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.
A/N: Due to some valid concerns raised in a review, I have revised the ending of the previous chapter. Nothing major has changed, but you might wish to review museum sequence before reading this chapter. Thank you.
Safari, So Good—or—The Beat Goes On
Harry closed his latest book with a disgusted sigh before tossing the article out of sight. After yet another restless night, the wizard decided that something had to change. Every time he managed to drift off to sleep, the wizard was plagued with involuntary dreams courtesy of his new…office. Eventually succumbing to the inevitable, Harry gave up any pretense of resting and decided to catch up on his reading.
This strategy was not without its consequences, however. For example, Harry’s most recent foray into his library had netted a book detailing the notable achievements of Ignatius the Ignorant. He shuddered to imagine how—or more importantly, why—a wizard would do those sorts of things with a flobberworm and document it, but Harry found it deeply disconcerting.
‘Ah,’ Harry exulted as his questing hand found another volume, ‘The Illegal Book of Illegal Things. I forgot I had this…’ He flipped through a few pages. ‘Now, that looks like fun! And that. Huh, I wonder if I could get away with that…’
His brief respite was not to last, however, as a persistent—sensation—suddenly thrust its way to the forefront of his thoughts. Curiously enough, the scene consisted of a dark-skinned man dressed in esoteric, shamanistic clothing. The tall figure stood in what appeared to be a deserted bazaar and was holding a golden ankh—not unlike the one that Teleute had presented him only a few hours ago. Sighing again at the irritating method of gaining his attention, Harry Apparated to the African man’s location.
His fervent wish that the magical adept was not in league with the shopkeeper syndicate was promptly dashed as soon as the now-identified merchant opened his mouth.
“Hello, Mr. Black. Thank you for coming,” the tall man wearing a funny hat said.
Between his choice of dress and accent, Harry determined the man to be an African native. “Shopkeeper,” he nodded dully in reply. “I trust that you have a good reason for calling my attention in this manner?”
“Most assuredly, Sir,” the other man agreed quickly, “there is—”
“That doesn’t involve quests,” Harry interrupted firmly.
The shopkeeper continued, undaunted. “No quests, Mr. Black, just some information for you. What you choose to do with it is up to you.”
“Right,” the wizard answered skeptically. “Where are we, anyway?”
“Mombasa, the second largest city in Kenya.”
“That’s good to know. So, what’s this pressing information?”
“My tribe has been guarding a certain secret location for many, many generations,” the merchant admitted. “Now, however, the heavens have revealed that the secret is no longer undisclosed, and the treasures within are in danger of being stolen.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t say,” he drawled dryly. “And what nature might these ‘treasures’ be? Gold? Jewels? Dangerous magical artifacts, perhaps?”
The other man blinked. “Why, yes. How did you know?”
Harry silently groaned. “Lucky guess,” he verbalized sarcastically. “So, you want me to go to this ‘secret location’ and grab an artifact or two before someone else does?”
“Amazing,” the merchant exclaimed. “Do you also possess the Sight?”
The dimensional traveler sighed again. “No,” he replied mournfully, “just rotten luck. If I’m not mistaken, this is the part where you try to sell me a bunch of stuff for this not-a-quest.”
“Absolutely incredible!” the shopkeeper breathed in reply as he began placing items on the counter, specifically an ancient-looking scroll and an old bolt-action rifle. Shaking off his apparent awe, the man explained, “This scroll is a map to the fabled mines of King Solomon, located within the Three Witches Mountain. Hidden within lies the wealth of nations. Aside from this, there is an item of tremendous power—one of the fabled Crystal Skulls.”
Upon seeing Harry’s blank look, he expounded upon his previous statement. “Legends say that there are a total of thirteen Crystal Skulls scattered across all of creation, fashioned out of clear quartz crystal and resembling a human skull in general appearance. Their origins are a mystery, but many believe them to be a product of Atlantean sorcery eons ago. While it is rumored that the Skulls appear identical, each possesses its own unique mystical powers—some good and some ill—”
“You know,” Harry interrupted, “this is sounding suspiciously like a quest.”
The other man assumed an innocent look that a five-year-old child could dissemble. “I assure you, Most Honored Guardian, that I merely wish to inform you of the Skulls’ potential powers.”
The wizard gave him a resigned look. “Fine,” Harry conceded, “proceed.”
“Thank you, Mr. Black. Some of the Skulls are a center of radiant psychic energy and have the power to increase happiness and improve people’s lives just by being held. Others can be used like crystal balls to aid divination. Another allegedly grants its owner the power to see through objects. Certain pieces contain supernatural restorative powers, healing nearly any illness. One is even rumored to grant its bearer some form of transportation powers.”
Harry nodded his understanding. “Well, those all certainly sound beneficial to mankind, so—what’s the catch?”
“You understand the need for balance,” the shopkeeper noted, “very good. Other Skulls are entirely destructive in nature. One particular Skull was lost during the Mayan Empire, when the High Priest used it in esoteric rites to bring death upon anyone he desired. Others can supposedly steal dreams, destroy locations or structures, served as prisons for souls, or even bring about the apocalypse.”
His customer blinked. “Alright, that’s—very bad.”
“Yes,” the other man agreed solemnly, “you can understand why it is paramount that the Skulls not fall into the wrong hands. As we speak, there are dark powers at work to combine the thirteen Skulls. They. Must. Not. Succeed.”
“I should say not,” Harry breathed. “What happens if the Skulls were combined?”
