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.
The Next Generation, Part One
Superman was, to put it simply, dumbfounded.
The League’s founding members were holding yet another called meeting, this time in regards to the series of unusual events surrounding the previous night’s Halloween festivities. As had become the unmentioned standard of the most recent called meetings, their discussions involved the oft-perplexing Mr. Black.
After Diana and Shayera had informed the others as to the situation in Bludhaven with Roulette’s ill-fated Metabrawl comeback, Bruce gave a short summary of the transpired events in Gotham.
While the news that Mr. Black seemed compelled to rehabilitate both Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn was somewhat unexpected, Clark was able to accept this latest turn of events with a practiced ease. After all, if he was able to watch the immortal personage casually dispose of Morgan le Fay—who had repeatedly run roughshod over the entire Inner Council multiple times and was apparently a master vampire as well – then the man adopting two career criminal femme fatales as pet projects was quite tolerable.
No, the bewildering aspect of the meeting became evident later, when Diana presented her proposal for ‘immortal guest protocols’.
It was absurd—if not downright frightening – in its own way. In fact, the only one who nodded in approval was Batman.
“This is good,” the Dark Knight approved gruffly. “There are a few things I would add to it, however,” Bruce added as he perused the document.
Clark shared a look with the other three, and they silently reached an agreement. “In that case,” the Man of Steel voiced, “you and Diana are relieved of regular League duties for the upcoming week to concentrate on revising this strategy.”
Batman shot the Kryptonian a suspicious look. “Don’t you think that is a little excessive?”
Superman returned the accusing gaze innocently. “Not at all,” he replied guilefully. “We really should address this scenario in the event of future… visits. Since Diana has the most experience with Immortals and you specialize in contingency plans, it only makes sense to pair the two of you together on this project.”
Bruce looked at the others speculatively before nodding briskly. “All right,” he agreed. “Is there any other matters to be discussed?”
The others quickly shook their heads in the negative.
“Fine,” Bruce barked conclusively. “Come on, Diana. We can retrieve Black’s blood sample from the Bio-vault and take it to the cave for further analysis.”
After they left the room, Green Lantern spoke up. “I don’t believe it,” he finally said, sounding as shocked as Clark felt. “I read it, but I still don’t believe it.”
Shayera shook her head. “She’s been hanging around Batman; what did you expect?”
John frowned. “But this…” he trailed off questioningly.
Clark rubbed his temples tiredly. “They both need a vacation,” Superman finally explained. “Bruce doesn’t take one unless he’s completely incapacitated, and he’s been under a lot of stress recently. I’m sure that you’ve all heard about Diana’s comments at the Global Warming conference. This planning session will allow them some time to relax while still doing something useful.”
Wally nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, I understand that,” the Scarlet speedster admitted, “and I know that Bats has a protocol for everything – but to have Diana come up with a protocol for coffee? They definitely need a stress break.”
Harry Apparated back into one of the many Watchtower corridors, whistling happily all the while. His morning business transactions had all gone off without a hitch; in fact, the wizard soon discovered upon his inquiry that the bank had foreclosed upon Bewitched due to a lack of payment on Tannarak’s part. As a result, the settling price for the real estate was laughably miniscule.
Once the paperwork was signed and Harry paid the entire remaining debt in cash—which sparked several very amusing reactions—he Apparated to the other coast and paid Pamela Isley her promised visit. The wizard swapped stories for a few minutes before informing the botanical beauty that she would have both living quarters and a legitimate occupation once the doctors released her. His obligations for the morning fulfilled, Harry bid the redhead adieu and Apparated back to the Watchtower until the time came for Zatanna’s ward inspection that afternoon.
As the wizard was wandering aimlessly around the station, the Potter scion suddenly caught sight of a young Native American leaning weakly against a wall for support. His tanned face bore an inadequately masked expression of pain.
“Are you all right?” Harry asked despite the obvious as he deliberated on whether his assistance would be appreciated. “By the way, I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m called Mr. Black.”
“I’m Longshadow,” the other man replied, “and it’s no wonder that we haven’t met. I hardly leave my room anymore.”
It did not escape Harry’s notice that the man ignored the original question.
“Well, maybe I can help you go to wherever you are going now,” Harry offered tentatively. “No offence meant, but you look like you could use a hand.”
Embarrassment crossed the young man’s face for a second. “None taken,” he muttered lowly. “I imagine that I don’t look very impressive right now. Don’t trouble yourself, though. I’m just returning from the med bay, and my room isn’t far from here.”
Harry took the unspoken request at face value and pulled the large man’s arm around his shoulders. “Well then, we won’t have to walk far,” Harry replied cheerfully in hopes of brightening the other man’s spirits. “You said that you were just in the med bay. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you leave when you’re still obviously in pain?”
Longshadow smiled painfully. “The pain medications aren’t working anymore, not even morphine.” He sighed for a moment before adding, “It’s a long story.”
“Believe it or not,” Harry responded as he helped the other man open his apartment’s door, “I have all the time in the world. How about you start by explaining why morphine is no longer helping you.”
The young man sighed deeply as Harry helped the former Ultiman into bed. “Well,” he began, “some time ago, my life was relatively normal…”
Stopping periodically due to physical discomfort, the young man eventually managed to convey his tragic story. His voice, weak to begin with, grew gradually fainter after a few sentences, but he seemed determined to tell the story.
“… and after some time, I felt it… that my body was getting weaker and I could no longer help on missions. Soon after that, I wasn’t even able to go through my normal, strain-free day without being in pain. Of course, they did their best to help me, but painkillers can only do so much. No matter how hard they tried, they just couldn’t slow the degeneration process, let alone revert it. Now I’ve reached the point where nothing helps anymore, and I sometimes wake up not sure what is real and what is just a planted memory. That’s mostly why I’ve been going to the med bay every few days, to reassure myself that there actually is a real world outside of this room, with people whom I can call my friends. Not that it will matter soon… I don’t have much time left, anyway.”
“Well, maybe I can help you, with the pain if nothing else,” Harry wondered aloud while taking out his Zippo. “Henchgirl!” he called.
“Mr. Black!” called the familiar voice, disproportionately cheerful considering the mood of the conversation the two men had just had. “How are you?” the witch questioned.
“I am well, Henchgirl,” Harry explained. “I’m calling on behalf of a friend. Can you send me the strongest painkilling potion you have in stock?”
Henchgirl readily agreed. “Sure thing, Mr. Black. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later,” the wizard pledged. “Now, about that potion…”
“I’m on it!” True to her word, a bottle appeared mere moments later.
Harry smiled at the woman’s prompt service. “Thank you, Henchgirl. I’ll call you later. I have to have a word with the Doctor now.” He closed the Zippo and handed the potion to the incumbent Native American. “Here,” he offered, “take this. It should ease your symptoms.”
“What is it?” Longshadow asked.
“A healing potion,” Harry supplied. “My friend is good at making them.”
The young man looked hopeful. “You think it can help me?”
Harry shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“True,” the other man agreed, a nearly forgotten smile appear appearing briefly. He downed the liquid and a look of disbelief appeared on his face. “You were right. The pain is going away.”
“Good.” Harry returned his smile. “Now, let me make the other call.”
“The other call…?” Longshadow wanted to know but Harry already took out his Zippo again and called for the Doctor.
“Yes?” the mediwitch answered.
“Doctor, I have a task for you,” Harry announced, getting straight to the point.
“What is it, Mr. Black? If I can help…” the witch offered.
The wizard smiled at the woman’s helpful nature. “I trust that you can. Let me fill you in…”
After relaying the facts as accurately as he could, he realized there was silence on the other side of fire.
“Doctor?” the wizard prompted.
“Yes, I heard you, Mr. Black,” the mediwitch confirmed her presence. “The only problem I see is that I’ll need something to do the work of the muggle hi-tech equipment you mentioned, but I’m sure that I can get the Professor to solve that difficulty. Other than that… can you get me a DNA sample from the patient? A hair would be acceptable.”
Harry pointedly looked at Longshadow, who in turn gave him two hairs he rolled in his fingers.
“On the way,” Harry announced before pushing the two hairs through the enchanted flame. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No,” the woman declined, “just give me a little time to work on a solution.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” the wizard replied gratefully.
“No problem, Mr. Black,” the woman responded kindly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get started right away. Bye!” The flame flickered and disappeared.
Longshadow looked at the Zippo in astonishment. “I must say that’s impressive,” the genetically engineered metahuman admitted. “Don’t you think that a cell phone would be more inconspicuous, though?”
Harry smiled. “If you knew my friend who made them, you’d know that it’s a wonder that it’s as inconspicuous as it is.”
“I see,” Longshadow accepted with a smile, but then his face slowly grew grim.
The wizard looked him over carefully. “What is it?”
“I just realized how much I miss everything,” the sick figure explained. “That was the first moment of relative normalcy I’ve had in a long while. There are so many things that I wish I could do just once more before I… well.”
Harry looked at the other man curiously. “For example?”
“Like walking in the woods,” the ex-Ultiman supplied. “I’ve already started to
forget the sound of the wind racing through the trees.”
The mage thought over his companion’s comment for a moment. “Well, I should be able to fulfill that request, at least,” he announced. “Can you stand?”
“Yes, but I won’t be able to walk far,” Longshadow warned.
