Disclaimer: This is a cross between JLA (Season 5) and Rorscharch’s Blot’s Make A Wish Story.
Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. Henchgirl, The Professor, and other such objects are Rorscharch’s creation. DC Comics own the Justice League and associated characters/plot devices. The lack of plot, however, can be attributed to me.
He’s Playing With Us
After leaving the impromptu conference, Harry followed Superman’s directions to the letter. Taking a left, the wizard walked carefully down the hall until he found the third door on his left. When he went to open the door, however, Harry discovered that it was locked. Thinking it odd that the cafeteria was not open at this time of day but chalking it up to a mistake, Harry wandlessly unlocked the door and entered.
He later decided that this ‘Justice League’ really needed to label their rooms when he found himself in an occupied locker room.
An occupied all-female locker room.
On the up side, the partially clothed women were able to guide Harry towards the actual cafeteria—after repeatedly launching various projectiles at his face and other sensitive areas of the male anatomy. Harry made a mental note to buy the Professor something extra nice for his birthday; that mithril pair of long johns was a really good idea.
Finally reaching his objective, however, the undaunted Harry acquired his first meal in space. While he could not recommend the unidentifiable foodstuffs regarding taste, and he did find all the blatant stares he drew from the other costumed diners to be oddly reminiscent of the wizarding world, Harry was more than satisfied by the environ itself. Yet another fascinating aspect of this chiefly American breakfast meal was the introduction of his new favorite beverage—coffee. From some of the things he had heard over the years, the young wizard did not expect to like it all that much. He could safely say, however, that the sharp-tasting drink grows on a person after a dozen or so mugs’ worth. Harry was also very impressed that they already had a larger glass mug prepared and waiting for him with a convenient plastic handle. The attached spout really made consumption less messy as well. The thoughtful individual—whomever it may have been—even had the foresight to set it upon an electric base to keep the contents warm for him. The internationally famous wizard couldn’t be sure, but he thought that the crowd’s staring grew even denser as he took the mug to a vacant corner table.
In fact, it was while Harry was enjoying this most pleasant of American luxuries that one of the more… enthusiastic… young women who had corrected his earlier error sought him out with a proposition. Kara, who Harry noticed was dressed similarly to Superman’s own costume, was kind enough to invite Harry to join her for a training session she had scheduled. Seeing as how he was mostly done anyway, Harry downed the rest of his coffee mug before disposing of his brunch’s remains. Grabbing another large quantity of the brown liquid ‘for the road’, Harry accompanied the shorter blonde-haired woman to one of the league’s sparring dojos.
“I was thinking about starting with some hand-to-hand,” Kara informed him once she had locked the door behind them. “That alright with you, Tex?” she asked with a barely hidden smile.
Realizing that she must really enjoy sparring, Harry glanced around to see that the dull gray padded area was vacant; even the observatories above the ‘arena’ were unoccupied. “Excellent,” Harry approved. “I’ll just follow your lead, then.”
“You do that,” she muttered before rushing toward him, one arm cocked. Harry pivoted away on one foot and allowed the girl to charge past him, his arms still held at his sides. “Quick on your feet, aren’t you?” she half-asked herself. “Good. This might be more fun than I thought.”
Not wanting to ruin the experience for the girl, he started the same maneuver a second time when she engaged, but with a slight difference. Instead of completely pivoting away, Harry grabbed Kara’s outstretched arm and tugged, pulling the red and blue heroine over his shoulder to land face-first behind him.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked anxiously.
Harry heard her grunt at the full-face impact. “I’m fine,” she reassured him, “but you’re looking iffy.” The girl tried launching a flurry of blows at his head and torso, each of which gained in intensity, but Harry carefully blocked each one of them to avoid injuring her like their last encounter.
“Why are you just blocking me?” she demanded. “Fight back!”
“I didn’t want to chance injuring you further,” Harry answered honestly.
“I’m not as frail as you might think!” she blurted. Much to Harry’s amazement, she took flight and charged right into him with both fists preceding her. Harry managed to catch her clenched fists in his larger hands, but the force of their collision still drove Harry back several steps.
The taller male smiled at her over their grasped hands. “Whoa!” Harry said admiringly, “You do pack a punch, don’t you?”
Harry saw her grin faltering and knew that she was not enjoying his mostly defensive approach. The wizard decided that perhaps launching an offensive of his own would cheer her back up, seeing as how she wanted an actual training session. Forgetting about the added strength that Henchgirl’s Re’em blood potion had given him, Harry spun the girl around by her arms and released her tiny frame mid-swing, unintentionally launching his passenger at one of the walls. Her speedy velocity had initially alarmed Harry, but as she slid to the floor after impact, he could see her silhouette still embedded in the gray safety foam.
Marveling at the ingenuity the room’s designer had, Harry smiled again at the girl’s antics; once she climbed shakily back to her feet, she weaved erratically back towards him. “You… Just… Try… that… again…” she demanded breathlessly.
Shrugging, Harry obliged her request, resulting in a second Kara outline on the wall. Unlike the first mostly vertical shape, which—oddly enough—hadn’t yet filled back in, the second impact was more horizontal.
When the girl made her way back to him again, she muttered, “You’ll have to do better than that!”
Harry admired the girl’s determination, and if this was what she normally did for a practice session, he saw no reason not to help. “As you wish,” the wizard obliged. Adding a repulsor charm to his fist, he reared back and caught the girl in her abdomen. He saw her eyes widen in joy as she sailed across the length of the room and made an odd gurgling noise as she contacted the safety foam. After she remained slumped on the floor for several moments, Harry crossed the distance to check on her only to the young woman sound asleep.
Regretting that his performance wasn’t more rewarding for her as she was now slumbering, Harry conjured a bed and laid the costumed hero in it. Not wanting to wake her, Harry quietly left the room and continued his exploration of the space station.
“Mr. Black?” a female voice called out from behind Harry. The wizard had just familiarized himself with the League’s hanger and was making his way back towards the center of the station—and consequently, more coffee. As such, he was merrily skipping down the otherwise unoccupied corridor when someone called for him, interrupting his grand production of ‘I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts’ and causing him to stumble. Righting himself before he plowed headlong into the ground, Harry spun around to see Diana, the Wonder Woman.
