Looking for Trouble
Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, and JK Rowling. Any characters that are original to this work remain the property of the author.
A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
The Watchtower.
November 23, 04:41 EST.
"Recognized, Power Girl B-Four-One."
"Anissa!" exclaimed Linda, skipping over to the Zeta Tube and hugging her friend. "Ready for your big mission?"
Anissa smiled and shrugged, her blond wig swishing from the motion. "Is anyone?"
"Good point," Linda admitted.
"Can I have everyone's attention?!" said Artemis from behind them.
The two girls turned towards the woman's voice and moved closer to where she stood with Dick, Tim, Roy and M'gann. "A few days ago, Henri Hitobito aka the Tattooed Man, escaped from a prisoner transfer from the US Penitentiary in Atwater to Belle Reve," she began. "During questioning, his fellow convicts mentioned that he was planning on getting revenge on anyone associated with his conviction."
That's going to be a pretty long list… Linda thought.
"The initial working assumption of the fugitive taskforce was that he would go after the closest targets — the judge, the prosecutor, his public defender, the arresting officers — in San Francisco and several of the Justice League Reserves have already been tasked with protecting them," Artemis continued. "The Outsiders will be covering the members of the jury who are still resident in the area. However, given that there has been no activity in the Bay Area so the taskforce has decided that he may be going after one or more of the five of the jurors are on vacation elsewhere in the United States for Thanksgiving."
She paused for a point to let that sink in. "We'll be protecting them. I'll be leading Alpha Squad to Seattle to protect Phoebe Tapia, Violet, Stephanie, you're with me; Roy, Eddie, Linda… you're Beta, your protectee is Winston W. Rudd, he's in Rye, New York…"
Rye.
November 24, 21:23 EST.
Linda pushed herself against the remnants of a wooden fence, dragging herself to feet, her head ringing and the splinters biting into her skin. Her thoughts reeled as she scanned the field of battle trying to figure out what to do next.
"Pathetic!" mocked the Tattooed Man, his voice a sneer that dripped with arrogance. In the dim light, his inked tattoos writhed on his skin, each telling a tale of conquests and power. "You think you can stop me? I've taken on Green Lantern and won!" His laughter echoed through the wreckage, a chilling reminder of their dire predicament.
(Anyone got any ideas?) groaned Roy as he tried to get his laser cannon back online, his expression was a mixture of fury and disbelief at the destruction that the villain had wrought in mere moments.
Eddie coughed, smoke curling around his mouth, (Not me, I can barely breathe thanks to that extinguisher spray that he nailed me with…)
Extinguish… Linda echoed, the germ of an idea coming to her. (Roy, is your taser working?)
(None of the weapons in my arm are working,) Roy replied. (I've got a grenade, but he'll probably block it.)
(Not if my plan works,) Linda promised.
Roy grunted, abandoning his repairs and moving his other hand to his belt. (Ready.)
(On my mark…) said Linda, as she staggered to her feet, fighting past the pain and marshalling the last reserves of energy that pulsed within her. "Verwirrender Chaosausbruch!"
A slight shimmering pulse eliminated from the girl and surged towards their foe, washing over him seconds later.
(Got him!) Linda declared as his expression shifted from aggressive arrogance to confusion as the spell took effect, weaving its way through the patterns of his mind.
Roy seeing his opening, activated his taser grenade, eyes narrowing in determination and tossed it overhand, the grenade crackling to life as it sailed through the air with unerring accuracy.
The villain screamed as the device crackled into life on contact, sending powerful jolts of electricity through his muscular body, causing him to drop his weapons and fall to his knees and then the ground.
21:30 EST.
The villain was beginning to stir as a convoy of police vehicles hurtled onto the street, sirens blaring and lights flashing. "Chaos-Energieschock," Linda murmured as their contacts stepped out of the lead SUV and wandered over to them.
He tensed momentarily, then slumped down again.
"Wow," exclaimed Agent Futz as he took in the scene. "This place looks like a warzone."
"Heh, they won, didn't they?" pointed out his partner. "Pretty good work for kids, given who he's taken down before."
"Thanks, I guess," muttered Arsenal, crossing his arms and frowning. "We're not playing games h you know."
Linda crossed to her team-mate and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's not make a scene, okay?" she asked him in a placating tone. "We did what we had to do…"
"And we won," Eddie added. "That's what matters, doesn't it?"
Roy frowned, but nodded and relaxed, stepping back so that Agent Nuck was able to cuff Tattooed Man, attach an inhibitor collar and activate it. "There, that should keep him quiet," declared the veteran DEO agent, then motioned for a couple of local officers to come forward and take him into custody.
"Let's go," said Linda as ambulances and fire apparatus joined the throng clogged the quiet suburb street. "They've got things under control now."
Roy nodded, and after saying goodbye to the federal agents, he led them to a quiet spot to await pick-up.
November 25.
11:16 CST.
Linda's eyes cracked open, squinting in the morning light that streamed through her thin curtains, then she pulled the covers up over her head.
"Linda!" called her aunt, drawing her attention to her door, "We're going to be late for Thanksgiving dinner at the farm!"
There was an urgency in Lana's tone that made Linda groan softly, curling deeper into the warmth of her sheets. With a reluctant sigh, she finally peeled herself out of bed, shivering in the cool air. Her muscles were stiff and painful, but she managed to stagger to the door and open it. Grappling with the remnants of sleep and fatigue, she hopped off her bed and padded across the cold wooden floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree they had set up in anticipation of the upcoming holiday season.
"You look like you've been through a war zone," her aunt quipped as she hobbled past her, concern sharpening her features.
"No, just a tough mission," Linda mumbled, barely processing her aunt's words as she stumbled into the bathroom. The warm shower was her salvation, and as the water cascaded over her, the tension in her muscles slowly melted away. The faint scent of peppermint from the shampoo filled her senses.