Harry smiled gently. “You won’t have to. Now, hold on.” Harry Apparated them both to a woody area and watched as the light reappeared in Longshadow’s eyes.
“Incredible,” he heard the young man whisper. “I’ve missed it for so long…”
“Do you feel strong enough to walk a few steps?” Harry asked. “You could use me as a support if you like.”
Longshadow smiled in reply and they walked for a few moments but, all too soon, the Indian boy grew weary and Harry transported them back to the young man’s apartment aboard the Watchtower.
“Thank you, Mr. Black,” the Native American said gratefully. “It will be easier for me to go now.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Go? Now you’re just being pessimistic. I’m positive that the Doctor will find a cure for you soon. Just hold on for a bit longer.”
“I don’t think that ‘soon’ will be ‘soon enough’,” the worn figure admitted quietly. “I can feel it coming even now… and today, when I went to the med bay… They knew it as well as I did. They didn’t say anything, but I could see it written on their faces. They weren’t expecting me to live until tomorrow’s visit.”
“Don’t give up now,” Harry urged. “If you can only hold in there for a few moments longer…”
Longshadow momentarily grimaced. “I don’t think I can, Mr. Black,” he admitted. “I’m tired – very tired – of holding onto life. I can feel my end approaching… I’ve felt it for some time now, and I’ve grown used to the idea. I don’t know what it will mean for me, but in any case… I have more things to look forward to there then I have holding me here.”
“That can change,” Harry pleaded. “The Doctor will contact me soon, and we’ll get you on your feet again…” Somehow, it didn’t sound as reassuring spoken aloud as it did in his head.
“Thank you but…” Longshadow closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t think… I have that long. It’s getting harder to breathe as we speak…” The Native American paused for a moment. “It may sound strange… but I feel that all I need to do is just let go… I think I will. Thank you, Mr. Black… for giving me a few memories to take with me… Please tell everybody goodbye for me…”
A smile appeared on his face and, as Harry watched helplessly, the light slowly left Longshadow’s eyes, giving place to emptiness.
Harry released the young man’s hand, not even aware of when he began holding it in the first place. He took a deep, preparatory breath and thumbed his Zippo.
“Doctor?” Harry called in as calm a voice as he could. “You don’t need to hurry with that project anymore. The problem just became academic.”
The woman gasped. “Mr. Black? You don’t mean to say that…?”
“I’m afraid so,” the wizard answered dully.
“Oh, dear,” the witch exclaimed. “Another three hours and I could have at least halted the degradation, if not completely repaired it. I’m sorry that I wasn’t faster.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Doctor. I know you did your best,” Harry reassured the distraught medic. “If you’ll excuse me, I still have to inform his friends.”
The Doctor sniffed again. “All right, Mr. Black, just don’t try to bottle that inside. It’s not good for you,” she warned.
“I won’t,” Harry promised. “Bye, Doctor.”
“Bye, Mr. Black,” the witch called quietly.
The call disconnected in a flicker of flame. With another deep breath, Harry went to the door, set on informing the other Leaguers as soon as possible. This meeting occurred sooner than he expected, however, when he met face-to-face with Superman, Green Lantern, and Hawkgirl.
Superman spoke first. “Mr. Black? We just received the news from our doctors that Longshadow was practically in an agonal state…” A look of realization appeared on his face. “Is he… has he already…” Clark kept tripping over his tongue. After all, how does one go about asking Death if he just collected one of your friends.
Despite the Kryptonian’s sudden speech impediment, Harry understood the gist of his question. “Yes, he died just a few minutes ago.”
“Oh,” Clark lowered his gaze. “We were hoping to at least be with him when the time came.” He sighed. “He shouldn’t have to die that young.”
Now it was Harry’s chance to look away
“No, he shouldn’t have,” the wizard agreed, “and I’ll be discussing that with the surviving Cadmus staff soon. I suppose that it should make me feel better, knowing that I at least took away his pain… but it doesn’t. It never does, really.”
He shook his head sadly. “Excuse me,” he whispered and Disapparated to his room. Perhaps it was a touch cowardly, but he just could not stand the thought of discussing the death of someone with whom he had just spoken.
Bruce was confused.
This did not occur often and, when it did, his curiosity caused him to pursue it almost to the exclusion of all else. Even in the midst of a battle for his life, some part of his brain would be working on the problem. This latest puzzle was of extreme interest.
Having obtained the blood sample and inviting Diana to follow him to his private headquarters, Bruce started examining Mr. Black’s blood for any types of reactions. To do proper testing, Bruce divided the sample into several vials and began the experiments with the simple expedient of using a centrifuge to separate the layers. Explaining the process to the curious Amazon as he went, the detective tested each of the layers individually.
The plasma turned out to be the most poisonous, although he discovered an unidentifiable factor counteracting the worst of it. In relation to the plasma layer, both the red and white blood cells seemed almost… ordinary.
With the baseline established, Batman then exposed the blood sample to some of the League’s coffee and monitored the solution for changes. As far as he could determine, the plasma had absolutely no reaction to the coffee whatsoever.
The red and white blood cells, on the other hand, were almost parasitic in their efforts to get to the brown liquid. Once the blood cells absorbed the coffee, the entire solution turned clear. When tested, Bruce found the compound to have tremendous potential energy.
Explaining the reaction to Diana, he then attempted to introduce other beverages, theorizing that perhaps caffeine was the answer. The duo examined many soft drinks and teas, but no noticeable reaction occurred.
Diana, whose mind was still on Morgan le Fay’s exposed vampiric nature, suggested introducing another blood sample. Bruce acquiesced and donated the appropriate amount. After watching the ensuing reaction under the power electron microscope, neither of the League members was eager to repeat the experiment that put some of the best selling horror films of all time to shame.
Ultimately, the two were at a loss to explain the extreme reactions, which was more than a slight annoyance to the World’s Greatest Detective. On the bright side, however, Bruce believed that they might have accidentally discovered the mythical panacea. It would require additional experiments to be certain, but the energized liquid could very well be a large boon to all humankind.
Of course, those thoughts led to speculation as to why Death would allow access to the very thing that would prevent mortals from coming to his hands prematurely.
Needless to say, it boggled the mind.
Harry appeared in his room and soon realized that Doctor was right; he needed to discuss recent events with someone. He sighed and took out his Zippo.
“Henchgirl?” he called.
The typically bubbly inventor instantly answered, “Mr. Black! What can I do for you?”
“I just needed to vent for a moment, and you’re one of the few people I can trust,” Harry admitted after a moment of thought. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“Of course!” Henchgirl replied seriously. “So, are you ready to tell me why you needed that Pain Killing Potion?”
Harry grunted in agreement before verbally confirming, “Yes, as it happens I do wish to discuss that topic. I have to warn you, however, the story may be longer than you expect.”
“I’m all ears,” the witch replied invitingly.
Harry sighed again and started relaying the entire story to his friend.
“…And after I informed them what happened, I Apparated back to my room and Floo’d you,” he concluded after several minutes.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Black. I really am.” Henchgirl was silent for a moment before adding, “I’m not as good at offering a supporting arm over a Floo call, am I?”
“It’s alright, Henchgirl,” Harry reassured the woman. “Just you listening to me helped a lot.”
“I just wished that I could do more,” the Potions’ mistress professed. “No one should have to suffer witnessing an innocent die all alone. Which reminds me,” she added, “the Alchemist invited his friend – and former student, I believe—to the Island. I thought that he was nice for a few centuries old person. Anyway, his name is Michael Sedigovius, and we were just talking about the differences between Potions and Alchemy when he changed the topic and asked me to give you something. I thought that it was a nice gesture-”
“Henchgirl…” Harry breathed in a warning tone. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about the so-called ‘present’. “What exactly did he give me?”
“Oh, just a ring,” the witch answered easily.
“A ring?” Harry repeated, feeling more than a little confused. It sounded innocent enough. The ring could not possibly be some nefarious trick like Tom Riddle’s diary, and any curses placed directly on the object would be very easy to spot. Honestly, what harm could one ring do?
“Yep,” she repeated. “He got it from one of his friends called – if I remember right – Policarpus. Old Poli, who was a master necromancer, is most famous for having the last recorded conversation with Death.”
Harry rolled his eyes. ‘Of course,’ Harry grumbled to himself. ‘Why would Fate allow an ordinary ring to find him when there was a Master Necromancer’s ring available?’
“So I have a piece of jewelry from a dead master of Necromancy, then?” Harry asked resignedly.
“Well, you never can really tell with that sort if they’re actually dead or not,” Henchgirl commented. “You can relax, though. Michael said that this ring actually belonged to Death.”
Harry blinked. “And you think that this scenario is better than inheriting stuff from a necromancer?” he demanded incredulously. “Why would Death give anybody a ring, anyway?”
“Supposedly, it was given to Policarpus during that conversation I mentioned. Anyway, Michael claims that it was intended to grant Policarpus a better understanding of the matters of life and death. The only problem was, he could never wear it. It apparently burnt him every single time he tried. So, he went around trying to find someone who could wear it, but failed every time. Eventually, Policarpus gave it to Michael and told him to present it to someone who can make some use of it.”
The wizard rubbed his temples tiredly. “So you’re saying…”
“That Michael figured if anybody could wear the ring, you could,” Henchgirl confirmed. “Of course, the fact that he suspected it belonged to you in the first place might have played some role here as well…”
“Great,” Harry groaned. “Just lovely.”