“I—do not know for certain,” the shopkeeper admitted, “but some believe that it would yield a weapon of unparalleled power, capable of destroying whole galaxies or even magic itself. As the individual pieces are brought together, it is said that they develop new powers when used as one.” He shrugged. “Of course, for all I know, it might just form a shiny pile of quartz, but do you really want to take that chance?”
Harry shook his head negatively. “It appears that I have a new quest,” he finally announced. “I suppose that it would be too much to hope for that you have some way of locating the rest of the Skulls…”
“Sorry, Mr. Black. I know of no such methods.”
Shrugging resignedly, Harry changed the topic. “So, what’s the deal with the gun?”
“Oh, that’s just an old Lee-Metford bolt-action rifle. Firearms like this one are still popular on safaris and hunting expeditions.”
“And why should that affect me?”
“Well, what tourist can possibly visit Africa and take an overland journey without going on a big-game hunt? We have some of the most spectacular scenery anywhere in the world, and the wildlife is extremely exotic. Even if you don’t hunt the beasts, you would draw attention to yourself if no member of your party was visibly armed.”
“And it’s just a regular gun? No strange and easily misinterpreted features that will only cause more headaches for me?” Harry prompted.
“None at all, Mr. Black. I assure you that this firearm is quite unremarkable, save its still serviceable condition.”
“That sounds very good,” Harry admitted as he considered the other man’s proposal. Both Kara and Galatea had enjoyed their short journey to Avalon—and the kids would probably appreciate the overland journey as well. “Alright,” he conceded, “I’ll take the map and the rifle.”
“Excellent. I’ve taken the liberty of marking a suggested safari path on the map, leading from the outskirts of the city to the mines.”
Once their business was concluded, the merchant bid his customer good fortune and Harry Apparated back to the Watchtower to inform his girlfriend, her not-quite-identical twin sister, and his two children of the scenic possibility.
Glancing down at his watch and noticing the early hour, Harry revised his plan to waiting until after the Argosian females arose for the day before popping in on them. Looking around for something to pass the time, his attention landed upon the antique rifle in his hands as he recalled placing a Silencing Charm on his room weeks ago.
Harry smiled as he began Conjuring statue replicas of the vanquished Voldemort and his former Inner Circle.
“Go on a safari?” Kara exclaimed a few hours later. “Awesome! I’m in!”
“Me, too,” her taller sister agreed. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as I see if Raven or Tim is interested in joining us,” Harry answered.
The shorter blonde woman pondered the issue for a few moments before suggesting, “Perhaps we should invite Mari along as well. I think she’s from Kenya originally—she would be a great guide. What do you think?”
Harry shrugged. “Sounds like a plan to me. Do you want to invite her, or should I?”
“I can do that,” Kara promised. “By the way, are you doing anything tomorrow afternoon?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “Why?”
“Well…” she hesitated, “I was talking with a few of the girls from that convention a few weeks ago, and you happened to come up in the discussion. One thing led to another and…”
“And…” Harry pressed.
“They… wanttomeetyouinperson.” she said quickly.
Once he deciphered the girl’s jumbled words, Harry’s reply was quick, resolute, and unyieldingly negative.
“But it’s for a good cause,” Kara pleaded.
“Absolutely not. I’m a behind-the-scenes sort of bloke, and a very poor choice for a role model. Get Flash to go, or your cousin. Heck, take Tea along. She’d probably get on well with them.”
Before the blonde extraterrestrial could wrangle an agreement from him, Harry blurted that he would meet them at the teleporters and Apparated planet side to collect the youngest members of their group. Once he tracked down the pair—both of whom were found in Titans’ Tower—Harry extended the invitation. Not only did the pair of teenagers agree to attend, his daughter’s green friend begged and pleaded until he was allowed to accompany them as well. The quartet returned to the orbiting space station and met up with the rest of their party, which had grown to include not only Mari McCabe but also her ‘boo’ John Stewart.
“Only two this time, Kara?” Harry asked innocently. “You’re slipping.”
The blonde woman shrugged. “Well, I see that you found an extra passenger this trip.”
Harry shrugged. “What can I say? He has a very good puppy face.”
“I’ll bet,” she fired back good-naturedly, having already met the green shape shifter. “So—where are we headed?”
“The outskirts of Mombasa, in Kenya,” Harry supplied.
John raised an eyebrow. “And what’s so important in Mombasa?”
“Not in Mombasa,” the wizard corrected. “Outside of it, in the Three Witches Mountain.”
Mari’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean—?”
“Mean what?” the Green Lantern repeated his question.
Harry nodded. “Yep. I needed to stop by and pick up something.”
“Stop by where?” Mari’s boyfriend queried in a frustrated tone.
“Why, King Solomon’s mines, of course,” the magician replied easily.
“King Solom—you know where they are?” The intergalactic guardian paused for a moment and seemed to regain his self-control. “Of course you know where the mines are,” John said, as much to himself as Harry. “Why wouldn’t you know?”
The wizard opened his mouth to reply, but John just shook his head to negate the other man’s efforts. Dropping the conversation, Harry asked, “So, is everyone ready?”
Once the group gave their affirmation, Harry transported the small party to the starting point of their journey on the Dark Continent.
“Cool!” Beast Boy exclaimed. “And you can just go wherever you want? Just ‘poof!’ and there you are?”
Harry smiled and nodded. “Pretty much anywhere, any time. Now,” he continued, turning to Mari, “What mode of transportation would you recommend for a trip of this nature?”
The African native took a brief headcount and suggested procuring a couple of jeeps from an automotive rental agency she spotted in the distance. After doing so, Harry described the route that the bizarre bazaar owner had sketched—which met with Vixen’s approval. In fact, the civilian-dressed supermodel even suggested a couple of additional deviations along the way.