Far sooner than she wanted, Linda got out of the shower and dried off, then took a couple of Motrin and dressed in a t-shirt and leggings, feeling slightly more human but still drained.
A beep of a car horn told her that she needed to hurry up, so she went down the stairs as quickly as she could manage and grabbed her puffer jacket and sneakers from the floor, slipping them on with the deftness of regular practice.
As she finally made her way outside, the brisk air hit her like a slap to the face. The sky was vivid blue, punctuated by the white of fluffy clouds drifting lazily by.
Her aunt was already behind the wheel, the car's engine humming comfortably. "There's my sleepyhead!" she said cheerily, igniting a faint smile on Linda's lips.
The warmth of the car enveloped her instantly as she got in, Melo barked excitedly from the backseat of the car, his tail wagging like a flag in the wind, drawing a smile from her.
"Will you be okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just tired and bit stiff," Linda replied, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "Nothing I haven't managed with dozens of times."
Her aunt turned to concentrate on the drive as she pulled out into the main road.
The familiar drive didn't take that long, and they were soon pulling into the farmyard. The warm aroma of turkey wafted through the air from the ranch house, mingling with the fragrance of fresh pies cooling on the windowsill, that was a balm to Linda's exhausted body.
As she stepped out, Melo bounded out too, tail wagging furiously and darted into the yard, chasing the scattering leaves as they danced across the yard. As she continued to watch her dog play, Linda heard a familiar mechanical whirring sound from the barn and seconds later two familiar figures stepped out of the building. A dark-skinned curly-haired girl in a hooded jacket and leggings and a tall, bald man in a suit and polo-neck.
"Traya!" Linda exclaimed, rushing over to her friend as fast as her aching legs could carry her. The two girls embraced, bringing a warmth to the coldness around Linda.
"Are you okay?" Traya asked as they broke apart, her long, curly hair swaying as she stepped back. "You look tired."
"I'll be fine," Linda assured her with a sigh. "I've been on duty with the Team for the last days and got in a fight with the Tattooed Man back East."
"That was you?!" said Traya, impressed. "From what I've heard he's pretty hardcore."
"He is," Linda agreed as the two girls linked arms and heading towards the farmhouse. "The street where we were fighting got pretty torn up, and I've got the bruises to prove it."
"Regardless, you and your squad did well," said Traya's father from behind them in his usual even, emotionless tone. "Compensation will be provided to victims from the usual sources."
Linda felt herself relax a bit more at that, she'd heard rumours of a compensation program for victim of meta-crime but this was the first time that she'd been invested in knowing whether the rumours were true.
"Hi, Wolf," Traya said as they approached the porch.
The great beast raised his head for a moment to look at them, then accepted pats and woofed a quiet greeting to Melo as she setting down next to him.
The great wooden front door swung open, revealing Grandma in a flour-dusted apron, her white hair curling adorably at the ends. "There you are, darlings! Come in, come in!" she exclaimed, enveloping them in a warm embrace. Linda absorbed the comfort for a moment, allowing herself to forget about her aching body.
Inside, the house felt alive, filled with lively banter and the fragrant scent of roasted turkey, pies and caramelized vegetables. Grandpa sat in the far corner, his deep chuckle mixing with the laughter of the younger Kents. Uncle Clark, tall and strong with a quiet strength that gave Linda comfort trying to distract his son, Jonny, who was trying to get at the cranberry sauce with the dubious assistance of verdant-skinned Garfield Logan, currently in the form of a housecat. Grandma and Aunt Lana had joined Aunt Lois at the stove to finish up the cooking while Conner, M'gann and M'ree were setting the table, their light-hearted chatter weaving through the warm atmosphere.
"Linda!" exclaimed Jonny, dropping down from the counter and darting toward her, arms stretched wide for a hug. She knelt down, wrapping him in her arms. "You'll never guess what I learned today!"
"What?" she asked, half-smiling, half-wincing as Jonny's exuberance jolted her bruises.
"I learned how to make homemade biscuits! You can help me decorate them later!" he beamed, his innocent enthusiasm contagious.
"Sure thing, little man," she replied, trying to mimic his excitement despite feeling a bit weary. She released him a moment later and both girls moved over to the nearest sofa and Jonny broke off to play with a toy spaceship that his father had picked up on his last visit to Rann. M'ree abandoned her table-laying a moment later and joined them.
Linda was just settling into the sofa, letting the quiet buzz of M'ree and Traya highly technical conversation flow over her and sighing as the well-worn fabric curved around her tired body, when a flash of vibrant yellow light caught her attention through the large front windows. She tensed, but almost immediately relaxed as her mind registered the familiar feel of Zatanna's mind and a less familiar but paternal one that was almost certainly her father.
This guess was confirmed a moment later when Forager opened the door to admit the two sorcerers. "Is there room for two more?" Giovanni asked, his voice questioning but with a hint of warmth as he stepped inside.
"Zatanna Zatara is part of this hive," intoned the New Genesisian Bug as he helped take their coats before hanging them up, "and Giovanni Zatara is part of Zatanna Zatara's hive." His quirks were met with laughter, adding to the lightness in the air.
Grandpa chuckled heartily, his voice booming like distant thunder, as he gestured to the table where most of the gathering had already settled. "Come on, let's get around the table before everything gets cold!"
Just as the bulk of the party had taken their seats, the last trio of guests arrived — Linda's best friend Lucy Cao, her father, and her grandmother — who entered with exasperated expressions, claiming they'd been overwhelmed with 'issues' involving their horses.
"Don't worry about it, Lewis," Grandma assured him as she brought a large dish of mashed potatoes over to the table.