Apparently, Henchgirl was too excited to notice his sarcasm. “Yes it is, Mr. Black. I can’t wait to see what it does! I’m sending it through… now!”
True to her word, a silver ring with an onyx eye shot out of the fire a second later, and Harry caught it purely on instinct. Oddly enough, the ring felt both warm and chilly at the same time, though he was at a loss as to the reason why. The stone’s only adornment was an odd geometric glyph, which prompted Harry to wonder if the ring was originally commissioned for a professor of mathematics.
“Did you get it, Mr. Black?” the witch called.
“Yeah, I did,” Harry confirmed as he turned the article over in hand and continued his study.
“So, put it on, already!” she bubbled.
Harry, apparently, was to be the voice of reason. “Are you sure that’s a wise idea, Henchgirl?”
“Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked innocently.
Harry decided not to dwell on the many possible – if not probable – answers to that question. Bracing himself for the worst – not that he had any idea what that could be, he slipped the ring on his finger. The strange hot-and-cold feeling instantly spread over his entire body, leaving him feeling very light-headed. Then, as fast as the feeling came, it was gone and he realized Henchgirl was calling him.
“Mr. Black? Are you all right?” the Potions’ Mistress asked frantically.
Harry shook his head before stifling another groan. “I’m many things at the moment, Henchgirl,” he admitted. “Not sure if ‘all right’ is in there, but I’m still in one piece at any rate.”
“Oh, good!” she said happily. “So, did it work?”
“I suppose that depends on how you expected it to work,” Harry noted as he stared at the apparently inactive ring. “It’s staying on my finger, at least.”
“Well,” she deliberated, “do you feel any new and unexplainable knowledge or perhaps even gain a sudden insight in the matters of life and death?”
“I don’t think…” He trailed off as his mind was assaulted by a flood of jumbled images. Random flashes of depressed ghosts and bloody battlefields rushed past his mind’s eye without reason. And then, the mental deluge of blood and death suddenly ceased, leaving Harry watching three shabbily-dressed wizards using Transfiguration to create a shoddy bridge in order to cross a fast-flowing river.
Harry briefly wondered why the three adult wizards did not simply Apparate to the other side of the river, but ultimately decided that they were probably either drunk or Purebloods.
Halfway across the temporary construction, the trio was accosted by a what appeared to be a dementor. Rather than attempting to devour their souls like a respectable steward of Azkaban, the dark creature elected to give each of the wizards a present. One of the wizards received a wand, another obtained an invisibility cloak, and the third was given an ugly ring—which looked remarkably similar to the piece of jewelry adorning his ring finger. The wraith then flew away while the wizards inspected their new property.
Harry groaned audibly as his instincts started issuing alerts, dispelling the ring’s pensieve-like effect and instigating another fear attack in Henchgirl.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Black?” the witch asked worriedly.
“Er… no, I wouldn’t say wrong, Henchgirl,” the wizard supplied resignedly while glaring at the innocent-seeming bauble. “It’s just business as usual in the life of the universe’s spittoon.”
The two friends conversed for a while longer – including a brief mention of Kara’s and Galatea’s upcoming birthdays – before Harry noticed that the agreed-upon time to validate Zatanna’s wards was fast approaching. Ending his trans-dimensional conversation, the wizard Apparated to a point near the enchantress’s abode.
Strolling casually up to the two-story cottage, it was the work of a few minutes for Harry’s Mage Sight to inspect the entire warding system. Once the examination was complete, Harry retrieved a quill and parchment from the recesses of his coat pocket and sketched out the warding diagrams, noting the very few areas needing improvement. Task accomplished, Harry strode through the anti-Apparation, anti-Portkey, and Intruder alarms to knock upon the female Leaguer’s door.
The top hat-wearing mage answered the summons a few moments later, the look of irritation upon her face lessened slightly at Harry’s raised eyebrow.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” the multiverse-traveling mage inquired mildly.
Zatanna violently exhaled. “It’s not you, Joe. I was experimenting with a new potion and found that my apothecary sold me an inferior ingredient. I was just on my way to choke the little weasel,” she explained.
“I see,” Harry replied with a slight nod. “Well, I was just going to deliver my assessment of your wards. You seem to have done an excellent job of casting them; I only found a couple of areas that could stand some improvement.” The wizard handed her the parchment. “Would you like me to accompany you to get your refund?”
Zatanna started to decline before a stray thought seemed to change her mind. “I would love for you to tag along, Joe,” the witch accepted with a wicked smile. “Would you mind being a bit imposing with him—you know, leave a good impression?”
Harry’s answering grin was just as enthusiastic as the shorter brunette. “Certainly, Zee. I’ve had my own run-ins with irritating shopkeepers from time to time, and I would be happy to help.”
“Great!” she chirped. “The store is in the downtown part of town. Can you follow my teleportation?”
Harry replied in the affirmative and the woman disappeared. The wizard transported himself to her location an instant later and found himself standing outside of yet another magical curio shop. Feeling the now-familiar onset of déjà vu, the mage held the door for his female companion and followed her into the dimly lit bazaar.
“Oh, Siiid!” Zatanna called out into the apparently vacant store. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you about that dud gryphon’s claw you sold me.”
The pair continued inside the store and Zatanna marched right up to the counter. “You’re not fooling me, Sid! I know you’re here somewhere!” she admitted.
Harry’s sensitive ears noticed a slight shuffling sound coming from the curtained-off area behind the counter. The wizard caught his friend’s attention and pointed at the ‘Employees Only’ area.
The stage performer smiled and twitched her wand, and the curtain parted to reveal a squat, wizened old man. The bald figure was attired in a faded canary yellow sweater and slacks, and was currently squinting at the female magician with a frown.
“What do you want?” he grunted through a grimace.
Zatanna crossed her arms under her chest and huffed. “Don’t play coy with me,” she ordered. “You know very well that powdered gryphon’s claw should be pure white.” She tossed a glass container on the counter between them. “This stuff is ivory. What did you put in it, your toenail clippings or something?”
The crotchety old man picked up the vial and squinted some more at it. “Looks like powdered gryphon claw to me,” he said unhelpfully. “Maybe you’re just not using it right.”
The witch’s frown deepened. “You know that’s a load of bunk,” she protested. “I want my money back.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” the short little man said smugly, “no refunds.”
Zatanna quirked a little smile. “Oh, no?” she asked in an innocent tone. “In that case, could you perhaps explain that to my friend over there?” The enchantress pointed at Harry, who had his arms crossed and was leaning against one of the many overloaded bookcases.
The old merchant blinked owlishly. “Mr. Black?” he questioned in surprise.
“Hello, Sid,” Harry replied in a dead tone. “How’s the family.”
“Uh… they’re all just fine, Mr. Black,” the shorter figure answered. “Thanks for asking.”
Harry dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Glad to hear it,” the wizard intoned. “Now, about that refund…”
“She’s a friend of yours?” Sid the shopkeeper queried nervously.
The dimension-hopping wizard gave another minute nod.
“O-of course!” the bald man agreed hastily. “Let’s see,” he muttered, “Gryphon’s going for about five silver fens an ounce-”
“Five?!” Zatanna erupted. “I paid twelve fens an ounce only three days ago!”
An inexplicable drop in room temperature suddenly accompanied Harry’s growing glare.
“Twelve! I meant twelve fens an ounce!” he said hurriedly, sighing in relief as the room warmed up again and Harry uncrossed his arms. The little man quickly dug a coin purse out of his slack’s pocket and counted the money out into a smug Zatanna’s outstretched hand.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Sid,” she added sarcastically.
The store’s owner just grumbled before turning his attention to the room’s other occupant. “I’m glad you dropped by, Mr. Black,” Sid announced. “I urgently need to speak with you.” At Zatanna’s curious look, he pointedly added, “Alone.”
Harry opened his mouth and made to refuse the other man, but was interrupted.
“Please! It’s important!” the diminutive shopkeeper insisted. “We’re talking serious evil important!”
The black-clad wizard sighed before reluctantly nodding.
“Thank you!” the short man accepted before heading to the back of his shop.
“I’ll wait out here,” Zatanna confirmed, earning another nod from Harry as he passed her and vaulted over the counter in pursuit of their host.
Harry followed the other man to yet another dusty bookcase. “Well?” he prompted when the older man failed to acknowledge his presence. “You said that you needed to tell me something? I’m listening.”
“Yeah, I just needed to get—ah, here it is!” the man announced. He pulled an old tome off the shelf and turned to Harry. “My sense of foresight isn’t the most advanced of my family,” he admitted calmly, “but lately, I’ve been picking up an approaching darkness. Something big’s headed this way from the Pits, and it means business. I mean, ‘the world’s gonna end at lunchtime’ business.”
The taller wizard’s eyes narrowed. “What is this darkness?” he demanded. “What’s its name?”
“I don’t get much in the way of details,” Sid replied apologetically. “All I know is that its some sort of major league demon, it’s going to enter this world and consume it if it’s not stopped, and it requires a sacrifice to open the portal to its prison.”
“That’s it?” Harry protested. “There’s always some demon trying to get back to Earth – that’s all most of them ever think about! How can we do anything to help with information that vague?”
“Not we,” Sid clarified. “You. I don’t know why, but the lingering blood protection from your mother’s sacrifice will be crucial to victory.”