The group spent the majority of the day traversing the wilds of Kenya, taking photographs of the wildlife and generally enjoying the time away from world saving. As the sun began to set, the group arrived at the Three Witches Mountain just as the shopkeeper promised. As the two off-road vehicles reached the cave entrance, Harry signaled for them to stop.
“Alright,” he informed the others, “this is as far as the jeeps go. Hang tight, and I’ll be back in a little while.”
The others met his proposal with immediate and boisterous protest, and the wizard soon found himself followed through the carved passageways.
“Well, this is a very nice hole in the ground,” Beast Boy complained as the group trod single file.
“Isn’t it, though?” Harry replied from the front as he recalled the last few instructions from the map. “This way,” he informed the others, before ducking into another passage. The group followed and soon found themselves standing in a roomy chamber.
“Whoa!” Kara exclaimed, mirroring the others’ unspoken reactions to the gilded objects strewn around the space. The giant vault was positively filled with gold, be it coin or ornament. Scattered amongst the yellow metal was jewels of a variety of colors and sizes.
“I don’t suppose we dropped in to get my allowance, did we?” Tim asked as he took in the hoard of wealth.
Harry chuckled. “Sorry, Mate, but no,” the elder magician replied. Stepping carefully between the precarious piles of precious metals, he approached a fluted, waist-height column at the center of the chamber. His ultimate objective rested upon the pillar, the crystal reflecting the light from the group’s Lumos charms and power ring.
Squatting down to examine his objective’s protections under Mage Sight, Harry added, “This is what I came to collect.”
The mage’s disinterest in the ‘obviously’ more valuable objects earned several questioning looks, verbalized by the green shape shifter. “Umm—why exactly do you want that, when all this cool stuff is just laying here? I mean, the whole crystal skull thing’s a little creepy.”
“I thought they were just a myth,” Raven breathed before floating over to her father’s side.
“Hello?” Gar called out impatiently. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” he pleaded.
With a put-upon sigh, Raven recited the relevant background information on the artifacts.
“Okay, then,” Kara deliberated as the group stared at the sparkling prize. “What does this Skull do?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted as he worked out the best way to defeat the protections placed around the artifact. “It’s not like I ever used it before.”
“Well, that should be easy enough to figure out,” Tim announced as he reached to seize the device.
Harry shot out an arm and seized his son’s appendage at the wrist before he could trip the wards protecting the Skull. “Don’t,” he instructed the youth firmly. Paraphrasing Arthur Weasley’s advice from many years previous, he added, “Never trust anything if you can’t see where it keeps its brain. You remember how to use Mage Sight, don’t you?” The teenager nodded and Harry gestured for him to inspect the pillar under the magical vision.
Tim winced when he saw the various spells layered around the Skull. “Uhh—whoops?” he finally voiced sheepishly.
Harry just shook his head and wondered—not for the first time—if Dumbledore ever had days like this.
“So…” the wizard-in-training spoke again, “what are all of those?”
“Wards, hexes, curses—the usual,” the elder wizard supplied. “Not quite up to par with some of the Egyptian warding schemes, but not bad.” He started pointing out some of the different pieces of magic to the younger man. “This is the outer proximity ward—it sets off the primary defenses, like bone breaking hexes and organ rotting curses. The orange shield would generate an electric field fatal to humans. The gray one beneath that looks like one of the Egyptian salt acid wards. The greenish-purple bubble—”
“I get the general idea,” Tim interrupted. “If it’s that well protected, then it’ll take forever to get through those defenses.”
Harry smiled. “Not quite that long, I would think,” he said smugly. “Whoever laid these protections made one error. Can you kids spot it?”
Raven and Tim both examined the well-protected column from every angle. After several minutes, Raven finally ceded defeat. “I cannot find a flaw, Father,” she said. “It seems that if you interrupted the outer shell, the power would be diverted to the inner shields, making them even stronger. It looks impregnable.” Her half-brother nodded in agreement.
The eldest magician’s grin grew wider. “Look at the floor,” he said simply.
The two teenagers did as he instructed, causing their eyes to bulge shortly afterward.
“They forgot to shield the floor?” Tim demanded incredulously. “How thick can you get?”
Harry shrugged carelessly before phasing down into the stone floor. He reappeared moments later, rising from the ground inside the protections. Rechecking to ensure that the skull bore no further traps, the wizard levitated the Crystal Skull into a conjured bag—which he promptly pocketed.
“Well, that’s that,” he announced once he rejoined the rest of the group. After he convinced the younger members of the party to leave the gold and jewels where they lay, Harry placed a Fidelius Charm over the caverns, and the assemblage made its way back to the surface. A surprise awaited them where they parked their jeeps, however, in the form of a half-dozen costumed tribesmen.
As John stepped forward to interrogate the other group, Harry felt a sudden sense of foreboding at their unexpected presence.
“Is there something we can help you with?” the resident Green Lantern asked firmly.
The apparent chief of the small band stepped forward. “I am Msamaki. We come seeking the assistance of Macumazahn,” the man explained in heavily accented English. “Our village…wise woman says that we will find him here tonight.”
The bald Leaguer frowned. “Macum—what?”
“Macumazahn,” the native repeated, “he who watches in the night.”
Harry’s growing sense of unease spiked unexpectedly. Despite the feeling, he asked, “Why do you seek him?”
His comment redirected the new arrivals’ attention unto himself—which would soon prove to be an unfortunate turn of events for a certain dimension-traveling mage. As one, the native group took in Harry’s girlfriend-approved safari outfit consisting of a brown leather vest, matching denim pants, and a partially unbuttoned white shirt. His attire was further accessorized by his Army issue six-gun and recently acquired bolt-action elephant gun.