“Yes, Diana?” the wizard asked.
“Are you alright?” she asked. It was difficult for her to keep in mind that the awe-inspiring immortal from their earlier conference was the same man that now greatly resembled Flash on a sugar high.
Harry nodded his head rapidly. “Yep. Perfectly fine. Perfect. Fine. More than fine, really. You don’t have coffee, do you? Great stuff, that coffee. I love coffee, don’t you?” The inquisitive salvo was fired off so fast that the Amazon had no hope of answering any of them.
“Err… yes, I like coffee,” Diana finally offered.
“Me, too!” Harry said brightly. “You can’t have too much coffee! It’s my new favorite drink, coffee is!”
The metaphorical penny finally dropped and Diana realized what had happened. “How much did you have?” she asked worriedly.
“Let’s see,” Harry mused while stroking his chin with one hand. “That’s one… two… carry the three… add those two… fourteen!” Harry exclaimed.
“Oh, Hera!” Diana nearly moaned. She remembered the first few months of her stay in Patriarch’s world, and her encounter with the devious iced mocha. But even then, she had only five. The hyperactive male in front of her had nearly three times as much!
“’Hera’?” Harry asked curiously. “Does he, she, or it have coffee?”
Diana blinked. “Uhm… Hera is a goddess,” she hesitantly supplied.
“And do goddesses drink coffee?” Harry demanded.
“I’m afraid not,” Diana replied gently.
Harry looked disheartened for a moment. “Then what do they drink?”
Wondering exactly where this conversation was going, she informed him that all the gods drank Ambrosia.
“So much for the gods then,” Harry concluded. “Let’s go with plan B.”
“What’s plan B?” the woman asked before thinking better of it.
In reply, Harry stepped forward and grabbed the Amazon by one armored bracelet and Apparated the pair of them to the cafeteria. While Diana was settling herself from the unexpected and mildly unpleasant means of magical travel, Harry had already strode over to the buffet table. Unfortunately for the java junkie, however, breakfast had long since been put away, which included disposing of the morning’s remaining coffee.
“Hey, where’s the coffee?” Harry asked. “I left it right here.”
“The coffee is gone,” Diana said with no little relief. “There won’t be anymore until tomorrow.” Granted, there was always a supply in the monitor womb, but Diana felt that this small omission was warranted, given the circumstances.
“Outrageous!” Harry protested. “Accio coffee!”
Diana wasn’t sure what the strange man expected to happen, but she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Her inspection was cut off prematurely as she spotted Shayera and Kara enter the room with the former hovering cautiously over the latter. Seeing Kara looking disheveled, Diana went over to investigate, foolishly forgetting about the very caffeinated wizard she was escorting.
“What in Hera’s name happened to you?” Diana asked the younger girl.
“Some weirdo guy threw my butt into the wall three times in a row hard enough to dent the titanium!” Kara groused.
Wonder Woman looked confused. “Who are you talking about?” she questioned.
Hawkgirl shrugged. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I found her this way not thirty seconds ago.”
“I don’t know who he is,” Supergirl admitted. “I thought that it was just Plasticman trying to catch a show earlier. This guy was dressed like a cowboy and walked right into our locker room when a bunch of us were changing. Said something about our stripping in the cafeteria being inappropriate. I tracked the lecher down a few minutes later and invited him to the sparring room. I figured I’d toss him around a few times in repayment. Too bad that it wasn’t that morphing moron; when I got on to him for just dodging me, he knocked me clear across the room with one blow.”
“So that’s what happened?” Shayera asked.
“Hardly,” she grumbled. “Then I tried flying straight at him; he grabbed my fists and tossed me back again. I sorta taunted him then; said he’d have to try harder than that. I thought he’d leave a gap open that I could take advantage of, but he popped me another one and knocked me out! And to top it off, I came to on a four-poster bed—in the training room!” Kara shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know who the dude is, but I’d like to see him arm wrestle my cousin sometime.”
Diana suddenly got an uncomfortable feeling that she already knew the answer. “Kara, did this man happen to be wearing a black coat and hat, had black hair and a pistol, and speak with a British accent?”
“Uhm… yeah! Why? You know him?” she asked intently.
“Well…” Diana paused as she shifted her stance, revealing the man they knew only as Mr. Black—who, at this very moment, was rapidly tapping his foot whilst observing his watch as if he were waiting for something.
“It’s him!” Kara growled lowly before stalking towards the man who had quickly, efficiently, and methodically humiliated her with no obvious effort. Unfortunately for the super heroine, she picked the worst possible moment to make her advance. For while she was speeding towards Mr. Black, so was a pot full of steaming hot coffee—minus the pot.
Needless to say, the resulting yell of surprise was very audible.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Harry exclaimed needlessly, “and you found my coffee! Excellent!” The wizard threw out his hand, summoning all of the precious brown liquid from its current place adorning the girl’s upper torso into a conveniently conjured coffee pot.
Kara, doing a very good impression of a wet cat, just stared at Harry without comprehension until the warm sensation caught her attention. Muttering something about boiling people in oil, the girl began rapidly wiping off her shirt. “You know, that stuff is pretty hot to just be splashing people!”
“Oh… sorry ‘bout that,” Harry broke off from his inspection. Trying to help the girl out, Harry cast a cooling charm at the affected area. While the young woman was relieved that she was no longer in risk of burning alive, she soon noticed that her body was now experiencing a quite different reaction. Crossing her hands over her chest, the girl shouted, “I give up! You win! I surrender! Please, for the love of Rao, just stop!”
Harry glanced at the two dumbfounded older women with a raised eyebrow, looking for an explanation for the younger member of their gender. Finding no help from that quarter, Harry just resigned himself to never understanding the fairer sex. Noticing that the girl’s shirt had a large stain on the front and that she had her arms wrapped around her as if she was chilled, Harry sent a cleaning charm at her shirt, immediately followed by a warming charm.
Seeing that the girl seemed back to rights, Harry shrugged to himself and noisily downed a good portion of the coffee he was still holding. “Hey, Shayera!” Harry called out once he came back up for air.
“Uh… hello?” she asked uneasily.