"Yeah, someone either running late, begging off or having to duck out because of an emergency is practically normal around this family," Aunt Lois added, sharing a look with her husband, who returned it with a 'who me' which Linda didn't need even the slightest hint of telepathy to know was fake.
The entire table broke into laughs at that.
Lochaber.
December 6, 13:20 GMT.
"Now that you're mastered some simple spells, today we will progress to something a little more fun," said Professor Flitwick once he taken in the homework and settled back onto his stack of books. He drew his wand and pointed it at a large pineapple that lay on an open spot on his desk. "Chorus Ananas!"
A second later, the pineapple stood up on its end and began hopping and dancing around the open space on the desk to claps, giggles and laughs from the students. Flitwick guided it around for a few minutes and that cancelled the spell. "Does anyone have any questions?"
Surprisingly, even Hermione didn't, so Flitwick set the different pairs to work on the spell.
Hank was paired with Lavender that day, and despite her generally gossipy nature she proved to be a capable Charms student, and both were in the half of the students that got the hang of the spell by the time the bell rang.
18:35 GMT.
Hank, Ron and Hermione were finishing up their dinner when Professor McGonagall appeared behind them, carrying a clipboard with a roll of parchment attached to it. "Good evening."
"Good evening, Professor," they replied.
"Are any of you staying at the castle over Christmas?"
None of them were. Ron had grumbled about having to 'put up with his brother Percy for two weeks' – which Hank thought was a little unfair, the seventeen-year-old was a little pompous and officious at times but was a regular and useful contributor to the Babel Club – but had eventually yielded to his parents' entreaties in absence of any solid excuse.
Professor McGonagall frowned slightly. "Mr Potter… as you are leaving, Professor Dumbledore needs to speak to you about your options."
My options? Hank thought. Well, I guess this is that conversation… "Did he say when, Professor? I've got my language club in about twenty minutes."
"As soon as possible, Mr Lang."
"Would late morning tomorrow – let's say eleven – be acceptable, ma'am?" Hank asked. "I'll have time after History of Magic."
"I believe that would be acceptable," conceded Professor McGonagall, a little reluctantly. "The password is 'Ice Mice'."
"What was that about?" asked Ron, as she moved away.
Hank waited until the professor was a bit further down the table before replying. "I suspect that the headmaster doesn't want me to go back to Smallville."
Ron's face took on a confused expression. "But that's where you live. Why wouldn't you go back?"
"He originally wanted me to be placed with my birth mother's sister, Petunia Dursley, down south because of some 'blood protections' on her house," Hank replied. "I suspect he wants me to return there."
"Professor Dumbledore is very knowledgeable," Hermione reminded him. "Do you think that it's a good idea to ignore his wishes?"
"Ignore him, no," Hank agreed. "But you can only come to the right decisions if you have all the information."
Hermione nodded.
"And based on some of the things that he said to Mera back in November, I think that some of his information is out of date."
"Are you sure?"
"Not yet," Hank replied. "But I expect I'll find out tomorrow."
"Are you sure your information will make a difference?" asked Hermione.
"I think so," Hank said. "I'm not an expert on 'blood protections', but I'm not sure that headmaster is either, and Zatanna has a contact or two who are and they say there are a couple of problems…"
"Such as?"
"First, for best results, she'd have to accept me in, but she refused at the time… even if they could be re-established, they'll never be as strong as they could've been."
"That makes sense," piped up Ron. "I think Bill said something like that when he was studying for his cursebreaker credentials."
Hank nodded, "She also moved out of the house the house she and her husband owned in Surrey a few years ago after they divorced."
"Where does she live now?" asked Ron.
Hank sighed. "That's the biggest problem. According to my information, she now lives in an apartment in London."
"Why's that a problem?" asked Hermione. "You don't like flats?"
"Not particularly," Hank admitted. "But that's not the issue, the apartment is on the second floor. She's renting from the owners of the takeaway below her. According to my source, that means the protections can't be anchored there."
"I think it's possible," said Ron. "Bill talks about putting up protections over their camps all the time…"
"Those are temporary protections," Hank told him. "For the kind of solid, unbreakable protections that you'd need against even a mid-tier sorcerer, my source says you need ownership of the land."
Ron nodded, apparently satisfied.
"What makes you think that 'your source' knows better than the headmaster?" Hermione demanded.
"Professor Dumbledore is intelligent, well-read, and gets around," said Hank. "But he's not a specialist in ancient magic. My source is."
"Really, who?"
"Jason Blood."
"The Jason Blood?" exclaimed Ron. "Merlin's scribe?!"
"That's one story," Hank agreed. "I've heard him described as a high priest, a peasant, a scribe, one of Arthur's knights, the host of a demon… I don't think anyone's entirely sure what the truth is, not even him… But what is known that he's a skilled sorcerer who's been wandering the world causing or preventing disaster since before the founding of Hogwarts."
"Oh," said Hermione, clearly not sure what to say to that.
December 7, 10:25 GMT.
"Nine inches of parchment on the history of cauldron development and the impact on potions innovation," declared Professor Binns in his usual drone as the bell rang for the end of the period.
The class roused themselves from their usual stupor and rushed for the exit.
"I'll see you guys in the Common Room later," Hank told Ron and Hermione as they reached the main staircase. "I've got that meeting with the headmaster to 'discuss my options'."
"Hank…"
He held up his hand, "I know… I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, I just hope he gives me and mine the same."
Hermione gave a look that said that she didn't believe him but said nothing.
"Ice Mice," Hank told the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office. The statue hopped out of the way and allowed him to step onto the stairs. He climbed slowly, and was just about to knock when a voice echoed from inside the office, telling him to come in. Hank opened the door and scanned the room, he was pleased to see that – other than the Headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes, who trilled a greeting – they were alone.
"Have a seat, Hank," said the headmaster. "I meant to ask before… how are you settling in here? It must be quite an adjustment?"
