flying off again chasing the screech owls out of the hall.
Hank ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:
Hank,
Congratulations on making it onto your school team!
The package contains your new broomstick so don't open it at the table as the other First Years will make a fuss. Please meet Captain Wood on the Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock on the twenty-fourth for your first practice.
Looking forward to seeing your first Quidditch match,
Zee.
Hank had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.
"I wonder what she got you?" Ron asked, a mix of curiosity and envy in his voice, as they quickly headed out of the hall, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class.
But halfway across the entrance hall they were blocked by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Hank and felt it. "That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Hank with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter… first years aren't allowed them."
"I bet that burns you up, doesn't it?" commented Ron, then glanced at Hank with a grin. "What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty? Comets look flashy, but I bet Hank's got a better one now."
"What would you know about it, Weasley?" Malfoy snapped back. "You couldn't afford half the handle of a decent broomstick. I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."
Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow. "Not arguing, I hope, boys?"
"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy, quickly.
"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Hank. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Mr Lang. And what model is it?"
"I'm not sure, we haven't open it up yet," Hank replied, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it."
Professor Flitwick signalled that they could go, motioning the two Slytherin enforcers to make way as Hank and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.
"Well, it's true," Hank chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team..."
"So, I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Hank's hand.
"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Hank.
"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."
Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.
18:25 BST.
"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Hank's bedspread. "A Starsweeper XVI… I've never even seen one of those for real."
"Zee probably picked up in San Francisco or maybe New York," Hank opined. "So, it's probably an American brand."
"It is," Ron confirmed. "Starsweeper isn't as popular because they specialise… the XVI is particularly good for Seekers, it's not as controllable at low speed as a Cleansweep or a Nimbus but its acceleration and high-speed performance is even better than the Firebolt!"
After admiring the broom for a few minutes, Hank left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Hank of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.
Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Hank mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling… he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Starsweeper turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch, particularly a high-speed.
"Hey, Lang, come down!" said a voice from below him.
Hank looked down and saw that Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate and a broomstick of his own. Hank swooped down and landed next to him.
"Very nice," said Wood, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."
He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.
"Right," said Wood. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play."
Hank nodded, "Ron's told me a bit about it. I know that the twins are our Beaters… who protect from the Bludgers, right?"
Wood nodded. "They're like a couple of Human Bludgers themselves…"
Hank considered Wood for a moment, "I'm guessing you play Keeper… who stops the Chasers from scoring?"
Wood nodded again. "Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell are our Chasers."
"And I'm the Seeker… it's my job to catch the Golden Snitch… which is worth a hundred and fifty points and wins the game."
Wood made a face, "Mostly. Catching the Snitch doesn't always win the game, it depends on the score."
"But it usually does?"
"Aye," replied Wood. "Particularly at Hogwarts…" He paused to consider their surroundings, then bent towards the trunk. "But that's enough talking for one night… let's see what you can do."
Wood pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Hank were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Hank to catch.
Hank didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After about three-quarters of an hour, night had really fallen, and they couldn't carry on.
"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."
September 30, 09:00 BST.
"One of a wizard's most rudimentary skills is levitation… the ability to make objects fly," squeaked Professor Flitwick from his usual perch atop a pile of books. "Do you all have your feathers?"
Hank, like most of the class merely nodded, but Hermione Granger – who was sharing a table with Ron ––showed her usual dedication to outdoing her peers by raising hers in response instead. "Good. Now, uh, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practicing, hmm? The swish and flick! And remember… saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget the wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
Hank and the rest of the class began to enunciate and do the movements on their feathers.
"Wingardium Levio-saaa!" chanted Kellah, from her seat beside Neville Longbottom. The words seemed right to Hank, but her feather wasn't impressed.
"Wingardrium Leviosar!" demanded Ron, and waves his wand really fast several times.
"Stop, stop, stop. You're going to take someone's eye out!" Hermione snapped at Ron. "And you're saying it wrong… it's Wing-gar-di-um Levi-o-sa, not Leviosar… make the 'gar' nice and long."
"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.
Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her robe, swished and flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.
"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone, see here! Miss Granger's done it!"
Ron put his head on his books dejectedly.
Back at his and Hank's table, Seamus began swishing at his feather. "Wingard Levosa."
At first it seemed like nothing was going to happen… then there was an almighty explosion and smoke engulfed Hank's table for a moment.
"Whooaaa!" Flitwick gasped.
When the smoke cleared Hank could see that Seamus wasn't badly hurt… just a little sooty and singed. But his feather had been reduced to smouldering ashes. Hank could barely hold back his amusement but managed to restrict himself to a witty retort. "I think we're going to need another feather over here, Professor."
10:30 BST
Ron managed to hold his tongue for the rest of the lesson, but his bad mood over came him at the end of the class. "It's Levioooosa, not Leviosaaaar…" he said shrilly, mimicking Hermione Granger. "It's no wonder no one can stand her…" he said to Hank as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor outside. "… she's a nightmare, honestly."
Someone knocked into Hank as they hurried past him.
It was Hermione Granger. She was hugging her books and sniffling in tears.
Hank caught a glimpse of her face and was startled to see that she was in tears, clearly upset. "I think she heard you."
"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."
Sometimes I hate being right, Hank thought to himself, but decided not to say anything to the red-head.
10:45 BST.
"Does anyone know where Miss Granger is?" asked Professor McGonagall, a hint of surprise and even concern in her voice.
Parvati raised her hand.
"Miss Patil?"
"She was upset about something after Charms," replied the Hindi girl. "I think she went to the bathroom."
"I see," said the professor, her tone a mix of irritation and sympathy. "Well, we'll give her a few minutes to join us. Everyone take out your wands and continue practicing the mice-to-snuffbox spell."
13:00 BST.
Hank didn't see Hermione again until she was led to the Gryffindor table by Angelina Johnson, while he was already tucking into his lunch.
"Remember what I said, Hermione," Angelina told her as the younger girl slipped into an open spot on the benches with the rest of the first years.
"I try, Angelina," Hermione assured the older girl, then turned to Hank and Ron when Angelina departed to sit with her own friends. "I'm sorry how I acted in Charms, Ron… I was trying to helpful, but sometimes…"
"You struggle to 'read the room'?" Hank offered, seeing her struggle.
Hermione nodded. "I don't mean to offend people, but sometimes it just happens…"
Ron paused for a moment, then nodded. "I can understand that. Percy can be a bit like that sometimes, a lot of the time actually. I'll try and help you if I can."
"Me too," Hank added.
"I'd like that," Hermione said, blushing slightly.
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 beard… I'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).
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 beard… I'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."
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
New
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.
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
New
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."
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."