“You want some coffee?” Harry asked while holding the pot outstretched in one hand. “It’s really good!” he encouraged.
At her shake of the head, he looked at the blonde girl. “Would you like some… Kara, wasn’t it?” Harry petitioned.
“Yes…” the addressed teenager replied distractedly. Gesturing from her front to the glass container that she swore he didn’t have a moment ago, she asked, “How did you do that?”
“Magic, of course!” he beamed. Holding the container out to Diana, he silently offered its contents to the immortal warrior.
“I’ll pass,” she said diplomatically. “Are you sure that—” She stopped her half-hearted attempt at intervention when he upended the vessel and drained its caffeinated contents.
“Ahh…” he sighed with his eyes closed. “That’s much better!” Vanishing the pot, he looked at the three women eagerly. “So… what does one do for fun on a space station?”
“Well…” Shayera hedged, “we had something to ask you first. Diana?”
“Hmm… oh, right. We were—that is, the League’s executive council—was wondering if you would consider joining us,” Diana offered uneasily.
Kara groaned. “Please tell me you aren’t serious…” she grumbled.
“Do League members get coffee?” Harry asked intently.
“Yeah,” Shayera answered the odd request, “as much as you want. What?” she demanded at the exasperated look her teammate Diana was sending her.
“Deal!” Harry announced. “I expect that some friends of mine will come looking for me eventually, but until then I’m golden.”
“You do know that we have to put down alien invasions, don’t you?” Kara demanded. “Hostile bids for world domination, freaky monsters, crackpot warlords, anal retentive governments… that kind of thing, right?”
Harry just smiled in reply. “Sounds like home. Count me in.”
Diana blinked at how easy he accepted threats that gave even Kal some occasional hesitation. “Okay. I’ll let the others know you’re up for it then,” she accepted.
“Cool!” the wizard agreed. “Now, can you recommend any sights to see, stuff to do, that sort of thing?”
“What is it you’re interested in?” Shayera questioned.
“Well, I sort of rushed through Vegas not too long ago on business. It seemed really neat, but about all I got to do was try the slots a couple of times,” Harry replied. “I always wanted to give that place another shot.”
“Well, Zatanna—she’s that sorceress we told you about—has a magic show that she does in Vegas,” the Thanagarian woman advised. “That’s a pretty good place to start, and then you’ve got all those card tables…” Harry could see that the woman really liked the area just from the way she was talking.
“So, you three want to come with?” Harry asked.
“Awesome!” Kara shouted. “Count me in!”
“I don’t know…” Diana hesitated. “Kal wouldn’t really appreciate you going there unsupervised,” she informed the girl.
Kara pouted. “Oh, come on. Besides, if you come along, then I won’t be unsupervised.”
“I suppose that it would be good to see how Zatanna’s doing,” Diana wavered.
“That’s the spirit!” Harry praised, clasping the Amazon on the shoulder. “How about you, Shayera?”
“I’d like to,” she said glumly, “but I can’t.”
Harry frowned. “Why not?”
In answer, she flexed her wingspan. “See the problem?” she said. “I can’t exactly blend into a crowd.”
“Is that all?” Harry asked disbelievingly. He flicked his finger in the direction of her wings. “I don’t see any problems at all,” he said smugly.
“What do you mean you don’t se—What did you do?” she cried out when she looked over her shoulder.
“You said that you can’t go out because people notice your wings,” Harry answered casually, “so I made them invisible. Now you can go with us,” he finished cheerfully.
“Incredible…” the winged woman breathed, apparently stroking thin air. “How did you do this?” she demanded.
“Magic…” was his one-word answer. “So, can we go now?”
“We still have to change clothes,” Kara answered, “something you might want to consider.” At his curious glance, she explained, “I think that the ‘Tex Avery’ motif might stand out a bit, even in Vegas.”
“Oh…” Harry replied after comprehension dawned. “No worries!” He quickly pulled off his hat and gun belt before stowing both articles back inside the sub-dimensional pocket that the Professor had made for him within his coat. “How’s that?”
The blonde teenager thought for a moment over his… unique wardrobe. “Well, the jacket’s okay, but you might want to consider something a little less formal. A t-shirt and jeans always works.”
Harry conceded the point and rapidly transfigured the wizarding casual wear into the recommended articles. He had seen several male muggles wearing the shirt-and-jeans ensemble with a large white skull splattered across the black of the t-shirt before, and he thought it had something to do with a comic book hero or something similar. With a thought, his jacket changed to the same basic duster design that he had seen.
“How’s that?” Harry asked as he modeled his handiwork.
“Uh… yeah… that’ll work,” Kara muttered as she took in the well-muscled figure that the tight shirt revealed.
“Should I see about getting a jet then?” the wizard questioned.
Shayera shook her head. “The teleporter’s faster,” she explained.
“Deal,” Harry answered. Etching a slight bow, he added, “See you there,” and disappeared.
“Well, you can’t say he doesn’t know how to make an exit,” Kara pointed out, already hurrying towards her cabin aboard the Watchtower.
As the two older women followed her path at a slower pace, Shayera asked, “So, tell me. Why did you look like a constipated chipmunk when coffee was brought up?”
“What?” the dignified Amazon princess exclaimed, “I did not!”
“Yes, you did,” the Thanagarian insisted, “now give.”
Sighing, Diana asked, “Do you remember the last time Wally got a sugar high?”
“Yes…” Shayera answered slowly, cringing at the memory.
“Well, he’s not the only one who should be banned from caffeinated products.”
“You can’t mean…!” the invisibly winged woman interjected.
Diana nodded. “Mm hmm… he was skipping. And singing. Badly.”
After waiting for an eternity in the space station’s teleportation room, Harry decided to investigate how such a feat as apparition could be done mechanically. Unfortunately for the bridge crew, this meant receiving many questions, not all of which were related to the topic at hand. When that mode of entertainment failed, Harry found an excellent substitute in staring matches against the current bridge supervisor, J’on J’onnz, the Martian Manhunter.
Needless to say, it was with many sighs of relief that Harry was distracted from his inquiry by the arrival of his three escorts for the evening. It appeared that each of the women was dressed in casual wear, with Kara going so far as to put her hair back in a ponytail.