“And that’s all you know?” the wizard asked incredulously. “You can’t tell me anything else?”
The man handed Harry the old volume. “I’ve got a feeling that you should read that book,” he advised, “cover to cover, and I mean right here and now. There’s something in there that you’ll need to know, but I have no idea what it could be—and that really is everything I got.”
“Blood and Rituals: a Compendium?” he read aloud.
The shopkeeper shrugged.
The taller mage closed his eyes tiredly. “All right,” he said finally, “I understand that you’d tell me more if you could.”
The squat man smiled sadly. “Sorry, kid, but them’s the breaks. If it helps any, I know that you’ll do the right thing,” Sid offered. “Now, do your time thing and read that book.”
Harry nodded as the man turned to leave and thumbed the remote’s pause switch. He made his way over to the worn adjacent chair, sank into its old cushions, and began to read.
Bruce leaned back in his computer chair and observed Diana as she awkwardly adjusted one of the many high-powered microscopes scattered around the Batcave. Even though she had even less understanding of the human genome than she did of the concept of a ‘tactical retreat’, the Amazon was still adamantly pursuing their goal despite any shortcomings she might possess.
‘A good synopsis of her character in general,’ the Dark Knight realized. Nodding to himself as he finally reached a decision, he pulled off his cowl and spoke, “Diana?”
“What, Bruce?” she asked distractedly as she attempted to document some change in the sample being studied.
The World’s Greatest Detective charged forward into unexplored territory. “I’ve… been doing some thinking,” he admitted.
Wonder Woman grunted something unintelligible.
“About what Etrigan said to me last night,” Bruce continued.
The woman’s motions stilled completely.
Deciding on a course of action, he asked, “Do you remember the reasons I told you just before the Circe affair?”
Diana turned to face him intently. “The reasons why we shouldn’t date?” she unnecessarily expounded. “Those reasons?”
Bruce nodded.
“Well, let’s see,” she replied as she leaned back against the laboratory table and crossed her arms under her chest. “I believe that you mentioned something about negatively impacting team dynamics, for one. Then, there was a comment about my immortality and you having issues. Oh, and your rogues’ gallery might try to take me on to get at you. Did I miss anything?” the Amazon demanded mockingly.
The unmasked Batman’s eyes narrowed momentarily at her derisive tone. “No, you seem to have recalled them perfectly.”
“What’s your point, Bruce?” Diana asked, suddenly feeling tired at their constant game of cat-and-mouse.
“As I said, I’ve been thinking,” the Wayne scion mentioned, “and I’ve decided that your immortality might not be as insurmountable an obstacle as I originally thought.”
Diana rolled her eyes. “I believe that I’ve told you that before—repeatedly,” she shot back, “not to mention all the close calls I’ve had since joining the League. For Hera’s sake, I would have died in the Fortress of Solitude if you hadn’t freed Kal from the Black Mercy.”
“I know,” he finally acknowledged, “I was there. It’s just… somehow, I was convinced that being immortal meant that you couldn’t die.”
“Even gods can die, Bruce,” the Amazon Princess pointed out, “it just takes a lot of effort. I may be ageless, but there is any number of ways for me to be destroyed.”
“Yes, I realize that now,” he answered quietly, but her enhanced hearing still caught the muffled comment.
Meeting his eyes intently, Diana asked, “Really? What changed, Bruce?”
“Pamela Isley wanted to speak with Mr. Black,” Bruce began to explain in short sentences. “After the party last night, I delivered the invitation to him. We talked on the flight back to Gotham. He… gave me several facts to consider.”
“Oh?” she inquired softly as she approached him. “Like what?”
He did not reply with words; instead, he reached out and caught her hand, pulling her unresisting figure up against his suddenly standing frame. Bruce stroked her cheek with his other hand before leaning closer and grazing her lips with his own.
“I thought you said that I’d interfere with the mission,” the Amazon whispered as they separated a scant few inches apart and stared into the other’s eyes.
“That,” he replied even as he began drawing her closer again, “might not be such a bad thing.”
A persistent alert caused the pair to separate again. The alarm drew their attention to the central Batcomputer, which was receiving an incoming call.
Diana groaned slightly before muttering, “Don’t you have Bat-voicemail or something?”
“I already told the computer to ignore everything short of a Level One emergency,” Bruce replied with equal disappointment, before donning his cowl and keying the telecommunications panel to accept the call. “Robin,” he acknowledged gruffly.
“Batman, there’s a—is that Wonder Woman in the Batcave with you?” the youthful detective blurted.
The cowl’s lenses seemed to narrow. “We are in the middle of… resolving an issue. What is it?” the older man demanded shortly.
“Right, well,” the second Boy Wonder hesitated, “it’s a long story, but the short version is that the world’s gonna end—soon.”
“Details!” his mentor barked.
The younger crime fighter seemed to gather himself. “You know about Raven, right?” he questioned.
“Your mystic,” Bruce supplied impatiently. “Continue.”
“Yeah, well, it turns out that her father is some big-time demon named Trigon,” Robin said bluntly, “and he’s got a real mad-on for conquering dimensions.”
Bruce’s eyes involuntary widened, and Diana gave a slight start. That was a very well known name in certain circles.
“It’s Raven’s birthday today, and dear old dad raised Slade from the dead to deliver his own personal greeting,” Robin continued. “Slade’s got powers now, and we’ve spent all morning fighting him. Anyway, Raven just ‘fessed up and told us that she’s not just a person, but a portal—which Trigon is gonna use to come to Earth real soon. Raven’s got these weird markings all over her body to prove it, and they glow whenever she’s in the dark or around Slade.”
“Any idea what Trigon wants?” Diana asked.
“Undisputed control over every planet in the universe—starting with ours, apparently,” the teenager answered wryly. “Raven tried to get help from Azarath, but Trigon has already destroyed it. She said that there’s a prophecy that kicked in today, and Raven’s now convinced that there’s no hope.”
Bruce thought back to his conversation with his passenger last night. “There’s always hope,” he told his latest apprentice aloud.
Robin seemed unconvinced. “Raven seems resigned now, says it’s predestined…”
“I have it on the highest authority that there is no set destiny,” Batman asserted. “We have the power to make our own futures.”
Robin smiled slightly at the older man’s attempts to reassure him. “Well, unless you’ve got a professional demon hunter on the payroll that wouldn’t mind taking down a mega-evil demon lord and his army, the future’s lookin’ pretty bleak.”
In that instant, Bruce finally realized the elusive answer to the question he posed to Clark and Diana after the Nanga Parbat debrief. He had asked why Sri Krishna—or Gabriel, or Death, or whatever name he was using this week—chose now to visit Earth. Somehow, Black knew that Trigon was attempting to break free, and had come down to Earth to stop him.
“Stay put in Titan’s Tower,” Batman ordered. “We’ll get the experts and rendezvous at your location.” He started to cut the transmission before he reminded himself of his pledge to be a little more human where his family was involved. “Tell your friend that it’s not over yet. We’ve got a high-level trump card of our own to play.”
The leader of the Titans smiled back in gratitude. “Thanks. Robin out.” The screen went blank.
“Trigon?” Diana murmured uneasily. “His cruelty is legendary, even among my people. If his hosts break free-”
Bruce laid a comforting hand on her arm. “They won’t!” he interrupted. “We’re going to stop them. We just need a little help.”
He keyed the communications panel for Zatanna, Dr. Fate, and Mr. Black. Broadcasting to all three, he uttered, “This is Batman. We have a situation.”
Harry had just finished the rituals text and reverted to normal time when his new communicator went off with an annoying squawk.
“This is Batman,” the electronic device broadcasted. “We have a situation.”
The slightly ominous feeling that he had been sensing all day increased significantly. ‘Oh, great!’ Harry groaned to himself before stuffing the book in his coat and rejoining the other two people in the storefront.
Zatanna touched her own electronic ear bud. “Zatanna and Mr. Black reading loud and clear, Batman.”
“I, too, am receiving your transmission, my friend,” Dr. Fate acknowledged. “What is the nature of this situation?”
“Magic,” the digitized voice answered shortly. “What do you know about Trigon?”
“Trigon the Terrible is also known as Scath,” Dr. Fate supplied. “He is considered to be pure evil. A prophecy issued some sixteen years ago states that a gem would appear upon the Earth with the power to open a portal to his prison and bring about the end of the world. During this apocalypse, Trigon will first conquer our world before spreading his chaos over the entire universe.”
“That fits with our information,” the Gotham detective responded after a few moments’ thought. “The gem has been found,” he added after another laden pause.
“Then it must be destroyed immediately!” Dr. Fate replied without pause. “The prophecy must not be allowed to come to fruition!”
“There is a complication,” Bruce replied. “The gem is one of Robin’s friends, a sixteen year old girl who was sired by Trigon and a human mystic.”
“I am sorry,” the helmed magician offered after a moment, “but the girl must be sacrificed to prevent Chaos from being unleashed upon us all!”
“You must have that golden bucket on too tight, Mate,” Harry interjected coldly. “The girl is innocent in this affair, and I will not allow you—any of you—to harm her.”
“We have no choice!” Dr. Fate maintained. “The miasma of Chaos flows through her very veins! We cannot simply exorcize the demoniac essence from her system, because it is her system. There is simply no way to break the hold that her Immortal father’s blood has upon her.”