The group turned inward as the natives conversed rapidly between themselves. Their frequent and excited gestures in his direction somewhat failed to quiet his unease.
“Here we go again,” the wizard grumbled.
“It is you!” the head African tribesman exclaimed. “He who watches in the night.”
Harry sighed heavily, mourning the end of his trouble-free day, before replying, “‘Mr. Black’ will suffice. Now, what is this all about?”
Gathering a flurry of comments from the African citizens, Harry concluded that the group’s small and isolated village was recently overrun by vampires. The natives had initially believed the strange disappearances to be the result of wild animal attacks but, as time went on, they discovered the supernatural nature of the reoccurring problem.
“Right then,” Harry nodded decisively. “This shouldn’t take too long. If you lot will kindly return the rigs to Mombasa, I’ll deal with the vampires and meet up with you later.”
“You didn’t really think that would work, did you?” Kara asked dryly.
The accosted wizard shrugged. “I can always hope.” Turning to the youngest members of their group, he asked, “You kids up for a practical exam in vamp dusting?”
While Raven seemed nonplussed at the notion, Tim appeared a little shaken. Neither of the two magically inclined teenagers’ seemed panicked, however. As for the third adolescent present…
“Wait a minute!” Beast Boy called. “You mean vampires are real? Honest to goodness bloodsucking ‘I hate garlic, sunlight, and running water’ vampires?”
“The garlic thing’s just a fairy tale,” Harry corrected, “and most breeds don’t really mind running water all that much. Nearly all vampires combust in sunlight, however, and there are very few things that aren’t inconvenienced when you remove its head. In the case of demonic vampires—which seems to be what we’re dealing with—the creatures have no souls and are susceptible to holy water and religious icons. Basically, the easiest ways to kill a vamp is to stake it, bake it, or decapitate it. Any questions?”
The green changeling shifted his feet nervously. “Umm—I’m not sure if I can do that,” Gar admitted quietly. “I don’t really have any anti-creepy crawly powers—I just turn into animals.”
“Go with that, then,” Harry advised. “Try for a predator with good attack skills and senses—like a wolf, or something.”
“I can do that,” the young Titan hesitantly admitted.
The wizard-turned-Death nodded at the younger man before turning his attention back to the current source of his frustration. After obtaining the village’s name and recalling its coordinates from the map he purchased, the wizard tossed a Black Hole on the side of the hill. “Stay sharp, everyone,” he bid before walking through the portal.
As the displaced group took in their new surroundings, Harry turned to the spokesperson for the villagers. “Is there a particular place where the vampires like to gather around here?”
The man looked around to get his bearings. “There’s a tavern a few blocks from here,” he supplied. “Some of our people donate blood to the creatures in exchange for protection for their families. The monsters visit nightly for their… tribute.”
“Take us there,” Harry ordered grimly. The man complied, leading the group to a inn-like structure. The wizard took in the rustic motif for a few moments before heading to the bar. “I’ve heard you have a leech infestation,” he said bluntly, noticing the barkeeper’s sudden nervous twitch. “Have they stopped by tonight yet?”
“N-no, Sir, not yet,” the man replied uneasily.
“Good man,” the wizard praised. “In that case, I believe that we’ll have dinner. What would you recommend?”
“T-the steak tartare is very nice,” the attendant informed, “especially when served with Berbere and Van Der Hum.”
“That will be fine,” Harry replied. “Put my friends on my bill.” The wizard accepted a glass of the tangerine-based liquor and headed towards one of the larger tables.
“Msamaki,” the barkeep whispered amazedly, “you actually found him? The legends of Macumazahn are true?”
“Why do you all keep calling him that?” Kara asked as she placed her order.
“Because, that is who he is,” Msamaki insisted. “Macumazahn, he who watches in the night, the guardian of Africa.”
“It’s a local legend,” Mari explained to the others. “The rest of the world knows him by the name Allan Quatermain.”
“Not again!” John grumbled. “Besides, he normally picks a name that’s somehow connected to ‘Black’. The whole ‘night watcher’ thing fits, but ‘Quatermain’ is way off profile.”
Galatea shrugged. “Maybe he ran out of pseudonyms.”
Tim looked thoughtful. “You mean the big game hunter Quatermain in the late 1800s?” he asked the female metahuman. “The same Quatermain that twice helped the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen over a hundred years ago?”
Vixen nodded. “One and the same,” she answered. “It was rumored that, as reward for his protection of the peoples against outside aggressors, Africa wouldn’t allow Macum—Quatermain to die.”
“But that’s impossible!” the youthful mage protested. “Quatermain and the League’s just a myth!”
Beast Boy stuck up his head. “Umm—excuse me, but what’s the big deal? I mean, we all know that your dad’s, like, ancient and all. And what’s up with this league of special dudes, any way?”
“It’s the ‘League of Extraordinary Gentlemen’,” the teenaged wizard corrected automatically. “They were the world’s first superhero team, saved the planet from all sorts of stuff in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries—but its all fiction! I mean, there was Miss Wilhelmina Murray from Dracula, Captain Nemo, Dr. Jekyll, The Invisible Man—”
Tim shook his head. “There’s no way that all of that could have happened!” he asserted. “It’s just plain impossible!”
Galatea suddenly smirked. “Oh, really?” she asked, and discretely gestured to a weathered painting hanging above the fireplace.
The youth’s eyes widened as he compared the old portrait to his oblivious lounging stepfather. The image showed a man bearing exceptional resemblance to the seated immortal, illustrating him in similar repose with an identical rifle painted in the background. The canvas’s frame bore a simple inscription.