“Is everyone ready?” Harry asked. They each gave an affirmative nod, and Diana instructed the technician to send the four to the filed coordinates for the sorceress Zatanna.
When the momentary flash of light faded, Harry found himself standing next to the women in an otherwise unoccupied alley. “That’s… different. How does that thing target a destination?” Harry asked.
“Computer system with geographical maps and a coordinate database,” the disguised Hawkgirl answered.
“Hmm…” Harry muttered to himself, “The Professor really needs to get a computer.”
“What?” Diana asked.
Harry returned from his introspection. “Oh nothing,” he assured the woman, “just random thoughts. So… where’s this Zatanna perform at exactly?”
Shayera jerked her thumb out to the side. “Just around the corner.” The quartet waded through the sea of humanity and eventually drifted to the ticket window. When informed of the production’s entrance fee, Harry retrieved his wallet from his back pants’ pocket. Opening the leather binder, he began rapidly flipping through various colored pieces of paper while muttering. “Britain… Germany… Italy… Russia… Australia… Ah! The States!” The wizard passed the attendant a few green slips of paper and the group made their way to their seats, as it was nearly show time.
“Haven’t you ever heard of traveler’s checks?” Kara asked. “Or credit cards, for that matter.”
“Well… yes, but it’s never been a real issue,” Harry answered. “I don’t do all that much shopping, any way. For that matter, I can keep up with the bills just fine and I’ve yet to meet a person desperate enough to try to rob me.”
As they continued searching through the masses for their assigned seats, Shayera noted, “It’s kind of strange, really. You’d think that somebody would recognize one of us. I mean, Diana’s still wearing her bracelets for crying out loud!”
The Amazon in question tucked her muscled forearms out of sight while smiling guiltily.
Harry held his hands behind his back as he rocked back and forth, whistling innocently all the while.
“What did you do now?” Shayera asked exasperatedly.
“Everyone might be ignoring you because someone placed a notice-me-not charm on all three of you,” Harry remarked idly.
“So we’re like… invisible?” Kara blurted.
Harry shook his head. “No, they can see you just fine which is why they aren’t trying to walk through you. It’s just that their minds don’t process any of the details about you.”
“Cool!” Kara remarked. “What else can you do?”
“Whatever I can imagine, I suppose,” Harry finally decided.
“Anything?” she asked wide eyed.
“Well, within reason,” the wizard clarified. “I can’t, say, conjure a planet or resurrect the dead, but I can create simple objects and mechanisms, transfigure most items, apply charms to static objects, and brew the simpler potions; basic stuff like that…”
“Awesome!” the girl exclaimed, a sentiment silently shared by her older teammates. “So, if I asked you to do something for me, do I have to sacrifice something to you in return or dance around a bonfire naked, or something?”
Harry thought about the first part of her query. “Well, despite what you’ve heard, only the truly deep magic, like rituals, require that kind of preparation.” The rest of her query suddenly impacted with his skull. “As for the… uhm… other thing, that’s… ah… not really necessary either,” Harry stuttered.
Sensing how distracted the wizard became, Kara threw away her upbringing in Kansas away and smirked. “Oh…” she simpered, “and I was so looking forward to stripping down and getting sweaty! Are you sure that I don’t have to?”
Harry nodded his head jerkily.
The blonde stepped right up against him and stretched up to look at him. “Are you really sure?” she pressed.
“Positive,” he answered uneasily.
“Oh well,” she said in a normal tone as she sashayed away from him. “Pity. It could have been fun.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed as he realized that she had been playing with him. His inner Marauder demanded reparation.
“Ow!” the girl yelped as she began furiously rubbing the affected part of her rump. “Who pinched me?”
Harry quickly cleared his mind as the Shangri La monks had taught him. Not making eye contact, he started humming one of his favorite Himalayan hymns as he sedately strode towards their seats—or rather, as sedately as a java’d up wizard could manage, which wasn’t that much, really.
“You should know that he’s at least eight times as old as you are,” Shayera noted idly, “if not more.”
Diana nodded. “And we really don’t know anything about him,” she added.
“Hey,” Kara interrupted, “he can take everything I can throw at him and still toss me on my butt, he’s apparently long-lived—which is convenient for me, and he’s got a sense of humor. Not to mention that he helped get me to the beautiful Las Vegas. Unless he’s trying to take over the world or already married, I’m not going to get too fussy on the fine details. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I‘ve got a magician to make uncomfortable.” With that said, the disguised Supergirl stomped off in the same direction as Harry.
“This has all the makings of being an excellent show,” Hawkgirl pointed out to her teammate.
“Definitely action packed,” the Amazon concurred. “It’s a good thing we have such close seats.”
The currently ‘unwinged’ woman suddenly smiled wickedly. “And who knows…? Zatanna’s production might be worth watching, too!”
As it turned out, Zatanna did put on a spectacular display, and the now-four leaguers enjoyed it tremendously. During the course of the former, the eldest two members of the League also got to witness the second hit of the evening: the twenty-year-old Kara Kent and her emerging feminine wiles versus the indeterminately aged Mr. Black and his determination to prove she had no effect on him.
As for the wizard himself, he found a ‘non magic’ magic show to be fascinating, and vowed to share the memory with the muggle-obsessed Arthur Weasley someday. After a spectacular conclusion—which happened to give Harry a few new ideas to discuss with the other members of Black Ink—the quartet made their way backstage and to the sorceress’s dressing room. Seeing as how the performer was still out conversing with members of the audience, the group let themselves into the unlocked room.
“Whoa!” Kara exclaimed, taking in all of the unfamiliar items. Amongst the magical bric-a-brac, the young Argosian’s attention eventually migrated to the crystal ball resting upon the dressing room’s table. “Hey! Check this out!” Staring at the glass sphere, the girl wondered aloud, “Do you suppose you can really see the future on one of those things?”
Harry, who was not nearly as enthusiastic about a magical residence as the female heroine, snorted. “Unlikely,” he answered, “most of those are just glass balls with some mist added to placate divination frauds. The chances of that one being the genuine article are very slim. See, I’ll show you,” he offered, laying his hand over the sphere. The instant he came into contact with the mystical object, however, his zippo started vibrating in his pants’ pocket. Shocked that the communications device was functioning after his many failed attempts earlier, Harry released the glowing ball and dug out the portable Floo connection. Once his hand left the orb, however, the Zippo went dormant once more.