The other magician’s comments resonated against some of the knowledge he had just acquired from Sid’s book, as well as the memory of his fight with Quirrell and the result of his mother’s blood protection so many years ago. “What if we introduced another source of blood—one whose properties destroys evil on contact—in a ritual to offset her heritage?”
The connection was silent for a few moments. “If the donation was freely made by another Immortal of sufficient strength, then it might be possible to separate Trigon’s powers from the girl. Then the taint could be destroyed… but where would we find an Immortal with blood that powerful that would willingly pit himself against Trigon and his hellish hosts?”
“You’re talking to him,” Harry replied grimly. “Gather the materials that you’ll need for the exorcism. You know where the club Bewitched in San Francisco used to be?”
“I do,” the helmed magician replied affirmatively.
“I own it now,” Harry answered. “There’s a warded area in the cellar that the previous owner set aside for rituals such as these. I’ll get everything else together and meet you there.”
“Until then,” the magician replied and disconnected.
“Since Robin is involved, are you going to be present?” Harry asked.
“Of course,” the masked man replied. “The transporters are online, so I will—”
The two listening mages overheard a noise sounding suspiciously like a meta-powered elbow meeting a Kevlar-armored side. The Dark Knight then revised, “Diana and I will collect the Titans and meet you at this club. Batman out.”
Harry and Zatanna looked at each other for several moments before the enchantress broke the silence. “Who’d have thought he had it in him?” she wondered out loud.
The wizard hastily hid a smile before retrieving his Zippo. “Doctor, Henchgirl, I need some medical advice, stat.”
“What’s the problem, Mr. Black?” the mediwitch replied moments later.
“Are you hurt?” Henchgirl asked at the same time.
“I am well,” Harry assured the two witches. “There’s a young girl who isn’t, however. She’s apparently destined to serve as a portal for her demon father, who is coincidentally trying to break into this dimension. We need to break the hold that his blood and magic has on her.”
There was a momentary pause before the Doctor responded, “Alright. What can we do to help?”
“Well,” Harry hesitated, “my blood destroys evil on contact. Raven is neither evil nor entirely a demon; will she be harmed if I infused her with my own blood?”
“That’s a toughie,” Henchgirl commented unnecessarily. “Since she’s a part-demon, she is theoretically strong enough to accept an undiluted donation; as you know, a completely human patient would need an additional intermediary compound to lessen the trauma—like Kara’s DNA, for example.”
“Yes, the girl shouldn’t need that,” the Doctor agreed, “but just injecting a few ounces of your blood won’t do the trick in this case. Since this demon is her father, you will have to break that tie as well. That means—”
“I know what it means,” the wizard interrupted. “I’m going to be a father.”
The two women were silent for a few moments as the revelation settled. “I’m sorry, Mr. Black,” the physician finally acknowledged, “but I believe that you are correct.”
When the alternative was standing idly by, allowing a master demon to escape his imprisonment, and potentially condoning an innocent girl’s damnation… well, there really was no choice to deliberate.
“I was thinking of performing the R’uustai,” Harry finally admitted.
“The Klingon adoption ritual?” the two women chorused.
“Yep,” the mage confirmed. “Worf mentioned that it was used to solve a similar case once. Granted, I’ll be claiming a daughter, not a brother, but it should still work. Don’t you agree?”
They considered the question for a few moments. “I suppose it would,” the Doctor finally established.
“We’ll pull a few things together for her on our end, Mr. Black,” Henchgirl promised. “You said that her name is Raven?”
“That’s right,” Harry confirmed. “Thanks a lot, ladies.”
“Anytime,” the Doctor responded graciously before the two witches disconnected.
The wizard released another sigh and turned back to his two member audience. “Well, Sid, you wouldn’t happen to have the candles for a R’uustai ritual by any chance, would you?” Harry asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” the other man hesitated. “A few weeks ago, I started gathering some candles and other unusual ingredients—wasn’t completely sure why. I also had a sudden inclination to carve a strange set of runes on the candles themselves.” The short merchant paused for a moment before pulling a small tray out from behind the counter and admitting, “I can’t decipher what the symbols mean, though, so you might want to double-check these to see if they’ll work for this ritual of yours. I have my notes here for you to go over, as well. While you give these a look-see, I’ll go dig the rest of my candle stock out of the back—just in case.”
“Thanks,” Harry called to the retreating shopkeeper.
Within a few minutes, Harry had selected all the materials for his desperate alternative to Dr. Fate’s strategy. Bagging the ingredients, the wizard fished out a small sack of Galleons from his coat pocket. He tossed it on the counter and said, “These components should do nicely, Sid. Keep the change, with my compliments.”
The shopkeeper bounced the bag in one hand without even looking at the contents. “You are too kind,” Sid commented. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Harry muttered as he swept his purchases into a pocket and turned back to Zatanna. “Well, shall I escort you home?”
“Are you kidding?!” the witch exclaimed. “If the end of the world is coming, I’m gonna be right there with you, trying to get rid of that demonic portal spirit thing.”
Harry sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot. All right, then. If you’re that anxious to get in the line of fire, then let’s get going.”
The next hour was hectic as a multitude of people rushed to the new Leaky Cauldron and began making preparations. Once Batman and Wonder Woman arrived with the Teen Titans, Harry and Dr. Fate explained their plan for the extraction and destruction of the demonic energies threatening Raven.
Harry expected some sort of reaction from the blue-cloaked girl upon learning of the residual magical and physical consequences of his plan to break Trigon’s hold on her, but she seemed completely detached, bordering on apathetic. In fact, Harry believed the young half-demon had already accepted defeat and no longer even entertained the notion of succeeding in their rash plan.
Once Raven had verbally confirmed her acceptance, the two male magicians took turns instructing her in the proper steps and incantations. With no other voiced objections, Dr. Fate readied himself to exorcise the portal’s energy once Harry’s efforts had dislodged Trigon’s grip. Once the two wizards succeeded, Zatanna stood by with a prepared ritual circle to trap the soon-to-be-expulsed taint.
With another set of nods from the human magicians, Harry and Raven began reciting the short incantation while each lit their ritual candles. Once the two ignited all eight and cast the requisite spells, they slashed their right palms—Raven with a small ceremonial dagger and Harry with a Cutting Hex—and joined hands, mixing not only their blood but also their magic.
There seemed to be no affect for several moments and Harry feared that the shopkeeper’s book had led them awry. His private ruminations were soon interrupted, however, by a sharp burning sensation in the wound in his hand. His scar began aching as it did during Voldemort’s reign, the two injuries pulsing in tandem. Harry utilized his Occlumency training and shunted the pain away; Raven, it seemed, was not quite as lucky as beads of sweat began rolling down her now-grimacing face.
“I-is it working?” Raven asked heavily.
An apparently sourceless voice responded in the young witch’s mind, a transmission that Harry somehow overheard. ‘You know better than to fill your head with such fanciful ideas, daughter.’
‘You aren’t here!’ she thought, panicked. ‘You can’t be!’
The apparent voice of Trigon laughed and replied, ‘I am always with you. You are a part of me—forever.’
Reminded of Voldemort’s temporary possession in the Department of Mysteries, Harry mentally spat, ‘Hardly. Soon, she’ll be free and you’ll be out a portal!’
The Cauldron’s cellar swam out of focus and a cavern supplanted it. Harry found himself standing next to Raven’s slight form and drew her close. Realizing what had happened, he leaned down and said, “Remember, Raven, all of this is in your mind. In here, you are in control. You can force him to leave.”
“There is no stopping what is about to happen,” Trigon’s dark voice gloated.
The two mages found themselves standing upon a small hovering slab of rock, which was floating in midair above a sea of flames. Before them on the rocky wall were two pairs of red eyes.
“Of course there is,” Harry disagreed in a confident tone. “In fact, you’ve already lost; you just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“I know of your insignificant plans,” the incarnation of evil boasted. “You think you have the might to supplant my hold on my daughter and thereby deprive me of my portal.”
“Very good,” Harry cheered mockingly, “and you figured it out all by yourself, too!”
“You haven’t the power!” the demon lord roared. “Raven, this is the reason I sired you. You were born so I could rule the Earth.”
Raven took a deep breath before glaring at the apparition. “W-what if I don’t let you?” she demanded slowly. “You’ve already admitted that you cannot enter this world without me.”
“It is not your place to tell me what to do!” Trigon bellowed. The four eyes became a burning sphere that swiftly expanded to fill half the cavern before reappearing within its hideous light.
The demon boasted, “I am all-powerful! I am evil incarnate! All must yield before me!”
The wizard snorted, the disdain that he felt for the creature before him extremely evident. “On a scale of ten, I’d rate you around a two. I might have been willing to go as high as three, but you’re way too chatty.”
Desperately hoping that magic worked in the mindscape, Harry gathered every positive memory he could muster and used those to fuel his need to defend the girl attached to his side. One quick spell later had a giant silvery stag racing across the void between the two parties. The glowing entity lowered its antlered head and charged into the stone wall.
Trigon bellowed in apparent pain once the stag made contact. The demonic being continued to hiss uncomfortably as if something were burning him inside the sedimentary layer.
“See, Raven?” Harry asked the shorter figure at his side. “He about as far from invulnerable as he can get. This is your mind; take control and banish him!”