Allan Quatermain. 1887.
“It’s all true,” the dumbfounded teenager breathed. “King Solomon’s mines, Fu Manchu’s criminal empire, Professor Moriarty and the aerial war machines—everything.”
“Whoa!” the green-skinned teenager announced dully.
The others gathered were in complete agreement.
Harry was about halfway finished with his tartare when the room suddenly fell silent. Looking up from his spicy beef entree, he saw over a dozen oddly dressed, pale figures lurking in the open door. “Looks like we have company,” he said in a low tone.
As the new arrivals headed towards the now-shaking bartender, two wooden stakes floated out of Raven’s cloak pocket. Without warning, the slivers of timber flew across the room, striking her targets and generating two clouds of dust.
“Excellently done, Raven, very nice reflexes,” her father praised as he ‘suntanned’ two vampires and sent his Nordic axe flying to intercept a third’s neck.
“They don’t look so tough,” Tim announced as he withdrew two stakes from his coat in wordless challenge.
“Oh, look, the snack thinks he’s a vampire slayer,” one of the undead creatures mocked as he stalked towards the Hunter scion. “What are you going to do now, infant?”
Tim’s jaw clenched at the insult. “Well, for starters, I was thinking of doing… this!” Grabbing the monster’s shirt in one fist, he threw the creature into one of his advancing colleagues. The third vampire rushed the young wizard, earning itself a stake through the heart. As the remaining ambulatory creatures righted themselves, Tim tossed his two stakes at the pair. One stake landed on its mark, leaving another pile of dust. As for the other…
“Bugger!” Tim cursed as the other stake missed his target, leaving him facing off against one very upset vampire without an obvious weapon. The youth raised his arms to defend himself—only to lower them again as the charging creature suddenly lit up like a signal flare.
“Watch yourself, Tim,” Harry cautioned as he lowered his hand, having sent his son a little magical backup. “There’s no need to show off.”
While Harry was keeping an eye on the three less experienced teenagers, Kara and Galatea put his training on dark creatures to good use. Foregoing the stake-throwing route, the two Argosian women fell upon the remaining creatures with fervor strangely reminiscent of his brother on a hunt. While Kara seemed content to target undead hearts with her Heat vision, her sister took almost perverse delight in decapitating her opponents—typically with her bare hands.
It was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye, Harry later reflected—had the group not currently been engaged in a fight against a large quantity of animated, demon-infested corpses, that is.
The other two Leaguers soon got into the spirit of things, with Vixen using superhuman speed to attack the vampires head-on while the resident Green Lantern used a scythe construct to dispatch their foes from a distance.
Even Beast Boy ultimately shook off his hesitation, as Harry caught sight of a small green dinosaur tackle two vampires at once and dispose of them in a rather bestial manner.
Though Harry was chiefly occupied with sending balls of flame after the remaining threats, the exchange did not escape his notice. Specifically, he made a mental note that the emerald shape shifter’s sudden burst of courage occurred immediately after the two creatures in question attempted to broadside his daughter.
Putting on a burst of speed, Harry chased down the last vampire standing as it attempted to flee the tavern. Keeping a vice-like grip around its neck, the wizard was preparing to end the creature’s unnatural existence when one of the bar’s patrons urged him to stop.
“What is it?” Harry asked the man intently, all the while maintaining his chokehold on the parasite in question.
“It’s my daughter,” the villager worriedly announced as a small boy hid behind him. “She and my son were caught outside at sunset. My son here managed to hide, but they took my little girl.”
Harry turned suddenly blazing eyes on the undead in his grasp. “I’m only going to ask once,” he said emotionlessly. “Where is your nest?”
“I’m not telling you anything!” the yellow-eyed beast swore between curses.
Nodding to himself, the wizard looked at the bartender. “You have a back room I can borrow, Mate? It won’t take but a minute.”
Wordlessly, the tavern’s operator pointed at a wooden door in the corner behind the bar.
“Thank you,” Harry answered politely. “The rest of you, kindly wait here. I shan’t be long.” Before anyone could intervene, Harry entered the small room and locked the door. A moment later, he Silenced the storage area for good measure.
A few minutes later, the wizard exited the room—alone.
“Our friend reconsidered his position and told me where the girl was most likely taken,” Harry announced to the waiting group. Swallowing the rest of his tangerine-based drink, he slung his rifle over his head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the hunt is on. If you’re coming along, don’t forget the stakes. You might just need them.”
With that said, he quickly strode from the vampire-free establishment, leaving behind several awed villagers and seven hastily departing superheroes.
After the Leaguers eliminated the remaining vampire infestation—and, fortunately, safely returned one young kidnap victim—they bid the Dark Continent adieu and went their separate ways. Fulfilling an earlier obligation, Harry stopped by the Leaky Cauldron to check in with Pamela and Harley. The two femme fatales had done an admirable job of reviewing the current employees, as well as evaluating where changes needed to be made.
In fact, after he had made a few initial suggestions, Pamela took the proverbial ball and ran with it. The redheaded plant elemental had even found Harley a perfect job—a combination of security guard and barkeep.
Though Harry was still unable to understand the former Joker assistant’s repeated references to ugly coyotes, he had to admit the blonde was a very competent employee. Once she learned that his preferred means of correction did not involve physical violence, the fun-loving female had begun to warm up to her new role in life—with copious assistance from Pamela that is.
Making his way through the crowd, Harry slipped behind the counter. “Hello, Harley,” he greeted. “How are things going?”