"I'm good, Professor." Hank assured him, as he sat down and dropped his bag on the floor. "I've done a fair bit of travelling with Mom, or Aunt Lois and Uncle Clark…"
Dumbledore nodded. "I hear you started a club?"
"The Babel Club, sir." Hank confirmed with a nod. "It's a language and culture club. Mostly Gryffindors and a few Ravenclaws now, but I'm hoping to recruit some Hufflepuffs in the new year."
"Have you considered inviting any Slytherins?"
Hank made a face. "I haven't exactly had a good start with that house, sir. I did think about approaching Blaise Zabini. He's not one of Draco's gang and rumour has it he knows a few languages…"
Dumbledore nodded, and Hank thought he saw the hint of smile under his bushy beard. "Do you know why I've asked you here, Hank?"
"Professor McGonagall said you wanted to discuss my options, Professor?" Hank replied, sitting down and dropping his bag on the floor.
The headmaster nodded. "After your parents were murdered, I intended to see to your placement in a suitable environment to allow you to grow up and have a safe, normal childhood."
"Normal is often overrated, sir," observed Hank dryly, then bent down and took a carboard file from his bag. "However, I assume that your intention was to place me with my biological mother's sister…" he opened the file and pretended to check it. "Petunia Dursley – nee Evans – sir?"
"Yes," agreed the Headmaster. "I felt it was the best option to keep you safe and away from your fame."
Hank nodded. "A reasonable goal, Professor. The Muggle authorities also considered that option. In the end, they discarded it."
"Really?"
"Yes sir," Hank confirmed. "Principally due to opposition from Mrs Dursley."
"Interesting…" mused the headmaster. "I originally intended to search for you until I found you and bring you back to your family…"
Hank hissed in annoyance at that comment, but remained silent, a small frown on his face.
"However, once my initial covert investigations proved unsuccessful and my limited sense of matters suggested that you were safe and happy…"
"I assume that you couldn't find me because I was living as a Lang, not a Potter, sir," Hank observed. "And maybe because I was in the States, rather than in Britain."
"That was my conclusion once I found your entry in the Book of Admittance," agreed the headmaster. "However, as that information is now publicly known, I feel that reverting to the original plan would be safer."
Hank sighed. "Zatanna suspected you might, so she had one of the Justice League Reserves and a local investigator conduct a follow-up investigation last month."
"Did they come to any conclusions?"
Hank nodded, indicating the file in his hand.
"I would like to see that information," said the headmaster. Despite the polite phrasing, it was not a request.
"Of course," agreed Hank, closing the file and offering it to the headmaster. "You can have my copy, sir."
"Thank you."
Hank sat in silence while the headmaster leafed through the document. After a moment, he started. "Your cousin is in St Brutus' Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys?"
"Apparently," confirmed Hank. "Although 'incurable' may have unnecessarily harsh in his case. He's making some progress… the staff think that he'll be a productive citizen before his eighteenth birthday."
Dumbledore nodded and returned to the report. Just as the bell rang for the beginning to lunch, the headmaster sighed, closed the file and set it down on his desk. "I will need to do some research of my own to confirm… But the name Jason Blood is known to me, so I doubt I will find anything he missed."
Hank nodded.
"Therefore, it would appear that we have a problem."
"I disagree, sir," said Hank firmly. "I'll be far safer in Smallville than I ever could be with the Dursleys, even with the blood protections."
"But the Death Eaters could get to you there.…"
"Professor, no Death Eater has set foot in the United States since three of them tried to use an illegal Portkey to get there in seventy-two and ended up in the Louisiana Bayou."
"That was never reported."
"Maybe not on this side of the pond, sir," Hank conceded. "But Swampy's a friend of a friend."
"Swampy?"
"The Swamp Thing," Hank clarified. "The undead plant creature – who may once have been the botanist Alec Holland – that protects some of the more remote parts of the Bayou, sir."
"Interesting," mused the headmaster. "But now that your new identity is known… anything's possible…"
"Anything's possible," Hank agreed. "But that doesn't mean acting as if it will happen is a good idea, or likely to work."
"Still, I would feel better if you had extra protection," pressed the headmaster. "Perhaps Remus Lupin – a friend of your father's – could join you for the holidays? He is a skilled wizard and well acquainted with Death Eater tactics."
"I'll need to check with Mom that it's all right, Professor," Hank replied with a shrug. "But I don't think it'll be a problem. There'll be enough people coming in and out of either Mom or Grandma and Grandpa's over the holiday that one more shouldn't make much of a difference."
"You're expecting a large crowd?"
"At Thanksgiving Dinner, Grandma and Grandpa had about a dozen people, including Zatanna, and her father, Giovanni, both of whom are powerful and experienced sorcerers... and then there's my cousin who is not only a capable apprentice sorcerer, but also has considerable psychic abilities... my cousin-in-law Megan and her uncle, John, are also powerful psychics… and her sister Marie's no slouch either..." Hank replied. "... and if they aren't enough then we can call in many others for help, including the gentleman we mentioned earlier, two Champions of Shazam, the other Hosts of Nabu — including whoever is wearing the Helm that week — and if the problem gets bad enough several graduates of the Atlantean Conservatory of Sorcery and the headmistress of the Conservatory… and then there's the demi-goddesses and the rest of the Amazons who might decide to get involved…"
"I see."
"Professor, I feel a great swell of pity for anyone who comes to Smallville looking for trouble," Hank paused for a moment, then looked the headmaster straight in the eye. "Because they'll find it."