“I-I can’t!” she protested. “My powers come from him. If I give in and use them, he still wins!”
“That’s right, Raven,” Trigon gloated even though he still sounded plagued by Prong’s assault. “You will always be Daddy’s Little Girl.”
Harry squeezed her comfortingly. “I have also given you my power, Raven,” Harry informed the girl. “Together, we can do this. Remember your mother and your friends on Azarath. Remember what this berk did to them, what he will do to your friends here on Earth if we do not defeat him! Take those memories and push him out.”
“You wanted to protect your friends, to keep them from knowing,” Trigon tried to distract her, “but you cannot deny the evil within you. You will bring destruction to everything and everyone.”
“You know the funny thing about gits like this?” Harry immediately countered, drawing the demon’s attention. “Not only can they not shut up about how amazing they are, but they’re chronic liars as well. Ignore the four-eyed goat. Concentrate on your loved ones, on how you feel about them. Keep those thoughts close and let’s finish this berk.”
Bowing her head, the girl struggled to comply, and Harry added his efforts to hers.
In the physical world, the gathered Leaguers and Titans observed the proceedings uneasily.
“Steady…” Dr. Fate announced to Zatanna as Raven’s cloak began turning crimson and her visage began twisting to a monstrosity with four red eyes. The marks of Scath began glowing on the girl’s form with a wicked light.
“Steady,” he cautioned again as the demonic Red Raven became increasingly defined and the magical tattoos began writhing.
Just as the essence of Trigon’s portal seemed fully formed, Dr. Fate shouted “Now!” and began his own incantations.
The cavern suddenly dissolved, returning the two magicians to the ritual chamber.
As the teenaged girl began crying out in pain and Harry felt his magic being pulled into the girl he was now embracing, the Red Raven spirit slowly rose into the air, leaving a white-cloaked and human-looking Raven seated on the floor. His arms shaking slightly with his expended effort, the helmed sorcerer directed the shrieking specter into the center of the runic circle—which Zatanna promptly closed with chalk.
Once the design upon the floor was completed, the Raven in his arms slipped into peaceful oblivion. The entrapped Raven, however, was not as fortunate and was busy hissing at them.
“Now, to destroy the creature,” Dr. Fate announced tiredly.
“Wait, is Raven alright?” an impatient Beast Boy demanded as he rushed forward, accidentally dragging his foot across the circle’s boundary.
“Oops…” he squeaked out as the malevolent entity escaped and swarmed towards its former host—and suddenly halted when confronted by the luminescent presence of Caledfwich, held aloft by a very cranky wizard. The crimson ghost did an abrupt about-face and dove through the block wall, fleeing the ritual chamber.
Once the specter had made good its escape, several hostile glares were leveled at the short green shape shifter. “Umm… sorry?” he offered in a subdued tone.
Harry forcibly restrained the several rather violent responses he desperately wanted to execute, instead conjuring a simple bed for his burden and placing the sleeping girl into it. Taking a moment to catch his breath, the wizard gave the unconscious witch one last look before Summoning his coat and hat from their place on the wall.
“Wait, friend Black!” Starfire called from her position among the magically disinclined. “Where are you going?”
“Hunting,” Harry answered shortly before Disapparating outside and following the spirit’s trail with Mage Sight.
“Great!” Zatanna huffed. “What now?”
“The demon could be attempting to lure us away in order to return and reclaim the girl,” Dr. Fate theorized.
“No,” Robin disagreed, “I don’t think so. We followed Slade to an abandoned library on the outskirts of Jump City. It was set up with a weird looking temple. There was a giant statue of Raven there, and those marks on her body flared whenever she got close to the place. That may be where the portal is supposed to be opened.”
“If it is on a Ley line, you may be correct,” the sorcerer admitted after a moment of thought. “Let a small number of us remain here to guard the child; the rest of us may journey to this site and prevent the portal from opening.”
As if to disagree, the building shuddered and the ward nodes began lighting up around the room.
“What’s going on?” Batman demanded.
“Those are the wards!” Zatanna shouted in dismay. “We’re under attack.” She cast a scrying spell on the wall and focused on the club’s exterior. As they watched, an army of flame demons gathered around the building and laid siege. Behind the infernal forces, arms held casually behind his back, was-
“Slade!” Robin growled.
“And he brought friends,” Cyborg noted tightly as he activated his sonic cannon. “A lot of friends.”
“Be careful!” Robin called as the gathered heroes moved towards the exit. “We’ve faced these guys before; conventional attacks don’t work on them.”
“Terrific,” his mentor commented as he palmed several carbon dioxide pellets.
“Very well, Lady Zatanna and I shall supplement your efforts to dispatch these creatures,” Dr. Fate decided.
“But what about friend Black?” the Tamaranian inquired worriedly.
“Mr. Black is a formidable opponent,” Dr. Fate replied. “I am sure that he will be alright for the moment. Your need for assistance is greater just now.”
“Wait,” Beast Boy spoke up, “can’t one of you just teleport out and bring him back here to help with these fire dudes?” he asked desperately.
“Unfortunately, that is no longer possible,” the sorcerer announced. “Our adversaries have just blockaded the wards against our escape. If we wish to leave, we must fight our way free. Besides, our friend’s mission is even more important than our own; if Trigon breaks free, the results of this battle will be meaningless in the chaos to come.”
“Alright,” Batman brought the discussion to a close, “here’s how we’re going to do this. Wonder Woman, you take Starfire and Beast Boy; go out there and create some fire breaks. We want to contain the damage if at all possible. Cyborg, you guard Zatanna as she attacks from the roof. Robin, you and I will guard Dr. Fate as he works from down here, and neutralize Slade if possible. I’ve put a call into the Watchtower for reinforcements; their ETA is fifteen minutes.”
“You two, come with me,” Diana demanded before taking flight and bursting through the roof of the building. The other two flight-capable metahumans followed through the hole as Zatanna and Cyborg headed towards the stairs.
“Let us hope that we can remain in control for that long,” Dr. Fate intoned as he began firing spells through the front windows.
“Indeed,” Batman agreed, several fire-suppression pellets joining the magical salvo.
The demonic echo of Raven had made excellent use of its few moments’ head start, for Harry could find no sign of the entity save a faint trail of magic in its wake. Once the specter had escaped the club’s new wards, it apparently headed straight for the Titan’s Jump City, some miles northeast of San Francisco. The wizard took to the air while maintaining his Mage Sight on the elusive path.
The trail eventually led the mage to a dilapidated library on the outskirts of the city proper. As if to confirm his successful tracking, Trigon’s mark glowed an angry red above the door. Harry followed the trail further, eventually leading him a wide circular shaft descending into the bedrock. Ignoring the spiral staircase snaking down the wall, he opted instead to fly out into the void and follow the magic residue down a few hundred feet to an adjacent passage.
As he ran down this damp corridor, Harry could just barely hear voices coming from the far end. Smiling darkly, he muttered, “I have you now.”
Of course, the demonic entity known to some as Murphy then made his contribution as waves upon waves of fiery wraiths seeped out from every surface and headed straight for him.
Stifling a groan, he growled, “I really don’t have time for this!” Several Aguamenti charms discouraged his ardent pursuers, leaving the—if possible—even more irritated wizard to fly over the resultant sludge. Even over the rush of displaced air as he sped down the stone passageway, Harry could still hear the strident, echoed tones of his quarry up ahead of him.
“It is time. The prophecy shall be fulfilled,” the odd female voice announced.
Harry mentally cursed and doubled his efforts.
Again, he heard the female voice, only this time speaking solemnly. “The gem was born of evil’s fire. The gem shall be his portal. He comes to claim. He comes to sire. The end of all things mortal.”
The wizard burst in to a spacious chamber dominated by a stone hand pillar. Several more of Trigon’s fiery minions were arrayed around the column, observing the spectacle upon the rock palm. Harry arrived just in time to bear witness to the Red Raven’s dissolution into three orbiting series of glowing red runes.
Before he could react, the upper and lower circles of runes slid into the middle, and the whole thing shrunk down to a single point. The conglomeration promptly exploded into a swirling disc of unholy radiation with flames at its rim, forcing Harry to shield his eyes from the unbearable glare.
He promptly shielded the rest of himself once the disk of awful light began spreading out across the floor. Streaks of red and orange flame swirled like the devil’s own peppermint candy, and the whole lot started to go red and black.
He watched, Impressed at the display despite himself, as a black silhouette begins to emerge from the blinding white heart of the maelstrom. The antlers and four red eyes instantly marked it as Trigon, even before he saw any other features. Within moments, Raven’s father stood up straight, breaking through the stone ceiling. The demon lord was hugely muscled and very distinctive, what with red skin, black stripes, and flowing white hair. Besides the antlers sported atop his head, Trigon wore only a loincloth, steel wristbands, and a broad steel piece over the lower chest that matched his wristbands.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Harry quickly extinguished Trigon’s reinforcements as the giant demon stretched out and roared, “The Earth is mine!” With a large expenditure of magic, the sky darkened to a blood red shade in accompaniment to his claim.
“Well,” Harry commented to himself as he flew through the ceiling towards the surface and his new primary objective, “time to go to work.”
“We need a new plan!” Diana shouted to Batman as she dumped another load of water on the conflagrant army. After her group had created enough firebreaks to contain the original number of hostiles, she had snatched a water tower from a nearby roof and emptied it on their enemies. However, even after many trips to the bay for refills, the fiery spirits still kept receiving reinforcements.