“Oke dokee, Mistah B!” the former clown princess exclaimed loudly as she performed some odd dance while twirled bottles of drinks in her hands. “Red’s in the office going over paperwork. Hey, I made a new drink. I call it ‘Harley’s Honey Delight’, and it’s got a real kick! Wanna try it?”
Harry nodded. “Sure,” he answered, accepting one of the bottles. “Thanks, Harley. Keep up the good work.” A simple Apparation got him to the workplace in question. “Good evening, Pam. Is everything alright?”
“Just fine, Mr. Black,” Pamela Isley replied. “I’m just looking through the lineups for next week’s entertainment. Here’s the reports that need your approval.”
“Thanks. I’ll look over them right now. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
The green-skinned woman shook her head. “Nope, that’s it. Thanks again—for everything.”
Harry smiled. “You are most welcome. By the way, how’s Leah settling in?”
“Pretty well, actually,” the Queen of Green answered. “Perhaps even too well. She shares Harley’s… unique sense of humor, and that’s never a good thing.”
Harry smiled slightly. “So, what’s the new recruit up to?”
“She’s at an audition across town right now, but she’ll be back later tonight.”
“Sounds good, Pam. Thanks for looking out for her. Good night.”
“Night, Mr. Black,” she answered before he Apparated to his room aboard the Watchtower.
Sitting the paperwork down at his desk, Harry opened the bottle of Harley’s brew. Before he could sample the beverage, however, his Zippo alerted him to an incoming call.
“Black here,” he answered.
“Hi, Mr. Black!” Henchgirl greeted. “How is everything?”
“Pretty well, all things considered,” Harry responded. “I did learn something interesting yesterday,” he admitted, before describing the events in the Midway City museum—chiefly, his run-in with Teleute and his new… job.
Once he completed his tale, his friend remained quiet for a few moments. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she finally replied. “I know that you just wanted a normal life. Look on the bright side; you can see your folks now…err…eventually, anyway.”
The wizard smiled slightly at his all-but-sister’s attempt to console him. “I suppose you’re right, Henchgirl,” he acknowledged. “How are things on the Island?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to let you know that the twins are assisting the Professor and me on a new project. We’re having some trouble with the inter-dimensional Port-Trans targeting system. The latest machine would be able to send other people to you, but we couldn’t think of a way to extract you all back home.”
“I can see where that would be inconvenient,” Harry noted.
“Tell me about it,” she muttered. “Anyway, the four of us are working on a new idea to resolve the targeting issue. Basically, anyone leaving our dimension for a new destination will take along a specially made device—like the goblin tunnel spells. Once they reach their target dimension, they set up this portal, or door, or gate, and it can create a wormhole to another of the devices—no matter where it is.”
Harry blinked disbelievingly at the rational and focused plan that his friends had developed. It sounded very reasonable on the surface, and the witch made it appear as if the task was ridiculously simple to perform.
That little tidbit alone was enough to set off warning bells in his mind. His long and, at times, excruciatingly painful association with the magic-wielding quartet led him to immediately begin preparing for the worst. “And have you encountered any problems so far?” he tentatively asked.
“Well, there’re a couple major problems with the design. For example, the annoying little troll wants to make the gate out of a red hula-hoop. The twins, on the other hand, stol—borrowed a police call box and want to use that instead.” The witch gave out a put-upon sigh. “They’re all idiots, of course. Everyone knows that all the good dimensional transports are stone post-and-lintel constructs configured in concentric arrays. Much more durable than plastic or glass and…more plastic. We could have a pair of gates made in no time if we could get past this sticking point.”
Harry manfully resisted the urge to forcibly brain himself with his own desk. “Alright, here’s what you can do,” he decided. “Tell the Professor that you’ll use the ring idea, but I said to use stone for durability. Then you both tell the twins to put the call box back where they found it. I have enough problems without the Muggle telecommunications companies and law enforcement agencies adding to the list. Tell them you’ll use the glass idea, but no more call boxes.”
You got it, Boss man,” the witch answered in a vindicated tone, “but what circular object can we make with stone and glass?”
He thought for a few moments before a memory from his first year at Hogwarts surfaced. “Well, since you’re trying to see different dimensional possibilities…what about a mirror?”
The connection was silent for a few moments before Henchgirl sudden cried, &ldquo:That’s brilliant! Then we could position the runes around the stone ring and use the glass as our conductor! Thanks, Mr. Black!”
“You’re welcome, Henchgirl. If that’s everything, then I’ll wish you a good night.”
“Hey, wait!” she called. “The Professor gave me the manual for your Universal Remote. He said that it should help with your product evaluation. Here it comes.”
“Looks promising,” Harry stated after catching the handwritten book. “I’ll look into it. Thanks, Henchgirl.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Black-Death. Buh bye!” She broke the connection before Harry could admonish her for the parting comment.
“I’ll remember that,” he told his Zippo before taking a swig from Harley’s bottle and leaning back in his chair.
Hours later found Harry still studying the manuscript, albeit significantly less clear-headed and with a large volume of Harley’s strangely appealing concoction missing.
“Huh,” the wizard murmured as he attempted to read the manual, “a programmable timer. That’s wicked.” He squinted to read the messy handwriting. “Let’s see… set the coordinates… input a place and time… enter how long the trip should last, and you’re done! Instant roundtrip ticket to anywhere.”
He removed the remote from his coat pocket and attempted to duplicate the instructions on the device without releasing the beverage. After several attempts and much fumbling through the available options, he finally managed to find the timer option. Laughing to himself, he pointed sharply at the Remote with his bottle-wielding hand.
“Now that’s a good ide—” The sudden motion caused a fair amount of liquid to rush out of its container and cover the Remote, which then began to glow blue and spark.