A/N: The Myriad of Possibilities Series primarily uses the background from the Harry Potter books but some elements and scenes have been borrowed from other sources – including the movies, Pottermore and my own headcanon – that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the DC Comics elements borrows heavily from Young Justice (2011) and may adapt elements and characters from the comics and several additional other media instalments – including but not limited to Smallville (2001) and Superman and Lois (2021) – and relocates events of Young Justice to the Eighties and early Nineties rather than the New Tens and Twenties as screened and includes several 'legacy' and original characters as a result. Any other recognisable characters belong to their copyright holders.
A/N: Thanks to Jon and 6f5e4d for their help on this chapter.
The Watchtower.
November 23, 04:41 EST.
"Recognized, Power Girl B-Four-One."
"Anissa!" exclaimed Linda, skipping over to the Zeta Tube and hugging her friend. "Ready for your big mission?"
Anissa smiled and shrugged, her blond wig swishing from the motion. "Is anyone?"
"Good point," Linda admitted.
"Can I have everyone's attention?!" said Artemis from behind them.
The two girls turned towards the woman's voice and moved closer to where she stood with Dick, Tim, Roy and M'gann. "A few days ago, Henri Hitobito aka the Tattooed Man, escaped from a prisoner transfer from the US Penitentiary in Atwater to Belle Reve," she began. "During questioning, his fellow convicts mentioned that he was planning on getting revenge on anyone associated with his conviction."
That's going to be a pretty long list… Linda thought.
"The initial working assumption of the fugitive taskforce was that he would go after the closest targets — the judge, the prosecutor, his public defender, the arresting officers — in San Francisco and several of the Justice League Reserves have already been tasked with protecting them," Artemis continued. "The Outsiders will be covering the members of the jury who are still resident in the area. However, given that there has been no activity in the Bay Area so the taskforce has decided that he may be going after one or more of the five of the jurors are on vacation elsewhere in the United States for Thanksgiving."
She paused for a point to let that sink in. "We'll be protecting them. I'll be leading Alpha Squad to Seattle to protect Phoebe Tapia, Violet, Stephanie, you're with me; Roy, Eddie, Linda… you're Beta, your protectee is Winston W. Rudd, he's in Rye, New York…"
Rye.
November 24, 21:23 EST.
Linda pushed herself against the remnants of a wooden fence, dragging herself to feet, her head ringing and the splinters biting into her skin. Her thoughts reeled as she scanned the field of battle trying to figure out what to do next.
"Pathetic!" mocked the Tattooed Man, his voice a sneer that dripped with arrogance. In the dim light, his inked tattoos writhed on his skin, each telling a tale of conquests and power. "You think you can stop me? I've taken on Green Lantern and won!" His laughter echoed through the wreckage, a chilling reminder of their dire predicament.
(Anyone got any ideas?) groaned Roy as he tried to get his laser cannon back online, his expression was a mixture of fury and disbelief at the destruction that the villain had wrought in mere moments.
Eddie coughed, smoke curling around his mouth, (Not me, I can barely breathe thanks to that extinguisher spray that he nailed me with…)
Extinguish… Linda echoed, the germ of an idea coming to her. (Roy, is your taser working?)
(None of the weapons in my arm are working,) Roy replied. (I've got a grenade, but he'll probably block it.)
(Not if my plan works,) Linda promised.
Roy grunted, abandoning his repairs and moving his other hand to his belt. (Ready.)
(On my mark…) said Linda, as she staggered to her feet, fighting past the pain and marshalling the last reserves of energy that pulsed within her. "Verwirrender Chaosausbruch!"
A slight shimmering pulse eliminated from the girl and surged towards their foe, washing over him seconds later.
(Got him!) Linda declared as his expression shifted from aggressive arrogance to confusion as the spell took effect, weaving its way through the patterns of his mind.
Roy seeing his opening, activated his taser grenade, eyes narrowing in determination and tossed it overhand, the grenade crackling to life as it sailed through the air with unerring accuracy.
The villain screamed as the device crackled into life on contact, sending powerful jolts of electricity through his muscular body, causing him to drop his weapons and fall to his knees and then the ground.
21:30 EST.
The villain was beginning to stir as a convoy of police vehicles hurtled onto the street, sirens blaring and lights flashing. "Chaos-Energieschock," Linda murmured as their contacts stepped out of the lead SUV and wandered over to them.
He tensed momentarily, then slumped down again.
"Wow," exclaimed Agent Futz as he took in the scene. "This place looks like a warzone."
"Heh, they won, didn't they?" pointed out his partner. "Pretty good work for kids, given who he's taken down before."
"Thanks, I guess," muttered Arsenal, crossing his arms and frowning. "We're not playing games h you know."
Linda crossed to her team-mate and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's not make a scene, okay?" she asked him in a placating tone. "We did what we had to do…"
"And we won," Eddie added. "That's what matters, doesn't it?"
Roy frowned, but nodded and relaxed, stepping back so that Agent Nuck was able to cuff Tattooed Man, attach an inhibitor collar and activate it. "There, that should keep him quiet," declared the veteran DEO agent, then motioned for a couple of local officers to come forward and take him into custody.
"Let's go," said Linda as ambulances and fire apparatus joined the throng clogged the quiet suburb street. "They've got things under control now."
Roy nodded, and after saying goodbye to the federal agents, he led them to a quiet spot to await pick-up.
November 25.
11:16 CST.
Linda's eyes cracked open, squinting in the morning light that streamed through her thin curtains, then she pulled the covers up over her head.
"Linda!" called her aunt, drawing her attention to her door, "We're going to be late for Thanksgiving dinner at the farm!"
There was an urgency in Lana's tone that made Linda groan softly, curling deeper into the warmth of her sheets. With a reluctant sigh, she finally peeled herself out of bed, shivering in the cool air. Her muscles were stiff and painful, but she managed to stagger to the door and open it. Grappling with the remnants of sleep and fatigue, she hopped off her bed and padded across the cold wooden floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree they had set up in anticipation of the upcoming holiday season.