The Caped Crusader finished briefing the latest arrivals before Superman and his family, Jason Blood, Red Tornado, Fire, Ice, Green Lantern, Blue Devil, and the Ray headed out and began countering the increasing opposition.
“Agreed,” Gotham’s original vigilante acknowledged Diana’s comment and turned to Dr. Fate, whose attacks seemed to be coming at increasingly greater intervals. “Obviously, extinguishing them isn’t working. Is there any way to destroy the ones here before they can regenerate?”
“There might be a way,” the helmed magician admitted, “but it would not be effective against this number of enemies.”
Supergirl flew in and blew out the phalanx that was attempting to flank the ground troops. “Did someone call Joe? He might have some ideas.”
“Black is in pursuit of the portal,” Batman responded tersely. “He can’t help us right now.”
“Great!” Kara grumbled before her mind recalled one of the spells he had attempted to teach Galatea and her on Avalon. “What about that glowing guardian spirit thingy?” she asked Fate. “That Patro… something.”
“I know of no such spell,” the man supplied.
“Wait, he showed Zatanna, too!” the Argosian blurted before flying to the woman’s perch upon the roof. “Hey, Zee, will that silvery ghost Patron-thingy get rid of these guys?”
“A Patronus?” the Enchantress clarified before sending another jet of water towards the advancing center of the flaming army. “It might, but there are hundreds of the things here now. I don’t know if Jason and I can handle the volume.”
“Maybe I can help,” a low voice called from behind them.
The two women and one cyborg turned to find the white-robed Raven standing levelly and seeming alert.
“Raven, are you sure you should be out of bed?” Cyborg demanded.
Zatanna seemed of a similar mind. “You were under a lot of strain earlier. How do you feel?”
The now longhaired girl looked down and clenched one fist. “I feel… amazing,” the witch finally replied. “I can’t feel Trigon in my head anymore. What’s happening out here?”
“Your green friend accidentally broke our circle and let Trigon’s essence escape. Mr. Black’s gone after it,” the older magician supplied. “Right after that, these guys showed up. We can’t figure out where they’re all coming from, though, or if this Slade is directing them.”
“It’s Slade,” Raven confidently confirmed. “He was resurrected by Trigon into a soulless existence. He has powers over fire now, and commands Trigon’s army. He’s after me.”
“Slade the Undead, huh?” the African half-human questioned. “Oh, Rob’s gonna love that.”
“Well, he’s not getting you,” Kara called out defiantly before a blast of fire from several buildings over caught the girl and slammed her into the club’s aerial antenna. The metal structure began falling down on the group and Cyborg moved to cover Zatanna and Raven. The purple-haired girl reflexively threw a hand up at the rapidly descending scrap just before it could hit.
The other two opened their eyes a few moments later, wondering why they had neither heard nor felt the collision, only to stare disbelievingly at Raven’s slight form. More specifically, the slight form that was casually holding up several thousand pounds of scrap metal with one arm.
“Oh-kay,” she drawled dryly as she easily shoved the mess away from the group and freed Kara. “I’m guessing that Mr. Black’s blood did more than just exorcise Trigon’s hold on me.”
“Well, whatd’ya know?” Cyborg said jovially as he wrapped one metal-encased arm around the shorter figure. “Rae-rae’s got superpowers!”
Raven stared at her hands for a moment before shaking off the shock. “Not now, Cyborg. We’ve got to stop this mess. Did you see where the blast came from?” she asked.
The computerized teen scanned the area before catching sight of the concealed Slade. “Yeah,” he said before powering up his Sonic Cannon, “from Slade.” He discharged the white energy and smiled when the master criminal was discharged from his perch.
“Wait a minute,” Kara interrupted, “if you’ve got Joe’s powers, you can back up Zee’s Patronus, right?”
“I may have his powers,” Raven answered, “but I don’t have his memories. I don’t know how his magic works.”
“It’s emotionally driven,” Zatanna supplied. “In the Patronus’s case, you first have to fix a happy memory in your mind. The incantation is ‘Expecto Patronum’. Like this.” The top hat-wearing woman pointed her wand in front of her and cast the spell as Joe had shown her on Avalon, causing a shining silver rabbit to appear.
“A rabbit?” Cyborg asked while poorly concealing a grin. “That’s your great protector?”
“Oh, shut up,” Zatanna muttered before addressing her creation. “Go get ‘em, Bugs.”
The rabbit turned and hopped over the building before chasing down one of the fiery spirits. Bugs attempted to jump on the creature’s back but, as soon as the Patronus came in contact, the evil wraith simply ceased to exist. Several of its fellows immediately gave the rabbit a wide berth.
“I take it all back. That’s one mean bunny,” the mechanical teen praised.
Raven caught the questioning glances. “A happy memory?” she asked hesitantly. At Zatanna’s nod, she thought of her friends who were willing to face down Trigon for her. The girl then gathered her power, idly noticing that the task seemed much easier than before, and cast the spell. Her efforts generated a good-sized cloud of silvery vapor, but no clear form.
“Try a happier memory,” Zatanna coached. “How about when you found out that Trigon could be stopped? Remember, this is supposed to call a guardian spirit.”
Upon hearing ‘guardian’, Raven recalled the events of the past couple of hours, mainly her introduction to the League’s newest mystic. She vividly remembered his steadfast nature, his going so far as to accompany her into her own mind when Trigon attempted to possess her, and the hope that she felt when the kind man had seen her true nature and protected her anyway.
Pooling all of her memories of her savior together, Raven concentrated and incanted, “Expecto Patronum.”
The other Titan and two Leaguers paused to stare in shock at the silvery figure that appeared in front of the young witch. The figure paused for a second before stepping off the edge of the building and walking towards the host of fiery wraiths with a look of annoyance on his shining gray face.
Both Leaguer and demon ceased their efforts as the glowing phantom casually walked through the defenders’ line, drawing a ghostly scythe from beneath its coat as it went. The demons seemed torn between wanting to flee and standing their ground, and their indecision ultimately proved fatal.
Finally reaching the opposition, the silvery figure grabbed the lead wraith and dissolved the creature with one well-placed punch. Smiling evilly, the gray specter rolled up his sleeves and began laying waste to Slade’s elemental army with a combination of spell fire, scythe swipes, and martial arts. Bugs the Patronus took to following the Black Patronus, attacking wraiths in its own unique way.
“What the-? Joe is your Patronus?” Kara blurted.
Zatanna looked equally confused. “I thought that Patronii had to be animals,” she muttered loudly.
Raven shrugged as a small smile played about her lips. “Well, you said that a Patronus was the representation of all one’s positive thoughts projected in the form of a guardian spirit. I can’t really think of a better fit for the role.”
“Whoa, look at him go!” Cyborg called out admirably. “Rae-rae, your new dad kicks some serious butt! He took out, like, ten of those flame dudes with one swing of that scythe!”
“My… dad?” the purple-haired girl questioned wonderingly. “Would he really want me?”
“Well, he did go through that ritual to supplant Trigon’s hold on you,” Zatanna pointed out as she went back to picking off the flame spirits that were now attempting to flee the Patronus team as it was joined by Jason Blood’s silvery Doberman. “He apparently left you with some of his power as well as his blood,” she added. “Biologically and magically speaking, at least, you are his daughter.”
The sky suddenly darkened to a blood red shade, interrupting their conversation as well as the scattered fights.
“What now?” Kara groaned.
“Trigon,” Raven bit out with a hint of a growl. “He’s here.”
The other two teenagers looked around worriedly. “Where’s he at?” Cyborg questioned. “I’ve got nothing.”
“Not here,” the purple-haired witch informed the group, “in Jump City.”
The Argosian looked worried. “We’ve got to do something!” she exclaimed.
“No! We stop Slade now, once and for all,” Raven interjected. “Then, we can go to Jump City and back up Mr. Black.”
The slim white-cloaked form took to the air as the menacing huntress searched for her quarry.
“Yep,” Kara assessed as she took flight to assist, “she’s definitely Joe’s kid.”
“Hey, Tripod!” Harry intentionally shouted the misnomer as he rose into the air to face the towering red behemoth. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”
“Annoying insect!” Trigon roared. “Be gone!” The giant demon sent a wave of magic at the floating wizard, who easily dodged the projectile.
“Well, this is one insect who’s gonna swat you!” the magician shot back heatedly as he racked his brain for a feasible solution.
Trigon laughed derisively. “Fighting you is beneath me.”
His four eyes glowed red and, in response, Trigon’s mark appeared in the air at Harry’s feet. Immediately afterward, sparks crackled up from the rune and enveloped the wizard.
Harry felt a burning pain in his chest and looked down—to see a monochrome arm reaching forth from his chest. Another burst of pain and a flash of light resulted in a duplicate of the dimension-hopping wizard, with two noticeable differences. One being the doppelganger’s eyes burned bright red, and the other involving the replica’s rendering in shades of gray and black.
“That’s a nice trick…” Harry mumbled as he took in his monochromatic twin, who was doing likewise. “I always thought I was taller.”
Trigon loosed a bellowing laughter. “I may be the source of all darkness,” he boasted, “but you are your own worst enemy.”