“Well, that’s not good,” the wizard eloquently noted, just before the clearly malfunctioning device whisked him out of his comfortable chair and deposited him on the ground.
The ground that irrationally consisted entirely of grass and dirt, and was completely surrounded by dense foliage.
Blinking owlishly at his surroundings from his undignified seat, Harry finally mumbled, “Nope. Not good at all.” Glaring at the still-sizzling Remote in his hand, he accused, “This is all your fault!” He tossed the troublesome gadget over his shoulder and climbed uneasily to his feet. Harry managed to stagger three steps before receiving an impact against his head.
The Universal Remote lay on the ground at his feet.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” he exclaimed, before stomping the device into pieces. “We’ve reached the parting of the ways.” He attempted again to leave the area—only to be accosted once more by a completely repaired Remote floating in front of his face.
“Argh!” the wizard screamed before snapping the device in half, throwing one piece heavenward and burying the other half in a hastily Reducto-ed hole in the ground.
“Whew!” Harry breathed out a relieved sigh as he went to wipe his forehead—and consequently poked himself in the eye with the regenerated Remote in his hand.
Staring blankly at the mischievous device, he muttered. “Either I’m beyond pissed, or I haven’t had enough,” he informed no one in particular. “Fine,” he told his electronic companion in a put-upon tone, “you can stay with me.”
It was then that he noticed that the ‘program’ button was flashing and the metaphorical penny finally fell. “Oh, I get it. The programmable timer feature works. Well, time to go home.” He pressed the ‘back’ button and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
“I said ‘time to go home’!” Harry snapped when it became obvious that his brilliant waiting strategy was not working. He pressed the ‘stop’ button, but discovered that it was also rendered inactive. So, too, were ‘exit’, ‘cancel’, and ‘power’.
“Alright, then. Death space-time powers, do your thing.” The next several experiments to will himself back to his proper time and location failed—he later determined—due to the conflicting temporal anomaly that the Remote was generating.
Unwilling to leave the device behind and risk it falling into the wrong hands, Harry resigned himself to waiting for the Remote’s program to run its course—however long that would take.
Curious as to where—and when—the gadget had stranded him, Harry looked at his watch. His eyes widened comically when he saw the read-out bore both a scientific notation and a ‘BC’ suffix. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Harry began stomping off in a random direction in hopes of finding some sort of settlement. Though it did not brighten his spirits, Harry did manage to answer one of his questions.
He most definitely had not consumed enough alcohol.
That was the highlight of his discoveries, however. For starters, his wanderings carried him into even more impenetrable plantlife, rather than the hoped-upon village. Secondly, as Harry jumped unsteadily over a fallen tree while calling a certain short and eccentric inventor thirty seven kinds of fool, he came face-to-face with a strange reptilian creature. It stood just over six feet tall and greatly resembled an ugly scale-covered turkey. Had Harry been paying closer attention, he would have noticed that its total length exceeded twenty feet.
Harry did not notice this particular detail, however, though his intoxicated state was not to blame. No, his complete—and suddenly sober—concentration was riveted on the crouching form’s exposed nine inch claws and bared teeth. Before he could study the situation further, the apparent dinosaur charged his position and he instinctively reacted.
Wiping the finely minced innards of the Reducto-ed predator off his face, Harry barely had time to take stock of the situation before a faint whisper of sound alerted him to the presence of more danger. In an instant, three more of the creatures burst out of the undergrowth, flanking him on both sides and the rear.
As one, the pack charged, allowing Harry just enough opportunity to hex a second creature before he was forced to fend the animals off with his melee weapons. After warding off several coordinated slashing attacks, the wizard finally managed to kill the pair of beasts.
“Well,” Harry noted aloud as he looked at the hundreds of pounds of prehistoric meat, “that’s got the immediate food issue addressed.”
Before he could move to dispose of the remains, however, Harry heard—and felt—the approach of several other creatures. Within moments, he was once more surrounded, this time by what he could only describe as a hunting band of prehistoric demons.
‘Apparently,’ Harry decided, ‘it’s going to be one of those days.’
Harry raised his two blades to ready positions, and the band of demons charged.
Despite the inhospitable surroundings and general lack of anything resembling civilization, Harry was never distracted from solving the Universal Remote conundrum. While the absence of the Remote’s manual retarded the process, Harry eventually manipulated the device to display the particulars of the activated program—chiefly, how much time remained in the current jump. Unfortunately, there appeared to be no method of predicting future jumps, or of canceling the pending operations.
Harry had several rather blunt recommendations to the Professor regarding that particular issue. Some of which, he doubted, could be performed by a vertebrate.
Without an obvious power source, his initial thoughts of removing the battery was rendered immediately inoperable. Likewise, his frantic actions upon arrival spoke ill of the ‘Remote obliteration’ plan. Ultimately, Harry decided that his current course of action was the wisest and resigned himself to continue the automated adventure until it finally led him back to his room in the Watchtower.
After a long and eye-opening stay on prehistoric Earth, the Remote finally reached the end of its current program and Harry prepared for the next phase of his journey—which hopefully led directly to his orbiting apartment aboard the Justice League Watchtower. However, his luck remained true to form and, instead of fabricated living quarters, he found himself standing in yet another unfamiliar landscape.
This realization earned an entirely new volley of curses aimed at the Professor’s well being.
The rest of Harry’s ‘vacation from his vacation’ continued in a similar vein. On the bright side, he met new and interesting people while traveling to exotic locations. On the other hand, the ‘most interesting’ features of his new friends seemed to unfailingly complicate—if not out-and-out threaten—his livelihood.