"You look like you've been through a war zone," her aunt quipped as she hobbled past her, concern sharpening her features.
"No, just a tough mission," Linda mumbled, barely processing her aunt's words as she stumbled into the bathroom. The warm shower was her salvation, and as the water cascaded over her, the tension in her muscles slowly melted away. The faint scent of peppermint from the shampoo filled her senses.
Far sooner than she wanted, Linda got out of the shower and dried off, then took a couple of Motrin and dressed in a t-shirt and leggings, feeling slightly more human but still drained.
A beep of a car horn told her that she needed to hurry up, so she went down the stairs as quickly as she could manage and grabbed her puffer jacket and sneakers from the floor, slipping them on with the deftness of regular practice.
As she finally made her way outside, the brisk air hit her like a slap to the face. The sky was vivid blue, punctuated by the white of fluffy clouds drifting lazily by.
Her aunt was already behind the wheel, the car's engine humming comfortably. "There's my sleepyhead!" she said cheerily, igniting a faint smile on Linda's lips.
The warmth of the car enveloped her instantly as she got in, Melo barked excitedly from the backseat of the car, his tail wagging like a flag in the wind, drawing a smile from her.
"Will you be okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just tired and bit stiff," Linda replied, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "Nothing I haven't managed with dozens of times."
Her aunt turned to concentrate on the drive as she pulled out into the main road.
The familiar drive didn't take that long, and they were soon pulling into the farmyard. The warm aroma of turkey wafted through the air from the ranch house, mingling with the fragrance of fresh pies cooling on the windowsill, that was a balm to Linda's exhausted body.
As she stepped out, Melo bounded out too, tail wagging furiously and darted into the yard, chasing the scattering leaves as they danced across the yard. As she continued to watch her dog play, Linda heard a familiar mechanical whirring sound from the barn and seconds later two familiar figures stepped out of the building. A dark-skinned curly-haired girl in a hooded jacket and leggings and a tall, bald man in a suit and polo-neck.
"Traya!" Linda exclaimed, rushing over to her friend as fast as her aching legs could carry her. The two girls embraced, bringing a warmth to the coldness around Linda.
"Are you okay?" Traya asked as they broke apart, her long, curly hair swaying as she stepped back. "You look tired."
"I'll be fine," Linda assured her with a sigh. "I've been on duty with the Team for the last days and got in a fight with the Tattooed Man back East."
"That was you?!" said Traya, impressed. "From what I've heard he's pretty hardcore."
"He is," Linda agreed as the two girls linked arms and heading towards the farmhouse. "The street where we were fighting got pretty torn up, and I've got the bruises to prove it."
"Regardless, you and your squad did well," said Traya's father from behind them in his usual even, emotionless tone. "Compensation will be provided to victims from the usual sources."
Linda felt herself relax a bit more at that, she'd heard rumours of a compensation program for victim of meta-crime but this was the first time that she'd been invested in knowing whether the rumours were true.
"Hi, Wolf," Traya said as they approached the porch.
The great beast raised his head for a moment to look at them, then accepted pats and woofed a quiet greeting to Melo as she setting down next to him.
The great wooden front door swung open, revealing Grandma in a flour-dusted apron, her white hair curling adorably at the ends. "There you are, darlings! Come in, come in!" she exclaimed, enveloping them in a warm embrace. Linda absorbed the comfort for a moment, allowing herself to forget about her aching body.
Inside, the house felt alive, filled with lively banter and the fragrant scent of roasted turkey, pies and caramelized vegetables. Grandpa sat in the far corner, his deep chuckle mixing with the laughter of the younger Kents. Uncle Clark, tall and strong with a quiet strength that gave Linda comfort trying to distract his son, Jonny, who was trying to get at the cranberry sauce with the dubious assistance of verdant-skinned Garfield Logan, currently in the form of a housecat. Grandma and Aunt Lana had joined Aunt Lois at the stove to finish up the cooking while Conner, M'gann and M'ree were setting the table, their light-hearted chatter weaving through the warm atmosphere.
"Linda!" exclaimed Jonny, dropping down from the counter and darting toward her, arms stretched wide for a hug. She knelt down, wrapping him in her arms. "You'll never guess what I learned today!"
"What?" she asked, half-smiling, half-wincing as Jonny's exuberance jolted her bruises.
"I learned how to make homemade biscuits! You can help me decorate them later!" he beamed, his innocent enthusiasm contagious.
"Sure thing, little man," she replied, trying to mimic his excitement despite feeling a bit weary. She released him a moment later and both girls moved over to the nearest sofa and Jonny broke off to play with a toy spaceship that his father had picked up on his last visit to Rann. M'ree abandoned her table-laying a moment later and joined them.
Linda was just settling into the sofa, letting the quiet buzz of M'ree and Traya highly technical conversation flow over her and sighing as the well-worn fabric curved around her tired body, when a flash of vibrant yellow light caught her attention through the large front windows. She tensed, but almost immediately relaxed as her mind registered the familiar feel of Zatanna's mind and a less familiar but paternal one that was almost certainly her father.
This guess was confirmed a moment later when Forager opened the door to admit the two sorcerers. "Is there room for two more?" Giovanni asked, his voice questioning but with a hint of warmth as he stepped inside.
"Zatanna Zatara is part of this hive," intoned the New Genesisian Bug as he helped take their coats before hanging them up, "and Giovanni Zatara is part of Zatanna Zatara's hive." His quirks were met with laughter, adding to the lightness in the air.
Grandpa chuckled heartily, his voice booming like distant thunder, as he gestured to the table where most of the gathering had already settled. "Come on, let's get around the table before everything gets cold!"
Just as the bulk of the party had taken their seats, the last trio of guests arrived — Linda's best friend Lucy Cao, her father, and her grandmother — who entered with exasperated expressions, claiming they'd been overwhelmed with 'issues' involving their horses.