“Strange…” Harry murmured. The little device normally vibrated until he accepted the call. On a whim, he laid his other hand back on top of the glass object—and the Zippo began vibrating again. “Very strange,” he decided. Activating the device, Harry questioned, “Hello?”
“Mr. Black! You’re alive!” a nearly hysterical female voice yelled. Harry blinked confusedly as the three women present were trying to figure out how—and more importantly, why—voices were coming from a cigarette lighter. The fact that said lighter was currently emitting a bright emerald flame was a sticking point as well.
“Uhmm… I was the last time I checked…” Harry finally answered. “Henchgirl?”
“Yes…?” the Potions mistress queried anxiously.
“Why exactly does that surprise you?” Harry asked.
“Oh!” she squeaked. “No reason.”
“Henchgirl…” the wizard sternly warned.
Harry heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the floo connection, and he could almost see the young woman wringing her hands nervously. “It’s just… I thought that the Professor… but he thought that I… and neither of us remember changing… sometime during the previous test…”
Harry shook his head at the stream of consciousness. “Calm down, Henchgirl,” Harry said levelly. “Just tell me what’s the matter.”
“Okay,” she said shakily, “sometime after our last test with Tinkerbell—you know, the green hairless cat -, one of the settings on our machine was skewed. When you tested it, you went to the Island’s coordinates… just not the right waveform,” Henchgirl finished uneasily.
Harry raised one eyebrow in inquiry. “Meaning…” he questioned.
“Well,” she began to explain, “In layman’s terms… there are an infinite number of possibilities, or dimensions, in the universe since there are an infinite number of directions for it to go. Now, all of these possibilities are operating simultaneously and in the same location, so they need some way of not overlapping each other; hence the waveform theory. Each of these ‘dimensions’ are vibrating at a different frequency so they don’t intersect.”
Harry nodded to himself. “So I… vibrated off course, is that it?”
“Essentially,” the woman replied.
“And now I’m in another dimension…?” Harry offered weakly, feeling that warm, fuzzy, coffee-induced feeling vanish suddenly.
“Yep!” she chirped, happy that he had followed along.
“Well, that certainly explains a few things,” Harry said to himself. “And you couldn’t get me back?” he asked aloud.
Henchgirl sounded melancholic as she pleaded, “We didn’t know which possibility to extract you from. But don’t worry,” she pledged, “that’s why I sent out that floo call. Now that you’ve established contact, I know exactly where you are.”
“So you or the Professor can retrieve me now, then?” Harry asked hopefully.
“I’m sorry,” she confessed, “but the machine melted down right after you went through, which is why we couldn’t track you. The Professor is down in the laboratory right now building a new model. He’s vowed to work night and day until it’s finished.”
“There’s no need for him to ruin his health,” Harry protested. “I’m fine; and there’s no rush. There are a few things in this… reality that I’d like to see anyway, so take your time.”
“We’ll get you back as soon as we can!” she promised. “And we’ve upgraded our Zippos,” she added. “I’ve just added your location’s frequency, so we should be able to talk to each other at any time without whatever you’re using now to boost your signal. Hopefully, we’ll be able to transmit matter over the connection soon.”
Harry heard a loud clatter over the connection.
“It sounds like the Professor’s had another accident,” Henchgirl sighed audibly.
“You better go check on him,” Harry coaxed. “We can talk later.”
“Bye, Mr. Black,” the magical engineer called out. “Don’t drink and go ‘Roo hunting!” she yelled before the flame flickered and died.
Harry grumbled something that the other women thought was, “It was only once!” The wizard looked lost in thought as he unconsciously slid the zippo back into his pocket. “Another dimension, huh?” he muttered. “Well, that explains why there’re so many metahumans and virtually no wizards.”
The wizard groaned as the immensity of the situation dawned on him. “I need a drink,” he finally decided.
“How about you start with who you all are?” a female voice responded. Harry looked to its source and found the female performer and part-time Justice League member—who happened to be deceptively holding her wand loosely in one hand.
Harry quickly omitted Zatanna from the charms’ effects surrounding the other three leaguers. “My apologies, Miss. I believe you have already met these three, and you may call me Mr. Black.”
“I see,” the sorceress finally acknowledged. Choosing to ignore the topic of his magical disguise preventing any firm identification—he apparently had the League’s backing after all, if not their complete trust – she began taking off her top hat, bow tie, and other costume implements. “And what can I do for you?”
Harry shrugged. “I’m on vacation for the foreseeable future and wanted to see the Vegas nightlife. Shayera suggested starting with your show. It was very entertaining, by the way. I thought it very interesting how many substitutions you made for real magic.”
The woman looked over her shoulder. “And what makes you think that there was a distinction?”
The transplanted wizard just smiled. “I’m something of a wizard myself. I can generally spot the genuine article. Anyway, they wanted to come back here and check up with you. Personally, I was thinking of picking up a couple of drinks, trying my hand at cards, and calling it quits for the night. Any suggestions?”
“The Black Cat’s a good choice,” Zatanna admitted. “If you’ll give me a few minutes to get changed, I can point it out to you.”
Realizing the unspoken request for males to vacate the premises, Harry nodded at the woman. “If they’re all right with it, I don’t mind if you tag along,” he responded as he stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him.
Zatanna whirled her wand around the room, quickly locking the door and setting up a privacy bubble around the four women. “Okay,” the League’s magician demanded as she pulled her blouse over her head, “who’s Mr. Tall, dark, and magically adept?”
The others quickly filled her in on what they had witnessed, as well as their speculations. As she was pulling a pair of tight black jeans on, Zatanna summarized, “So, let me get this straight. We have a male of unknown nationality and age, who talks just like a Vegas native but who you’ve heard use British slang, who took out three hefty bad guys before they had a chance to retaliate, and,” the woman paused, “and he has somehow cloaked his identity so that none of us can give a detailed description. Not to mention several other little magic tricks. Which, I might add, sounds like some serious mojo. Any ideas on who we’re dealing with here?”