The metaphorical knut dropped for the wizard and he smiled darkly, the other Harry mimicking his action. “Hate to break it to you, Mate,” Harry began.
“But I made peace with my own inner demon a while back,” the colorless Harry finished. The doppelganger looked back to the original wizard. “You know what they say, Me,” the darker Harry mentioned. “The bigger they are…”
“… The more pieces they make!” Harry completed.
Trigon looked dumbfounded at the unexpected turn of events. “What?!” he demanded. “That’s impossible!”
Both Harrys smirked before replying in unison. “Doing the impossible is our specialty.”
The twins wordlessly came to a decision on their tactics before the original Harry drew Caledfwich and charged towards their enemy’s heart, sword first. The other wizard Summoned a suspension cable from the nearby bridge and used a few charms and a couple of conjurations to create a gigantic, magically-enhanced garrote.
The first Harry plunged the fiery blade through the demon’s thick, armored hide and directly into Trigon’s heart. As the giant red figure bellowed in pain, the duplicate wizard tossed one end of the impromptu weapon to the swordsman, and the pair proceeded to wrap the hexed cable around the distracted demon’s neck. Nodding grimly to each other, the brothers pulled on the conjured handles with all their combined might.
The self-proclaimed ‘source of all darkness’ was torn between clawing for the incendiary armament wedged in his cardiovascular pump and fighting against the magically-reinforced and enchanted cable that was slowly but surely slicing through his throat.
In a matter of moments, the demon finally lost to the double team as his head fell to the ground. Harry could immediately tell the difference as the fiery minions disappeared and the sky returned to its normal hue.
The wizard looked over to his duplicate, who still held the other end of the cable. “I guess this is it,” the original Harry commented regrettably. “It was kind of different, having a twin.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think the universe could handle two of us, do you?” his opposite inquired.
The first wizard shook his head. “I suppose not,” he finally admitted. “So, what happens now?”
The copy shrugged. “Well, I’m a mixture of your magic and Trigon’s,” he attempted to explain. “I came from you originally, so I guess that you’ll at least reabsorb your magic, and possibly whatever of Trigon’s I still hold.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Great,” he complained, “that’s one more freak component to add to the list.”
The gray-scaled version of him nodded in agreement before frowning. “Brace yourself,” he muttered, “I think Trigon’s spell is breaking. Good bye… Brother.” His mirror image seemed to compact itself before slamming back into his own chest with another wave of pain.
“Good bye, Brother,” the sole remaining wizard uttered to no one.
“Hello, Slade,” Raven purred darkly. “Imagine running into you here.”
The masked assassin turned from his observation of the attack against the Leaguers and faced the girl. “Hello, Raven,” the man greeted levelly. “I’m glad to see that you’ve finally accepted your destiny as your father’s servant. Your delivering yourself into my hands so readily is most convenient.”
The purple-haired girl smiled slightly. “Yes, about that… there’s been a… change of plans,” she commented idly. “I’ve considered your offer and decided that I’m not going to be Trigon’s puppet after all.”
“My dear,” Slade commented as the two began circling each other, “your desires have nothing to do with the matter. Your father has something very precious to me, but I cannot claim it until I deliver you.”
“Trigon may have created me,” she growled, eyes flashing white, “but he was never my father!”
Raven angrily threw out a hand and fired a broad beam of magic directly into Slade’s torso, sending him colliding into a building.
The young witch was not finished, however. “Fathers are kind! Fathers protect you! Fathers raise you!” she expounded, each exclamation accompanied by another blast of energy directed at Slade.
“I have a real father now,” Raven professed, “and he’s going to destroy your master—just like I’m going to destroy you!”
Slade interrupted her tirade with a fiery bombardment. “I hate to burst your bubble, little girl, but Trigon’s power is absolute. There is no way that your friend can—”
The master criminal ceased speaking as the flame surrounding his hands abruptly disappeared. Just as he discovered that he was unable to reignite them, his elemental allies promptly vanished as well. Slade’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension as the sky began lightening back to its normal azure hue.
“You were saying?” Raven questioned mockingly.
“I may no longer have any extra powers, Raven, but Trigon was also the source of your magic,” he gloated, drawing a bo staff. “You’re now powerless as well.”
The witch smiled and levitated the man into the air. Raven smiled at his startled expression and dryly asked, “Did I forget to mention that my new father gifted me with his power?”
“No matter,” Slade dismissed as he withdrew several throwing discs. “I can still easily dispatch you.”
“I think not, Slade Wilson,” a cold voice intoned as Harry Apparated onto the debris-littered street, “or would you prefer ‘Deathstroke the Terminator’?” The wizard chuckled. “Seriously, could you have possibly picked a sillier code name?”
“And who are you?” the criminal demanded.
“Her father,” Harry growled before kicking the man in his most vulnerable spot and launching him skyward. The wizard tracked the other man’s progress with one hand before sending a Reductor Curse to eliminate the soulless wretch’s reanimated remains.
Harry smiled slightly. “Let’s see you regenerate that,” he challenged in a pleased tone, all the while casually holding a sack in one hand. Turning his attention back to the slight, white robed figure, he asked, “Are you okay, Rachel?”
The girl swallowed hard and nodded. She seemed to debate something with herself before she swept forward and wrapped both arms around his waist, hugging him for all she was worth.
“Thank you… Father,” she voiced softly.
“You are quite welcome,” Harry answered in like kind, dropping the bag to return her embrace. “If you prefer, though, you can just call me ‘Joe’,” he offered after hearing her tentative address. “Or ‘Black’. I’m not all that picky, really.”
“Why did you do it?” she asked. “You could have just killed me; Trigon could never have come here with me dead.”
Harry squeezed her comfortingly. “No,” he disagreed gently, “I couldn’t.”
He looked up at the slowly gathering Leaguers and Titans. “Is everyone else okay?” he asked Kara, who could not seem to decide what she wanted to do with him.
“Oh, we’re all just fine,” she said carefully. “Raven there seems to be able to channel you now. She created one of those Patronus things—which looked just like you, by the way—and it tore most of the fire guys to shreds. When you took out their boss, everything else around here just shut down.”
Harry just nodded, happy that she seemed to be taking everything so well.
“We are going to have a little talk about you running off to face incarnations of evil by yourself, though,” the Argosian pledged.
Harry winced.
“So, how’d you banish Trigon, anyway?” Jason Blood questioned curiously.
The wizard smirked and nudged the bag with one foot. “I’m not sure if banish is the proper term for it.”
The other magician took the hint and glimpsed inside the sack. “Huh. Nice trophy,” Blood commented, nodding at the out-of-sight severed head. “How’d you take him down?”
“I must admit that I too am curious as to your victory,” Dr. Fate agreed. “If I may inquire, what events transpired after you left us?”
Harry paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Well, the wraith that we pulled out of Raven managed to free Tripod before I could catch up to her,” the wizard began, “so I challenged the git to a duel. We exchanged blows for a bit, I distracted him by tossing my sword in his heart, and then finally I created the world’s largest garrote. Long story short, the ‘source of all evil’ ended up a head shorter, and I gained a new trophy to hang on my wall,” the wizard finished, retrieving the sack from the ground. “Personally, I think that it will look very nice mounted over my mantle.”
Explanation complete, the mage took in the surroundings. “It seems like you lot threw a party while I was gone.” Harry shook his head at the condition of the Cauldron. “The insurance company would never believe this story,” he commented, before casting several Repair Charms to correct the damage to his club.
“Much better!” Harry congratulated himself. Turning to the girl who was still holding onto him, he patted her back and offered, “How about we step inside for a few minutes. I’m sure that you’ve got some questions, and I could use a drink at this point.”
Raven acquiesced and the two magicians carefully stepped around the rubble, the wizard holding the girl in one hand and the bagged trophy in the other.
A/N: Thus concludes Chapter Ten of Terminal Justice, weighing in at a hefty 14,000 words. Thanks in large part to the many well-written omakes that have been submitted, I was inspired to turn out this latest update much faster than is my norm. I hope that you found this latest entry entertaining, and look for the next update to be uploaded soon.
I cleaned out my omake inbox on this chapter, pulling certain aspects from several submissions received over the past few months. Chief among these were Luinlothana’s Fading Shadow; Chris Hill’s Debating New Ideas, It’s in the Blood; and Rorscharchblot’s The Black Patronus. As always, these have been skewed to fit my… unique slant on things.
Many thanks to James for his proofreading this chapter, and to Chris for his background information and suggestions on the various DCverse fixtures.
For those curious individuals who are wondering why I cast Tim Drake as Robin instead of Dick Grayson… I realize that the TT cartoon dropped a couple of hints pointing towards Dick being the animated Robin, but I chose Tim for two reasons. First, the animated TT Robin uses a bo staff—which is more along Tim’s equipment line. Second, Speedy was portrayed exactly the same in both the TT and JLU cartoons, suggesting that the events of the animated JLU occur concurrently with the TT episodes. Ultimately, a quote from one of the show’s producers—commenting that they intentionally left Robin’s identity vague—convinced me to use Tim.
Please feel free to speculate as to what side effects (if any) Harry accrued from reabsorbing his Trigon-generated ‘twin’. I have yet to decide if Harry even needs an upgrade, what with his gift from Etrigan still sitting idly. As always, your commentary is most appreciated.
Thank you for your interest, and please remember to review.