"Don't worry about it, Lewis," Grandma assured him as she brought a large dish of mashed potatoes over to the table.
"Yeah, someone either running late, begging off or having to duck out because of an emergency is practically normal around this family," Aunt Lois added, sharing a look with her husband, who returned it with a 'who me' which Linda didn't need even the slightest hint of telepathy to know was fake.
The entire table broke into laughs at that.
Lochaber.
December 6, 13:20 GMT.
"Now that you're mastered some simple spells, today we will progress to something a little more fun," said Professor Flitwick once he taken in the homework and settled back onto his stack of books. He drew his wand and pointed it at a large pineapple that lay on an open spot on his desk. "Chorus Ananas!"
A second later, the pineapple stood up on its end and began hopping and dancing around the open space on the desk to claps, giggles and laughs from the students. Flitwick guided it around for a few minutes and that cancelled the spell. "Does anyone have any questions?"
Surprisingly, even Hermione didn't, so Flitwick set the different pairs to work on the spell.
Hank was paired with Lavender that day, and despite her generally gossipy nature she proved to be a capable Charms student, and both were in the half of the students that got the hang of the spell by the time the bell rang.
18:35 GMT.
Hank, Ron and Hermione were finishing up their dinner when Professor McGonagall appeared behind them, carrying a clipboard with a roll of parchment attached to it. "Good evening."
"Good evening, Professor," they replied.
"Are any of you staying at the castle over Christmas?"
None of them were. Ron had grumbled about having to 'put up with his brother Percy for two weeks' – which Hank thought was a little unfair, the seventeen-year-old was a little pompous and officious at times but was a regular and useful contributor to the Babel Club – but had eventually yielded to his parents' entreaties in absence of any solid excuse.
Professor McGonagall frowned slightly. "Mr Potter… as you are leaving, Professor Dumbledore needs to speak to you about your options."
My options? Hank thought. Well, I guess this is that conversation… "Did he say when, Professor? I've got my language club in about twenty minutes."
"As soon as possible, Mr Lang."
"Would late morning tomorrow – let's say eleven – be acceptable, ma'am?" Hank asked. "I'll have time after History of Magic."
"I believe that would be acceptable," conceded Professor McGonagall, a little reluctantly. "The password is 'Ice Mice'."
"What was that about?" asked Ron, as she moved away.
Hank waited until the professor was a bit further down the table before replying. "I suspect that the headmaster doesn't want me to go back to Smallville."
Ron's face took on a confused expression. "But that's where you live. Why wouldn't you go back?"
"He originally wanted me to be placed with my birth mother's sister, Petunia Dursley, down south because of some 'blood protections' on her house," Hank replied. "I suspect he wants me to return there."
"Professor Dumbledore is very knowledgeable," Hermione reminded him. "Do you think that it's a good idea to ignore his wishes?"
"Ignore him, no," Hank agreed. "But you can only come to the right decisions if you have all the information."
Hermione nodded.
"And based on some of the things that he said to Mera back in November, I think that some of his information is out of date."
"Are you sure?"
"Not yet," Hank replied. "But I expect I'll find out tomorrow."
"Are you sure your information will make a difference?" asked Hermione.
"I think so," Hank said. "I'm not an expert on 'blood protections', but I'm not sure that headmaster is either, and Zatanna has a contact or two who are and they say there are a couple of problems…"
"Such as?"
"First, for best results, she'd have to accept me in, but she refused at the time… even if they could be re-established, they'll never be as strong as they could've been."
"That makes sense," piped up Ron. "I think Bill said something like that when he was studying for his cursebreaker credentials."
Hank nodded, "She also moved out of the house the house she and her husband owned in Surrey a few years ago after they divorced."
"Where does she live now?" asked Ron.
Hank sighed. "That's the biggest problem. According to my information, she now lives in an apartment in London."
"Why's that a problem?" asked Hermione. "You don't like flats?"
"Not particularly," Hank admitted. "But that's not the issue, the apartment is on the second floor. She's renting from the owners of the takeaway below her. According to my source, that means the protections can't be anchored there."
"I think it's possible," said Ron. "Bill talks about putting up protections over their camps all the time…"
"Those are temporary protections," Hank told him. "For the kind of solid, unbreakable protections that you'd need against even a mid-tier sorcerer, my source says you need ownership of the land."
Ron nodded, apparently satisfied.
"What makes you think that 'your source' knows better than the headmaster?" Hermione demanded.
"Professor Dumbledore is intelligent, well-read, and gets around," said Hank. "But he's not a specialist in ancient magic. My source is."
"Really, who?"
"Jason Blood."
"The Jason Blood?" exclaimed Ron. "Merlin's scribe?!"
"That's one story," Hank agreed. "I've heard him described as a high priest, a peasant, a scribe, one of Arthur's knights, the host of a demon… I don't think anyone's entirely sure what the truth is, not even him… But what is known that he's a skilled sorcerer who's been wandering the world causing or preventing disaster since before the founding of Hogwarts."
"Oh," said Hermione, clearly not sure what to say to that.
December 7, 10:25 GMT.
"Nine inches of parchment on the history of cauldron development and the impact on potions innovation," declared Professor Binns in his usual drone as the bell rang for the end of the period.
The class roused themselves from their usual stupor and rushed for the exit.
"I'll see you guys in the Common Room later," Hank told Ron and Hermione as they reached the main staircase. "I've got that meeting with the headmaster to 'discuss my options'."
"Hank…"
He held up his hand, "I know… I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, I just hope he gives me and mine the same."
Hermione gave a look that said that she didn't believe him but said nothing.