“Nothing definite,” Diana admitted ruefully.
“Fabulous!” Zatanna snorted as she slid her arms into a stylish black leather jacket. “Well, let’s see where this goes.” Zatanna waved her wand again to dispel the wards before tucking it in her sleeve. The sorceress opened the door to reveal the mysterious Mr. Black, who seemed to be passing the time by reading a book entitled ‘Everything You Will Ever Need to Know While Traveling Around the Multiverse’. Strangely enough, the manuscript bore a rather large red button, with the words ‘Don’t Panic’ engraved on it, on the front cover.
“Shall we go?” she prompted after deciding that, no, she really didn’t want to know. An instant later found the sorceress accompanied by one tall male figure, the large tome sliding effortlessly out of sight and into his jacket’s pocket. Slightly impressed despite herself, Zatanna smirked and said, “I thought that I’d start you off light…”
The Las Vegas nightlife, Harry realized, was decidedly loud. And bright. He also found a fair share of rude people, one of whom nearly flattened Zatanna as he ducked into an alleyway without even an apology for the collision.
Following the stage performer’s lead, the quintet navigated the crowded sidewalks until they arrived at a stylish casino/bar furnished in a glossy black. “I give you… the Black Cat!” Zatanna exclaimed loftily.
“Oh, slot machines!” Kara squeed.
“Careful,” Shayera warned, though she was smiling, “your farm roots are showing.”
“I bet these are rigged, too,” Harry said dismissively.
“Well, the odds of winning are rather small,” Diana offered.
“Of winning are small?” Harry asked disbelievingly. Turning to Kara, he held out his hand. “Here, I’ll show you. Do you have a couple of quarters?”
“Yeah…” she fished four silvery coins from her pants’ pocket. Harry accepted the money before putting one coin in each of four adjacent machines. He then walked back down the line, pulling each of the machines’ arms. “Now watch,” Harry ordered as he turned his back to the gambling devices.
Barely a moment later, a cacophony of light and sound blared to light behind the wizard as the machines began dispensing their payloads. Carefully stepping over the heaping mound of coins, Harry held his hands out in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “See what I mean? Rigged. Now, I wonder if they have any roulette tables… those are supposed to be fun.” He started wondering towards the inside of the building, only to stop at Kara anxiously calling his name.
“Wait!” she ordered. “What about all of this?”
Harry just glanced at the piles of hard cash dispassionately. “It was your investment. Do whatever you want with it.” Putting the issue out of his mind, the wizard began looking for a more interesting game table – or a wetbar, he wasn’t too picky – leaving an ecstatic teenager and three disbelieving women.
“How in the world did he do that?” Shayera demanded, never taking her eyes off the mound of money. “What kind of spell can do that?”
“If there is a spell for that, I don’t know it,” Zatanna admitted. “And I didn’t sense him using any magic either.”
“Nor did I see any device which might have done this,” Diana added.
“He had to have done something!” the redhead protested. “Nobody’s that lucky!”
“There must be over four thousand dollars here!” Kara exclaimed. “Now I can get that car I saw…” she trailed off for a moment in thought before her eyes bugged out. “A car! They use vehicles for prizes here, don’t they?” she demanded of the Vegas native.
“Yes,” she answered bemusedly. The young blonde-haired woman looked—if possible—even more ecstatic, and the older women wondered whether the girl would need a sedative in the near future. Before she could go tearing off after her humanoid good luck charm, however, the group was joined by a member of the casino’s staff.
“Good evening, ladies,” the uniformed man greeted, “and congratulations. Now, who is our lucky winner this evening?”
“Our friend won this,” Diana supplied.
“But he gave it to me!” Kara added energetically.
The employee carefully hid a smile at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Well, I need his signature on this form for our records. Do you know where he is?”
“He mentioned visiting your roulette tables,” Zatanna informed the man, much to his private satisfaction. The roulette wheels were some of their biggest earners, not the least reason being a few ‘in-house’ modifications. With any luck, they could recoup their losses on this same group before the night was out. Fetching a nearby bucket, the man helped to scoop up the proceeds.
“Well, if you’ll follow me, we’ll just check in on your gentleman friend,” the employee offered graciously. He swiftly led the group between the other gamblers and to the sections farther back where the high-classed play resided. Making a last sharp turn, the assemblage found them selves watching a group of four people, one of whom had entered this building with them.
“So, I just pick one of these squares and put my chips on it, and if that ball lands in the same slot on the wheel, then I win?” they heard Harry ask.
“Now you got it!” one of the other gamblers said jovially.
“Alright,” Harry said decisively before slamming his mug down on the table and putting his entire stack of chips on number thirty-one.
“Are you sure about that, sir?” the table’s attendant asked. “That is a hundred dollars, after all.”
Harry waived off the man’s concern. “I’m positive. The whole lot—number thirty-one.”
“I’ll give you this, kid,” the other gambler barked. “You’ve got spunk!” He tossed a few of his own chips down.
“Okay… hold your bets!” the table keeper ordered before the wheel spun and the ball shot into the cylinder. After several anxious seconds, the ball dropped—right into slot number thirty one. “And thirty one’s a winner!”
There was some applause as Harry was presented with several more chips. “Would the winner care to try again?” the croupier asked as he tried to recoup his losses.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. Let’s try the other side of the board. Everything on number zero.” He moved the chips accordingly.
“Any takers?” the other man pleaded. When there were none, he gingerly spun the wheel again, tapping his foot repeatedly as the ball slowly came to rest—in slot zero. “Congratulations,” the man finally said.
“Thanks,” Harry responded with equal regret as he raked his cash chips into a bucket.
“Does sir wish to play again?” the man asked hesitantly.
“No, I don’t think so,” Harry decided as he scooped up his mug and drained Vega’s excuse for alcohol. “I know when I’m in a rut. I think I’ll give the card tables a look, though.”
Harry waved off a course of “good byes” from the other gamblers before his attention was attracted by the four ladies and their escort.
Getting right to the point, the casino’s attendant asked, “Are you the gentleman who won the four jackpots out front?”
Harry sighed audibly before reluctantly nodding. “I’m afraid so,” he admitted. “Is there a problem?”