As near as he could tell, there was no set pattern to the Remote’s madness. The malfunctioning device dragged him forwards and backwards through both time and the occasional dimensional boundary, all in order to complete its task.
On one such trip, Harry was transported to the medieval times of King Arthur. Carefully avoiding the key players whom had interacted with him in the future, Harry donned a simple suit of unmarked black armor and aided the young king on a few of his campaigns to unify ancient Britain. Between skirmishes, Harry also learned how to use both a crossbow and the traditional longbow. It was during these more tranquil moments that the temporally-misplaced wizard also discovered a knack for feudal sport—specifically, jousting. A disguised Mortis also seemed to find the contests entertaining, as the pair won many wagers against their opponents.
Once ‘Sir Black’ completed his tour of duty, the wandering wizard found himself in 1893-era London, where he promptly met up with an experienced metaphysician named Abraham. Most interesting to Harry was the good doctor’s somewhat hidden talent as a crypto zoologist, which was what lured him away from his practice. Upon questioning the man as to his worried appearance, he learned that one of Abraham’s former pupils cabled him regarding a friend’s affliction by a strange illness, which the learned physician deduced to be a vampire attack.
Harry immediate offered his services as an experienced vampire hunter but, not willing to risk a confrontation with the Black family so close to his own time, he gave the man an alias that he had first heard amongst the vampire community—Gabriel Van Helsing.
The wizard soon discovered that he needed a larger collection of aliases, as the other man introduced himself as Abraham Van Helsing. Once the men got past that unexpected pitfall, Abraham and his newfound ‘brother in arms’ visited the patient. The Van Helsings confirmed that a vampire was responsible and, after reluctantly terminating the afflicted young woman, tracked the responsible creature back to its lair in Transylvania.
Much to Harry’s shock, the trail led straight to a alternate version of his friend, the Count. Harry knew that he could not allow the creature before him to continue its wanton destruction, but he also pitied the good man he still sensed within the monster. Abraham, on the other hand, showed no such hesitation, immediately staking their opponent in the heart.
The Count did not perish in this attack, however, much to Abraham’s vexation, and Harry took the opportunity to suggest an alternate course of action—one that he hoped would allow his friend to redeem himself. After discussing the details, Abraham agreed and Harry used his knowledge of blood rituals to bind the Count into the service of Abraham and his descendents.
Once the mission was complete, Harry saw Abraham home with a subdued master vampire before the group went their separate ways. Shortly thereafter, Harry’s time expired and his journey continued. As he left the world behind, however, he vowed to study the original Count’s contribution to his own genetics more closely. While he had mastered most of the skills that his latest foe had demonstrated, Harry thought that long-range Legilimency and shadow manipulation might prove useful.
His odyssey continued, introducing him to a wide variety of people and places needing his help. Be it futuristic societies and threats from technological foes, contemporary worlds and natural disasters, or dimensions stuck in the past and under siege by magical means, Harry’s terrible luck ensured that he encountered them all. While some circumstances took merely hours to resolve—such as a brief interlude to early twentieth century Egypt, where he saved a small family of British-American archaeologists by destroying a couple of mutated Inferi—others took significantly longer.
Finally, an indeterminate time and innumerable trips later, his journey mercifully ended and Harry found himself deposited back in his vacant Watchtower apartment. A quick glance at his watch assured him that he had returned to the very instant that the accident had taken place, ensuring that he left no noticeably trace of ever leaving. Breathing a huge sigh of relief at finally being where he intended, Harry carried out a plan long in the making.
First, he carefully removed the Universal Remote from his pocket and placed it in a simple box. He then proceeded to charm the container with every ward he had ever read about or seen, and a few more that he made up on the spot. A brief exertion of effort quickly had the container buried beneath the accumulated clutter of his trunk hopefully never to plague anyone—especially him—again.
Next, he silently Apparated to both Tim’s and Raven’s rooms and ensured that they were both well. Satisified with their status, he ignored the late hour and Apparated straight to Kara’s dormitory door. Pounding on the panel repeatedly eventually resulted in the blonde woman groggily answering his impromptu summons.
“J-Joe?” she questioned through a yawn, still half-asleep. “It’s late. What’s the matter?”
In reply, Harry re-enacted her…unique partnership proposal—several times. Afterwards, he seized the Argosian on either side of her waist, hoisted her up, and spun around several times in relief.
Needless to say, the…unique partnership proposal combined with the impression of a centrifuge succeeded in awakening the drowsy Supergirl. Unable to explain the suddenly rapt attention that she was receiving—welcome as it might be—Kara looked down at her boyfriend and smiled.
“Joe, you’re acting like you haven’t seen me in years.”
Harry smiled a trifle ironically and simply replied, “I haven’t, but I wanted to tell you that I’ll go to your fan club meeting tomor…today, if you want me.”
She looked confused. “Are you okay? Is everything alright?”
At the thoughts of the warded Remote concealed beneath his other possessions, his smile widened.
“Oh, yeah,” Harry assured her. “Everything’s great.”
A/N: Thus concludes Chapter Thirteen of Terminal Justice, weighing in at a decent 9,000 words. No omakes in this update, but I did work in the accidental time/space odyssey suggestion discussed on CaerAzkaban, as well as another couple mistaken identities. All in all, the stage should be set for any number of amusing cameos and/or omakes. It’s been my intention since I first started Terminal Justice to leave a few open endings for potential sequels, and I’m fairly happy with this particular method of accomplishing that goal.
Many thanks to James for proofreading this chapter, and to all the CaerAzkaban group members whose suggestions appear in this update.
Thank you for your interest, and please remember to review.