"Ice Mice," Hank told the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office. The statue hopped out of the way and allowed him to step onto the stairs. He climbed slowly, and was just about to knock when a voice echoed from inside the office, telling him to come in. Hank opened the door and scanned the room, he was pleased to see that – other than the Headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes, who trilled a greeting – they were alone.
"Have a seat, Hank," said the headmaster. "I meant to ask before… how are you settling in here? It must be quite an adjustment?"
"I'm good, Professor." Hank assured him, as he sat down and dropped his bag on the floor. "I've done a fair bit of travelling with Mom, or Aunt Lois and Uncle Clark…"
Dumbledore nodded. "I hear you started a club?"
"The Babel Club, sir." Hank confirmed with a nod. "It's a language and culture club. Mostly Gryffindors and a few Ravenclaws now, but I'm hoping to recruit some Hufflepuffs in the new year."
"Have you considered inviting any Slytherins?"
Hank made a face. "I haven't exactly had a good start with that house, sir. I did think about approaching Blaise Zabini. He's not one of Draco's gang and rumour has it he knows a few languages…"
Dumbledore nodded, and Hank thought he saw the hint of smile under his bushy beard. "Do you know why I've asked you here, Hank?"
"Professor McGonagall said you wanted to discuss my options, Professor?" Hank replied, sitting down and dropping his bag on the floor.
The headmaster nodded. "After your parents were murdered, I intended to see to your placement in a suitable environment to allow you to grow up and have a safe, normal childhood."
"Normal is often overrated, sir," observed Hank dryly, then bent down and took a carboard file from his bag. "However, I assume that your intention was to place me with my biological mother's sister…" he opened the file and pretended to check it. "Petunia Dursley – nee Evans – sir?"
"Yes," agreed the Headmaster. "I felt it was the best option to keep you safe and away from your fame."
Hank nodded. "A reasonable goal, Professor. The Muggle authorities also considered that option. In the end, they discarded it."
"Really?"
"Yes sir," Hank confirmed. "Principally due to opposition from Mrs Dursley."
"Interesting…" mused the headmaster. "I originally intended to search for you until I found you and bring you back to your family…"
Hank hissed in annoyance at that comment, but remained silent, a small frown on his face.
"However, once my initial covert investigations proved unsuccessful and my limited sense of matters suggested that you were safe and happy…"
"I assume that you couldn't find me because I was living as a Lang, not a Potter, sir," Hank observed. "And maybe because I was in the States, rather than in Britain."
"That was my conclusion once I found your entry in the Book of Admittance," agreed the headmaster. "However, as that information is now publicly known, I feel that reverting to the original plan would be safer."
Hank sighed. "Zatanna suspected you might, so she had one of the Justice League Reserves and a local investigator conduct a follow-up investigation last month."
"Did they come to any conclusions?"
Hank nodded, indicating the file in his hand.
"I would like to see that information," said the headmaster. Despite the polite phrasing, it was not a request.
"Of course," agreed Hank, closing the file and offering it to the headmaster. "You can have my copy, sir."
"Thank you."
Hank sat in silence while the headmaster leafed through the document. After a moment, he started. "Your cousin is in St Brutus' Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys?"
"Apparently," confirmed Hank. "Although 'incurable' may have unnecessarily harsh in his case. He's making some progress… the staff think that he'll be a productive citizen before his eighteenth birthday."
Dumbledore nodded and returned to the report. Just as the bell rang for the beginning to lunch, the headmaster sighed, closed the file and set it down on his desk. "I will need to do some research of my own to confirm… But the name Jason Blood is known to me, so I doubt I will find anything he missed."
Hank nodded.
"Therefore, it would appear that we have a problem."
"I disagree, sir," said Hank firmly. "I'll be far safer in Smallville than I ever could be with the Dursleys, even with the blood protections."
"But the Death Eaters could get to you there.…"
"Professor, no Death Eater has set foot in the United States since three of them tried to use an illegal Portkey to get there in seventy-two and ended up in the Louisiana Bayou."
"That was never reported."
"Maybe not on this side of the pond, sir," Hank conceded. "But Swampy's a friend of a friend."
"Swampy?"
"The Swamp Thing," Hank clarified. "The undead plant creature – who may once have been the botanist Alec Holland – that protects some of the more remote parts of the Bayou, sir."
"Interesting," mused the headmaster. "But now that your new identity is known… anything's possible…"
"Anything's possible," Hank agreed. "But that doesn't mean acting as if it will happen is a good idea, or likely to work."
"Still, I would feel better if you had extra protection," pressed the headmaster. "Perhaps Remus Lupin – a friend of your father's – could join you for the holidays? He is a skilled wizard and well acquainted with Death Eater tactics."
"I'll need to check with Mom that it's all right, Professor," Hank replied with a shrug. "But I don't think it'll be a problem. There'll be enough people coming in and out of either Mom or Grandma and Grandpa's over the holiday that one more shouldn't make much of a difference."
"You're expecting a large crowd?"
"At Thanksgiving Dinner, Grandma and Grandpa had about a dozen people, including Zatanna, and her father, Giovanni, both of whom are powerful and experienced sorcerers... and then there's my cousin who is not only a capable apprentice sorcerer, but also has considerable psychic abilities... my cousin-in-law Megan and her uncle, John, are also powerful psychics… and her sister Marie's no slouch either..." Hank replied. "... and if they aren't enough then we can call in many others for help, including the gentleman we mentioned earlier, two Champions of Shazam, the other Hosts of Nabu — including whoever is wearing the Helm that week — and if the problem gets bad enough several graduates of the Atlantean Conservatory of Sorcery and the headmistress of the Conservatory… and then there's the demi-goddesses and the rest of the Amazons who might decide to get involved…"
"I see."
"Professor, I feel a great swell of pity for anyone who comes to Smallville looking for trouble," Hank paused for a moment, then looked the headmaster straight in the eye. "Because they'll find it."