“No, sir,” the employee answered uneasily while eyeing the extremely full pail at the customer’s feet, “we merely require your signature on a few forms.”
Harry went through the bureaucratic red tape before walking away from the gob-smacked attendant with the four women in tow.
After the group left, the slots’ attendant signaled for a replacement and then dragged the roulette croupier off to the side.
“What was that all about?” he demanded. “Do you have the slightest idea how much money that man just pocketed off of your area? Why didn’t you use the ‘added feature’?”
“I did, Sir,” the lower employee protested. “I don’t understand it. I tapped the control for number sixteen—I know I did! But somehow, the ball got redirected both times!”
The senior supervisor thought for a moment about how the mark could have out-cheated them. “Did you see him reach into his pocket at any time? Or signal to someone in the crowd.”
“No, Sir!” he answered.
His boss nodded. “Okay. I’ll have him put under surveillance; he’ll slip up sooner or later and then we’ll get him!”
“Can I see that?” Shayera asked. Harry nodded and handed the redhead the bucket. “Dear Thanagar! That’s a lot of chips!” the sometimes gambler breathed.
Zatanna coughed disbelievingly. “Two winning straight-ups in a row off of a hundred? There has to be close to a hundred thirty thousand in there!”
“Hmm,” Harry said, “I’m not familiar with the American money system. Is that a lot?”
His answer was met with four bug-eyed looks. “It’s… a good chuck of change for most of us,” Zatanna conceded. “This much would probably buy a good-sized house.”
Harry nodded and withdrew half a dozen chips from the bucket. “Alright then,” Harry offered, “one of you can keep it then. I’ve already got my castle; I don’t really need another house.” And with that said he was gone once more, leaving slightly in excess of one hundred thirty five thousand dollars behind without any seeming interest in its distribution.
“Uh…” Shayera stuttered, “Did I miss something?”
“I know I did!” Zatanna exclaimed. “I was watching closely this time, and I know that he didn’t use any magic I’m familiar with.”
“Nobody’s that lucky!” Kara said, still blindsided by the hefty bucket of coins she was casually holding in one hand.
Diana, not at all fazed by the amount of wealth due to her upbringing, was instead following Harry’s receding figure with a speculative gaze. “I didn’t know that Eutucia1 had a son…” she murmured.
Harry was finally asked to leave the building an hour or so later, after another unexplainable windfall at the card tables. The wizard was initially encouraged when his first bet of three chips was taken only moments after he sat down, but the feeling of elation waned when he won the next hand, immediately gaining the chips back along with several of their friends. His next dozen attempts to give the extra chips back also proved to be in vain, leaving him surrounded by the unattractive plastic counters.
As the group cashed out and left the establishment, Zatanna clasped him on the back and proclaimed, “I’ve never seen anything like that before! How did you do it?”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said dully. “I’ve tried to have a normal holiday – you wouldn’t believe how hard I’ve tried – but weird things like that always seem to pop up no matter what I do.”
The sorceress blinked at the unexpected reply. Speaking for herself, she was ecstatic. Not only did she get to meet another league magician with more of a personality than Dr. Fate or Jason Blood, but she also netted nearly a quarter million just for teaching the man the rules to Texas Hold-em! “Oh, don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed it!” The others made similar announcements, and for possibly similar reasons. Zatanna still couldn’t believe that the uptight officious Princess Diana knew how to throw dice!
Harry suddenly looked around as he paused by an occupied bench. “I thought that it never rains around here,” he stated inquiringly. The other women looked away from their own accruements for the evening and discovered that it had come a slight shower while they were inside.
“Precipitation is rare in Nevada, but this is our rainy season,” Zatanna explained. “It’ll drizzle for the next couple of weeks, but I doubt we’ll see anything major.”
Harry nodded his head in reply. Seeing the shabbily dressed man seated upon the bench next to him, Harry suspected that the person was likely one of the city’s poor that made the alleys their home. Deciding to do his good deed for the day, Harry handed the man one of the hundred dollar bills from his share of the winnings. “Here you go, mate. Be careful later; it’s liable to be slippery out.”
Not catching the man’s reply, Harry just dipped his head and set off again, whistling all the while. A few blocks later, however, he felt nature call. Making his excuses, he doubled back to a public restroom he had spotted.
The Question was – in a word – confused. Not five hours ago, Batman had tracked him down aboard the Watchtower and ‘requested’ that he observe a suspicious character that was currently on the watchtower. Grateful for the new case, the disguised detective quickly tracked the unknown male down. He then stealthily followed his quarry, even though the suspect had teleported a time or two. Learning of the plans to visit Las Vegas—a very shady city indeed—the investigator quickly worked up an appropriate disguise and followed the posse planet side. After a few stops, he tracked the group to the Black Cat, one of the upper echelon casinos.
All very routine for a first-class detective such as himself.
Having his mark approach him and slip him cash, however, was not. Giving his objective a few moments head start, the Question was just fixing to start again when a loud splat followed by screaming distracted him. Making his way behind the brightly lit establishment to the much dimmer back alley, the League’s number two detective found himself observing a crime scene. On the ground was a male figure in dark clothing with a scarf tied over his face. Aside from the obvious, there were two other thoughts to consider. One, the man wasn’t moving, and appeared to be unconscious. Two, he was apparently holding a long serrated knife in his hand when he fell. Before he could question the alley’s conscious witness—assumedly the woman whose scream had alerted him—two of the local police force had entered the alley. He quickly hid himself so he could observe the proceedings.
Following proper procedure, one of the officers called in the incident and requested medical assistance. Shortly thereafter, his partner attempted to right the unconscious man before he noticed the suspicious attire. The two police officers suddenly became more alert, and paid closer attention to the crime scene. Another look at the discarded knife yielded some surprising evidence.
After relieving himself of a large volume of coffee and alcohol, Harry returned to his companions. Due to the late hour, they decided to call an end to the night’s festivities. With a pleased goodbye, Zatanna left to return to her apartment while the rest sought a secluded spot. Finding an empty alley, Shayera contacted the orbiting Watchtower and the quartet was teleported aboard. Harry then removed their magical disguises since they were no longer in the public eye. Upon finding out that Harry still did not have lodging, the two younger leaguers left to correct the oversight.
“Well, that was very interesting,” Diana confessed to her female teammate.
“More than you know,” a gruff voice said from behind her. The two women turned quickly to find the one and only Batman lurking behind them.
“What do you mean?” Diana demanded.
“Follow me,” he said in reply, before doing an about-face and heading towards their private conference room. Rolling their eyes at their stoic teammate, the pair emulated his swift pace.
It surprised even the Question when it was discovered that this man was the previously unidentified ‘Slasher’. There had been several cases in the recent weeks where one or two people—usually women—were attacked by an unknown person or persons. Upon engagement, the ‘Slasher’ would use a jagged knife to disembowel his or her victims before robbing them. The officers on the scene concluded that this man was the same horrible murderer, and speculated that he met his match on the slippery fire escape. It was assumed that he lay in wait there for a likely victim, and slipped on the metal surface as he rushed to intercept this particular woman. The severe bruising and half-dozen broken bones backed up the officers’ theory.
‘Convenient,’ the Question brooded. ‘Maybe too convenient.’ Stealing away, the Question retrieved his JLA communicator and activated the unit. “Batman?”
Batman and the two women met the other three ‘available’ members of the original seven at the conference room. “What is it now, Bruce?” Clark Kent asked. “I was in the middle of helping a stalled oil tanker get into port.”
“Some information regarding your newest buddy has come to light,” he said darkly.
“What do you mean?” Diana demanded.
“I had the Question observe this ‘Mr. Black’,” Batman admitted. “He just reported your little field trip a few minutes ago. He’s on his way now.”
“I never saw him,” Shayera disagreed. “And how did he even recognize us anyway? We were disguised at the time.”
“True,” Bruce allowed. “He was unable to visually identify you due to unknown complications. However, you all were carrying your communicators; he determined your identities based on their unique signal. And as for your other comment, it appears that Mr. Black was more observant. He approached the Question outside ‘the Black Cat’.”
“Wait,” Clark interjected, “what ‘field trip’?”
The two women looked at one another before reluctantly explaining their—and by extension, Kara’s—whereabouts to her overprotective cousin.
Flash whistled appreciatively as Clark sighed. “Well, I suppose she would have gotten curious about gambling sooner or later,” the Man of Steel finally admitted. “I’ll have a talk with her. How much did she lose?”
At this, the two females grinned. “Oh, you misunderstand,” Shayera said smugly, “she didn’t actually do any gambling; she just reaped the proceeds. Mr. Black was the one gambling, and he didn’t lose. All night.”
“What?” he blurted.
Diana nodded happily. “He won somewhere in the excess of 1.2 million dollars before the casino finally kicked him out. He kept a couple hundred thousand for himself and let us split the rest.”
“Whoa!” Flash whispered admiringly. “How’d he do it? Did he start throwing the mojo around, or did he take the Bat approach and gizmo them out of their money.”
“As far as we could tell, he didn’t cheat,” Shayera said disbelievingly despite having watched him in action herself. “Diana thinks he’s some unknown offspring of the goddess of luck!” she added teasingly.
“Well, he could be!” she maintained. “He has her bright green eyes, and I’ve never seen that particular shade in anyone who wasn’t descended from her. The black hair makes it even more likely!”
Superman looked like he still failed to make some connection. “So… you’re telling me… that my little cousin… snuck off to Vegas and came home with a quarter million dollars?!”
“Pretty much,” Shayera agreed.
Clark just shook his head. “Moving back on topic, why are we here?”
“Yeah, what Supes said,” Wally agreed.
“I’ll let the Question answer that himself,” the disguised Bruce Wayne supplied. “He should be here momentarily.”
True to his word, the second investigator appeared a few minutes later and filled the council in on his mission, including how he was spotted at the end of the evening and the cryptic message that Mr. Black had given him. He then went on to describe the incident behind the ‘Cat’.
After he stopped talking, Diana blurted out, “What are you saying? He was with us the whole night! He couldn’t have done this!”
Shayera looked similarly skeptic. “Who was it that he supposedly attacked.”
The Question threw a blown up copy of a photo he took in the alley. “That’s the infamous ‘Slasher’. He likes to cut his victims up – who are normally women, by the way.”
“That’s the same man who ran into Zatanna when we first entered!” Diana exclaimed. “The one who ducked into the alley afterwards!” Shayera nodded in agreement.
“So, he had a face and a probable location by then,” the Question said to himself aloud. “You’re sure that you can account for every single minute of this evening. Mr. Black was never out of sight?”
“Well, he went to the restroom after we left the casino, but he was only gone for a couple of minutes—five at the most,” Diana submitted.
The two detectives looked at one another. “I don’t know who this guy is,” the Question frankly admitted, “but he’s good. Very good. Within the span of a few minutes, he was able to track an elusive criminal down, dispatch him with several disabling injuries, arrange for the whole operation to look like an accident, and then return without raising the slightest scrutiny. He’s definitely a professional.”
“Wait a minute!” Flash demanded. “If he’s some sort of super assassin or spy or something, then why did he come right out and warn you just before he did it?” he asked the faceless Question.
“He’s playing with us,” Batman growled. “This whole thing: pretending to not notice his tail, the gambling stunts, taking down this punk underneath five Leaguers’ noses…” One gauntleted fist beat on the table. “He’s flaunting that we can’t keep up with him!” he grimaced.
“I would have thought that something like this would be right up your alley. Isn’t this your normal modus operandi?” Superman asked teasingly. “What’s wrong… jealous?”
Batman glared at the taller man. “I’m concerned that a being of unknown power and ability can so easily pull off a deception of this magnitude with no preparation. If he can do something like this on a whim, what else is he capable of doing without our being aware?”
“Tell you what,” John Stewart finally said, “I’ve got tomorrow’s first response team. I’ll take him on any missions we might have and try to get a better handle on the scope of his abilities. In the meanwhile, I’ve got to go.”
“Date with Vixen?” Shayera asked under her breath. Whether fortunate or not, she remained unheard and the meeting broke up a few minutes later.
As Diana and Shayera were making their way to their own rooms, Wally ran up and asked, “Hey, the next time you guys go to Sin City, can you get me a few bags of cash, too?”